“One of our investigators just had his third set of twin daughters. He’s a Viking priest. His mother-in-law is there to help out with the babies until his wife can get back on her feet. I find it telling that Orik would rather come into work then stay home around Ana.” I shrugged, then quickly text Orik back that we would see him soon.

  “All right, it looks like there’s no one left to give permission for me to open the files. Her mother committed suicide two months after the murder, and her father vanished into thin air, it seems. He’s never been heard from again. So I think I’m safe in giving you answers. Do you want me to go over it with you?”

  I nodded. “Can you summarize it? Even though Penn will understand you better than I will, it might be easier if you give us a paraphrased version and then we can look at the other information once we get back to the office.”

  “Okay. It seems that Riana was far more gifted than any student we’ve ever had. It’s a pity. She would have grown up to be such a talented witch. She was casting spells two and three times above her level. She was also extremely temperamental, but they chalked it up to her being high strung. When I look through her file, though, I’d say she likely had some form of a borderline personality disorder. She wasn’t mean to other students, but she seemed to have anger management issues when things didn’t go her way.”

  “Did she ever hurt anybody?” Penn asked.

  “Not deliberately. But she didn’t have the control her magic would have demanded for her capability. The school administration had enrolled her in an accelerated program, aimed at helping her learn to temper herself and control magical fallout… Collateral damage, I guess you could call it.” The principal was printing out papers as he spoke. “She snuck into the library’s rare book room, and stole a book of ancient curses. The admin managed to retrieve the book, but not before she had time to learn several of them.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” I said.

  “It is. Now, we have those books under lock and key. But back then, they were on display. The curses come from an ancient family of witches who were extraordinarily powerful and vengeful. They were ruthless. No one knows if anyone from that bloodline is still alive today.”

  Penn gasped. “The Romalies?”

  Philip nodded. “I take it you’ve heard of them?” He stopped himself. “Of course you would have heard of them. We teach classes on them.” He glanced at me. “We teach new generations about the Romalies, just like we teach about Vlad the Impaler, about the Khan dynasties, the Yagasaras from the Black Forest, and other family empires.”

  “Never heard of them,” I said. “Well, the Romalies. I’ve heard of the Yagasaras, Vlad, and Genghis Khan.”

  The Yagasaras were an ancient bloodline of wolf shifters who had ruled within the Black Forest during the 1800s. They had rampaged through the countryside, killing their enemies and looting villages. Eventually, they incurred the wrath of the vampires, who were rising in power, and the ensuing skirmishes wiped most of the Yagasaras out of existence. There were ragtag remnants of the bloodline still alive, but they had never recovered from the wolf shifter-vampire wars.

  “The Romalies kept detailed grimoires, and a few survive to this day. We have two of them here at Windchime Magical Academy. Riana stole one, and she had enough time to learn several of the curses, and given the Romalies specialized in death and torture curses, she probably used one of them.” Philip sighed. “I don’t blame her. They included a summation of what happened to her in her file.”

  “Is there anyway you can tell us what curse it was that she cast? That can affect how spirits haunt an area, and it can change how we approach exorcising the spirits.” Longworld got off easy, I thought.

  “Not unless I know more about what happened. While we seldom allow people to research those curses—for obvious reasons—I’m going to allow you to borrow her files, and I’ll print out some of the curses that she might have used.” Philip glanced at Penn. “Will you promise me that you won’t learn how to cast them?”

  She held his gaze for a moment before answering. “I can’t make an oath, but I’ll do my best to forget them after we’re done. I have an extremely good memory and I can’t guarantee I won’t accidentally memorize them.”

  Philip stared at her for a moment. Finally, he must have decided that we meant what we said, because he went on to print out several pages. “There are three curses I think she might have cast. Once you decide how to counter it, please destroy this paper so no one else gets hold of it. And if you would give me the counter-curse, if you are able to find one, I’d appreciate it.”

  “We promise,” I said.

  He handed me the paper. “Sometimes I wish we could destroy those books. But those grimoires are our history. We don’t have the right to destroy them. For instance, what if somebody discovered the same curse and used it in battle? We’d need to know what we were fighting. Anyway, if you tell anybody that I gave these to you, I’ll deny it. Do you understand?” He stood, holding the file folder in his hand.

  I gave him a nod. “I understand, and I promise you, we won’t tell anybody who isn’t on a need-to-know basis about this. Thank you. There were thirteen women killed in that house, and they deserve a chance to rest. I’m thinking the curse probably keeps them going, given Riana cast it when she was being murdered.”

  I accepted the file folder, and we said goodbye. As we headed back to her car, watching the bustle of students around us, I turned Penn. “What do you think? Do you think that the Academy has the right to keep those books? Do you think they should be destroyed?”

  Penn frowned, wiping her hair from her face. “I don’t think there’s a right answer to that. Destroying history never sets well with me, because if you forget the past you tend to repeat it. And yet, when the past contains what’s basically a landmine waiting to explode, what do you do?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s an interesting question of ethics. Come on, let’s get back to the office. We’ve got a lot of research to do.” As we drove south on I-5, my thoughts were caught up in curses and powerful families. What was it like, belonging to a dynasty? In some ways, it made me glad for my own lack of connection. Because regardless of who you were, everyone of these families expected you to take your place within it, to perpetuate the lineage down through time. And if you weren’t as strong as your ancestors, what happened to you then?

  CHAPTER NINE

  When we reached the office, Dante was in the breakroom, fuming.

  “What’s up?” I asked, dropping my backpack on the breakroom table.

  “That bitch slashed my tires! I’ve had it. I called the cops.” His eyes flashed, and he let out a soft growl that told me his wolf was close to the surface.

  “What the hell? Rowan? Is she here?” I looked around, expecting to see her tied up somewhere.

  “No, but she left a calling card.” He tossed a black rose made out of metal—including the thorns—on the table. “She loves black roses. She also keyed my car.” He let out another growl.

  “Cripes. Did anybody see her?” I knew what the cops would say, and I wanted to prepare Dante because I knew he wasn’t thinking straight.

  “No,” he said, giving me side-eye.

  “Do you have a security camera installed in your car?”

  “No,” he said, again glancing at me sideways. He knew what I was getting at. “You don’t think they’ll do a damned thing, do you?”

  “No, honestly, I don’t. Without proof that it was her, there’s not much you’re going to be able to do. They’re not about to show up on her doorstop and accuse her of vandalism when there’s nothing to prove she’s been around here.”

  For one thing, the cops were overworked and they didn’t have time for cases without compelling evidence. For another, a number of the cops were corrupt, and it often required a bribe to get anywhere. An activity we weren’t going to perpetuate.

  Dante kicked the leg of his desk. “Damn it. What the hell am I going to do about her? I’d like to kick her ass across the ocean. Or better yet, into the ocean. The deepest part.”

  I thought for a moment. We had to do something because she was growing more dangerous. The cops weren’t going to help—we already knew that. Thing was, Rowan was also married and it made me wonder if her husband knew about what she was doing. We suspected it was a green card marriage—Lou was from another country and they’d been married for about five years, but from what we could tell, they were barely on speaking terms.

  “What about contacting her husband? I wonder if he knows anything about this?” I asked.

  Dante gave me a pointed look. “Well, that wasn’t a thought I was entertaining, but it might enlighten us…maybe.” He almost cracked a smile. “Can you imagine the look on her face when she finds out we’ve involved her spouse? Hey, what if we call immigration and tell them it’s a fake marriage?”

  I snorted. “We can’t do that. He’s had enough hell in his life living with Rowan for five years. Besides, we’re not after him. We’re after her.”

  “True,” Dante said. “Okay, but I’d rather not be the one to confront him. If we’re wrong, and he’s in love with her, I’m not the guy he’s going to want to hear this from.”

  “Then start looking through the file that Philip gave me, while I drive over to their apartment. I’m only too happy to do what I can to put a stop to this.”

  I dropped the files on his desk and strode out of the room, determined to put a stop to this for good. Peeking in Carson’s office, I whistled at him and snapped my fingers. “Yo, come with me. We got something to do and I need backup. Dante’s not the choice for this,” I said.

  Carson groaned. “You’re talking about Rowan, aren’t you?” He shrugged into his leather jacket and followed me toward the door.

  “You know me so well,” I said. “We’re going to go talk to her husband and see if he has any idea what she’s been up to.”

  Carson knew better than grumble. He just followed me silently to the door, and — after informing Sophia where we’d be — we headed down to the parking lot.

  I stopped in at the coffee stand before we hit the road. “Triple shot caramel latte,” I said. “What do you want?” I asked Carson.

  “Quad shot espresso, iced.”

  I gave his order and, once we had our drinks, we set out for Lake Forest Park.

  Rowan and her husband lived on Northeast 174th Street. We took Highway 523 to Highway 522, where we turned north. We made another turn onto Highway 104, then left onto 178th Street. From there it was a quick jog to the left on 44th and another on 174th Street.

  Finally, we pulled to a stop in front of a modest two-story house. The neighborhood wasn’t a bad one, though it wasn’t affluent, either. The house was a dark grey, with ice blue trim.

  There was one car in the driveway — a green sedan. I wasn’t sure what Rowan drove, so we wanted to be cautious. I turned off the engine and looked at Carson.

  “I suppose we should go knock on the door,” I said.

  “We might as well get this over,” he said. “After all, what’s the worst she can do to us?”

  “She’s a witch. There’s no telling what she can do, although I think she had much power, Dante would be in far more trouble than he is. So, shall we get this over with?”

  I hoped that her husband didn’t own a gun, although rabbit shifters tended to be pacifists. Very few of them ran around armed.

  With a sigh, I opened my door and stepped out onto the road. Carson followed suit and together, we marched up to the front door. I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly as I rang the bell. After a few seconds I rang again.

  The door opened abruptly and we found ourselves staring at a six-foot tall man, who was far more burly than any rabbit shifter I had ever met. But there was a gentle look in his eyes, although he stared at us warily.

  “Are you Lou?” I asked. “Rowan’s husband?”

  He nodded, looking puzzled. “Yes, I am. Are you looking for Rowan? She’s out right now.”

  I shook my head. “No, actually we’d like to talk to you if we can have a moment. My name is Kyann Sarasan, and this is Carson Dreyfus. We’re from Shadow Blade Investigations.” I watched him closely to see if the name registered, but he still stared at us blankly.

  After a moment, he stood back, opening the door wider. “Come in, please.”

  He led us into the living room, which was modestly furnished. It was clean and organized. Plants grew everywhere, including a few orchids. The furniture had seen better days, but it too, was neat and clean. The entire place felt comfortably lived in.

  “Please, sit down?” He asked, ushering us over to the sofa.

  We sat down, and I set my purse on the table. I unzipped the pocket nearest me and brought out my badge, showing him my credentials.

  “Have you ever heard of our agency?” I asked.

  He studied my badge for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “Have you ever heard a man named Dante Franco?” I asked.

  Again, the blank stare and a shake of the head. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “This is going to be a dicey subject,” I said. “And I’m not sure how you will react, but I assure you, we wouldn’t be here unless we needed to.”

  Lou’s expression clouded over. He began to fidget, tapping his foot on the floor. “All right. I’m ready.”

  “Oh boy,” Carson muttered.

  “I’m really sorry, Lou — pardon me but I’m not sure of your last name — but we have a few uncomfortable questions to ask about your wife.”

  A frightened look replaced the nervous gleam in his eyes. “Are you from immigration?”

  “No, we’re not. We aren’t here regarding your green card. Your wife’s name is Rowan, correct?”

  He nodded. “Yes, that’s her name.”

  “There’s no easy way to say this,” I began, then decided to just blurt it out. “Rowan has been stalking one of my investigators. In fact, he’s my co-owner. Dante Franco has known Rowan for a while. She used to frequent the gym where he worked out, and she began harassing him. We have all of this on video so she can’t deny it. She’s broken into his apartment, stolen from him, and yesterday she slashed his tires. I’m afraid if we don’t put a stop to this, it might lead to violence.”

  I sat back, watching him closely. Lou just sat there, processing what I had told him. After a couple of moments, Lou let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair, dropping his head back as he let out a groan.

  “Not again. Please, not again.”

  “You believe us?” I asked.

  After another sigh, Lou leaned forward. “Believe you? Yes. I do. This has happened before. We used to live in Tacoma, until Rowan started stalking a man there. He went to the police. I threatened that I’d leave her if she didn’t stop. I got her to see a shrink, and he helped her wean herself off the infatuation she had for this guy. But our reputation was ruined. She ended up spending two weeks in jail, and he slapped a restraining order on her. As soon as we could, we moved. I thought it might be a one off—that somehow, she’d just lost control for a time.” He paused, then asked, “I assume you know that I’m here on a green card marriage?”

  I nodded, not sure what to say. That she had done this before signaled a greater problem than I thought.

  “I wasn’t the one who asked her to marry me so I could to gain my citizenship,” he said. “We were dating. She wanted to marry me and I thought we were in love. It seems like a win-win. Marry the woman who could assure my future here, and we were in love. I thought I had found the best of both worlds.”

  “I can see how you would think that,” Carson said.

  “Right. It was a whirlwind marriage, but we were crazy for each other and even immigration could see that. I thought everything was wonderful until a year later, when she met Harry. That’s the first guy she stalked. I didn’t realize it in the beginning, of course, but she was stalking me as well. I just happen to be free and interested in her. But the newness wore off, and when she met Harry, she fell for him. Hard.”

  “How did he feel about her?” I asked.

  “Oh, he didn’t reciprocate her feelings. He was gay, and she drove off his fiancé with her antics.”

  “I’m not sure antics would be exactly the word I’d use,” Carson said.

  Lou shrugged. “You’re right. Anyway, she drove off Harry’s fiancé, and she destroyed his car. She put sugar in his gas tank when he told her to leave him alone.”

  “What would happen if they were to arrest her for stalking Dante?” I asked. “What would happen to you, I mean.”

  “Oh, I’d be okay. It’s past the time when ICE can deport me if the marriage fails. I stay with her mainly because I worry about her mental health. And… Against all odds… I do love the woman. I hate what she’s doing, and I hate that she doesn’t feel passion for me anymore. I keep thinking that if I stay long enough, she’ll come full circle back to me. Then, maybe I can get her into therapy and we can have the family that I hoped for. I guess I’m fooling myself,” Lou said.

  “You deserve better than this, man,” Carson said.

  I nodded. “You do, you really do deserve more than this. I’m sorry, but we have to do something before she hurts Dante, because I swear to you — if she lays one hand on him, I’ll let my demon out and there won’t be anything left of her.” I held Lou’s gaze, feeling that inner shift that happened when my demon rose her head out of the shadows.

  Lou blanched. “I see,” he said. “You’re right, of course. We have to stop her. I wonder…let me see If I can call her therapist. Maybe he can commit her for an observation period. I’m still in contact with him. Let me put in a call and see what he has to say.”

  “When is Rowan due home? She knows who we are and I don’t want to trigger her to act out.”

  Lou glanced at the clock on the wall. “Not for a couple of hours. She’s working until two o’clock today.” He picked up his phone and excused himself.