“Aren’t you a Werewolf?” Ria asked.
“I am,” Declan said. “Never heard another person’s thoughts until this afternoon.”
Emory and Ria’s confused expressions moved between me and Declan.
“Look, we don’t get it either,” I said. “But that’s not the point. We’ll figure out whatever’s happening between the two of us later. Right now, we need to figure out who shot Declan and where Misty is.” I dropped my ingredients for the spell on the countertop. “Who’s gonna stand guard so people driving down the highway don’t see us doing this?”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
BROOKE
The cool spring wind fluttered hair into my face as I kneeled on the gravel. Ria’s hands lifted out, and I twined mine with hers. She gave me a questioning look, as if to ask when to begin.
“On three,” I said. She nodded, and I counted.
Whispering the old words over the flaming herbs in the bowl between us, both of our eyes sealed shut.
The louder our voices grew, the clearer the images became.
It was like we stood in this spot watching a surveillance video on rewind.
Nothing looked out of the ordinary. People coming and going throughout the evening, a quiet night, and then yesterday.
Like Declan described, there was no one in the parking lot. There was no gun, but we did see the bullet ripping through the wind and into Declan’s chest. We heard the knock on the door—just like Declan said—but there was no one there.
Even in the memory, we should’ve been able to pick up on an energy signature of the source. Whoever did it had to have been magically inclined, but there was no energy signature.
That led me to believe a Witch was responsible. A damn good Witch, too.
Disguising power in addition to invisibility wasn’t an easy task. Invisibility wasn’t that difficult—I could cast one of those spells. But simultaneously shielding my scent, heart rate, and any other physical attribute that could alert a Werewolf to my existence? I couldn’t imagine trying to pull that off.
It was a series of spells stacked on top of each other. One for each sense they shielded from Declan, one for invisibility, and another to cover their energy signature. To cast that many at once would require immense energy, and very careful planning. That much power was a bitch to shield others with abilities from sensing.
Someone important had a vendetta against Declan. Who and why would remain a question, but I was also in these memories to find Misty, so I kept watching.
We kept flipping through the last week until we got to last Friday—the night she disappeared.
As the image passed before my eyes, I hardly realized what I was watching because it was so casual.
She leaned into the open window of an early 90’s Grand Am. We couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but her tone was lax with a touch of flirtation.
Clearly, he was a customer, and she was trying to make her income for the evening. After a few minutes, she got into the car, and they drove off. The license plates were for Florida, which I hoped would help us narrow things down, but I could only see that much because of the orange in the center. Making out the numbers and letters amidst the cloud of dust was damn near impossible.
It was the dead of night, streetlights and Spades sign overhead casting the only luminance. All that I was able to discern inside the vehicle was a red sleeve, and a man’s hand on the steering wheel. The image wasn’t clear, but his skin wasn’t dark enough to be a black man. The glow of the light made telling his exact skin tone difficult, but it could’ve ranged from my pale white to Declan’s warm umber.
From there, Ria and I pulled out of the vision, met one another’s gazes, and sighed with disappointment.
“Not much more than we already had,” I said.
“Nope.” She released my hands. “A john picked her up, and she hasn’t been seen since.”
We did know the car though. My eyes turned up to Declan as I collected my ingredients back into the bowl. “Do you know anyone who drives a Pontiac Grand Am with Florida plates?”
“Not off the top of my head.” He extended his hand out for mine, helping me to my feet. “That who picked her up?”
“Yeah. It was dark—we didn’t get a good look at him. I think he’s white though.” I dusted off my dress. “Maybe older? I think I saw wrinkles on his hand, but I could be wrong.”
“Just described seventy percent of my customers,” he muttered. “But it had to have been someone acquainted with the place, don’t you think? How else would he have known her services were available?”