Midnight Hour Page 3

  The stabbing pain in her side finally brought her back to her knees beside her sister. Miranda’s left arm hung useless at her side. But Tabitha’s whole body seemed useless.

  With her good hand, she pulled her phone from her jean pocket. She took her first gulp of clean air. But her lungs didn’t appear to be ready. Coughing, staring at her phone, the dizziness returned full force. She barely managed to hit the first name on her contact list.

  But it was a good one.

  A person who could handle any crisis.

  A person who would be there for her in a pinch.

  She heard Burnett’s deep, serious voice answer. As reassuring as his voice was, those damn black spots started encroaching again.

  Closer.

  Faster.

  A sense of numbness descended upon her again. Struggling to stay conscious, only two words slipped from her lips. “Need help.”

  Chapter Three

  Something stirred Miranda. Sirens, voices, people prodding her. She felt herself being pulled out of the web of darkness, but in the obscure place there was no pain. She liked it better there. More voices rang out and continued to pull her back.

  “I said back up!” The commanding voice stilled the air, demanded respect.

  “And I said if you don’t want your face rearranged you should get out of my friggin’ way!”

  Miranda knew only one person who had that way with words and was willing to butt heads with authority. She forced her eyelids open. As expected, she spotted the sassy dark-haired vampire.

  “Hey?” Della must have noticed the flutter of Miranda’s eyes opening for the girl dropped to her knees, her expression of sheer determination fading to something softer. To the expression of a best friend who cared.

  “Oh, God. Are you okay?” Della’s voice almost sounded unfamiliar, because it was seldom laced with such emotion.

  “Officer,” the voice from earlier called out. “Can you please remove this girl?”

  Della flinched and Miranda’s heart did the same. Not from the scene before her, but from her memory of what had happened. She remembered her sister’s bloody and unconscious body.

  “No! Where’s Tabitha?” Her sister’s name burned her throat. Miranda tried to turn her head where her sister had been, but her head wouldn’t move that far. She reached up with her good hand and felt a brace around her neck.

  “Is Tabitha okay?” Her words shook as she voiced the question to Della.

  “They’re putting her in an ambulance now,” Della said.

  “Is she okay?” Miranda pushed out the question.

  Della took one second too long to answer. “I … I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  Miranda’s soul went straight to aching. For seventeen years, she hadn’t known she had a sister, but right now Miranda couldn’t imagine her life without her. They talked every day, they shared everything. Embarrassment, laughter, pain. They were … sisters.

  She struggled to feed air to her lungs, and when she did it hurt, not that the physical pain compared to what she felt for her sister.

  “How bad is she?” Miranda tried to get up.

  “No, you can’t move. They’re taking her to the hospital.” Della gently pushed Miranda back down. “And Kylie’s headed there now.”

  Thabump, thaaabump, tha … bump. Miranda’s heart throbbed and echoed in her ears. “Oh, God! You think Tabitha’s dying? That’s why you sent Kylie, isn’t it? To heal her, because you think…” She tried to get up again.

  Della pushed her down. “No, no, no.” She said it three times as if hoping it would sound more believable. It sounded anything but.

  Her sister was dying! Her heart, now swollen with grief, clamored against her sore rib cage.

  From Miranda’s prone position, she saw Della flinch and then a cop appeared, standing over her.

  “You are going to have to leave!” he growled.

  Della didn’t look up, didn’t speak. Her only acknowledgment of him was the cold angry scowl pulling at her lips. The cop went to reach down. “Don’t do it,” Della hissed, the sharp warning in her tone was louder than her words.

  A flicker of a second before his fingers latched on to the angry vampire, something, or someone, yanked the cop out of Miranda’s line of vision.

  “Give us a few minutes,” another deep voice said. A familiar voice, not loud in pitch, but in a tone few dared to disobey.

  Miranda cut her eyes to the right to see Burnett holding out his Federal Research Unit (FRU) badge. The agency was like the FBI, but oversaw the supernaturals. Humans just considered them an offshoot of the FBI.

  Della glanced up at Burnett. “She’s conscious now.”

  The tall dark vampire knelt down. His caring gaze found Miranda’s and just knowing he was there had her chest tightening with emotion.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Miranda tried to shake her head, but the brace made it hard to move her neck. “No,” she spit out. “Did you see Tabitha? How bad is she?”

  Miranda knew Burnett well enough to know he wouldn’t sugarcoat it. Della usually didn’t, either. But for Miranda, she’d tried.

  “They’re worried.” Honesty laced his voice. His eyes were bright, probably due to the smell of blood, but his words came out soft and caring. “They can’t revive her.”

  The air in Miranda’s lungs shook. Her vision clouded with emotion. “Please get Kylie to her. Tell Kylie not to let her die. Please!”

  “Kylie’s on her way to the hospital now.” He took Miranda’s hand and frowned. “I know you are hurting both physically and emotionally, but can you answer a few questions?”

  Miranda attempted to nod, but the damn neck thing prevented it again. “Yes.”

  “Should the FRU take over this case?”

  Miranda knew what he was asking. Was something supernatural behind the explosion? She answered with confidence. “Yes.”

  Burnett frowned. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Tabitha wanted her fortune told.” Her voice shook. “The old witch seemed half crazy, she might have been practicing black magic, but she came off more demented than evil. I wasn’t all that worried and then—”

  “Did the witch do this?” Burnett asked, impatient to get the answers he wanted.

  Miranda tried to think. “I don’t know. She was reading my fortune and she saw the armadillo and then—”

  “Saw what?” Burnett’s two words sounded puzzled.

  “The armadillo.”

  “Armadillo?” Della asked, her tone matching Burnett’s.

  They looked at each other as if worried Miranda was out of her head.

  “I’m not crazy,” she blurted out. “She had an armadillo.”

  Burnett nodded. “Okay. But … what does an armadillo have to do with—”

  “I don’t think it was a real armadillo, but someone she cursed and imprisoned. She had it chained up. I … I freed it. She saw it was loose at the same time she started to read my fortune and then … she seemed to panic. I don’t know if it was because the armadillo had been freed or because of my fortune. She told us to leave and … then it was like a storm raged inside.”

  “A storm?” he asked.

  “Wind, lightning. Everything started shaking.”

  He nodded. “Did the witch get out?”

  “I told her to. But she just stood there. I tried to grab her but she lurched back. I … it was getting bad, louder. So I grabbed Tabitha and ran.” Miranda’s throat tightened with the realization that she might have left someone to die. And that was wrong. So wrong.

  “She didn’t follow you?” he asked.

  “No, not out the front. I don’t know if there was a back door. I should have checked, I’m sorry.” Miranda tried to breathe, but it hurt.

  “For what?” Della asked. “That bitch of a witch probably did it.”

  Miranda didn’t know if she believed it. If she’d done it why would she have told them to leave?

  “The armadillo got
out,” Miranda added. “It was what woke me when the smoke was blowing at us. It was bad. I couldn’t breathe. I managed to get Tabitha and I away from the fire.”

  “How did you two get here?” Burnett asked.

  “Tabitha’s car.” Miranda answered, unsure why he was asking that when she could see the car still parked on the street.

  “Who was with you?” he asked.

  “Just us. Why?”

  Miranda saw Della and Burnett share a glance.

  “You sure?” Della asked.

  “Positive. What is it?”

  “Nothing,” Burnett said, but it didn’t sound like “nothing” and he glanced at Della and then lifted his face as if to test the air.

  “He was here,” Della said.

  “Who?” Miranda asked again.

  Before either of them answered, another man, a half-fae half-were, wearing a black FRU suit, appeared beside Burnett. “The paramedics are getting pissy. They’re insisting they need to take her in. And the bulldog over there wants…” He lifted one brow as if he was leaving some things unsaid. “They have some questions. Lots of them.”

  Burnett glanced at Miranda. “You did good. Try not to worry.” He stood up and looked at the other agent. “I’m calling this in. We’re taking over the case. I’m going to the hospital. Get some other agents here to help investigate the scene. Oh, and put out an APB.” He looked at Miranda, frowned, and then refocused on the agent. “We’re looking for an old witch and an armadillo.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “You’re joking?”

  “When have you ever known me to joke?”

  * * *

  Shawn Hanson was late to a date. He didn’t do late. But his mom had insisted he sit and listen to her criticism of his recent choices. So he listened, not that he actually heeded her advice. He was almost twenty. His mom didn’t dictate who he dated.

  Parking his car in front of the restaurant where he was supposed to meet Miranda, her sister, as well as Anthony Bastin, he got out in a hurry, hoping she wasn’t upset at him.

  “Hey,” Shawn offered a quick hello to Anthony who stood outside the restaurant. Anthony smiled and leaned in as if to embrace him. Shawn did a quick back step, discouraging the physical contact. Not that he blamed the guy. He was … French, which basically meant a tad touchy-feely.

  He’d met Anthony in Paris when the FRU had sent him there to protect Miranda. Anthony had met Tabitha in Paris, had liked her, and had come to live in Texas in obvious hopes of them developing a relationship. Her high-priestess title, if not her attractiveness, made her a desirable choice for a life mate.

  Shawn, however, found her sister much more desirable. Miranda, a friend of his younger sister, had been on his radar for years. And it wasn’t just because she was hot, it was … He couldn’t define it, but Miranda had something … something sweet and so unpretentious that she stood out from all the women he’d ever met. Anthony could have Tabitha.

  Or maybe not. Because unfortunately for the European traveler, Miranda had told him that Tabitha’s mom was against her daughter dating anyone who wasn’t a warlock.

  Not that he blamed Tabitha’s mom. He’d made up his own mind to marry in his own species. Not because he disliked or held any prejudices toward others, but …

  “Ah, I forget American men shy away from physical contact.” While Anthony still carried a touch of an accent, his English had immensely improved from nine months ago. The guy had no doubt worked hard. Shawn admired him for that.

  “A handshake will do.” Shawn offered his hand.

  They shook. “The girls not here?” Shawn asked.

  “Tabitha texted me and said she and Miranda might arrive late.”

  “Okay,” Shawn pushed away his niggling guilt for letting his mother persuade him into staying for the repeated lecture. “Did they say how late?”

  “No,” he said.

  Right then Shawn spotted the jewelry store next door. Perfect.

  “Do you mind if we walk next door while we wait for them?”

  “Not at all.” The bell on the door announced them. A pretty girl from behind the counter greeted them. Shawn went straight to checking her pattern.

  He noted she wasn’t all human, but part vampire, witch, and shape-shifter. His nod included a little extra enthusiasm to let her know he wasn’t here to cause trouble.

  Her widening smile told him she understood.

  “You are in the market for some jewelry?” Anthony’s question pulled Shawn away from the girl.

  “I’m looking for something for Miranda.”

  “An engagement ring?” Surprise heightened his voice and his accent.

  “No. Just a necklace or something.” They walked to the glass countertops. “Something that shows how I feel about her.”

  “And what do you feel?” the store clerk asked, not at all embarrassed at eavesdropping. She smiled again and he noted the dimple in her right cheek seemed to wink at him. “If I know how you feel, I might be able to point you to the right item.”

  A tad uncomfortable with stating his feelings, he considered changing the subject, but why? “I like her.”

  The girl tilted her head to the side, sending her brown hair sweeping across her right shoulder. It looked soft and touchable. “Like?”

  The question caught him off guard, or maybe it was the girl’s bare shoulder. The red tank top she wore left plenty of skin visible. “Yes, I like her. A lot.” A touch of guilt pulled at his gut, no doubt from appreciating the girl when he’d come here to buy something for Miranda—who had really nice shoulders as well.

  “But it’s not love yet?” Her soft brown eyes twinkled with tease. “Which I suppose is good news for all the single girls admiring you from afar.”

  His face heated slightly from embarrassment. “It’s almost love.” And it was, he cared about Miranda.

  She chuckled, a flirty feminine giggle that pulled a smile from him even when he wished it hadn’t. Then she leaned in and whispered. “Is she Wiccan?”

  “Yes.” The girl’s soft perfume filled his air.

  “I have some pieces with touches of Wicca influence. Let me pull a few.”

  When he realized his gaze followed her as she moved, he looked away. Since he’d started dating Miranda, he’d lived the life of a monk. Not that he was complaining. She deserved to take her time. That said, he was really looking forward to their weekend together and was thrilled that Miranda seemed to finally be ready to take things to the next level.

  He wanted the weekend to go perfect. She deserved perfect.

  Anthony chuckled. “I do say, the pheromones are flowing. I think she likes you, too.” He looked to the door where the clerk had disappeared.

  Shit! Shawn had forgotten he was with a vampire whose damn nose didn’t miss anything.

  “No,” he denied, too quickly.

  Anthony lifted one brow as if hearing the lie in Shawn’s heart.

  “She’s attractive, but she’s not … Miranda.”

  He laughed. “No worries. I do not judge. The heart does not stop the eyes from noting, it simply stops one from following their gaze.”

  “Right,” Shawn said.

  “But it is not love yet?” Anthony asked as if recalling Shawn’s words to the clerk.

  “It’s close.” Shawn frowned. “Miranda wanted to take it slow.”

  “Ahh,” Anthony said. “But it is odd, for we French have a saying … ‘Matters of the heart do not come with speed control.’” He chuckled. “Since I woke up to hear Tabitha’s voice that day in Paris, even when her words were about letting me die, I felt the race of my pulse.”

  Shawn pushed away from the counter. “Well, the American way is to get one’s brakes checked before hitting heartbreak head-on.”

  “I admit there is wisdom in that approach.” Anthony frowned. “And I confess my heart is all French. So maybe I need to adapt to these American ways a little bit.”

  The tapping of the clerk’s footsteps had them both look
ing up.

  She placed several pieces on the table. A bracelet, a ring, three necklaces, and matching earrings. “The Bacchanal Rose bracelet is my favorite.” She ran her finger over the black rose centered in a scroll-like pattern.

  “It is beautiful.” Shawn imagined Miranda’s eyes lighting up when she saw the gift. “I’ll take it.” He dropped his credit card.

  He’d signed the receipt and she’d just come back and handed him his card and the box when his phone rang. “Excuse me.” He stepped away and pulled out his cell and saw it was Burnett. “Yes,” he answered, hoping his boss wasn’t going to ruin his evening.

  “Where are you?” Burnett asked.

  “About to do lunch with Miranda. Why?”

  “Something … something’s come up.” Burnett’s tone sounded off, almost as if he was choosing his words carefully. And Burnett James seldom made the effort to choose his words.

  “What is it?”

  Burnett cleared his throat. “It’s … It’s Miranda and her sister.”

  * * *

  Miranda had pretty much diagnosed herself before the ambulance arrived at the hospital: broken arm, bruised ribs, and a concussion. She would survive. Whether her heart would make it depended on her sister’s condition. The look in Burnett’s eyes when he told her about Tabitha said it was bad. It couldn’t be that bad.

  Miranda. Could. Not. Lose. Tabitha!

  The second the nurse walked up beside the gurney, Miranda asked, “My sister, Tabitha Evans, was just brought in. Is she okay? Has anyone come to see her, another girl, about my age, a Kylie Galen?”

  “I think the doctors are with your sister now.”

  “Is Kylie here?”

  “I think we should worry about you for a few minutes. Be a good little patient.” She patted Miranda’s arm like she was a child.

  “But if you’d just check. And if Kylie Galen is here, you have to let her—”

  “Now, now, you don’t want to be the patient that I have to go home and tell my husband about. Try and be an easy patient.” She patted Miranda again.