Hallow Be the Haunt (Krewe of Hunters #22.5)(5)

And also, she knew.

She knew the young woman in her dream had been murdered.

And the ghost of the girl had come to her.





Chapter 2



“Witches?”

Jake Mallory had been through many different situations since he’d first joined the Krewe of Hunters.

But he’d never received a call about witches before.

Over the phone, Jackson’s voice was no-nonsense, as usual. “Curious case,” he said. “First, they found a young woman—a local named Shelley Broussard—and she’d had her throat slit. But she wasn’t killed where she was found—just outside St. Louis #1. She’d been set down on the street as if she was drunk and passed out. There was no blood; she was obviously killed elsewhere and then displayed there. She had a sign hanging around her neck. It read Traitor. And she had a cup by her side—as if she’d been begging.” He paused. “Actually, a few kindhearted people had put some change and a few bills in her cup before one of the onlookers realized she was dead and called the police.”

“Murder is always a tragedy.” As Jake knew well. “But Jackson, that’s one for the NOPD. They aren’t going to want us butting in. And what does this have to do with witches?”

“There was a second murder—last night. A hood. He had his throat slashed.” Jackson sighed. “Now I know it’s a lot of supposition, Jake, but the medical examiner suggests the young woman and our hood were killed with the same weapon. It’s a hard thing—unless you have the right blade—to easily slit a throat to that extent. No butter knife was used, that’s for sure. Anyway, the thug was found on the street right where he was murdered. Just outside the French Quarter, near Frenchmen.”

“Witches, Jackson, really? Where do they come in? It is nearly Halloween. But—”

“There was a witness to the thug’s murder. Another thug. He saw the witches—first one, and then three. They were posturing in the street. His friend joined him. The man killed was a ‘Tink,’ or Thomas Aldridge. Big guy—a good six-five, shoulders of steel. His buddy—totally hysterical, according to Detective Isaac Parks, lead on the case for the NOPD—admitted that the two of them were going to break into a newly refurbished house and rob the place blind. He wants to stay in jail. He’s afraid to go back out on the streets of New Orleans.”

Jake realized Ashley had awakened. She was watching him. He winced. They had come to plan specifics on the wedding, and instead he was talking shop.

But she was watching him gravely. And he knew again why he loved her so much. Ashley didn’t need continued assurances; she didn’t hesitate for a minute when work interfered with something they had planned.

She saw the dead herself; the Krewe had solved a murder right here. But that wasn’t it. Ashley was just…Ashley. And he loved everything about her, including her mind, her soul, her integrity—and her heart.

“Hang on,” he told Jackson. “Ashley is with me. I’m going to speakerphone.”

She smiled at him and scooted closer.

Jake had a feeling his boss would welcome the help. Jackson knew Ashley well. And while she wasn’t Krewe, she was one of “them”—the gifted. Sometimes the cursed.

“So, this thug—who saw Tink murdered and escaped, running like the wind—says in the end, there were three witches. Tink, he admits, meant to smash the witches to the ground. But after Tink approached one and turned back around, he was spurting blood from here to eternity. Bottom line, Isaac Parks is waiting for you in the city. Told him it would take you about an hour to drive in. He said to make sure you know the city is Halloween crazy. Hey, since you have a place known for vampires already, it’s going to be a Halloween heaven.”

“All right. Parks. Isaac Parks,” Jake said. He hung up and lowered his head. “Ashley, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be—it’s all right. So, this guy…the guy killed… He wasn’t the nicest man in the world?”

“Apparently not. But there was a woman killed too. I mean, they may not be connected. She was a local woman, young—nothing bad that Jackson told me about, anyway. And the other… The medical examiner thinks they’re associated because it looks like the same weapon was used. On one hand, I hope there aren’t a lot of people running around the city with knives sharp enough to inflict that kind of damage. On the other hand… Well, I don’t really know anything yet.” He hesitated, looking at her. “I’m sure Jackson can get someone down here—I mean, I’ll just go in to see what…what I can see.”

She was strangely quiet. Then she whispered, “I dreamed of a young woman walking down Bourbon.”

Jake was silent. Those who were born to the place and those who worked here were all as much family to him as they were to Ashley.

Yet, every time they came…

He was just a little bit afraid.

Yes, they saw the dead. Yes, the dead could whisper into one’s mind in dreams and nightmares beyond imagination.

But he always worried about Ashley. She was honest and kind. Honorable—she did the right thing. And, he feared, that sometimes made her susceptible to those who weren’t so honest and kind.

Or honorable.

She smiled. “I’m fine. I’m not being made crazy by any ghosts of Donegal Plantation. Go. I’m going to help out with the haunted house stuff here. You know, I’ll go through the displays, check that no one has tried stealing a werewolf’s tail, or anything of the like.” He appreciated how she tried to lighten the mood. To ease his guilt at leaving her. “Go. Please, go. And keep me updated on this, okay? Louisiana, this parish, and then New Orleans… We’re from here. This area is dear to our hearts.” She gave him a soft kiss. “Go to work.”