“Sure.” He frowned as she knelt beside the cow and stretched out her hands above it.

  He waited as she probed the animal, watching the distant farmhouse and listening for the rest of the herd, which had retreated to the farthest corner of the pasture. Nothing else stirred.

  The night was so still that the nocturnal rustling of native wildlife was absent. Not even a breath of wind rose to carry the human sounds of Dunloe to his vampire ears.

  Fiona snatched her hands back and stood, staring down at the mutilated cow.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded hastily.

  “The herd is unsettled,” he added. “And there isn’t anything else out there. It’s as if all the animals have left.”

  “Maybe they sensed something was wrong. Animals are incredibly intuitive of environmental changes.”

  “Maybe.” He nodded towards the cow. “Did you find anything?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Kind of. My magic wouldn’t mesh, no matter how hard I pushed it. It was the same with the blight.”

  “Then it’s connected?”

  “It seems that way, but I can’t see how.”

  Patrick shrugged. He didn’t have any theories, either.

  “When Ed told me about the cow, I instantly thought about UFOs,” Fiona went on. “But now I’m wondering if it was a fox, but this cow is too big for a fox to have taken it out.”

  “What about pumas?”

  Fiona lifted her head. “Pumas?”

  “Yeah. There are stories all over about sightings of big cats in the bush. I’ve learned to take notice of these things because usually, there’s some grain of truth to them.”

  “Pumas are an urban myth,” she declared. “And even if it was a big cat, there aren’t any claw marks.”

  “You’re right. There isn’t any sign of a struggle at all.” For all they knew, the cow had just dropped dead.

  Fiona sighed. “It doesn’t make any sense. A fungal virus doesn’t hollow out a living creature. Maybe contaminated soil… No, not even that.” She looked around the field and scowled. “And where are the insides? Where’s the blood?”

  “It’s got to be magic, then.”

  “If it is, it’s not any magic I’ve ever seen.” She let out a frustrated groan. “I need to think about this. I need… I need to meditate on it.”

  His vampire senses rose at her increasing agitation and his frown deepened. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m…”

  If it was one thing Patrick knew about, it was the human condition. He was a politician of sorts before he was turned, which meant he was attuned to the subtle language of the body. If one could decode the innermost thoughts of a person, then the politician of the age could tailor their argument to best convince them of the justness of their cause. It was a pompous explanation of trying to justify manipulation, really.

  “Forget about the cow,” he said. “Why are we really here?”

  “There’s something going on. It’s my duty to—”

  “Fiona.”

  She snorted.

  “There is something going on here, and we should look into it, but it’s not a good idea to use it as a distraction…not after the things we’ve seen.”

  “I know. I just…” She turned away, embarrassed.

  “You can say anything you want to me.”

  “I never thought I’d be here,” she blurted, looking away from the cow.

  “You mean, standing in the dark with a mutilated bovine and a vampire?”

  Despite the grimness of their situation, she laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Patrick knew it wasn’t about him being a vampire, but he let her talk all the same.

  “I was brought up to hate vampires,” she admitted. “My parents really drove it home that it was against the laws of nature. They have a particular belief system when it comes to magic.”

  “I see,” he murmured. “Is that why you moved to Dunloe?”

  “Kind of. It wasn’t the vampire thing that made me leave exactly; it was the attitude they had towards such things. It was…extreme.”

  “Where are they now? Your parents?”

  “Probably still in their house, preaching their anti-vampire, ultra-magic conservative rhetoric from behind a barbed wire fence.” She shrugged. “You know how it is.”

  “And what about now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did any of the rhetoric stick?”

  “I’m standing in the dark with a mutilated cow and a vampire. What do you think?”

  “Still, you don’t seem happy.”

  “I’ve been pretending.”

  Patrick nodded, then guided Fiona away from the cow. They crossed the pasture and lingered in a copse of gum trees, the shadowy night wrapping around them.

  “Have you told Holly how you feel?”

  “She’s been through enough.”

  “We’ve all been through enough,” he said. “But you should talk to her.”

  “I don’t know…” Fiona shrugged and buried deeper into her coat. “We’ve been through this whole life changing thing together, but I don’t… How well do we really know each other?”

  He could sense she was embarrassed. Fiona saw Holly as a strong, talented witch who could take on anything and succeed. She didn’t think she could live up to her friend’s expectations, so it was like she’d said. She was pretending.

  “The possession?” he prodded.

  “I was gone for weeks.” Her eyes closed as she gathered herself. “I lost my job, my reputation, my money. I almost got evicted. Everyone focuses on the violation of it, but never about all the other stuff. The bit where I’m supposed to pick up all the pieces of my ruined life.”

  “Talk to Holly. She’ll help you; I know she will.”

  “I can’t.” Fiona shook her head. “The last thing I want to see is the pity in her eyes. I just can’t.”

  “Holly isn’t like that,” he murmured. “I saw who she is when she went inside my memories. She isn’t one to judge. If you asked, she’d help, no questions asked.”

  Fiona wiped at a tear and lowered her gaze. “I can’t ask her for money. It’s embarrassing.”

  “I can get you some work at the pub. It’s not glamorous, but the pay’s decent.”

  She scoffed and pursed her lips. He could sense she was holding back a flood of tears and didn’t want to press too hard.

  “I can compel you your old job back,” he offered. “I can do that, you know.”

  Fiona laughed, her smile a reassuring break in their heavy conversation. “I know you can, but I’m way too honest for that.”

  “Some people would see that as a flaw, but I think it’s an honourable asset.”

  “Some people are dishonest jerks.”

  Patrick smiled and reached an arm out, pressing his hand to the small of her back. “Well, for now, I think we should get you back into the Jeep where it’s warm. You’re shivering so much I can hear your teeth rattling.”

  “Okay.”

  Patrick helped her back over the fence to where the Jeep was parked alongside the road, his thoughts going back to the cow. “There’ll be some kind of investigation and pathology report, right? An autopsy to determine what might’ve caused the mutilation?”

  “Yes. I assume so.”

  “Then I’ll consult with Jin, and we’ll make sure we get a copy of the results,” he told her.

  Fiona fumbled in her pocket for her keys, her gaze lowering.

  “Hey,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Yeah…” she replied, “I hope so.”

  CHAPTER 6

  When Jin walked into the police station the following morning, he found another gossip session in full swing.

  “Two dead cows in two days, and Ed Holland destroyed his entire potato crop yesterday,” Sergeant Waters was saying. “And he won’t be able to plant his canola, either.”

  It was as if the crime rate in Dunloe had fallen to zero and there was nothing else to do. A total lie, because by the sounds of it, there was plenty of police work to be done.

  As Jin sat at his desk and typed his password into his computer, his thoughts wandered. Hollowed out cattle and rotting vegetables…? There was no way both events could be linked.

  Unless they were magical.

  “This town is getting stranger and stranger,” the sergeant went on. “The diggings are full of urban legends, but now this is some real UFO, contrail conspiracy bullshit.”

  “There’s already an increase in reports,” a constable noted, dropping a stack of Post-It notes on Jin’s desk. “Glowing orbs, mutilated wildlife, and get this…black shadow creatures.”

  Jin snorted and picked up the notes. “Shadow creatures? Are you serious?”

  “There has to be some new drug going around,” Waters declared. “Because this is totally whack.” He turned to Jin. “What do you reckon?”

  He’d never heard of such things, but then again, his experience with the supernatural world was limited to the prior goings-on in Dunloe—vampires, witches, and spirits. Were these shadow things spirits drawn here by the sudden absence of the vortex?

  “Well, for starters, you should look at the local dealers to see if they are carrying any new product,” Jin snapped. “It’s a better use of police resources than sitting on your arse and running your mouth off. Second, is there any autopsy being done on the deceased cattle? And is there any analysis being performed on the blight that destroyed those potatoes?”

  Sergeant Waters swallowed hard and sat up straight.

  “Dunloe may be a small town off the metropolitan beat, but it’s not an excuse to slack off,” Jin went on. What he wanted was for them to care about their jobs and not have to compel them into it. There would be no more repeating what had happened to Hank Judge. “Waters, get yourself a constable and look into the possibility of suspect drug activity.” He clicked his fingers at the officer who’d brought in the Post-It notes. “Constable Henderson, get on the phone with Ed Holland and see about this blight. He might need some help following up with the appropriate government agencies.”

  Waters flung his feet up onto the desk. “And what are you going to do?”

  Jin pushed his desk, which knocked into Waters’, the impact shoving his feet down. “I’m going to look into the mutilated cattle and make sure that dairy farmer gets an answer as to why he’s lost two valuable heifers.” He stood, his glare intensifying. “This town has been through enough in the last six months. It’s our job to protect it and the people who live here, not sit on our arses gossiping and throwing footballs around all day. Got it?”

  “Yes, detective.” To his credit, Waters looked rather sheepish as he reached for his car keys. “I know some places to start. We’ll get right on it.”

  The station burst into life as the officers got to work. Papers rustled, desk drawers slid open, keyboards clacked, and phone calls were made.

  Jin was feeling inadequate, and his irritation rose. He could mind-control—a skill meant for the predator to subdue its prey—and he had enhanced senses, but neither were useful against a magical threat. As a participant in the ongoing protection of Dunloe, he was placed on the back burner…again.

  But at least he could find out what the hell was up with this cow.

  On his way out to his car, Jin took out his phone and called Patrick. If Fiona was already looking into the potato thing, then maybe he’d heard something about the cows.

  But the older vampire beat him to it.

  Answering the incoming call, Jin said, “I was just about to call you.”

  “Great minds think alike.”

  “Is that meant to be a compliment? Because I’m certainly not feeling it this morning.”

  “Why are you always so grumpy?”

  “If you worked at the police station, you’d understand.”

  “Well, I’m calling about a possible magical problem…”

  “Does it have to do with cows with their insides sucked out? Because I’m going to the farm now.”

  Patrick chuckled. “As I said, great minds think alike.”

  “Are you inviting yourself?”

  “Considering I was out there last night with Fiona, maybe it would be a good idea if I tagged along.”

  Jin curled his lip, not wanting to spend any alone time with the other vampire, but he’d made Holly a promise to ‘make an effort’. “There’s been some other developments…”

  “What developments?”

  “I’ll fill you in on the way. Be outside the pub in thirty seconds.”

  “Jin—”

  He ended the call as he got into his car. As he brought the engine to life, his thoughts suddenly shifted to Hazel.

  Beware the ruin beneath…

  Her last words echoed in his mind and a pang of dread twisted his heart. What if she’d been telling the truth?

  A knock on the window brought Jin back with a start. Glaring up at Patrick, he scowled.

  “You were longer than thirty seconds,” the vampire said with a chuckle.

  Jin rolled his eyes. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

  The last place Holly Burke expected to find herself was at the Dunloe Town Hall.

  It was yet another fancy gold-rush-era building with a stone lintel dated eighteen-something. Inside, the foyer with its enormous ceiling height, staircase, and halls felt cold…though mysteriously full, despite her being the only person waiting.

  When her phone had rung that morning, she almost didn’t pay attention to it. She made it her business to not answer unknown numbers—there were too many scammers out there phishing for personal information that she just didn’t want to even deal. But when she’d listened to the voicemail, she knew it had to be about Samantha’s money. Why else would the mayor call her personally?

  ‘Hello, Holly. My name is Ian MacIntosh, the mayor of Dunloe. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time at some stage this week? You can stop by the town hall at any time or give me a call. Looking forward to meeting you.’

  The first thing Holly had done was roll her eyes. She’d met the mayor at Samantha’s funeral. Obviously, she’d left a lasting impression—that was, until the man had gotten wind of who all the assets had gone to. Now she was a ‘somebody.’

  Her phone pinged and she saw a text message from Jin. It was one piece of technology he’d embraced with open arms, though he still thought televisions weren’t to be trusted.

  Blight has destroyed Ed Holland’s crop and contaminated neighbouring fields. Two cows have been found hollowed out. Reports of glowing orbs in the diggings. Shadow creatures have been sighted in the bush.

  Holly lifted her gaze and made a face. Hollowed out cattle? Shadow creatures?

  “Miss Burke?”

  She stood as Ian MacIntosh appeared in the doorway of his office, Jin’s message forgotten as her nerves took over.

  There was nothing remarkable about the mayor of Dunloe. He was a regular, middle-aged man in a suit, with balding temples and a fancy badge. She knew little about him, other than he took his job seriously, only mixed with people he deemed ‘elite’ enough, and cared more about money and PR than fixing the potholes on Main Street.

  “Yes,” she said, sliding her phone into her coat pocket. “That’s me.”

  “Ah,” he declared with a wide smile. “You’re the spitting image of your aunt, did you know? I didn’t even have to ask. Please, come in, come in.”

  The mayor’s office turned out to be just as posh as the rest of Dunloe’s Town Hall. Apart from the modern touches—electricity, lightbulbs, computer, double-glazed windows, and radiator—it was totally vintage 1800s, complete with the red felt-lined mahogany desk, open fireplace, oil paintings, floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and leather-upholstered furniture.

  “Please, have a seat.” Mayor MacIntosh gestured to the plush leather chair as he rounded the fancy desk and sat.

  Holly perched gingerly on the chair, the hair on her arms prickling with goosebumps. This room felt full too, and she wondered if it was a magic thing. Her Legacy was attuned to the fifth element of spirit, so maybe the town hall had ghosts of its own…or, at least, the memory of them.

  “Firstly, I’d like to offer you my condolences,” he went on. “The community has been through so much turmoil in the last year. First, with your aunt’s sudden passing, then Marty Dunne’s misfortune in the diggings.”

  Holly narrowed her eyes, suspecting he hadn’t really noted Hannah’s death until he’d looked into her.

  “Then…” Ian trailed off and straightened his jacket. “Well, I’m sure you’re well-aware of all the other unfortunate incidents.”

  “Of course,” she said as he let her speak for the first time. “Though I don’t think this is a welfare check, is it?”

  Ian smiled and tapped his finger on top of the desk. “You’re just like your aunt—direct to the point, without any sugar coating. Have you ever thought about a career in politics?”

  Holly raised her eyebrows, resisting the urge to curl her lip. “No. Not even once.”

  The mayor laughed. “Good for me. If you did, I think you’d take my position come next election.”

  “Somehow, I think your job is safe.” Holly waited, hoping he’d move past the thinly veiled compliments and get to the point. She wanted to get home and finish her boundary spell.

  “Now,” he declared, “the council is hoping to put together a winter carnival as a sort of cheerful event to help take people’s minds off things.”

  “Cheerful event?”

  “Yes, with food trucks, market stalls, set up a carnival on the oval, and bring people into the main part of town. We could even open all the historical buildings and run tours. By having the event in town, the local businesses could decorate and get in on the fun.” And make money.

  “Wow.” Holly had her confirmation why the mayor had called her in for a meeting; he was fishing for money. She had deep pockets thanks to Samantha, and everyone knew it. “Sounds like quite the endeavour.”

  “Look, I’ll be straight with you, Holly. Ever since these things have been happening, tourism is down. All the local accommodation owners have been complaining that they’re only seeing a twenty percent occupancy rate. A dozen families just upped and moved, leaving businesses without employees and income. If this continues, Dunloe will become a ghost town.”