Entombed Read online

  Entombed

  A Spirelli Investigations Novel

  Kate Baray

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a purely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Catherine G. Cobb.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  Contents

  Bonus Content

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Also by Kate Baray

  Bonus Content

  About the Author

  Bonus Content

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  Prologue

  Belize

  Hunger. A twisting, gnawing ache of emptiness. For flesh, for blood, for marrow. Thought slithered away, lost in the pulse, the pain, of want…need…hunger.

  Time passed.

  A spark lit inside the creature; its instinct to live flared. The creature narrowed the pain, focused it. Its world became a small, dark place, filled with a greedy lust to consume. The hunger overwhelmed it, chasing away not just thought but also instinct.

  Waking, sleeping, no, up, no, down, always hungry, its world still small and dark.

  Time passed.

  The spark flared again. Instinct pushed the creature forward, pushed it to explore its small world. It began to wallow in the dark. It felt dirt against its body. It felt the scrape of rocks against its skin. The stink of its own blood filled the space. Unlike the hunger that dulled, this pain sharpened its senses.

  And the blood brought insects. And the insects were food.

  A pitiful, meager food—not filling its belly, but giving it some sustenance. It was enough.

  Slowly, it began to move beyond instinct. It began to think. To strategize. To consider escape from the pit that confined it.

  It whispered into the dark, calling forth larger creatures to consume. It grew stronger. It called louder.

  And then it found a human mind.

  Connected with it. Read it. Learned the human’s language. And in the learning, it remembered itself…himself.

  He was awake. No longer dormant, no longer dulled by hunger and pain. Awake and ready to be free of his prison.

  Chapter One

  Jack read the email one more time before shutting his laptop. An intriguing offer: free international travel, a hefty fee for the southerly jaunt to Belize, and an even heftier sum for a brief consult. No strings, no commitments. All he had to do was listen to the prospective client pitch a case. If the job wasn’t a fit for Spirelli Paranormal Investigations, he could walk away with a tidy little windfall. And if he did take the case, well, the payout would probably set him up for a year of property taxes and some repairs to the house.

  It was a good deal. Probably too good. He could hardly overlook the fact that his prospective client hadn’t revealed his—or her—identity. But the cash…

  He checked the time, then left his office in the back of The Junk Shop for the retail area. He wanted to catch Marin before she headed out for the night.

  She was flipping the shop sign to closed, so he had about five seconds before she was out the door. To do whatever it was she did in her free time. He didn’t know—didn’t want to know—so long as she showed up to work at The Junk Shop and was available for cases. Their recent partnership agreement had already twined their lives closer together than was ideal.

  He walked into the retail area as she was digging her car keys out of the bag slung over her shoulder.

  “You ever been to Belize?” he asked as he walked between the display tables.

  She paused, keys clenched in her hand. “Why? I thought we’d decided to give Belize a miss. No payday, remember?”

  That was when Belize had been the focal point of a series of interesting events. Now it was a new HVAC system and a tree trim, not to mention his property taxes, if they took the case. His house had become a demanding mistress lately.

  “And if there was cash involved?”

  She flicked a few stray strands of bright red hair away from her face. “Is it enough to justify the cost of leaving the country and getting entangled in some kind of supernatural jurisdictional quagmire?”

  He’d considered contacting Harrington. For about two seconds. As the head of the Inter-Pack Policing Cooperative, a European agency intent on becoming a global policing organization for all things supernatural, paranormal, or magically enhanced, Harrington wasn’t always concerned with the best interests of the little guy. Since Jack was very much the little guy, he only brought Harrington and IPPC in when it was absolutely necessary.

  And Harrington could be a moralistic ass. Especially galling, because IPPC and even Harrington himself didn’t always stick as close to the ethical high ground as they might.

  Screw it. The anonymous client paid better than IPPC. So much better that Jack was willing to annoy both Harrington and his new junior partner by taking the meeting…unless Marin knew something he didn’t. She had exceptional connections. Being a dragon—both long-lived and a part of the magic-using community—would do that.

  Weighing his options had kept him occupied longer than he’d realized, because the sound of Marin clearing her throat interrupted his thoughts. When he met her gaze, she looked annoyed.

  “Have you spoken to Harrington?” When he still didn’t answer, her eyes narrowed. “Eventually he’s going to get tired of being our own personal 9-1-1 service.”

  Probably true. But that street ran both ways. Spirelli Paranormal Investigations was a solid resource that IPPC had relied on more than once. “No, I haven’t specifically mentioned this case. I don’t run all my cases by him. Do you?”

  When she didn’t respond, he said, “Harrington has excellent spies. He probably already knows about this offer, as well as the migration of two former clients to Belize.”

  “My point exactly; both of those cases involved IPPC. You still don’t think they need to be brought in on this one?”

  Jack shook his head. “If they’re interested, they’ll have their own investigation. They might even have an explanation for some of the unusual news coming out of the area.”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure migratory birds altering course to avoid Corozal Town, and the rodent population in a tiny village outside Corozal suddenly dwindling, would be flagged as suspicious by IPPC.”

  “You noticed, and Harrington has an entire staff tasked with monitoring news for weird phenomena. I’m sure he knows. Hell, your dad is probably halfway through his investigation.”

  “My dad’s on sabbatical.”

  “I’m sorry—what?” Jack had the very strong impression that the head of the IPPC’s magical library never took vacation.

  “Sabbatical. Three months.” Marin’s eyes flashed the creepy glowing green of an annoyed dragon. “Don’t ask. I don’t know why
or even where he is.”

  “Well, that answers the IPPC question. They’re already understaffed. They don’t need to get involved in this particular case when they’re down their chief of security.”

  Marin crossed her arms. “All right, how much are we talking?”

  Not everything was about money. Okay, most things were—but that was hardly his fault.

  “A lot. And that’s to show up. More if we take the case.”

  “And the client?”

  “That’s tricky.” He’d forwarded the email to Chris, his go-to tech gal, but she was on her fourth kid—or was it the fifth?—and sometimes she was busy with life. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped to his email—where he found that she’d already responded. Maybe he’d imagined five—probably only two or three. “Chris says no-go on identifying the client from the email.”

  Marin’s arms dropped to her sides. “That’s curious.” After only the barest of hesitations, she said, “Fine. If you’re in, I’m in. What? Don’t look so shocked. You think I like sweeping up, emptying the trash, and de-funking your and Bob’s bizarre finds?”

  “Bob’s the man. Don’t knock his special finds. He’s keeping The Junk Shop in the black.” Thinking about the shy little fuzzy critter made Jack want to smile. Bob was like that; he was a smile waiting to happen. “You know what? I think you like tidying the place. You do way more cleaning than you have to. It’s a junk shop. People don’t expect pristine.”

  It was an old argument. She thought their upscale clientele required a higher standard than he was willing to maintain, and now that she was a partner, she expected him to do more to maintain the place.

  Not gonna happen.

  Marin pursed her lips. “Getting out of the shop occasionally is a good thing. And it’s been two, three weeks since we’ve come close to being blown up. I haven’t even gotten a papercut. My body’s in shock from all the risk-free living.”

  “Cute.”

  “And it’s about time for the shop to shut down for a week or so. I’d hate to train our clients to expect regular hours.”

  Jack shook his head. “And yet the shop needs to be tidy.”

  “Being unpredictable fits our brand. Dirt does not.” She pointed a finger at him. “We take the case, but you’re dealing with any fallout from IPPC. Like I said, my trump card is on some mysterious sabbatical. When do we leave?”

  “I haven’t said yes, so—”

  “But you will.” She walked through the door.

  Jack flicked the screen of his phone and pulled up his email again. He tapped a brief message to their new anonymous client: We’re in.

  Chapter Two

  Corozal Town, Belize

  The final leg of Jack and Marion’s trip had been on a prop plane, and bouncing around in the sky in what felt like a kid’s toy version of a plane wasn’t how Jack liked to travel. But at least they hadn’t encountered any bad weather.

  A decent flight, nice ocean views, friendly locals… And yet he couldn’t shake a deep sense of unease. During the brief ride from the small airport outside of town to their hotel, that feeling grew. His discomfort shouldn’t surprise him, what with their client remaining a mystery.

  A lot of money may have nudged him into accepting the initial offer, but he’d also expected to have the guy’s name by now. Chris was working on it, using the plane tickets he and Marin had been provided as a starting point, since the email address had been a bust. So far, nothing. He could only hope she’d be in touch soon, preferably before their scheduled meeting this afternoon.

  When they arrived at the hotel, Jack let himself forget about the meeting—just for a moment. The hotel was gorgeous. The entire building was a bright white, and as his gaze traveled up, he couldn’t help but admire the contrast of the white building against the brilliantly blue sky. Palm trees dotted the landscape. With the breeze at his back, he felt like he’d stepped into a commercial. Relax. Leave your cares at home. Come to Belize.

  Except he wasn’t here on vacation. He’d be meeting with his mysterious client in less than three hours. And while the seaside hotel was beautiful and fresh and clean, they’d also driven through trash-littered streets lined with homes shedding paint and cars that didn’t run. Like every city, Corozal had more than one face.

  “Jack,” Marin called out. “Get a move on. I’m not carrying your luggage.”

  Jack shook his head at the doorman when the man offered to carry his bag. Maybe he was tired from waking at the crack of dawn, or maybe it had something to do with having not so long ago traveled in the sardine-can version of a plane, but when he walked into the hotel, he felt his vision narrow. For a second, he thought he was going to pass out.

  And then he was fine. He turned to Marin, but she didn’t look as if she’d noticed or felt anything unusual. Great. He was in his early forties, and the barely detectable stress of international travel was making him weak in the knees. Bad enough she was stronger, faster, and could produce magical fire; she was also younger than him—sort of. At somewhere over a hundred, she was roughly the human equivalent of a twenty-something. She’d give him hell if she found out he was weak-kneed over a little travel.

  Five minutes later, they were checked in and had keys to their suite. He was a few steps behind Marin, climbing the staircase, when he felt the unease from earlier return tenfold. The feeling was so sudden, so intense, that he faltered.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He didn’t know what he expected, but when he turned, he was surprised to find a guy, mid-twenties, about his height, only a foot or so behind him.

  “You okay?” Jack’s good Samaritan was dressed in a T-shirt and chino shorts and looked like he’d just come in from the bay.

  “Yeah.” And Jack was okay—minus the feeling that time was passing him by at an ever-increasing rate. In other words, he was feeling like an ancient bastard.

  Marin turned as Jack spoke and gave him an inscrutable look.

  Jack called out, “Hey, thanks, man,” as the guy jogged on past to the top of the stairs.

  “What is up with you?” Marin asked.

  He didn’t blow her off—because she was right. But he didn’t know what exactly was going on. And it was only when they stood in front of their suite that he said, “I don’t have a clue.”

  Jack was glad their mystery client had opted for a suite. As off as he’d been, it wasn’t a terrible idea to have his dragon partner nearby. Badass dragon fighting skills and control of magical fire were huge bonuses, but not helpful if he was dead in his bed several rooms over.

  “You’ve been weird since we left. If you weren’t comfortable taking the case, why didn’t you just pass?” She opened the door and scanned the entryway.

  Jack walked past her and threw his bag on the nearest bed. “This is more of an apartment than a hotel room.”

  Marin passed his bed and walked through an archway to the second sleeping area. “Agreed. Whoever this guy is, he’s not worried about spending a little cash.”

  “And that would be the answer to your earlier question.”

  “Have you ever thought about selling your house?” Marin asked. “I know you bought it with money from your gran, but if you’re making financial and business decisions based solely on the upkeep and property taxes of your house, it might be wise to take a second look.”

  Jack followed her into the second sleeping area.

  She fell into the bed. “I only mention it because I’m your partner and directly affected by those decisions.” She spread her arms wide and stretched.

  “As if I need reminding. And quit wallowing in that bed. We’re here to work, not vacation.”

  Marin bounced up. “Too bad. I bet there’s a fabulous view of the bay.” She disappeared into the back of the suite and then called, “Yes. Fabulous view. Are you sure we can’t be on vacation?”

  A knock at the door cut off Jack’s response.

  Chapter Three

  Jack opened the do
or to a big guy with shaggy hair. A guy who looked suspiciously familiar.

  “Braithwaite?”

  The man reached out a beefy hand that Jack clasped. He was two or three inches taller than Jack, and Jack topped six feet easily. But the man’s towering height, overgrown hair, and scruffy face combined to give the impression of a genial giant. This man couldn’t do intimidating if he tried. Add to that the threadbare Hawaiian shirt, frayed khaki cargo shorts, and even tan, and he presented the perfect picture of a beach bum. What he didn’t look like was their mysterious, wealthy client.

  Jack opened the door wider, inviting Braithwaite into the room. “Marin, you remember Mr. Braithwaite? The bookstore owner?”

  He extended a hand to Marin. “Please, call me Elliot.”

  “Elliot.” She shook his hand. “Marin Campbell. Good to see you again. We didn’t have much opportunity to speak last time.”

  “No, you two were too busy explaining away the stream of fire that shot through my store.” Elliot scratched his jaw. “You know, before I left the country, my neighbor from the smoke shop said he’d swear there was a dragon in the alley that day. Asked if we were doing some high-tech role-playing game.”

  “Really?” Marin tilted her head with a mildly inquisitive look plastered on her face.

  Elliot’s lips twitched. “I told him he’d been smoking too much. No role-playing, no dragon.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she said blandly. “We’ve just arrived and haven’t had time to look around. Any chance we’ve got a minibar, so I can offer you a drink?”