Shelter (Episode Four: The Nightshade Cases)

By Patti Larsen

When a woman’s tortured body is discovered in an abandoned warehouse, Gerri and Ray can’t help but think it might be a weird case. With Jackson Pierce stirring trouble against them, can they solve it without Kinsey’s help?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Jul 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781927464694

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Book preview

Shelter

The Nightshade Cases: Book Four

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 by Patti Larsen

Find out more about Patti Larsen at http://www.pattilarsen.com/home

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Edited by Annetta Ribken www.wordwebbing.com

Proofed by Jessica Bufkin

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Chapter One

The woman huddled in the darkness, weeping as her world spun around her. The drug he’d given her made her nauseated, but she couldn’t muster the energy to vomit, to roll over, to move aside from her shaking shoulders.

The black, humid air engulfed her, devoured her as she sobbed silently into the quiet, limbs shaking beyond her control. She had no idea how long she’d been here, trapped in an iron cage, her naked back pressed to coarse straw scratching until her fair skin bled. The stench of her own waste was a constant, as familiar now as the ache in her flesh, the nausea. And the fear of his return.

Because he would be back. That terror made her forget her own name. Forget the fact she’d begged with him, demanded, shown courage at first. All her false bravado was long gone, slain by agony and drugs. She squirmed at the memory of the needles, the burning of chemicals, the sizzle of contact with things the human body should never be subjected to.

But hers was. Over and over again. Until all hope died and only the fear remained.

Shuffling footsteps in the dark made her sob louder, the noise finally escaping as adrenaline forced the last of her control over her own flesh into that single sound. He was here again, and, for the first time, she remembered why it was so dark.

And wailed a thin, horrified cry into the black. Her eyes tried to roll in their sockets, but there was nothing left to move. Her lips parted to scream at him, to call for help one last time, the stump of what remained of her tongue vibrating in the back of her throat.

Hands on her. Dragging her across the straw by a thick, leather collar around her neck. She choked, gagged, but had no strength to struggle, no power over her limbs to thrash. Not any longer. The familiar cold, clammy feel of the metal slab hit her back as he lifted her by the collar and dropped her with a whoof of exhale, the last gasp of air leaving her as he did. She turned her head, the chill of the table cold on her cheek, unable to weep past the charred flesh of her missing eyes, or cry coherently without her tongue.

His heavy breathing was the only sound she heard. Until the humming sound of the saw started up.

She managed one last scream into the black before he began his work again.

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Chapter Two

Dr. Ocean Panther paced her office, hands clenched before her as she fought to steady her nerves. All of her attempts to settle her anxiety failed, the technique of deep breathing exercises after meditation doing nothing to soften the edges of her rising panic.

They’d never failed her before. But this was no ordinary circumstance and, thanks to Mama Roan’s recent conversation, never would be again.

Cici paused at last by the window of her high-rise office, hands shaking as she ran them through her shining, black hair. What she was about to do went against everything she’d been taught in the white man’s world. Her years of education as a therapist came from logic, the rational. She’d abandoned her family’s religious practices years ago, though she humored her grandmother and the other elders of the Periqwai tribe on her infrequent visits to the reservation. She’d chosen a world of steel and concrete, leaving tradition to her brother, Wind.

But all of her resolve to fit in, to discard her native heritage and embrace science and healing came crashing down around her the moment she met Detective Geraldine Meyers. She understood, at last, the teachings of her people were no fantasy or mythos made up on dark nights in prehistory around a crackling fire. Not the imagination of some shaman, in an attempt to control or frighten his tribe.

Real. All of it, real. And embodied for Cici in the redheaded woman she was about to welcome into her office.

She checked her watch, a nervous glance at the face, not really seeing the time. Reflex, really. Cici spun away from the vista of the city below her, the shining Pacific Ocean to her left, the sprawling buildings to her right, and went to her desk. Forced herself to sit in her leather office chair and breathe while her heart pounded.

As if of their own volition, her hands pulled open the long, narrow drawer at the front of her desk, revealing a pile of files, some office supplies. And the soft, red-stained leather bag her grandmother gave her a week ago.

One teaspoon in her coffee, Mama Roan said, steel-gray hair hanging around her heavily lined face, brown as the desert. Her black eyes glittered with more youth than her body. And one in yours. The truth will be revealed.

Cici choked on her own spit, coughing as she inhaled the nervous saliva flooding her mouth. Did she want to know? She wasn’t sure. Though, every time she met Gerri, Cici felt the creature inside the detective, if subtly. She’d resisted her own abilities for years, gave them up long ago to pursue therapy, to be normal and ordinary. Now, thanks to Gerri’s influence, her power had woken. Walking down the street had become difficult, almost impossible as flickers of what lived within showed through. Not everyone. Most of the residents of Silver City were normal, human. But the other races…

Cici forced a breath into her aching lungs, almost closing the drawer. Her brow tightened as she glared at the pouch, finally grasping it, jerking it into her grip, before slamming the desk closed.

She had to know. And if this was her fate, she would embrace it at last. Because her half-existence in the spirit realm was driving her mad.

A soft knock on her door drove Cici to her feet. Angela’s gentle smile and nod helped more than she would ever know. Cici smiled at her receptionist in return, taking a firm grip on herself as she forced her professional veneer around her like a shroud.

Detective Meyers to see you, Dr. Panther. Angela stepped aside, the diminutive woman dwarfed as the tall, broad-shouldered Gerri stepped past her. Cici’s receptionist closed the door behind her, leaving the two alone. Panic grasped Cici by the throat, holding her still a moment, the red leather bag squeezed so tightly in her hand she felt her palm cramp.

Something about Gerri was larger than life. She dominated the room whenever she appeared, as though her soul was bigger than her body. She smiled at Cici, through wary, green eyes tight around the edges.

Hey, Doc, she said in her deep, smooth voice. Everything okay?

Cici bobbed a nod, jamming her hands into the pockets of her dress pants, leaving the red leather bag behind in hiding. She crossed to Gerri, offering her hand, feeling as though she were on autopilot, grateful for years of training that got her moving. She gestured for the detective to sit in her usual place. In a steady voice that shocked her, Cici said, Coffee?

And sealed her fate.

Thanks. Gerri didn’t sit, crossing to the window to look out over the city. Cici hesitated one last moment, her mind in turmoil, before going to the table at the side of the office where the coffee maker sat, full pot ready and waiting. Gerri made it too easy. She didn’t turn around even for a moment as Cici’s trembling hands measured out two full mugs, cream and sugar for both.

Wasn’t sure if you’d cancel again or not, Gerri said, voice drawing a faint meep of surprise from Cici. She fumbled the red leather bag, dropping it to the surface of the table as she glanced fearfully over at the detective. But Gerri still didn’t turn or seem to notice Cici’s discomfort. With a hasty gesture, she spooned out a measure of pale white powder into Gerri’s mug. Hand trembling, she deposited the same amount into her own, cursing softly as the liquid sloshed over the side of the over-full cup.

Gerri turned at that. Cici caught her move out of her peripheral vision. She swept the little bag sideways, into the trash, leaving a faint trail of white behind she hoped Gerri wouldn’t notice. She’d be forced to retrieve it later, like a junkie seeking a fix in a dumpster. But, for now, it was out of sight and Gerri’s view.

The detective’s heavy stride carried her to Cici. Surely, she guessed Cici’s duplicity, aware and prepared to confront her therapist for this betrayal. Mama Roan assured her it wasn’t anything of the sort. They had to know for certain what Gerri really was. Still, as a therapist, this was the gravest sort of betrayal, justified or not, Cici wondered if she would ever trust herself again.

But Gerri was smiling when she took her own cup, saving Cici the trouble of explaining the shaking in her hand that passed it to the detective. She stirred and sipped, sighing with happiness.

You have the best coffee, she said. Is that cinnamon?

Cici managed a smile. Something new, she said.

Gerri’s soft frown was warning enough. "You sure you’re okay? Need me to