Bad Fae: A Snarky Paranormal Detective Story (A Cat McKenzie Novel Book 3) Read online

  Bad Fae: A Snarky Paranormal Detective Story

  Copyright © 2021 by Lauren Dawes

  www.authorlaurendawes.com

  The right of Lauren Dawes to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  E-book: 978-1-922353-31-3

  Print: 978-1-922353-33-7

  All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Deranged Doctor Designs

  Edited by Swish Designs & Editing

  Proofread by Swish Designs & Editing

  This one is for my wicked awesome ARC team. I couldn’t do this without you, ladies!

  One

  “And that’s how I decapitated the vampire trying to kill me.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to cram them back in there. My date’s eyes bugged out of his skull, and his face drained of color. Silly me for sharing what my work days were like, although decapitation wasn’t the half of it. Rogue vampires, zombie cyclops, gremlins with a penchant for Dodge Rams, I’ve seen it all. I’ve also experienced it all.

  It was called a Tuesday in the life of Cat McKenzie.

  Stabbing the straw into my glass, I watched the ice bump into the sides of the twenty-ounce plastic tumbler before leaning down to take a sip. Normally, I’d be all over a cup of coffee right about now, but I’d overdone it during the day and decided on a soda instead.

  We were in a railroad car that was moonlighting as a twenty-four-hour diner. It was the kind of place where your ass was re-introduced to sparkly polyurethane bench seats and you ate at Formica tables. It was dated—its heyday been about a quarter of a century earlier—but they still served some awesome pie.

  Mason Crane pushed his John-Lennon-esque glasses up his nose. “And this is normal for you?”

  I shrugged. “What’s normal mean, anyway? I just go to work, and this stuff happens.” I gestured to my new truck parked outside. I went with a Ram again because why fix a thing of beauty. “That’s a brand-new truck. I got it a week ago to replace my other brand-new truck which was crushed, then eaten by a six-story gremlin. And the one before that? A vampire drove a semi-truck into it a few minutes before dawn… with me in the front seat. The other vampire we’d arrested was in the back and got ashed the instant the sun hit it.”

  Mason’s already pallid face went a weird off-greenish color. Reaching for his drink, he brought his coffee cup up to his mouth and took a draw. His brown eyes were wide behind his round glasses.

  He was what people liked to call a ‘hipster.’ He was an educated, sensitive, well-groomed man with a manicured beard, glasses, and hair that could be scooped into a man-bun if he so desired.

  And he so desired.

  It was sitting at the top of his head right now like a little radio tower.

  A radio tower of brown locks, projecting the message that he was a metrosexual hipster who enjoyed his cushy publishing gig and the use of hair—and let’s face it, probably also beard—products.

  “Have you ever thought about getting some beardaments?”

  He lowered his coffee cup like a knight lowering his shield in front of someone he couldn’t decide was a threat or not. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  “Beardaments. Beard ornaments. You know, to decorate your beard. Christmas is next week. You should put some string lights or something in there. Maybe some baubles? I saw a website that makes them just for beards.”

  The look of abject horror on his face would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the fact that I was being serious.

  “Ah… well…” he stammered.

  “I’ll get you some,” I replied, pushing my cup away when I saw our pie coming.

  This was our first date.

  Probably our last one too, given how badly I was scaring him with my… Cat-ness.

  Add on all the first date jitters I was suffering from, and I was a mess.

  Because I didn’t date.

  When would I have time to devote to a man outside of work? I’d met Mason in the coffee shop in town. We’d both been refueling for the day. He asked me to pass him a stirring stick. I did. Then he asked me for a lid. I handed that over too. Then he asked me for my number and a date.

  Although I wasn’t looking for someone to date, I said yes.

  You want to know why?

  Because Mason was human. H-U-M-A-N. As human as a human could get.

  Just like me.

  He didn’t have the ability to stir lust within me in a single look. He didn’t need to suck my blood to survive. I didn’t need to be careful about what I said around him for fear of indebting myself to him.

  He was safe.

  And I needed safe.

  Sawyer hadn’t liked the idea, but Sawyer could suck a dick for all I cared.

  “I’ve got a slice of cherry and a slice of apple,” the waitress announced, arriving at our table. Being the pro she was, she remembered exactly who had ordered what, placing my cherry pie down in front of me, the apple in front of Mason, then asking in that same peppy voice, “Anything else I can get you?”

  “We’re fine. Thanks,” I replied, unwrapping my fork from the napkin and cutting off a bite of my pie.

  Mason shuffled his glasses further up his nose and said, “Thank you, but no.”

  The woman walked away, and I smiled at Mason. “I hear this pie is the best.”

  He nodded. As he ducked his head down to take a mouthful, my gaze snagged on someone sitting in the booth behind us. There was only one occupant, and she was facing me—staring at me, in fact. I flashed her a scowl then got busy with the pie.

  “So, Catherine,” Mason began.

  “Cat, please. Call me Cat.”

  Only the fae and the vampires used my full name, and it freaked me the fuck out.

  He smiled. “Cat. Why did you become a cop?”

  I faltered. There were two ways to answer this—the truth or a bald-faced lie. Since I’d already divulged a lot about my crazy life, I decided on the truth.

  “It wasn’t what I wanted to do. I started on an arts degree, but after my father’s death, I switched courses. I wanted to stop other people from getting hurt, and this seemed like the most logical way to do it.”

  “I think it’s very noble.”

  I smiled a little at the comment. Nobody had ever told me I’d done something noble before. “And how did you get into publishing?”

  Mason placed his fork down on the side of his plate and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Oh, I wanted to be a writer, but I could never finish a manuscript. I always seemed to get stuck in the middle of my story and not know the way out. I went into publishing because at least that way, I’d still be involved in the industry even if I wasn’t a part of the industry.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “What kind of books would you like to write?”

  A faint blush crept up his cheeks. “Oh, umm, reverse harem?” He phrased it as a question. “Have you heard of it?”

  “Well, I know what a harem is,” I started. “So reverse would be one girl with lots of guys?”

  “Yes,�
� he replied.

  “Mason, that’s kind of kinky.”

  His blush grew deeper. “I’d write under a nom de plume and write reverse harem. Contemporary stuff, you know.”

  “Cowboys and the nanny. Billionaire tech-company teams and the secretary, college hockey team and an aspiring journalist reporting on their illicit sex tally?”

  He blinked. “Those are amazing ideas for stories.”

  I buffed my knuckles against my chest. “I am pretty great, right?”

  My gaze flickered across his shoulder to the woman sitting in the next booth. Her blue eyes were still fixed on me, a sneer pulling up the corner of her mouth. Huh. Maybe she wasn’t a big RH fan.

  “Will you excuse me, Mason? I just have to go to the bathroom for a sec.”

  “Oh, sure,” he replied.

  Getting up from the booth, I walked down to the far side of the car-length counter in the middle of the diner and into a small hallway that serviced the kitchen and bathrooms. The ladies’ room was the first door on the left, and I stepped inside.

  There were only two stalls, so I took the one farthest away from the door and locked myself in. A moment later, the bathroom door opened again, and someone walked into the other stall.

  I couldn’t pee while someone else was within earshot, so I waited for them to flush and wash their hands before I even started. Once I was done, I opened the door and paused when I saw the same woman from the next booth over facing the mirrors, her palms on the sink in front of her, and her eyes fixed on my reflection.

  Thinking I was crazy, that this woman couldn’t possibly have been waiting for me, I stepped over to the other sink, pumped some soap…

  “You’re a dead girl walking,” she said softly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  She turned her head with creepy slowness, pinning me with eyes the color of aquamarines. They were as cold as those stones too. “I said, you’re a dead girl walking. This is for Kailon,” she said with a smile.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  I hadn’t heard hide nor hair from Kailon Perry—the fae assassin who was now trying to kill me because I took away his opportunity for revenge two weeks ago—but I guessed my reprieve was over.

  “So, you’re Kailon’s bitch, huh?” I said, rubbing my hands together and lathering them up. “Trust him not to get his hands dirty in public.” I waited for her to reply, but when she wasn’t so forthcoming, I washed away the suds. The small space filled with the scent of lemon. “Got nothing to say to that?”

  She hissed at me, her human face sliding off to reveal bubblegum pink skin and bright blue hair. Her eyes stayed the same. She could’ve passed for human if not for the skin or the three-inch fangs filling her mouth. “I’m going to make sure you suffer… for Kailon’s sake.”

  “He’s considerate like that,” I replied with a shrug, shaking the water from my hands. “So, are we going to do this in here, or do you need more room?”

  With a low growl, she lunged for me, grabbing my head and slamming it down onto the edge of the basin. Bells rang in my head as my vision flickered to black. Lemons. Lemons edged with the metallic hum of blood. The smell was everywhere.

  Pervasive.

  Pervading.

  With my hair still firmly grasped in her hand, the fae wrenched my head up and back, then yanked forward until my skull met glass. The mirror spiderwebbed with cracks, then shattered when my forehead made its second introduction.

  Blood streamed down my face from the gash along my head. “That’s the last cheap shot you get at me,” I told her, breathing heavily through my mouth.

  The fae laughed, and the sound of it was like heaven in my ears. My anger melted away from me, leaving me only with a sense of calmness. As soon as she stopped, though, all the fog that filled my head drifted away.

  Damn, that was some kind of power.

  Too bad she couldn’t laugh while I was kicking her ass.

  Elbowing her in the ribs, she let go of my hair with an oomph, then backed away a step.

  The fae’s brows slammed down over her eyes as she stared at me. “What the hell are you?” she demanded.

  I tried not to get offended by that. If I had a nickel for every time a supe questioned what I was…

  “My name’s Cat McKenzie, and I’m going to kick your ass,” I told her with a grunt.

  “You’re not supposed to be able to break free of my power so easily.”

  Power? “The laughing thing you just did?” I asked, then scoffed. “It’s a pretty lame power if you ask me.”

  She growled like a wolf at me.

  O-kay, so that was the wrong thing to say to her.

  “That lame power has brought down countless leaders, leaving them open for takeovers and wars.”

  “Yawn. Look, I guess it was okay, but it wasn’t as badass as Kailon’s ability to suck all the air from the room. If you want a show-stopper ability, that’s it.”

  The fae shook her head, irritated. “Stop talking.”

  “And die?” I supplied. “Is that all you got?” I was stalling so hard. I wasn’t prepared to be attacked tonight. I thought I was simply going on a date with Mason Crane—human publisher and overt metrosexual. I wasn’t expecting to be fighting in the women’s bathroom with a fae who could literally drain all the anger and aggression out of a person with a single well-timed chuckle.

  “Stop talking!” she shrieked again.

  “You know, people say that to me a lot,” I muttered, trying not to let it bother me. Something in my peripheral vision caught my attention, and I tilted my head to the side a little. Reaver had just shimmered into existence inside the stall I’d used.

  Reaver was a magical angel sword that had taken a liking to me. It came with all the awesome accessories—showing up whenever it damn well wanted, its unpredictability and a bloodlust for revenge that was downright creepy.

  I edged closer toward the stall, wiping blood out of my eyes as I did.

  The fae watched me like a wolf watched its prey. “Where are you going?”

  “Toilet?” I replied. “Murder attempts give me a spastic colon.”

  “Stay where you are,” she growled.

  I tutted. “No can do. I have a date out there, and he’ll be wanting to know where I went.” Before she could move, I dove to the floor, sliding across the tiles until Reaver’s pommel was within my hand. The fae had followed me into the stall. I twisted over onto my back, holding the sword out in front of me, and the fae’s eyes widened. There was no way she could stop from slamming into me. Reaver punched straight through her chest and out the other side. Blood poured from the wound, covering my shirt, chest, and neck with liquid that smelled faintly of cotton candy.

  I’d just have to chalk all this up to another day in the life of Cat McKenzie.

  “Kai… lon,” she gasped. “Will… avenge…”

  Her face was mere inches from mine as she died, her last breath feathering over my cheek.

  Being as gentle as I could, I rolled her off to one side and stood. Reaver was sticking straight out of her at a forty-five-degree angle. Gingerly, I wrapped my hands around the hilt and pulled. The steel slid out easily, coated in bubblegum pink blood. It looked more like transmission fluid than something that was necessary for life, but a doctor for the fae I was not.

  Glancing around, I wondered how to deal with the mess. Shutting the door seemed like the first step, so as I stepped from the stall, I eased the door shut behind me. Next step was calling my partner, Sawyer.

  “Hello, Cat,” he answered in his low drawl.

  “Hey.” I watched the pink blood creep toward the drain in the center of the floor. “So, funny story, but I just killed a fae in the ladies’ room.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a particularly funny story,” he replied.

  “I guess it depends on who’s telling it,” I quipped. I toed the edge of the creeping sea of pink. “Anyway, she’s dead, so I guess… send in the cavalry?”


  His chuckle elicited a reaction from all the parts of my body he’d touched. Sawyer was an incubus—a sex demon that fed on lust. We’d had sex once—more out of necessity than want—when he’d gone between feedings for too long and left himself weakened.

  It should’ve been a one-and-done thing—the sex… the fantastic, amazing, at-least-a-dozen-Os sex—was never supposed to happen again. He shouldn’t have been unable to rise to the occasion, so to speak, but something had gone awry. Although he could somehow get a hard-on for me, I decided that banging my partner wasn’t the most professional thing to do.

  “Where are you?” After I told him, he added, “I’ll be down there in ten. Don’t touch anything and don’t let anyone mess up the scene.”

  “Roger that.” I hung up and pushed out of the ladies’ room. There was a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and wearing double-denim with her hand outstretched, about to open the door.

  “Sorry, closed for a murder investigation,” I told her with a shrug, flashing my badge.

  Her gaze swung down to my hand before she nodded and scurried away, throwing one last look over her shoulder as she disappeared out of the hallway.

  Two

  “Everything okay, miss?” someone asked behind me. I turned. It was one of the waitresses. Her gaze darted to my forehead then back to my eyes.

  I wiped away some blood I felt creeping down my face. “Do you have a key for this?” I gestured to the bathroom. “It’s now a crime scene, and I need to keep people out.”

  More of those bulging eyes. “Are you a cop?”

  Pulling my badge from my back pocket, I flashed it at her. “Officer McKenzie with PIG, the Paranormal Investigative Group.” After the woman studied it for a long minute, I prodded, “That key?”

  “Of course. Let me grab it from the office.”

  Turning on her scuff-free-soles, she hurried off in the opposite direction. She was only gone for a few minutes before returning, handing me the key to lock things up. “Do you have an out-of-order sign or something we can hang on the door? And can you lock the front door? We’ll need to interview all the witnesses here.”