5
DECLAN
Bang-bang-bang.
My eyes snapped open, grogginess encompassing me like a gray wave of mist. The sleeping pills always sank me deep into dreamless sleep, but it was always a bitch to wake up if I didn’t get at least a full seven hours. Another rapid knock came at the door, and I rolled over, sighing and fumbling for my phone.
The time stared at me from the screen: 4:21 a.m.
A third knock came, this time a series of six or seven, in quick succession, almost panicked.
“I swear to fucking God, if that damn vampire is back, I’ll stake his pasty, pale ass,” I hissed as I shoved my feet in a pair of flip-flops I kept next to the bed.
Not bothering to put on anything else, I stumbled to the front door in nothing but my boxers.
“Retired for three years, and this shit never ends,” I mumbled.
It was all because of the stupid succubus case years prior. I’d done one thing that really put me on the map, and from that moment on, everybody and their brother thought I could help them. Shifters, sphinxes, witches, and this asshole vampire.
Unlocking the door, I swung it inward fast, speaking before I even had it open.
“Sebastian, I told you there was no fucking way I’d?—”
I froze, even more confused now than I’d been a few moments ago when I’d been dragged kicking and screaming out of sleep. There was no vampire standing on my front step. Instead, a woman stood there. A beautiful woman, roughly twenty-five, with curly brown hair that hung to her shoulders but was a mess, as if she hadn’t brushed it in days. A few leaves and twigs were actually stuck in the curls. She stared at me with hopeful yet terrified eyes. The first thing I thought, once the initial surprise wore off, was how beautiful she was.
“Uh…can I help you?” I said, wiping sleep from my eyes.
“I n-n-need help,” she said, the words coming out in a shivering sob. “Please. I d-d-didn’t know where else to go.”
Fully awake now, I tried to think about what was happening. I wasn’t famous by any means, but my name was well-known in certain circles—I’d helped get plenty of creatures and beings locked away. Any one of them might have family or friends looking to take my ass out. Could one of them have sent this little honeypot out here to seduce me or trick me? I could picture this chick sliding a blade into my ribs the moment I let my guard down.
“You know it’s four in the morning, right?” I said, moving to the side, and putting my hand on a gun I kept near the door, hiddenfrom sight even from the woman standing at my door. The pistol, specially enchanted and loaded with silver bullets, would take out about seventy percent of the people I dealt with, and the other thirty percent would have a bad time trying to dig the slug out of their chest or gut. That would give me time to run.
I glanced out the door, looking up the street, then back down. It didn’t look like there was anyone around, but you couldn’t always trust that. Cloaking spells, creatures with camouflage, and even shapeshifting creatures could hide in plain sight.
“You aren’t with a vampire named Sebastian, are you?” I said, looking at her again.
“What?” She frowned at me, her brows knitting together. “No. I don’t know any vampires. I’m, uh, I’m a w-w-witch.”
She was telling the truth. I could sense it. Something in her eyes, plus my special expertise whispering at the back of my head. Trusting my intuition, I relaxed a bit.
A witch. Magic users. I didn’t dislike them, though some of their kind acted a little too pompous for my taste. This woman was terrified, and for some reason, she’d thoughtIwas the best place to turn instead of a coven somewhere. Strange.
Before I could ask another question, she tore open the zipper on the crossbody bag she wore and yanked out a small paperback book I knew well.
I cursed under my breath.
“This said you were the best mystic private detective in the whole Midwest, possibly even the whole country,” she said, holding it out to me like some sort of magical offering. Tears shone in her eyes. “This is you, isn’t it? Declan McClintoc?”
I heaved a sigh and shoved the pistol into a drawer, all while keeping my eyes on the woman.
“I can p-p-pay you,” she said. “I’ve got some inheritance money stashed aw-w-w-ay in an account.”
“Listen, lady, I’m sure you’ve had a rough night, but it’s late, and I’m retired. Maybe go find someone else, okay? You have a good one. Go get someplace warm, all right?”
With that, I slammed the door and spun the lock. A tiny part of me felt bad for it—the woman was obviously in distress—but what was I supposed to do? I wasn’t in that kind of work anymore, and if I knew one thing, it was trouble, and that woman reeked of it. I wanted no part of whatever she was running from.
Turning from the door, I headed back toward my bedroom. I’d just gotten to the hallway when the sound of exploding wood and metal erupted from behind me. My front door flew by, slamming into the drywall beside me and sending up a plume of dust and debris. On instinct, I hit the ground and rolled behind my couch, rising up on my knees to peer over the top. The woman, still looking harried, but now a bit irritated too, took a step into my house.
