The Morrigna
The Maurin Kincaide Series
Book One
Rachel Rawlings
Genre: Paranormal Urban Fantasy
ASIN: B003V4B6CI
Number of pages: 326
Cover Artist: Joseph Eastwood
Book Description:
I'm Maurin Kincaide, a psychometric, and until a few days ago I was working for Salem's Preternatural Task Force as an interrogator. I cracked more cold cases and got more confessions than anyone else in the department. Of course that was before I traded in my badge for an ancient Celtic sword. Now, I'm the Special Liaison for the Council, the governing body of the Others, and I take my orders from witches, werewolves and vampires.
I didn't just make a career change though. I'm not the same person I was before. I'm stronger, I can heal from wounds that would kill a normal person. I'm developing latent psychic skills at a breakneck speed. Oh yeah, and it would seem that a Pagan goddess has taken permanent residence in my body and mind. Crazy thing is, I'm starting to feel normal, like this is who I'm supposed to be.
Of course, there are those who don't agree. Morrigan and her sisters for example. Actually, I'm pretty sure they'd like nothing more than to see me dead. And if I can't stop them and the demons they've raised, they just might get their wish.
Available at Amazon Audible BN
Excerpt:
The Morrigna
I couldn’t help feeling a little
vindicated as the Captain told him his theory was pretty much paper thin, but
he hadn’t even started on me yet. He dismissed Masarelli with a wave of
his hand, but Masarelli didn’t move. He just stood there like he was
waiting for more instructions or perhaps to hear me get chewed out. He
would get neither.
“Now,
Masarelli.” The tone in Matthison’s voice had me sitting up
straight. “Shut the door behind you.”
Captain Matthison
waited until Masarelli closed the door and was sure he had walked far enough
away not to overhear our conversation before he continued. Definitely not
a good sign.
“You’re not going to
like what I have to say, Kincaide, but I’m going to say it and you’re going to
listen. I’m putting you on paid administrative leave. Effective
immediately.” He was his usual calm self as he handed out my punishment.
“For how long?
Wait a minute, what the hell did I do? I came in here, tried to do my job
and now you’re punishing me because I didn’t get the desired results? You
never said that there would be repercussions if I didn’t produce every time
when you offered me this job!” He might be calm, but I was fuming.
He lowered his head
and ran a hand through his short brown hair. “I realize every case can’t
be easy, that there will be times when you simply can’t get the answers we
need. That’s not what this is about and you know it.”
“No, I don’t
actually, so why don’t you enlighten me.” It probably wasn’t smart to get
flippant with the Captain, but I couldn’t have cared less in the heat of the
moment.
“There’s something
going on with you. I’ve noticed things over the last couple of weeks,
ever since we’ve been dealing with this demon case. Even before that, if
we’re being perfectly honest. There‘s no way that witch should have
walked out of here like she did.” He was mussing up his hair again, like
he didn’t want to finish, so I didn’t give him the chance.
“If the arresting
officer had caught that witch’s charms, we wouldn’t even be talking about her
right now! And you can’t seriously think I had anything to do with any of
this? That my not feeling well is in any way related to the demon running
loose? So why put me on leave?” I didn’t even try to hide my
disgust at the thought.
“Would you shut up
and let me finish. We both know it’s more than you ‘not feeling
well’. ‘Not feeling well’ implies that you’re coming down with a cold or
something. That is not what is happening with you. And of course I
don’t think you had anything to do with the demon. As for being
related? Who knows? From what Masarelli says, our best, though
admittedly thin, lead had you in some kind of trance. You were catatonic in our interrogation room
for Christ’s sake! That’s never happened before. Not once in the
three years you’ve been here. You have been getting stronger. I’ve seen it. You spend less and less
time with the suspects and walk away with more and more information. But
the witch? Charms have never stopped you before. And then you face
O’Neil and it’s like you’ve got nothing, no abilities at all. He should
have been a cakewalk for you. He didn’t even register on any of our
psychic scans. It’s like with more power comes less control. I
don’t know what’s going on with you and you don’t either. So until you
figure it out, you’re on leave. I just can’t risk you being injured or
blowing a case - both of which are very real possibilities and you know
it. I don’t want you near the station or anywhere near this case.
That’s an order.” He didn’t have the same tone in his voice as he had
with Masarelli, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear what he had just said.
“Do you want my
badge too?” Okay, it was slightly juvenile, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Are you offering it
to me? Because as much as it would disappoint me, I’ll take it if you
are,” he said.
Witch Hunt
The Maurin Kincaide Series
Book Two
Rachel Rawlings
Genre: Paranormal Urban Fantasy
ASIN: B009YLODRW
Number of pages: 316
Cover Artist: Joseph Eastwood
Book Description:
Maurin Kincaide is back in this action packed follow up novel to The Morrigna. No longer a member of Salem's Preternatural Task Force Maurin is the new liaison for The Council, governing body of Others. During what should have been a routine meeting with her former Captain, Maurin is brought in on a murder investigation.
Three dead witches, three cryptic clues, no sign of the killers and the Salem coven is losing allies within the Council. If Maurin and her unlikely partner Captain Matthison can't stop the killers, the Witch City might be without its namesake.
Witch Hunt Excerpt:
Maurin Kincaide.” That was my professional greeting.
“It’s Matthison.
You need to- ” I cut him off.
“Too late. You
already approved the pass. You don’t get to change your mind now.” He wasn’t
going back on the pass, not after I had already sent word that it had been
approved.
“First, I only
said yes to you. You don’t have my signature on the form yet. And second, I
absolutely could go back on it if I wanted to, and there isn’t a damned thing
that you could do about it. But that’s-” He didn’t get to finish.
“I could get
someone to whip up a potion. I know people.” I interrupted.
I was almost to
the corner. I pulled my coat a little tighter. It wasn’t officially winter yet,
but the Solstice was only a week away. I could almost see the sign for the
Daily Grind; coffee was almost within my reach.
“They wouldn’t
and you know it. I didn’t call about the pass, Maurin. You need to come back
in.” The friendly banter was over.
“Come back in?
You make it sound like I’m wanted for questioning. Am I a person of interest,
Captain?” I asked.
Something was up
- so much for a decent cup of coffee. Looks like I’d be slurping down more of
the sludge they keep in the coffee pot in the break room.
“You are one of
the most interesting people that I know. I need to talk to you about a case.” I
could hear him talking to someone, but his hand was over the receiver, muffling
his voice.
“Wow! Sounds
like you need to meet some more people. Don’t you have any cops working for you
anymore, or did you transfer all of them too? Why didn’t you ask me about this
when I was in your office?” Of course, I had already turned around. My
curiosity was definitely peeked, but I didn’t want him to know that.
“I’m looking at
it now for the first time. Just get your ass in here.” He hung up.
When I got back
to Matthison’s office, he was gone. It didn’t take me that long to get there; I
was right outside, for crying out loud. I scanned the desks outside his office
and found him bent over a folder with my least favorite detective - Masarelli.
The one good thing about not being on SPTF anymore was not seeing Masarelli’s
ugly mug every day.
I walked over to
Masarelli’s desk. “Captain.” I didn’t even bother acknowledging Masarelli, the
prick. I did, however, try to look at the file on his desk.
Before I could
get a good look at anything, Matthison scooped up the folder and waved me into
his office. Masarelli turned his best thousand-yard stare on me – as if I was
intimidated by him. I was a better interrogator than he was and he knew it. Of
course, he would say it’s because I have advantages that he doesn’t. While it
is true that I have what I would call “helpful abilities”, it isn’t my fault
that I have them. Besides, I was convinced that I would be a better
interrogator than Masarelli even without those abilities. I gave him a wink and
a smile over my shoulder, and then followed the Captain into his office.
He dropped the
file onto his desk. “I need you to make a call.”
I shut the door
behind me. “I’m sorry, what?” I hadn’t expected him to ask me to make a phone
call. Talk to a suspect for old time’s sake maybe, but not a phone call.
“You’re the
liaison. I need you to call the Council. Mahalia, specifically.” He started
rubbing his forehead, which was always his tell that something was very wrong.
“Okay, and what
is it that you’d like me to ask her?” I asked. It was never good when he
reminded you what your job was. Something was definitely wrong.
He dropped down
in his chair. “Tell her that I’ve got a dead witch on my hands and I need her
to ID the body. She can meet us at the morgue. They’ve already finished
processing the scene.”
“How are you so
sure it’s a witch? If they only just finished at the scene, then there’s no way
you have lab confirmation. What makes you say witch?” I was really hoping that
he was jumping the gun on this.
There were lots
of Norms who liked to masquerade around as witches in Salem. You could find a
body in front of a cauldron with a broom in one hand and a wand in the other,
and it still wouldn’t mean you had a real witch. True witches have a slightly
different genetic make-up than Norms, but you’d never know it without the lab
work.
He slid the
folder across his desk, spilling its contents. “Besides the ‘thou shalt not
suffer a witch to live’ carved into her abdomen, you mean?”
“Shit.” I picked
up a photo off his desk. “Are her, are her hands cut off too?” Despite all the
gross stuff I’d seen recently, I was still swallowing hard.
“Yeah, and her
tongue was cut out too. Why would someone do that?” He wasn’t really asking me,
which was good - because I didn’t have an answer.
Wolfsbane
The Maurin Kincaide Series
Book Three
Rachel Rawlings
Genre: Paranormal Urban Fantasy
ASIN: B00DAIILMS
Number of pages: 78 Novella
Cover Artist: Joseph Eastwood
Book Description:
Given the choice between her sister's wedding and witnessing the challenge for Alpha of the Salem pack, Maurin knows exactly where she'd rather be. Smack dead center in a pack of snarling werewolves wearing eau de filet mignon.
Until Francesca takes off the morning of her wedding. Being her sister's keeper will not excuse her from her job as the Council Liaison. Torn between obligations to a family she's avoided for almost a decade and the Council of Others, Maurin has less than twenty-four hours to set things right.
Available at
Wolfsbane
Excerpt:
I woke in a cold
sweat to the sound of heavy gun fire. I grabbed the Retaliator from the empty
side of the bed and bolted out of my room. My front door was open and I was out
in the little stairway that led to my third floor walk up before I was awake
enough to realize there was no danger. My first clue should have been Conry- a
Cwnn Anfwnn, gift from my father and personal guard "dog"- just
rolling over and burying his head beneath his massive paws. The sound of
grenades and Dempsey's voice coming up the stairs told me it was just my new
neighbor playing COD Zombies with the TV full blast at three o'clock in the
morning again. I was still in boy
shorts and a tank top but I didn't bother to go back in my apartment to change.
He'd seen me in less. I stormed down the flight of stairs to Cash's apartment
with my sword in hand.
"It's going
on four in the morning! Turn that shit off or I'll send some real zombies to
your apartment!" I yelled while I pounded on the door.
How the guy on
the first floor slept through it I'll never know. But it had been me stomping
on my floor and banging on Cash's door every night for the last month.
"What's the
big deal? I figured a fanger like you would be used to staying up late."
Cash casually replied upon opening the door.
"You can be
such a jerk." I said with more venom than the insult commanded.
"Jerk?
That's the best you could come up with?" Cash said through his laughter.
"Oh, I'm
sorry. I'm not at my wittiest when I wake up to the sound of World War III at
three in the morning." I said tartly.
"It's
Modern Warfare, not World War III." He smirked.
I rolled my
eyes. "I'm not the only other person who lives here you know. I can only
imagine what it sounds like downstairs. The poor guy probably has to sleep with
ear plugs in." I scolded.
"Mike works
third shift. He doesn't get home until after seven in the morning. " He
was still smirking.
"He's only
lived here for like three weeks and I haven't even talked to him. You two are
what, like best friends already?" I asked, irritated.
"What can I
say? People just like me better than you." He was past smirking and into a
full grin.
I probably
shouldn't have but I couldn't help myself. I swung the Retaliator around until
the tip of the blade pressed against his Adam's apple. "Just turn the TV
down or we'll see how good of a gamer you are without your thumbs."
I stomped away.
"And stop staring at my ass." I said as I started up the steps. If
the challenge for Alpha of the Salem pack didn't happen soon Roul was going to
start getting wake up calls at three in the morning. I didn't know what the
holdup was anyway. He was too busy to help us with the Inquisitors and the
demon they unleashed a few weeks ago because of his "pack business"
and now it's delay, delay, delay. It's been unusually quiet in Salem but I
haven't had a decent night's sleep in four weeks because of my new neighbor.
Well, it wasn't
all Cash's fault. Aidan had a little something to do with it - too bad it was
just talking. Aidan made his feelings for me clear but was still insisting we
take our time. Vampires could be very patient. Having spent most of my life
living more like a "norm" than an immortal I found it infuriating. He
wanted to be sure the effects of Mahalia's spell were gone. I assured him that
any feelings I had for Oberon died the minute I found out he hadn't. I thought
I had killed him, pulling too much power through the tie that bound us. In
order to save himself, he broke the connection
and the false feelings for him Mahalia had spelled into my heart.
I tried on more
than one occasion to convince Aidan that I hadn't felt more like myself since
Mahalia's magic had been broken. That had been a monumental waste of time. It
takes powerful magic to control someone's heart and mind, he explained during
one of our all night conversations. I had had other things on my mind, things
that didn't involve so much talking. I used all my feminine wiles to persuade
him - unsuccessfully. He was convinced lingering magic would try to latch
itself onto the next person to vie for my affections. His conviction to
determine my true feelings made for more than one long and frustrating night.
Not to mention my temper was becoming increasingly short. Which might explain
why I was down here threatening to cut fingers off my irritating neighbor's
hands.
"No kiss
good night?" Cash asked sarcastically.
I didn't bother
with a response. Cash was one of the few people I knew who had as many smart
ass comebacks as me. If I didn't walk away we'd be going at each other until
the sun came up.
"How about
a kiss for good luck then?" He called out as I was half way up the stairs.
"The challenge is tonight."
I turned around
slowly. How weird was that? I was just ranting to myself about how Roul was
dragging his ass. If I didn't know better I would have thought Weres had
suddenly developed the ability to read minds. Thankfully they hadn't or my
thoughts about Roul wouldn't have been the only thing Cash would have glimpsed.
He didn't need any more ammunition when it came to aggravating my vampire. If
Cash even suspected my frustration with Aidan it would be like arming a nuclear
war head.
"The only
lips she'll be kissing are mine, wolf." Aidan's voice carried up the
stairway from the first floor. I'd hardly seen him over the last couple of
weeks. Just hearing his voice sent shivers up my spine and I silently cursed
him, knowing full well we wouldn't get further than second base again tonight.
I'm sure Cash
knew he was there, hence the kiss comments but I hadn't been expecting him. So
why had he suddenly shown up on my doorstep? Curiosity over his surprise visit
quieted my suddenly raging hormones. He had been working every night on some
new assignment that he couldn't talk about. It was starting to piss me off
actually - not the constantly working part, the not knowing part. To be honest,
my increasingly bad mood may have stemmed more from being out of the action
than Aidan staying out of my bedroom. Sure the time off from saving Salem from
imminent danger was great. At first anyway, but it had been almost a month of
peace and quiet. After only a week I found myself wishing for some sort of
Armageddon. Whatever Aidan was working on seemed to be the cure for my doldrums
- and pent up sexual energy - but Agrona had me on the sidelines with no intentions
of letting me play in their vampire games.
The Maurin Kincaide Series
Book Four
Rachel Rawlings
Genre: Paranormal Urban Fantasy
ASIN: B00IJ16Z56
Number of pages: 202
Cover Artist: Joseph Eastwood
Bodies are piling up and all signs point in one direction. Rogue vampire. Except things aren't always what they seem, especially in a murder investigation.
With her current relationship on the rocks, her father playing match-maker and her neighbor tossing his hat in the ring, the body count isn't the only thing on the rise. Maurin is neck deep in magic, mayhem and murder.
Can she catch the killer before the killer catches her? One things for certain, when hunting vampires there will be blood.
Available at
Amazon BN Audible
Blood
Bath Excerpt:
"You need
to come to the station with me." He moved to open my door, like that would
get me into motion. Conry took interest in the detective again and Masarelli
quickly removed his hand from the handle.
"Look, I
was going to talk to you about the Salem pack. I'll spare you the bullshit
excuses and just admit I forgot. Cash is the new alpha. If I promise to come in
tomorrow and tell you about it can I go? I'm already late for an
appointment." I glanced at the clock on the radio. It was the only
unoriginal thing in the car, well that and the speakers. I was now ten minutes
late for my meeting with Arawn.
"It's not
about the wolves. It can't wait until tomorrow." He backed up enough for
me to open the car door.
"I'm not
getting out of the car until you tell me what the hell is going on." I
started to put the window back up.
"I am not
going to discuss this on the side of the road. Quit busting my balls and get
out of the dammed car."
"Quit
busting your balls?" I opened the door and stepped out in a rush,
thrusting my hand out. "Hello, pot, my names kettle. It's nice to meet
you. Why can't I just follow you?"
He ran a hand
over his face, across stubble that was too long, even for him. "This is
exactly what I was talking about. Because I know you won't follow me. Now would
you please get in my car so I can take you to the station and get your expert
fucking opinion on something?"
I relinquished
any hope of salvaging my night, leaned inside the Camero, put the window up,
grabbed the keys from the ignition and whistled for Conry. I glared at
Masarelli over my shoulder as I walked to his car, daring him to question me
about my dog. Masarelli locked and shut the car door, giving the Camaro one
last approving look before heading back to his filthy unmarked patrol car.
Since I wasn't
under arrest - at least not yet, the night's still young - I opened the car
door myself and slid in behind the driver's seat. "Remember that movie we
watched last week, Conry? The one where the dog ate the nice policeman's
headrest?" I gave him a big belly rub as he stretched out over my lap and
the rest of the back seat.
Masarelli gave
me his best cop stare in the rear view and headed toward the station. "So
you just forgot about the fact that a black ops merc killed the alpha and took
control of the Salem pack? You got papers for this guy?"
"It's a
pack not the AKC." I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Matthison approved his pass personally."
"It's
expired." He blipped the lights and burped the siren to get through the
intersection.
"Cash is
Alpha now. The paperwork is irrelevant at this point. Unless of course you want
to run him out of town on a technicality and create a power vacuum." I
gave Conry a little nudge, my legs were falling asleep.
Masarelli spared
a quick glance in the rear view mirror. "What happened to Roul? They eat
him?"
"Eighteenth
century France called. They wanted their superstitions back. How did you get
this job again? They buried him, following pack ritual." Not even ten
minutes with him and I was already exhausted.
"And his
mate?" He couldn't know, could he? Was this what the mysterious trip to
the station was really about? He needed my expert opinion on some trumped up
murder charge?
"Dead."
I didn’t elaborate.
"Killing
the mate isn't covered under the Meneur de Loupes agreement." He was
fishing for something, anything to get rid of Cash.
My mouth was
moving before I thought about the consequences. "It doesn't need to be
covered by the Leader of the Wolves agreement since a werewolf didn't kill
Olwyn. I did and it was self defense."
"And that's
why you didn't bother telling us about it? I have to file a report and take
your statement. I don't suppose you have someone to corroborate your
self-defense story?"
Shit.
"Besides the pack you mean?"
He shook his
head. "What do you think?"
"No."
If this sounded half as bad to him as it did to me I might actually be in
trouble.
Mistletoe Meltdown
The Maurin Kincaide Series
Short Story Book 4.5
Rachel Rawlings
Genre: Paranormal Urban Fantasy
ASIN: B00RLUQ2GI
Number of pages: 28
Book Description:
What do you do when you're out voted on hosting a holiday party, complete with gift exchange and all the trimmings?
Tie on the apron and deck those halls.
Self proclaimed Scrooge, Maurin Kincaide accepts the challenge and tackles the yuletide with all the determination she would a Council task.
But not everyone is brimming with holiday cheer. A blood coven threatens to bring the holiday festivities to an end.
Can Maurin stop the dark magic before the clock strikes twelve, signaling the solstice?
Available at
Amazon BN Audible
Mistletoe
Meltdown Excerpt:
"Chestnuts
roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose. Yuletide carols
being sung by a choir and folks dressed up like Eskimos." Nat King Cole's
smooth voice blared from the outdoor speakers hidden in the greenery that
turned the walking mall into a winter wonderland, soothing the savage holiday
shopping beasts surrounding me. I tried not to overanalyze the lyrics but I'd
met the Hoar Frost King once and he'd do a lot more than nip at your nose.
Besides,
did anyone really have a Christmas like the ones people sang about?
The
Kincaides, my adoptive family, practiced every holiday tradition from Midnight
Mass to the extravagant family dinner to a house staged similar to something
from a Martha Stewart Living
magazine. It didn't change anything. The tinsel and twinkling lights only
highlighted the hatred.
So
imagine my enthusiasm when my real father Arawn suggested we have a
Christmas/Solstice dinner. With friends. At my apartment. I understood his need
to create memories--he'd missed out on most of my life--but as a
self-proclaimed Scrooge I'd avoided anything to do with the holidays since I'd
left Beacon Hill at seventeen. But here I was layered up underneath my leather
jacket, knit hat pulled down to my eyebrows, basically dressed like the
aforementioned Eskimo.
The
numbness in my hands increased with each block I walked back to my car. Not
from the cold--my purple wool gloves did a decent job--but from the shopping
bags cutting of my circulation. I loaded up the Rabriolet, an old metallic blue
VW so named because the guy who sold it took all the Rabbit badges off and
replaced them with Cabriolet, the convertible's small trunk barely holding my
haul of gifts and groceries for tonight's festivities.
The
temperature inside the car barely rose a degree above the outside temperature
during the short drive back to my apartment. I pulled into the parking space
I'd shoveled out this morning after the snow stopped but didn't rush to get out
of the car. Two pep talks later I dragged myself and my multitude of bags up
the three flights of stairs which led to my place.
Ill Fated
The Maurin Kincaide Series
Book Five
Rachel Rawlings
Genre: Paranormal Urban Fantasy
ASIN: B00TI20TZC
Number of pages: 270
Cover Artist: Joseph Eastwood
Some things are destined to end in death. After the first attempt on her life Maurin wasn’t scared. Hell, she was almost flattered. But someone put a price on her head and things are getting complicated. Trouble is brewing in the fae courts and it’s spilling over into Salem. The UnSeelie Dark Guard have answered the call for her head on a platter and people closest to her are disappearing.
Can Maurin master court politics and find her missing men before someone claims the bounty on her head?
Ill
Fated Excerpt:
"You're
awake?" He sounded more than a little surprised.
"I'm
not really sure the state I'm in qualifies as awake."
"Here
I was, terrified to poke the dragon, and you're already drinking coffee and
talking in complete sentences."
I
snorted and took a sip of the aforementioned liquid gold. "Are you always
like this in the morning?"
"If
you'd let me sleep over you'd already know the answer to that question. Why
aren't you asleep?"
In
general or just tonight, I silently wondered. "Bad dream. I've been
tossing and turning all night. I finally gave in and got out of bed."
Papers
rustled in the background and when he spoke again, his voice was lower,
intimate."You want to talk about it?"
"Something
tells me my nightmares are the least of our problems."
"You
have no idea. I need you to come down to my office."
I
sighed. "Can it at least wait until after sunrise?"
"Would
I be breaking the no phone calls before
noon policy if it could wait?"
“There
really is no rest for the wicked, is there?”
He
laughed and the sound warmed me more than a hundred cups of coffee.
"Apparently not, in your case. Now, there's a dirty chai latte and a
croissant for you if you're here before Amalie. I can't promise real coffee and
pastries will survive beyond five minutes of her arrival."
"It's
four-thirty in the morning, Mas. If you know what's good for you, you'll make
sure at least one dirty chai and croissant remain
unmolested."
"I'll
see you soon." He was laughing as he hung up the phone.
Three
hours ago I’d practically crawled through the doorway, exhausted from cleaning
up after a newbie vamp who’d broken the Jus Sanguinis Intergentes when she
killed her donor. The blood pact between people and vampires had a clear no
killing, no exceptions clause.
It
was up to the maker to ensure their child was ready to feed unsupervised. If
something went wrong and the Council found out about it, we cleaned up the mess
and the sire was subject to heavy fines and possible revocation of their rights
to expand their blood lines. She’d been quite literally a bitch to track and
take down.
It
had been a long night and it was shaping up to be an even longer day.
I
wasted little time getting dressed, opting for a slip on black jersey dress,
eighteen hole Docs and a leather jacket. Jewelry was a hindrance in my line of
work. My meeting with Mason could easily turn into a run. Choked with my own
chain? No, thank you. Unclasping the necklace, I set it in a glass dish on my
bathroom counter. I ran a brush through my hair, a toothbrush over my teeth and
slipped into the between. I stepped out of the alley two buildings down from
the station and walked the last block and a half.
Amalie
was swarmed by detectives trying to get at the goodies she brought over from
the Daily Grind. She greeted me with a warm smile, shaking her head when I
offered to pull her out of the fray. She had managed to endear herself to the entire
department in record time. All it took was real coffee and fresh pastries. I
pointed to Mason's office. She'd make her way over once the starving masses had
their fill.
Mason
was so engrossed in the file on his desk he didn't hear me come in. He looked
as tired as I felt - too many double shifts. Despite an uptick in activity,
SPTF was short staffed due to budget cuts. Without enough man power to staff
the shifts properly overtime was mandatory.
"Is
that for me?" I pointed at the to-go cup and white paper bag on his desk.
He
finally looked up and gave me a smile which lit up his whole face. "As
promised."
I
stole a quick kiss, grabbed the coffee and croissant, and settled in the chair
across from him. I took a long sip of my latte, savoring the delicious mix of
tea and espresso. "Man, I needed this. Is that the case you're working
on?"
"Yeah,
we've got a real problem on our hands."
"Don't
we always." I tried to peak at the file.
Mason
closed the manila folder. "I'd rather wait until everyone is here."
"Who
else is coming besides Amalie?" My curiosity was definitely peaked now. I
reached across his desk, hoping to grab the file.
"You
look exhausted. Tell me about your dream while we wait."
I
narrowed my eyes and glared at him. "I see this for the obvious
distraction it is but you're right.” Sighing, I rubbed my temple.“However, I'm
exhausted, too exhausted to argue. So I'll tell you. Prepare to be
confounded."
He
listened intently as I filled him in on the nightly visits from the weathered
old woman who washed my clothes and hauntingly called my name. I expected him
to laugh and tell me it was just a dream, that I had nothing to worry about.
I
didn't expect him to look so stricken.
"Bean
Nighe." He all but whispered the name.
"You've
heard of her?"
"Of
course I've heard of her. How long has she been coming to you?"
I
stared at him curiously. "A few weeks. Why?"
"A
few weeks and this is the first I'm hearing of it?” He closed his eyes and took
a deep breath, obviously struggling to control his temper.“We talked about
this. No holding things back, remember?"
"I
thought it was just a dream.” I shrugged.“Honestly, I didn't think it was a big
deal."
"It
was a big enough deal for you to research it." Agitation rolled off him in
waves.
When
I agreed to give this thing with Mason a chance I also agreed to some
conditions. No more flying solo, no more rash decisions or rushing off to play
the hero. We were a team, in everything. This was just one of many set-backs.
"I
got curious, did a little digging. Until tonight, everything I found pointed to
deep seated family issues, particularly with a mother figure. I've told you
about my childhood, does that dream analysis surprise you?"
His
growl told me he wasn’t in the mood for reasonable—at least to me—explanations.
"When did you discover the true meaning of the dream? How long have you
known about the Bean Nighe?"
"Tonight.
This morning. Before you called me." I held up a hand to stop the tongue
lashing I knew he wanted to give me. "I would have told you. I got the
impression on the phone there were more pressing matters than my
insomnia."
"Is
this why you won't let me stay at your place?” His gaze roamed over my face,
searching.“Why you never stay at mine?"
"Is
that the real reason why you're so upset?" I arched my brows. “Because
we’re not having sleepovers?”
"I
stayed at your lovely apartment the first night we met."
I turned to
watch Aidan glide into the room, stopping behind my chair. Rolling my eyes, I
snorted and muttered, “In the closet.”
Mason's
jaw twitched but he didn't take the bait. "Aidan."
"It's
almost sunrise. Shouldn't you be hunkered down for the day?" I sighed,
wondering what he was doing here. I was too tired to deal with Aidan and Mason
and their combined testoserone.
Putting the three of us in a room
together was like throwing lit matches at sticks of dynamite - eventually one
of them will explode.
About the Author:
Rachel Rawlings was born and raised in the Baltimore Metropolitan area. Her family, originally from Rhode Island, spent summers in New England sparking her fascination with Salem, MA. She has been writing fictional stories and poems since middle school, but it wasn't until 2009 that she found the inspiration to create her heroine Maurin Kincaide and complete her first full length novel, The Morrigna.
When she isn't writing, Rachel can often be found with her nose buried in a good book. An avid reader of Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, Horror and Steampunk herself, Rachel founded Hallowread- an interactive convention for both authors and fans of those genres.
She still lives in Maryland with her husband and three children.
