Page 57 of Dead Serious Case 5 Madame Vivienne

“Protection, the strongest I can give you,” he replies. “The pentagram has had such a bad rep since the witch hunts of the Middle Ages but the truth is, it’s a powerful protective talisman. My dads gave me this one when I was born. I’ve worn it my whole life—this is the only time I’ve taken it off. Don’t remove it, for any reason.” He presses his hand to my chest. “It will keep you safe.”

“Harrison, I can’t.” I’m beyond touched at the sacrifice he’s making. “You should–”

“I know how to protect myself, but you’re right. This isn’t what you do, so let me keep you safe. You can give it back to me when we’ve figured all this out.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“The truth is,” he says with a small shrug, “I don’t have a lot of friends. I don’t let people close, never have. But I care about you and the others. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“We’ve got your back too, Harrison.” I give him a warm smile as I reach for his hand and squeeze it gently.

“Okay then. If we’ve finished the love fest, I need to go,” Dusty announces.

“Where? We’ve only just got you back.”

She points one long-tipped nail upwards. “Need to report this. Whoever is running around down here using dark magic messed with the wrong spirit guide in training. This is definitely against the rules, and someone up there needs to know about it. You.” She jabs a finger in Harrison’s direction. “Do not let Tris out of your sight until I get back.”

For once Harrison doesn’t argue or roll his eyes or give a dry snarky response, he simply nods in agreement.

In the blink of an eye, Dusty is gone.

“Do you have the photos I asked for?” Harrison enquires.

“The ones of Viv’s symbols?” He nods. Grabbing my backpack from where I propped it against the cash desk earlier, I retrieve the case files Danny gave me and hand them to him.

He lays the folder out on the desk, then opens it up and skims through the pictures until he gets to one in particular. It’s a close-up of the markings on her lower arm. Harrison plucks a red pen from the pencil pot and circles a small symbol, then nods.

“Look at that.”

I do. Honestly, it’s the same as all the rest to me. “What am I looking at?”

“It’s a small version of the one on Dusty’s wrist.”

I lean in closer and squint slightly. “You’re right.” I look up at him. “What do you think it means?”

“I’m still not certain what language this is, but this particular symbol looks very similar to one that would be used in a banishing spell.”

“You think someone tried to banish Dusty?” Bruce asks.

“That’d be my guess. Of course, I can’t substantiate my hypothesis until I identify the language and translate it, but it fits.”

We look up as the bell jingles and the front door opens. “I thought you locked that?” I hiss to Harrison.

“I did.” His brows rise in surprise.

My eyes widen as we watch a huge man step inside and close the door behind him. And by “huge,” I mean he’s got to be edging toward seven feet. Surely that isn’t natural. He’s wide and solidly built, but not fat—more like he’s a solid wall of muscle, although I can’t tell for sure what’s under the long dark overcoat he wears. His skin has a golden hue to it and his eyes are dark, as are his beard and the hair hanging thick and full to his shoulders.

There’s something almost wild and feral about his looks, but they’re completely at odds with his calm, purposeful demeanour. He walks towards us as if he has all the time in the world, and I swallow hard.

“I’m sorry, this shop is now closed,” Harrison says firmly, reaching for my wrist and drawing me safely behind him. Which is sweet but kind of ludicrous, considering we’re both the kind of scrawny little twinks that this guy probably eats for breakfast. Come to think of it, there is something decidedly wolfish about him.

He pauses and looks down at the remnants of Harrison’s circle, then continues his slow pace towards us. It’s times like this I wish I had pepper spray.

He stops dead in front of us, looking first at me, then Harrison, and then he turns and looks straight at Bruce.

Fuck, he can see Bruce!

I watch as his eyes trail down to Bruce’s tiny shorts and those tree-trunk thighs before turning back to Harrison. He leans in and sniffs loudly.