Boundary Crossed Page 12

  Unfortunately, thanks to a combination of bad luck and worse timing, he was also the cop who had arrested me both times I’d gotten in trouble. Had they sent Keller today to try to rattle me? No, that was too paranoid for Boulder PD. He had probably just been the only detective available at the moment.

  Still.

  As soon as I was dressed, I texted Lily to warn her that I’d be late. Then I ran a brush through my hair, scrubbed my fingernails in the master bathroom, and went to face the cops.

  When I padded into the kitchen, tying my hair in a tight ponytail as I walked, Keller was sitting at the island counter looking around the open dining/living room area while Elise made coffee across from him. She had shut the dogs into the mudroom, and I could hear their muffled, indignant barks at the way their friend Elise had treated them. I reminded myself to walk slow and look weak and stiff. After less than four hours of sleep and a hell of a week, it wasn’t hard.

  I blew out a breath and said, “Sorry about that, Detective, Elise. Must have overslept a little. I’m on some pretty strong painkillers.” I nodded toward my pharmacy bottle of Vicodin, which I’d conveniently left on the kitchen counter by my water glass.

  Neither cop looked at the amber cylinder, which meant they’d already spotted it. “No worries,” Elise said, then shut up when she caught Keller glaring at her. She straightened, smoothing down the front of her uniform. Elise had the Luther brown eyes and honey-blonde hair, which was set off nicely against her dark patrol uniform. She was attractive rather than pretty, her unremarkable features enhanced by that healthy, relaxed-by-outdoor-sports look that was shared by a lot of people in Boulder. Hell, I probably had that same look when I wasn’t up to my eyebrows in supernatural bullshit and stab wounds.

  “Your cousin is only here as a courtesy to your family,” Keller growled at me. He was in his late forties, balding, with a perpetually tight expression and suspicious eyes. He had on a forgettable suit that reminded me a lot of the one Quinn had worn to my hospital room. Had that really only been a few days ago? “I’ll be asking the questions, and you’ll direct your responses to me.”

  His tone was unnecessarily nasty, and I was suddenly certain that my father had made a call to the department and demanded that Elise be allowed to join the interview. My father had a way of inserting himself into my life, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d strong-armed the department into pulling Keller away from me.

  No wonder the detective was pissed. I suppressed a sigh. Thanks, Dad. “Of course, Detective Keller. Elise, let me get that coffee.”

  She shooed me away. “You sit and rest. I know where the cups are.”

  I shot my cousin a grateful look and gingerly took a seat on one of the four stools. Still eyeing me, Keller sat down two stools away from me. “What can I tell you, Detective?”

  Keller set a small digital recorder on the counter between us. “Start by running through the whole night, in your words,” he ordered.

  So I walked them through it, starting with setting up the soda display. I told them everything, minus Victor and Darcy’s names and the weird things I’d seen them do—healing, recovering from blows, moving fast. Hopefully the security tape hadn’t caught that, but even if it had, I’m sure Quinn would have handled it. After all, he’d seen the footage.

  Keller made me stop and go back several times, tossing in oddly specific questions like which brands of soda I’d used for the display and the exact words I’d yelled to Bettina. I knew he had to test my story, but by the fourth time I’d gone back over the same part, I was ready to reach over and punch him.

  I forced myself to calm down. The best way to get rid of Keller was to answer all of his questions politely and professionally, and not give him the satisfaction of getting to me. I wasn’t some lost, angry drunk anymore.

  Well, I definitely wasn’t drunk, anyway.

  When he was finally satisfied, Keller asked, “And you have no idea who would want to harm your brother-in-law or his family?” He sounded skeptical.

  “No, of course not,” I lied. “I figured it was some kind of kidnapping thing, some couple that wanted a baby.”

  “Kidnapping, yeah. You know, we saw the security tape.”

  I glanced at Elise, but she was just sipping her coffee, her eyes giving away nothing. “Okay . . .” I said to Keller.

  “Something went wrong with the feed—a couple of times there were some blurs or static, stuff the tech guy couldn’t really explain,” he went on. “Had to be done by someone who knew the system.”

  Or maybe vampires somehow had an effect on technology? Interesting thought. Keller paused in case I wanted to jump in with more information, but I just waited him out. “What we did see, though, it looked like you clocked that guy pretty good with the jar of baby food.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said warily. Where was he going with this?

  “I picked up one of those jars when I was at the store,” Keller went on. “Thick glass. It should have left a goddamned dent in his head, pardon my French.”

  There was a hint of accusation in his voice. I knew better than to rise to it, but I was tired and distracted, and I heard myself saying weakly, “Maybe I didn’t hit him as hard as I thought.”

  If I hadn’t been watching, I might have missed the flicker of triumph that passed across Keller’s face and was gone. “You trained in combat, right? In the service?”

  “Yes.”

  “So maybe you pulled your shot a little bit,” he suggested, soft and dangerous.

  I stared at him. It took a long moment for his meaning to sink in. “You can’t possibly think I was in on this,” I burst out. “I got stabbed!”

  “You look like you’re moving around okay,” Keller observed.

  “Wha— why on earth would I kidnap my own niece!” I said, working hard to keep from raising my voice. “I adore that kid!”

  “Maybe a little too much,” Keller suggested, his voice floating carelessly over the rim of his coffee cup. “Maybe you figured she’d be better off with you.”

  I was about to explode, but luckily, at that exact moment I glanced at Elise. Anyone who didn’t know her as well as I did wouldn’t have been able to interpret her expression, but I understood: He’s just poking at you. Calm down. I took a deep breath, focused on my cousin’s face, and reminded myself that Elise hated working with Keller. She’d sucked it up to come support me. I needed to trust her.

  I blew out the breath. “Do you have any other questions for me, Detective?” I asked as pleasantly as I could.

  Keller’s eyes narrowed. “Not for today. We’re not dropping this, though.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I said evenly. “Have you identified the couple who kidnapped Charlie?”

  Now his face scrunched into a full-out scowl. “Not yet, but it’s only a matter—”

  “Then it sounds like you have a lot to do. Please don’t let me keep you,” I said, standing up stiffly. “If you have further questions, just call my attorney. I’m sure you still have his number.” I held out my arm, gesturing for Keller to walk in front of me.

  He was obviously unhappy, but there wasn’t much he could do. When his back was turned, Elise shot me a grin and a thumbs-up. Call you later, she mouthed. I nodded, still feigning bravado. If Keller actually did start bothering my lawyer, though, I was going to have to start turning tricks to pay for his services.

  When they were gone, I called Lily Pellar. “How’d it go with the cops?” she said immediately.

  “Fine, I think.” I paused. “But I don’t suppose I have time for a nap before witch class?”

  She laughed. “Sorry, Lex, but I have plans this afternoon.”

  I sighed. “Okay. I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Cool. Oh, and Lex?” she added.

  “Yeah?”

  “My mom reads auras, so don’t be surprised if she says s
omething kind of weird when you first get here.”

  Uh, okay. I suppose it couldn’t be any weirder than Hey, let’s go vampire hunting. “Roger that.”

  Chapter 17

  It was a beautiful, crisp fall morning, and the good people of Boulder were enjoying it. I drove past several herds of cyclists and almost as many solo runners. It made me resent my car, wishing I could be enjoying the weather with the rest of the town. But Simon’s mother’s farm was fifteen miles away, and it would take too long to bike out there.

  Pellar Farms took up a huge swath of land that tapered to a point at two intersecting county highways. Having lived in Boulder all my civilian life, I was expecting a sloppy hippie commune, but the hand-carved wooden sign next to the intersection was neat and professional, with the farm’s website displayed on the bottom in black reflective paint. The main building was a sprawling two-story residence. Next to the house was a small farm stand where crops were sold “right off the vine,” and several outbuildings, including a decrepit barn, several sheds, and an open-air building that was probably used for canning. I could see signs of activity out in the field: people bent over rows of plants, a small tractor running. It was peaceful and idyllic, but give me a sprawl of mountain forest and a dirt bike any day. Peaceful and idyllic isn’t in my gene pool.

  As I parked on the L-shaped gravel driveway near the main building, I noticed Lily Pellar standing near the house, chatting with an older Caucasian woman who was crouching down to tend a cluster of violet-blue geraniums. Today Lily was wearing a cream-colored lace tank top that set off her tattoos, paired with skintight purple leggings with six inches of shiny silver zipper at the ankle. I could never have pulled off that ensemble, but she looked like a pop star on her way to the recording studio.

  She turned when she heard my car, reaching a hand up to shade her eyes, and the woman beside her rose to her feet. She was tall, with thick rangy limbs and the kind of heavy-not-fat bulk that came from a lot of hard work and a lot of good food. Her pewter hair hung down her back in an impressively complicated fishtail braid. She wore khaki capri pants, gardening clogs, and a button-down purple linen top, and there was a big smear of zinc oxide on her nose. She looked like she would easily fit in at my mother’s book club.

  The two of them started toward me as I climbed out of the car. “Hey, Lex,” Lily called. “This is my mom, Hazel Pellar. Mom, this is . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as we both stared at her mother. The other woman’s welcoming smile had wilted away as I got closer, replaced by a look of total revulsion. She darted forward, moving between me and her adult daughter. “Get away from my house,” she hissed at me.

  I felt the strangest sensation, as if all the wind on the planet was suddenly rushing past me toward the older woman. Behind her, Lily’s mouth dropped open. I leaned my head to the side so I could look at her over her mom’s shoulder. “Lily? Is that what you meant by ‘kind of weird?’”

  “No,” Lily said carefully. “This is a little weird even for her.” She circled around to face her mother and gently took Hazel’s hand. “Mom, what’s the matter?”

  “Don’t you see it?” she demanded, still staring at me. “Can’t you see the color?”

  Lily looked at me speculatively, then closed her eyes for a second, frowning in concentration. She opened her eyes and looked at me again, her face twisting into a puzzled expression. “Huh.” To me, she said, “Lex, your aura’s black.”

  I looked at her blankly. “So?”

  “I’ve never seen black before,” she said conversationally, as though she’d just learned I had a gold tooth or a giant mole on my back.

  “She’s a black witch,” Hazel Pellar whispered.

  Lily visibly paled, her warm brown skin turning momentarily sallow. “Well, that explains some things,” she said shakily. “Changes some things, too, I guess.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I said, trying to rein in my temper. I took a step closer to the two of them. “And I’m getting pretty goddamned sick of—”

  I barely registered Hazel flicking her wrist before I went flying backward through the air, the back of my head striking my car with a dull thump.

  Chapter 18

  When I came to, I was lying on a sofa, my head pillowed on something that felt an awful lot like a bag of crushed ice. No, the pellets were too perfectly round. Definitely frozen peas. I glanced around and discovered I was in a living room, presumably at the Pellar house. From behind the sofa, I could hear voices arguing in hushed tones.

  “. . . exactly what I’m saying,” came Hazel’s voice. “Black means death, Lily. That woman has death in her blood.”

  “You’re actually scared of her?” Lily said incredulously. “My mother the great witch overlord is scared of a trainee?”

  “You’re damned right I am,” the other woman snapped. “And don’t call me that.”

  “Mom, she has no idea what she is. She obviously needs help, and by our own laws, we’re bound to aid another witch,” Lily argued.

  “And even if we weren’t”—this from a third, male voice. Simon was here, too. When had he arrived?—“The order to train her comes directly from Maven. Our hands are tied.”

  Hazel sighed audibly. “You don’t get it, kids. I know neither of you are great with auras, but hers isn’t just black. It’s . . . opaque. She has serious bloodlines.” There was actual awe in her voice, and I felt a chill race along my skin. Maybe it was just the frozen peas. “If what she told you is true, and she really doesn’t use her magic, then she is as close to a purebred as any witch I’ve ever seen.”

  There was a long moment of loaded silence before Lily finally spoke. “You always said there were families who breed for magic,” she pointed out. “Maybe she comes from one of those.”

  “She must. But the idea that a line of black witches could even survive that long, much less retain this much power . . .” She trailed off, and I could practically hear her shaking her head. “It’s terrifying, Lil. Whatever that young woman is, it’s terrifying.”

  I glanced around the room, looking for an exit. I needed to get out of here. Fast. Judging by the fact that she’d thrown me eight feet through the air with a flick of her wrist, Hazel Pellar was powerful. And now she was calling me terrifying. I didn’t really understand what was going on, but I could see the writing on the wall.

  I just couldn’t see a way out. The inside of the farmhouse was surprisingly modern, or maybe I had just subconsciously expected a lot of spiderwebs and a cauldron. But I was in a wide living room with a flat screen TV hanging on the wall, lavender canvas-covered furniture, and a lot of windows. But no external door.

  Unfortunately, my movement made the bag behind my head crinkle. Suddenly Simon’s face popped into view over the back of the sofa. I gasped.

  “Hey, Lex,” he said pleasantly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I sat up, the back of my head aching. The living room had an open floor plan that connected into the kitchen, where I could see Lily and Hazel sitting at a long counter with ceramic mugs in front of them. “Where’s my bag?” I said brusquely. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Hang on,” Lily said, hopping off her stool. “You hit your head pretty hard. I think it’s just a bump, but I need to check you for a concussion.”

  She grabbed a small but professional-looking medical kit off the counter and hurried into the living room. Hazel didn’t move from her seat.

  “Mom?” Simon said in a sweet voice, as Lily went past him. “Isn’t there something you’d like to say to Lex?”

  Hazel glared at her son. “Don’t patronize me, Simon Aleister Pellar.” Her gaze shifted toward me. “My children tell me you’re unaware of your abilities,” she said stiffly. “I apologize for throwing you. I just . . . reacted.”

  “There, was that so hard?” Lily said teasingly. She had perched next to me on
the sofa and was shining a dim flashlight into my eyes.

  Hazel sighed, a bit of the hostility leaching out of her shoulders. “Don’t mind my kids. They got in trouble a hundred times for using that particular hex when they were in high school. They’re very much enjoying the turnabout.”

  “Yeah, we are,” Lily said happily. She clicked off the little flashlight and held up one hand. “Your pupils are reacting fine. How many fingers do you see?”

  “Seven.” Lily made a suspicious face at me. “Okay, three.”

  “What’s your full name?”

  “Allison Alexandra Luther,” I recited.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Your mother throwing me into my car,” I said grimly. My head ached again, and I’d just gotten it to stop aching from the last time I’d been hurt. Unbelievable.

  “We used to call it the catapult,” Lily said conspiratorially. She turned her head to look at Simon, who had backed up and was leaning in the wide doorway between the kitchen and living room. Probably to stay between me and his mother. “I think she’s fine.”

  “Good,” Hazel said, climbing to her feet. She didn’t sound particularly pleased. “I’m going outside to get some air. And finish the geraniums.” She marched toward a screen door behind her.

  After we heard the door slam shut, there was a long moment of silence while Simon picked up one of the mugs on the counter and took a leisurely sip. Then he calmly put the mug down again and said offhandedly, “So, that went well.”

  I snorted. “I really am sorry,” he added, sounding sincere. “Mom’s under a lot of pressure from the clan right now. She was raised with a lot of traditions that are becoming . . . unfashionable.”

  “When did you get here?” I asked Simon. “How long was I out?”

  “Just a few minutes,” he assured me. “I was on my way here anyway, to pick up a bag of veggies for the faculty lounge.” He glanced at something over my head, and I followed his gaze to a clock on the wall.