Page 6 of Shift of Morals (Shifter Lords #2)

Chapter

Four

E arly the next morning, I arrived at the shop only to see Moira had gotten there before me. Not a rare occurrence, but not too common, either. I came in through the back to see her staring at the ward.

A horrific scent blasted me right in the face. “Ugh. What is that?”

Moira pointed at the bouquet. “I’d wager a guess it’s that thing.”

I handed her an Earl Grey latte I’d picked up. Her eyes lit up when she saw it. “Thanks. I just got here, but the smell was so bad I didn’t want to start a pot.” She grimaced. “Just in case that smell seeped into the tea.”

The smell was hard to describe. Like hot, rotting garbage, with a sinister beat of magic pulsing at its heart. I had to get this thing out of my shop before it started running customers off. I took a step closer and peered through the ward.

“The preservation spell failed. Again.” I swore as I straightened. “This bouquet might not be salvageable.”

“Who’d want to keep that thing, anyway?” Moira shook her head and started toward the main shop doors.

“The bride might be human. Maybe she can’t sense the same thing we can.

” I dropped the ward and reached for the magic dampening sack.

“I’m going to stick this back in the fridge.

” Hazel would be here soon, but if the preservation spells kept fading, there was no reason to keep the thing warded.

The pouch would suppress its power long enough for Hazel to get here.

Ash pushed through the doors, yawning and immediately regretting it when the scent hit him. “Oh, gods. That is rank!”

Moira pointed to the pouch. “Blame the cursed bouquet.”

Tess came in right after Ash and gagged. “We should chuck that in the bin.”

I zipped the pouch shut and held it at arm’s length. Even through the material, I could feel the sinister beat of its power.

“We can’t. It’s sentimental.” They followed me to the walk-in and watched as I deposited the bundle in the very back.

Careful not to touch anything, I held both hands up and waited for Ash to open the door for me. “I need to wash my hands.”

“We all need decon baths,” Moira said.

“Maybe we should light a candle,” Tess added. “Everywhere.”

“Good idea.” I hurried to the office and carried a couple of well-loved candles out, setting them at opposite sides of the room. “Everything should be back to normal by the time we open.”

“What about opening the doors to let some air in?” Moira mused.

Everyone let out a vocal protest that made the vampire laugh. We might be getting close to autumn, but it was still hot as hell outside. The mornings were somewhat cool, but air conditioning was cooler.

“Candles it is,” Moira said, stepping away from the door.

Through the banter, a thought occurred to me. “Moira, can you bring all the info about the bouquet over, including the intake form the mom signed?”

Moira gave me a curious look but went to the box where we kept most of our important ledgers. I motioned her over to the worktable and pushed a stool over to her. We both sat and Moira unlocked the box, pulling everything out. Ash and Tess lingered by the register, murmuring in quiet conversation.

A few minutes later, the scent of a strong dark roast filled the shop air and a steaming mug appeared before both of us, courtesy of Ash. I gave him a grateful smile and took a sip of the brew, glad caffeine didn’t give me the jitters like it did humans sometimes.

“Are we sure the woman who brought the bouquet in was actually her mother?” I asked as I examined the ledger one more time.

Moira’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. “I guess not. I had no reason to doubt her.”

“And we’re sure there was a wedding?”

Moira’s jaw tightened. “Do you think the bouquet is meant for you?”

The thought had niggled at me for a while, but it made no sense. There were dozens of easier ways to get to me, and if anyone knew even a little about my power, they’d know I’d sense the magic clinging to the petals.

“If someone wanted to take me out, there are tons of easier ways to get the job done,” I said.

Moira blew out a breath. “I hate when you talk like that.”

“It’s true, though.” Tapping my fingers on the shiny wood, I flipped through the rest of the papers, trying to see if I’d missed anything. But it wasn’t until the intake form that I spotted it. “There.”

Moira leaned closer. At the bottom of the form was a space that asked for the wedding planner’s information.

We rarely used that box because most people these days don’t use the services of a planner.

More brides than ever preferred DIYing certain parts of the wedding to save money, and planners were becoming a dying breed.

“I suspected it was her.”

Moira snorted. “Caroline Merritt. Queen of the soulless mood board wedding.”

Caroline had a knack for copying something down to the errant string, but her weddings came off as cookie cutter copies rather than anything filled with joy or heart.

For humans, that didn’t matter so much. But for paranorms, weddings were rare and precious.

Immortals did not take weddings or joinings lightly.

Thus, Caroline had fallen out of favor with many in Joy Springs.

But this bride was human and might not have realized or…she’d been encouraged to use Caroline for some nefarious reason.

But something about this bothered me. “Caroline usually checks for nefarious magic,” I murmured. “Why wouldn’t she do so this time?”

Ash leaned over to freshen our coffees. “Maybe she never met the groom. It’s not outside the realm of possibility, especially if he traveled a lot or wasn’t involved in planning.”

“Maybe,” Moira acknowledged.

But it didn’t feel right.

“You think they threw money at her?” I asked at Moira’s thoughtful look.

“Possible, but Caroline comes from money.”

Ash snorted. “Rich people stay rich because they don’t turn their nose up at more money.”

“Not all of them,” Tess said as she floated over. “The smart ones invest wisely and don’t buy a new Porsche every few years.”

My nose wrinkled. “Those things seem like death traps.”

“Death is a lot more fun when you’re going 190 miles per hour,” Ash murmured.

“What about some kind of magical influence?” I asked. “Could someone have spelled her into silence?”

“Maybe,” Moira said. “Or compelled silence from her.”

“Interesting. Did you hear back from the mother?”

“Nothing as of this morning, but the email was delivered, so it wasn’t a fake address.”

I grimaced. “The person might know we’re onto them.”

Moira shook her head. “All the questions were pretty innocent. But I don’t think we should ask her again. Or whoever it is who owns the email address.”

“Should we pay Caroline a visit?” Ash asked.

I nodded. “After the meeting at the Keep.”

Once I drained my coffee, I stood. “I’m going to try to see if I can get anything from the blooms.”

“You haven’t tried already?” Moira asked, surprise in her tone.

“Only the preservation spells. I try not to read the memories from anything our customers bring us. Doing so could degrade the plant.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt too much now since it’s beginning to fall apart.” Moira rose. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Thanks. It should be fine, but the magic is unfamiliar to me, so better safe than sorry.”

“How can something so pretty be so vile?” Moira whispered, standing slightly behind me and peering at the bouquet over my shoulder.

“Everything we touch holds a resonance of our energy. For it to hold this much, the groom must have either spent a lot of time around the bouquet or handled it for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Weird.” Moira stepped up beside me, rubbing her hands over her arms. “Grooms usually care little for the nuts and bolts of a wedding.”

“Right. Which is why this is so strange.”

We stared at the thing for a while.

“Are you going to touch it or stand there all day?” Moira said, amusement coloring her voice.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Finally ready, I reached out and touched one finger to the middle bloom, the blush rose still in perfect condition.

Normally, when I focused my magic on memory retrieval, I’d get a flash or two back, a hint of a larger memory. Sometimes, I’d get a full memory. Today, I got way more than I bargained for.

A stunning bride with mahogany-colored hair, dressed in her wedding finery, standing in a tastefully decorated room, crying. “He’s different!” she screamed. “He’s not the same man I’m supposed to marry!”

The back of a shifter, hunched over, fur crawling down powerful arms, groaning in pain. His nails were curved into lethal claws, blood soaking his hands all the way to his wrists.

A small chapel with stained glass windows, burnished oak pews, and a flower strewn aisle with a white runner, smiling family and friends in attendance, but one individual snagged her attention.

Finn, his eyes burning with malice, sat toward the back, a small smile on his lips.

I jerked out of the vision with a harsh gasp, magic punching me in the stomach.

Moira caught me as I sagged. “Evie!”

“Finn,” I breathed. “He was at their wedding.”

Moira’s low curse and my harsh breathing were the only sounds in the fridge. She helped me to the floor and sat down beside me. “He’s one of Caelan’s then?”

I shook my head. “No way to tell. It’s possible. Finn posed as Halvar for months, maybe years. But there was no sign of Caelan in the chapel.”

“What else?”

“The bride said the groom wasn’t the same person she was supposed to marry. I saw him, but his back was turned to me. He’d partially shifted, and there was blood all over his hands and wrists.”

Moira’s expression turned grim. “We’re supposed to go to the Keep tomorrow. It might be a good time to ask.”

I hadn’t told Moira about Caelan showing up at my house. “Right,” I said. “If I can get him alone.”

Moira’s eyebrows wiggled. “If you get him alone, I’m sure you won’t be talking about rogue shifters.”

I shoved her shoulder, making her laugh. “Perv.”