Page 1 of A Match Made in Coven (Paranormal Romance #2)

Chapter One

Killer Overtime

SARAH MICHELLE

Detective Callidora’s breath fogged the chilly fall night air as she ducked under the yellow police tape. A week before Halloween, the streets of Salem buzzed with anticipation—the townsfolk unaware of the gruesome scene hidden away in a downtown office building.

A fellow magical enforcer greeted her on the other side of the tape with a curt, “Detective.” He added a grim nod. “This one’s something to see.”

Sarah Michelle grunted in acknowledgment; her mind was still groggy from being jolted awake by the call less than half an hour before. It wasn’t the first time her job had abruptly interrupted her sleep, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Stepping inside the victim’s office, the metallic scent of blood assaulted her senses, chasing off any lingering fogs of drowsiness.

Several officers from Salem Magical Police Department (SMPD) were on site, their expressions bleak and professional as they filed away evidence.

The crime scene photographer moved around methodically, capturing every angle of the room, while a forensic specialist examined the area with a wand emitting a soft blue light, looking for potential spell residues.

And in the center of it all, slumped over his desk, was the victim, Elijah Preston, a magical blade plunged deep into the back of his skull, the eerie glow of the weapon casting sinister shadows on his lifeless face.

“Blasted trolls,” Sarah Michelle muttered under her breath as she approached the body.

The dagger was unlike any she had encountered before, crafted from golden metal and engraved with intricate magical swirls.

It pulsed with a persistent throb of power that synchronized with each beat of her heart.

She leaned closer, studying the symbols etched into the bejeweled handle. They were ancient, complex. She was looking at an old, expensive artifact that only a few families in Salem could afford. Or an heirloom—even better, easier to track.

“He must’ve stumbled into something too big for him,” Sarah Michelle remarked dryly to no one in particular. The victim might be human, but this was no ordinary murder.

As she straightened up, her gaze fell on a photograph on Preston’s desk.

It showed him shaking hands with a strikingly handsome man, their smiles wide.

Something about the tall, blond guy in the picture drew her in.

She had to resist the instinct to pick up the photo and have a closer look—not until forensics was done.

But she kept studying the man’s chiseled features and piercing blue-green eyes.

Even through the glossy paper, she could sense an aura of power emanating from him. Her gut told her this mysterious stranger was a wizard.

As the coroner came in to move the body, she exited the office to take a breath of air that didn’t smell like death. The space was already too crowded.

In contrast, the headquarters of Cornerstone Constructions, likely a bustling hub of activity during the day, were now ominously silent.

Desks were neatly arranged, but papers lay scattered as if someone had searched them and then abandoned the quest in haste.

Beyond the glass, the world carried on as if nothing had happened.

Sarah approached the attending officer, a seasoned veteran named Flint, and set down to do the legwork of the investigation. “What do we know so far?”

Officer Flint glanced up from his notepad. “Not much yet, detective. Preston’s body was discovered by the cleaning crew when they came in at eleven p.m. as they do every night. No signs of forced entry.”

“No magical or human infractions?” Sarah Michelle pressed.

“No, the place had no enchanted wards to infract upon, and it appears the victim let the killer in.”

“Ah, so they knew each other.”

“Most probably.”

“Any idea what kind of magic we’re dealing with?” She gestured toward the shimmering dagger that was being retrieved so the body could be moved.

Flint shook his head. “Never seen anything like it. We’ll have to take the knife to the lab for analysis.”

A forensic agent passed them, carrying the still-glowing blade away in a plastic bag. The flashing lights of the police cruisers outside illuminated his path to the evidence van in an intermittent, hypnotic pattern. The dagger pulsed once more before he secured it inside.

Sarah Michelle turned to Officer Flint. “Time of death?”

He consulted his notes. “Medical examiner estimates at ten p.m.”

“Any suspects seen entering or leaving the building around that hour?” Sarah asked, her gaze scanning the perimeter.

“None so far. But the cameras were disabled—by someone with a code.”

“The victim?”

“Possible. Or someone else with access.”

Interesting . “Did Elijah Preston have any known involvement with the magical community?”

Flint hesitated, shifting his weight. “Well, turns out his business partner is a wizard.”

Her pulse quickened—thoughts jumping to the handsome man in the photo. “Do we have a name?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s…” Flint replied with a resigned sigh. “Lorcan Black.”

The name hit Sarah like a stunner to the chest. The good-looking wizard was a Black.

Countless warnings rang in her ears—hushed whispers around the dinner table at family gatherings of betrayal, subterfuge, cruelty…

and murder . The Blacks and the Callidoras had been enemy covens for centuries, ever since an alliance through marriage had ended in a blood bath instead.

Sarah Michelle’s mind whirled as she processed the information.

The idea of working on an investigation involving a Black made her skin crawl, but she had to remain professional.

She inhaled, pushing down the surge of emotions.

Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in ancient feuds.

She had a case to solve. Schooling her features into a neutral expression, she refocused on Flint.

“I need everything you have on Black. His whereabouts, his alibi, any connection he might have to the murder weapon.”

Flint nodded, his demeanor guarded. “I’ll get right on it. But, Detective Callidora…” He paused as if weighing his words. “Be careful with this one. The Blacks are a powerful coven, and they don’t take kindly to being crossed.”

Sarah Michelle’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “Neither do the Callidoras.” She spun around, already studying her next move. She needed to talk to Lorcan Black, to look him in the eye and gauge his reaction to the news of his partner’s death. But first, better to do her homework.

She pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said when the call connected.

“I need a favor. Can you pull up everything we have on Lorcan Black?… Yeah, I know it’s late.

But this is important.” She listened, then nodded.

“Not even a citation? A minor misdemeanor?” The colleague she trusted the most for profiling suspects confirmed Black was squeaky clean—or his family had wiped out every trace of wrongdoing. “Thanks, I owe you one.”

As she hung up the call, Sarah was already piecing together theories and possible motives to murder a business partner—a woman they both wanted, an argument about money, the usual.

Was Lorcan Black a violent type? If his public profile was immaculate, she’d have to dig deeper to find some dirt on him, if it existed.

A Callidora and a Black, linked by a murder. Oh, this case was going to be a doozy. But Sarah Michelle never backed down from a challenge. Even if it came in the form of an attractive, potentially murderous wizard from a rival coven.

She was still mulling over the new development when another officer approached, holding a clipboard with details about the murder weapon. The junior agent, his uniform askew, handed the clipboard to Flint with a deferential nod.

Flint scanned the report, his eyebrows climbing higher with each line. He looked up at Sarah, an unreadable expression on his face. “The magical dagger lodged in Preston’s skull? It’s registered to Lorcan Black.”

Ah . Lorcan’s blade had been buried in the victim’s head—his business partner.

No infractions, so the killer was let in, or had a key .

While the cameras had been disabled by someone with the codes .

It was almost too neat, too obvious. But Sarah knew better than to dismiss the evidence staring her in the face.

Nailing a Black for murder would bring double satisfaction. Justice would be served and her family vindicated.

Lorcan Black. The name tasted bitter on her tongue, like a poorly brewed potion. She’d spent her entire life hearing about the Blacks, about their viciousness. Their entitlement. And the injustices they had inflicted. And now, fate had thrown her right into the middle of it.

But Sarah prided herself on upholding her integrity.

She wouldn’t condemn the wizard based solely on his family name.

Personal history would not cloud her judgment, not when she had a killer to catch.

With a final, resolute look at Officer Flint, she instructed, “Prepare a warrant. We’re going to pay Mr. Black a visit. ”