Grey's Magic. Dawn Addonizio
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felt a sharp pain in her finger and looked down to see that she’d picked at her cuticle until it was raw and bleeding. She sighed and walked over to the shelf where she kept her healing dust.
It was always like this. As if once the memory resurfaced, her mind wouldn’t let it go until it played through every miserable angle of the experience, leaving her a quivering pile of nerves in its wake.
It was her day off from teaching sword techniques, but she knew better than to sit at home and stew in her memories. She had to find something to keep her busy.
Preferably something that would tire her out enough to ward off the inevitable insomnia, and the reliving of her torment behind closed eyelids that refused to conjure sleep. It was nights like those that had led to her escaping into the oblivion of Morpheus far more often than she knew she should.
She showered, pulled on clean workout clothes, and headed to the center of her village to find a sparring partner.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
“What up, G-man?” Liza’s cheerful voice chirped through the cell phone.
“How’s my favorite crime analyst this morning?” Grey asked.
“Jealous,” she pouted. “How’s F.L.? You bang any surfer chicks yet?”
Grey chuckled. What did he care about surfer chicks? The newest star of his fantasies was a tough strawberry blonde with sea-green eyes and a soft Irish brogue.
“You know I only have eyes for you, Lizzie,” he teased.
Liza snorted. “Right. I’ve heard that before…usually around the time a guy decides to cheat on me and dump me.”
“You are far too young to be that jaded,” Grey replied with a shake of his head.
“Pfft,” she scoffed. “I’m an old soul. It’s the only thing that gets me through in this line of work. Besides, you know I never let them get away with it. The last guy ended up with his bank account flagged for fraud and his credit cards cancelled.”
“I did not just hear that, Liza.”
She sniggered. “Don’t worry G-man. My hacks are tasty and untraceable. You couldn’t prove it even if you tried.”
Grey pushed air through his teeth to make a static sound. “Sorry, I didn’t catch any of that. I think we have a bad connection.”
“Fine,” Liza relented with a laugh. “You can stop now, Captain America. I won’t say anything else to incriminate myself.”
“Oh, there you are,” Grey said with feigned relief. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Hysterical,” Liza replied drily.
“I try,” Grey said with a grin. “So, what do you have for me today?”
“It’s not good,” Liza answered, her tone turning somber. “We have another vic. And this time she’s right here in Virginia. Woodbridge, to be exact.”
“Damn it to hell,” Grey cursed. “Are you sure it’s him?”
“She lived alone and her house was locked up tight. Same lack of evidence at the scene and on the body. And same weird, herby smell,” she replied quietly.
“Can you call the office and ask them to book me a flight back this morning?” he said in a tight voice.
“Done and done. You’re on the ten thirty from Miami to Dulles. The county Sherriff is expecting you this afternoon.”
“Thanks Lizzie.” He hung up and let out a chain of expletives.
Could the bastard be taunting him, choosing a victim so close to his home base?
He shoved his toiletries and change of clothes in his travel bag and headed out the door. He would have liked to spend a little more time at the Key Largo scene, but he’d have to rely on his notes.
It was more important to hit this new scene while it was fresh. And it was an hour’s drive to the airport—he barely had time to make his flight.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Quinlan frowned at the glint in Scarlett’s eye as she strode purposefully toward the training center. He’d seen that look before, and it usually meant he and the boys’d be in for a rash of bruises before the day was done.
“Hiya, Letty. I thought ya were off today.”
“I am,” she replied with a thin smile. “But that’s no reason to let you gobshites get soft in the sparring ring.”
“Uh oh, we’re in trouble now,” her cousin Thom sniggered, earning a laugh from a few of the younger trainees who were visiting from a nearby village.
She arched a brow at him. “You’re first then.”
Thom’s eyes widened, and then he shook his head in defeat, sending his boyish blonde curls bouncing. “Have it your way cousin. But take it easy on me, will ya? Ya know I was only codding ya.”
Scarlett flashed him a grin. “Don’t worry Tommy Boy. I’ll stay away from your delicate parts this time.”
“All o’ Thom’s parts are delicate,” razzed Aedan, a grizzled old warrior who’d fought with her father in the last Unseelie uprising.
She’d only been a baby at the time, but Pat’s father had been killed in that battle.
Aedan chuckled at the younger man’s scowl. “Don’ worry, Thom. Letty’ll toughen ya up. Spend enough time sparrin’ wit her an’ yer calluses’ll have calluses.”
“Aye. That’s what I’m afraid of,” Thom muttered as he made his way toward the middle of the ring.
The training center was a large, open air arena at the heart of the village. Circled by colorful local shops, it was a daily hub of activity for the residents.
Earth magic kept its grassy carpet verdant and thick, which served to soften a fall as well as any sparring mat. And though it lacked a roof, it was spelled against the elements so that classes and matches could be held in comfort during summer rains and winter snows.
Five fighting rings were clustered at its center, and Scarlett always went for the one in the middle. When fists and weapons were flying in all five rings, she loved to be at the core of all that energy, pretending she was in the midst of a great battle.
“What’s your poison, Thom?” she asked as she strode to the nearest rack of sickles, knives, axes and other assorted weaponry. “Swords?” She trailed her fingers over the hilt of a dull edged practice blade.
Thom scoffed. “Against you? Not bleedin’ likely.”
Their cousin Quinlan laughed, and Scarlett hid a smile. Only the most seasoned warriors would spar swords with her and the entire village knew it.
Every sidhe learned to summon their own soul bound long sword as part of their passage into adulthood. When she’d gotten hers, she’d honed her technique to a razor’s edge. It was her personal guarantee that she’d be able to defend herself whenever she needed to.
“The shillelagh, then?” she asked, half teasing, and Thom groaned. The last time they’d practiced stick fighting his dangly bits had gotten a wee bruised. It wasn’t intentional, but nor was it something he was likely to forget.
“Can’t we just have an old-fashioned hand to hand match?” he pleaded, his eyes flickering toward the group of visiting trainees. A pretty lass, about his age, was watching their proceedings with interest.
“Fine then,” Scarlett agreed on a laugh as she abandoned the weapons rack and joined him in the center of the ring.
She eyed him critically as they circled each other. “Your defensive form has improved,” she complimented in a quiet tone.
Pleasure