Immortal: The Imogen Gray Series Book One by Hignett Lauretta

Author:Hignett, Lauretta
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-31T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Hey there babe, you’re looking cute, come party with me in your birthday suit

I left Backman’s office, readjusting my ribs on the way out so they would heal better. The pain made me feel dizzy and sick, but it faded fairly quickly. Backman’s nose healed while I was talking to her – it was fascinating to watch the puffiness around her eyes recede, and the honey-gold color of her eyes peek out amongst the bruised flesh. I wouldn’t admit it, but I did feel a little silly. I had no way of sensing magic, or even processing her scent, but now that I’d looked at her it was blindingly obvious that she was a bear. She might as well have pulled a jar of honey out of her desk and munched on it while we were talking.

I didn’t regret beating her up, though. She probably hadn’t been beaten up in years. She deserved it.

I left Leroy with Marigold, who promised to show him around the school. They didn’t have a ‘no supes allowed’ policy, their secrecy was everything to do with wanting to keep their kids safe. Backman grudgingly explained that a few of the parents had tried to break in to murder their kids, so that’s why security was so tight.

I was reluctant to leave Leroy there, but he was so excited about it. I warned him before I left that he wouldn’t fit in with anyone, and not to get his hopes up, but he was just excited to be around kids his own age. I felt so full of pity for the poor kid, it made my heart ache.

I walked back to my van and drove down the valley, scouting through the small main street slowly. I stopped in at the post office to check out another suspect on Marigold’s list – a guy who had moved to Emerald Valley three months ago, ostensibly to fill a postmaster position.

After talking to him for ten minutes, I knew I could cross him firmly off the list. He was from Cedar Hill, a little town about forty minutes south of Emerald Valley. Recently divorced, he was lonely and very chatty.

Far too chatty for my liking. He went through every single photo on his phone of him and his kids, including one of him on holiday in Barcelona around about the time I knew that the Bloodlord was in Toronto. He wasn’t a local, but he was local enough. He’d lived in this area for enough time, and proved it with all the photos he showed me. I ended up backing out of the post office with my hands up, pleading not to see any more pictures of him fishing on the lake with his nephews.

At least I could cross him off the suspect list without breaking any ribs. I only had a few names left to check out, including the new middle school teacher, a locum doctor at the little doctor’s surgery, the new husband of a rich old hippy who lived in a yurt at the top of the west ridge.

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