orange-striped monstrosity of a tomcat hadn’t done anything to quell his urge to wander far afield in search of trouble. She’d named the stray Van Gogh when he’d showed up on her doorstep, because he’d already been missing a good chunk of his left ear. Since then she’d realized the cat was as eccentric as his artistic namesake.
Mattie stooped down to pet the silky fur and caught sudden movement in her peripheral vision. Startled, she whipped around to see something hanging from one of the trees.
Her heart began to pound. She swallowed, her throat dry and cottony. There was really no reason for her to be this jumpy. It was probably trash caught in a low branch. She was just feeling edgy because of her run-in with Daniel Hyde the day before.
Trying to seem nonchalant, she left Van Gogh to his study of a clump of crabgrass and walked toward the scrap of white. As she got closer, she could see it was parchment of some kind. Her curiosity overcame her apprehension, and she snatched it out of the tree.
There weren’t any words. It was a crude drawing of the Wheel of the Year with tiny symbols sketched in for each feast day. The other Sabbat signs were common, but what concerned Mattie was the weird rendering of a hangman’s noose added to Samhain’s place on the wheel. There were plenty of Wiccans in the area out and about harvesting items for their Samhain altars. Mattie had been collecting a few things from her garden for the one that occupied the corner of her living room. But she didn’t know anyone who would find it amusing to associate a noose with Samhain. The local community didn’t take their history lightly.
Her fingers were cold where they clutched the parchment. She wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined, but the thing felt evil. Still, if someone had left it on her property on purpose she needed to keep it around. Holding it gingerly between thumb and forefinger, she carried it back toward the porch.
* * * *
Owen saw Jason before his brother spotted him. Jason and two others were shoving their way around the perimeter of Triptych’s dance floor. It was crowded. Half of Boston had shown up to see the local band on stage. Jason’s crew’s push-and-shove method was earning them more than a few curses from the other patrons. Owen caught the eye of one of the other bouncers and made a quick movement with his hand. He wanted to handle his brother without interference. Until Owen knew why Jason had resurfaced, he didn’t care to discuss their business in front of the other staff members at Triptych.
The years hadn’t been kind to Jason. His lean face was sharp, his dark eyes hard. He carried a little more muscle in his lanky frame these days, and he’d shaved his dirty-blond hair. He looked more like his mother than their shared father, Xander Bloodmoon. Xander had always had a taste for Caucasian women, especially blondes. He’d been married to Jason’s half-Narragansett mother when he had a fling with a waitress from Southie. Xander had only been with the woman once, but that had been enough to spawn Owen.
Owen waited until Jason and his rough-looking companions were about to pass his position near the door leading to the Underground. “Looking for someone? Or are you here for the music?”
Jason spun around, a snarl twisting his upper lip. “I’m surprised you didn’t knife me in the back.”
There was enough tension snapping around Jason and his cronies to start an electrical storm. Owen bit back the sharp retort that waited on his tongue and opted for caution. A prickling sensation on the nape of his neck drew his attention to a shadowy form crouched on a balustrade three stories up. For the first time ever, Owen was glad to see Demon Yen skulking around.
Owen spread his hands to show he was unarmed. The knife he carried in his right boot didn’t count since they couldn’t see it. “I’m just working a shift, Jason. Malachi said you wanted to talk to me. It’s the only reason
Mattie stooped down to pet the silky fur and caught sudden movement in her peripheral vision. Startled, she whipped around to see something hanging from one of the trees.
Her heart began to pound. She swallowed, her throat dry and cottony. There was really no reason for her to be this jumpy. It was probably trash caught in a low branch. She was just feeling edgy because of her run-in with Daniel Hyde the day before.
Trying to seem nonchalant, she left Van Gogh to his study of a clump of crabgrass and walked toward the scrap of white. As she got closer, she could see it was parchment of some kind. Her curiosity overcame her apprehension, and she snatched it out of the tree.
There weren’t any words. It was a crude drawing of the Wheel of the Year with tiny symbols sketched in for each feast day. The other Sabbat signs were common, but what concerned Mattie was the weird rendering of a hangman’s noose added to Samhain’s place on the wheel. There were plenty of Wiccans in the area out and about harvesting items for their Samhain altars. Mattie had been collecting a few things from her garden for the one that occupied the corner of her living room. But she didn’t know anyone who would find it amusing to associate a noose with Samhain. The local community didn’t take their history lightly.
Her fingers were cold where they clutched the parchment. She wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined, but the thing felt evil. Still, if someone had left it on her property on purpose she needed to keep it around. Holding it gingerly between thumb and forefinger, she carried it back toward the porch.
* * * *
Owen saw Jason before his brother spotted him. Jason and two others were shoving their way around the perimeter of Triptych’s dance floor. It was crowded. Half of Boston had shown up to see the local band on stage. Jason’s crew’s push-and-shove method was earning them more than a few curses from the other patrons. Owen caught the eye of one of the other bouncers and made a quick movement with his hand. He wanted to handle his brother without interference. Until Owen knew why Jason had resurfaced, he didn’t care to discuss their business in front of the other staff members at Triptych.
The years hadn’t been kind to Jason. His lean face was sharp, his dark eyes hard. He carried a little more muscle in his lanky frame these days, and he’d shaved his dirty-blond hair. He looked more like his mother than their shared father, Xander Bloodmoon. Xander had always had a taste for Caucasian women, especially blondes. He’d been married to Jason’s half-Narragansett mother when he had a fling with a waitress from Southie. Xander had only been with the woman once, but that had been enough to spawn Owen.
Owen waited until Jason and his rough-looking companions were about to pass his position near the door leading to the Underground. “Looking for someone? Or are you here for the music?”
Jason spun around, a snarl twisting his upper lip. “I’m surprised you didn’t knife me in the back.”
There was enough tension snapping around Jason and his cronies to start an electrical storm. Owen bit back the sharp retort that waited on his tongue and opted for caution. A prickling sensation on the nape of his neck drew his attention to a shadowy form crouched on a balustrade three stories up. For the first time ever, Owen was glad to see Demon Yen skulking around.
Owen spread his hands to show he was unarmed. The knife he carried in his right boot didn’t count since they couldn’t see it. “I’m just working a shift, Jason. Malachi said you wanted to talk to me. It’s the only reason
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