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Chapter 1

Jasmine placed her signature meat and cheese platter on the counter of the wine bar. She enjoyed the last drop of sunlight that reflected off the tall glass door and bounced across the polished wooden surface of the bar. She loved the color and the texture of red wood. The wood was local and sturdy, but elegant, with unpredictable whorls.

She could set up a table for two but decided against the idea because it didn’t suit the occasion. It was a Sunday afternoon, and nothing on this side of town was open. She wasn’t supposed to be at the restaurant, let alone holding a reception for a city detective who was here to stick his nose into the business of this small community.

Gisborne, a small town on the outskirts of Melbourne, Australia, was known for its tranquility and the peaceful lifestyle it offered.

The human community had only recently hit the ten thousand mark. The paranormal community was about fifty thousand, based on the official registration—there wasn’t much she could do about the rogues. She preferred that the size of the population stay the same for as long as she was a resident.

For an introverted witch like her, small towns were perfect. She used to be one of the top chefs in London. She was much sought-after until the lingering effect of a spell she’d learned the night before set the entire kitchen on fire. Paris’s food-snob community loved her until an ice spell accidentally froze and shattered all the crystal and a vintage wine collection. She could try to explain to the average mundane human that her talent with food had nothing to do with her ineptness with magic, but she didn’t think they would understand.

Gisborne was her dream home now. She moved easily between the paranormal and the human communities. She had friends who loved her for who she was and supportive communities to work with.

Jasmine heard a car engine coming from the far end of the Chardonnay block at the main entrance of the vineyard. She then recognized the sound of a wheel dipping into a rain-filled pothole. The hole was quite deep, so any car that was low to the ground would suffer a scratch or two on its undercarriage. The engine hesitated for a few seconds and then came to life again.

She winced. She had meant to get Bob, the jack-of-all-trades handyman in town, to fix that hole. But between the burst pipes of the vineyard’s irrigation system, the order of the next lot of fertilizer being misplaced, and the murder of a visitor in the B&B up the road with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon produced by her vineyard, she had forgotten all about the hole in the driveway.

A couple of minutes after she’d heard the car tire hit the pothole, Detective Bertram Hayes walked into the restaurant.

He was in his thirties, tall with dark hair. Jasmine thought he was well built, but it was quite hard to judge with the long jacket he had on, the kind corporate executives in London and Paris wore. His eyes were intense, focused, and determined.

Plan B then.

After finding out that a city detective was coming their way, she’d had just enough time to have a quick discussion with her two best friends, Beatrice and Mia, about a plan of action. Plan A, they convert the detective into a believer in the paranormal community and ask for his help. Plan B, they swap the body out and give him something an ordinary human could comprehend.

She stepped out from around the counter. “Jasmine,” she said and reached her hand out for a handshake.

“Detective Bertram Hays. I was told to get the keys—”

“That was the plan. But this is the first time you’ve stayed here, and it could get tricky between getting the keys in the mailbox and getting a comfortable stay.”

“How do you know this is my first time here?”

“I’ve managed this resort for quite a while. I remember all our customers, Detective Hayes.”

He grinned. “Bertram.”

She would pay to see that grin again. “I was just kidding. I checked our records when your city office called to make the booking.” She gestured toward the bar and walked behind it.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

She smiled. “I didn’t wait especially for you. We don’t open on Sundays, but this is a special occasion. You aren’t exactly coming here on a vacation.”

He nodded. “Still, I’m sorry for the inconvenience it might cause.”

“It’s not a problem. Even with the uncomfortable reason for your stay at my resort, I refuse to let anyone visiting here go to bed hungry.” Standing behind the counter, she pointed to the platter. “When I see what you like, I’ll pair it with the proper wine.”

“I shouldn’t drink.”

“Your duty doesn’t start until tomorrow morning. So for now, you’re my guest. This is on the house.”

“Thank you.” He grinned again and then sat on a barstool. “Would you join me? I can’t enjoy this feast all by myself.”

“Sure. After you, though.”

She placed two wine glasses on the counter and observed him. He forked up a slice of red meat and put it on his plate.

“Great!” she said and picked up a piece of the same. She waited for him to taste the meat and saw a spark of appreciation in his eyes. If there was anything she excelled at and could be proud of, it was food creation.

To Jasmine, cooking was an insulting word. She aimed to create an experience with the food she prepared. Although it might sound witchy, she knew more than anyone that her minimal magical skills had nothing to do with what she did with food.

She pointed at the meat on the platter. “Between the mortadella, the Spanish chorizo, and the salami, the mortadella is the best choice. It’s not just any mortadella—it’s imported here directly from Italy. Crafted with care and by order. Not processed for the mass market.”

He nodded. “No wonder it’s so delicious.”

She grabbed a bottle from behind the counter and poured a small amount of red wine into his glass, then hers. She swirled the large glass to aerate the wine and then took a sip. He did the same.

She smiled. “How’s the wine?”

“Terrific!”

“The same bottle that killed your victim.”

He choked on his drink.

“No, sorry, I meant the same variety. The bottle that was used to kill her was at the top of our vintage line. Eight thousand dollars a bottle. We don’t have it anymore. It was sold at an auction years before I started here.”

Jasmine smiled and pointed to the bottle. “This one is only eighty dollars.” Now that she knew he approved of the wine, she poured more for both of them.

She popped a marinated olive into her mouth and paused for a second to enjoy the flavor of the marinating sauce she had made from her own recipe.

“So is it only you on this case, or are more coming?”

“Just me to start with. Depending on my report, there might be more.”

“Working in the city, you must deal with a lot of cases like this.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “Murder.”

He took more meat from the platter. She stayed with the olives and some grilled vegetable sticks. They were another creation of hers that converted all veggie haters into devout fans. He picked up a veggie stick and, after a second of suspicion, bit into it. Another fan. She didn’t need him to confirm or deny it—his eyes said it all.

She topped his wine glass. “So?”

“So what?” he asked and sounded as if her question was an unwelcome distraction from the savory vegetable sticks.

“What’s your background? What kinds of cases do you usually handle? Have you solved a lot of murder cases? Do you always find answers, no matter how weird they might be?”

“Define weird.”

She shrugged. “Illogical. Like using an eight-thousand-dollar bottle of wine to kill someone.”

He smiled. “I’d prefer not to talk about the ongoing case over dinner.”

She smiled. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, no apologies needed. As you said, my investigation doesn’t start until tomorrow. Not talking about it tonight is my personal preference.”

She nodded. “Cheese?”

He contemplated between Manchego, blue cheese, aged Gouda, and fresh mozzarella. In the end, he picked up a piece of Gouda.

Jasmine leaned over the counter. “You know your cheese!”

He smiled. “Gouda is one of the oldest cheeses in the world. Its slight smoky flavor and unique texture make it a good match for the rich cabernet sauvignon. A killer combination.”

Her smile faded. One thing she’d never had was a poker face.

“Are we all suspects? I mean, the town, the people, anyone who ever came in contact with that woman?” she asked. “Don’t you need a motive? Why would we kill a visitor? It’s bad for business, wouldn’t you think? We’re just ordinary people living in a small town. We’ve never had an incident that alerted the central police. We don’t even have our own police station. Ask your supervisor. It’s a peaceful town.”

She huffed after her rant then downed her drink.

Bertram sipped his wine and looked at her over the rim of his glass. She felt he took the slow-motion sip and gave her that suspenseful gaze on purpose to annoy the crap out of her.

And he succeeded.

“My investigation won’t start until tomorrow. As I said, I prefer not to discuss the case during my private time.”

She nodded. “Fair enough.” She hopped off her stool. “I’m quite active in the local council, and I know people in the community well. If you need any help, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

She put the room keys on the counter. “This serves as our reception desk for checking in and out. During the day, it’ll be manned by other staff. If you need to contact me, please call my cell.”

She grabbed a takeaway menu and wrote her number on it.

“Likewise.” He gave her his business card, which she slid in the back pocket of her jeans.

She put foil over the plate of cheese and meat and crimped it around the edges. “Take this for your dinner. If you want something else, you’ll have to drive into the town central. It’s a fifteen-minute drive, and you’ll need to do it before seven thirty at the latest. Come on, I’ll walk you to your cabin.” She handed him the plate.

“Thank you, but I can find my way.”

“It’s only a minute up the hill. But it’s dark, and you don’t know the vineyard as well as I do.”

“You have booby traps among the vines?”

She nodded. “The worst kind.” Then she grinned at him.

They walked along the Merlot block up a small hill. “Your cabin is the first on the right—”

A shadow the size of a large dog jumped out from among the vines. She knew it was too dark for Bertram to see what kind of dog it was, but it was so close she could smell its fur and its breath and hear its growls. It ran toward Bertram. He tossed the platter of food into the air, and she knew he was reaching for his gun.

She grabbed his elbow. “Don’t shoot. It’s just a dog. It won’t harm you.”

The dog charged away, past Bertram and into darkness.

Bertram shrugged off her hold. “I didn’t see a collar. If I hadn’t pulled my gun, it would have attacked me.”

“Bertram, it’s just a wild dog! Don’t you think it would be more scared of a stick than a gun? Do you think it understands what guns can do?”

He holstered his gun. “Why are you so upset about a dog? You didn’t seem so upset about the woman who was killed next door!”

“Don’t you dare judge me or anyone else in this town …”

He raised his hands, seeking a truce. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. It was dark, and that dog was big. I didn’t mean to judge.”

She picked up the plate and the pieces of food that had scattered all over the ground. “You’ll have to go into the town central to pick up food for dinner.”

He nodded. “I can do that. Where do you live?”

“Up at the peak.” She pointed toward the far end of the vineyard. “Fifteen-minute walk.”

“Walk? No! I’m going to drive you home first and then pick up dinner later.”

“You can’t drive your car on the internal roads of the vineyard.”

“Then the hell I’ll let you go that way now. That dog just ran in that direction.”

CHAPTER 2

Jasmine closed the window of the small office at the back of the restaurant and chucked a couple of large pieces of firewood into the fireplace. She looked at the clock on the wall, and it confirmed what her internal timer predicted—it was six thirty p.m. on the dot.

She turned on her computer and logged in to the private chat room. On the screen, her two friends had just entered the room.

Beatrice smiled. Her long sandy hair cascaded onto her delicate shoulders, and her striking emerald eyes twinkled to match her smile. Beatrice looked like a hair and makeup model straight out of a fashion magazine. She could be a celebrity if she wanted to. But she chose to lead a quiet life, running her own vet school in Gisborne central.

Mia, on the other hand, expressed emotions only when she felt the need. Her sharp dark brown eyes pierced through people if they lied to her. If there was such a thing as a staring competition, and if she even bothered to participate, she could be a world champion. People who didn’t know her well might think she was aloof. But Jasmine knew that under her tough mask was the kindest, most warmhearted person she had ever met. Mia worked as a psychologist during the day and accepted paranormal clients whenever there was a need. As the population of the paranormal community was five times larger than the human one, her clinic looked quiet on the surface, but her schedule was always full.

“I just discovered something,” Beatrice said with a smile.

Jasmine bit into a vegetable stick left over from those she had prepared earlier for Bertram. “Nothing can beat my news about the city detective, but go ahead, what did you discover?”

Mia’s eyes sparked with curiosity. “Spit it out, ladies. I’m not a fan of suspense.”

Beatrice grinned. “We look like Charlie’s Angels.”

Jasmine looked at their images on the screen, and Beatrice was right. Beatrice was blond, and Mia had beautiful Asian eyes and a delicate oval face framed by raven hair that just touched her shoulders. Jasmine twirled a finger in her long brunette hair and laughed. “That’s a fair observation. And I get to be the more sensible one of the three.”

Mia smiled. “As you wish. Now, tell us about the detective. Is he in his sixties? Taking on this job to look for a good property or maybe a location for his retirement?”

Jasmine finished her vegetable stick and grabbed a second one. “Far from it! Thirty-something. Laser-sharp. A nonbeliever. I think we have to go with plan B.”

Beatrice winked. “I think you’re wrong this time, Jasmine. There’s something in him that clouded your judgment. He’s susceptible to magic.”

Jasmine narrowed her eyes. “Goddammit, Beatrice! You wielded that dog! He could have shot it for real. I thought you loved your animals.”

“I do. But it was just a tiny lizard I asked to run across the vines. If he had fired, which he didn’t, the bullet would have hit only air, or maybe your vines.”

“Show-off!” Jasmine muttered. She pretended to scowl, but it didn’t last long. Beatrice wasn’t a natural witch. Her ability with magic came from learning and practice. But she was far better than Jasmine, who had been born to witches.

Mia nodded. “If he wasn’t susceptible to magic, he wouldn’t have seen the dog. But does that mean he’s open to the paranormal? Because if he isn’t, telling him will be a disaster.”

“But we’ve got no choice. I talked to Landon, and he won’t help swap the body with a human John Doe,” Beatrice said.

“I thought he was a paranormal empathizer,” Jasmine said.

Mia shook her head. “There’s been an increased number of fatal incidents caused by unexplained wild animal attacks recently. I think Landon’s seen enough and thinks the government should step in.”

“That won’t be helpful,” Jasmine said as she waved her hands in the air. “The government can only do something if they were real animal attacks. But we know very well they weren’t. Pulling in the central police would be a disaster. Landon didn’t have an issue with helping us before. Why did he change his mind?”

“Maybe you should talk to him tomorrow, Jasmine. He listens to you,” Beatrice said. “He’s the only medical examiner in town. The police will take his report seriously.”

Jasmine shook her head. “I’ll take Bertram to the B&B tomorrow. I think he’ll want to take a look at the crime scene first. You might have to be the one to talk with Landon in the morning, Mia. I’ll try to stall Bertram for as long as possible, but sooner or later, he’ll want to see the body in the morgue.”

Mia nodded. “Okay, I can talk to Landon.” She swiped through pages of her electronic notepad. “From my investigation today, I learned that Sara Hines was made a werewolf only a few months ago. She had just gone through a divorce, and I think her ex-husband is a mundane human. I’m not sure if he knows about her condition. He has been notified as next of kin about her death.”

“So she’s a child in paranormal age. Young and inexperienced. That’s why her body didn’t completely reverse back to her human form when she was killed,” Beatrice said. Her beautiful emerald eyes began to tear up. Jasmine made a mental note not to circle back to that topic again. Beatrice was very emotional when it came to children, both mundane and magical ones.

Jasmine grabbed a third vegetable stick, but then, remembering Bertram’s ruined dinner, she put it back down. She turned the kettle on and pulled out an herbal tea bag. “She must have been looking for something at the B&B. If she owned a bottle of wine at that price tag, she’d choose to stay at the resort and not at the B&B,” she said while making her tea.

“No offense, Jasmine.” Beatrice smiled. “Your resort is the best and the only in close proximity to town central. But the B&B is advertised as a vineyard with one of the oldest vines in the world. Sara owned that bottle, suggesting that she was a wine-snob. I think staying at the B&B instead of the resort would be the more natural choice for her.”

Jasmine frowned. “They hardly fill two rooms a month, and they advertise?”

“Yep!” Beatrice clucked her tongue. “Maybe that’s why they advertise?”

Mia grinned. “I’d use the money to upgrade the condition of their rooms first before spending it on advertising. You’re packed all the time, and they never fill their rooms. There must be something wrong with their products.”

Jasmine shrugged. “I’ll take a look tomorrow while I’m there. Maybe I can give them some feedback.”

Mia winced. “Whether or not they welcome it?”

Jasmine waved a set of keys in front of the camera. “They left me the keys to take Bertram through. I think they trust me!”

Beatrice chuckled. “Trust has nothing to do with what they did and whether they deserve your feedback. Their family has been there for decades. But when disaster happened, they dropped you the keys, left town, and let you handle the police!”

Jasmine sipped her tea, smiled, and said nothing. Beatrice had never gotten along well with that family. “All right, so tomorrow, Mia, can you talk to Landon about the body? I’ll stall Bertram for as long as I can. Keep me posted. And Beatrice, can you contact Bob the handyman for me? His phone was out of range all day. I need to get the pothole in my driveway fixed.”

“On it!” Beatrice grinned. “Checking out now!” she said and logged off.

“What’s your plan for tonight, Jasmine? There’s something you didn’t tell Beatrice.”

She smiled at Mia, who was as sharp as usual. “I’m going devise some kind of test to see whether Bertram is susceptible to magic and if he’s open to the paranormal. But I want to do it my way. Beatrice isn’t the only one who can wield magic in this town.”

Mia smiled and nodded. “Bye, Jasmine.” She logged off.

Jasmine took a few more minutes to enjoy her tea and then went to the kitchen. She could create a heavenly dinner in twenty minutes with what she had on hand.

Twenty-two minutes later, she walked up the Merlot block with the dinner secured in a picnic basket.

CHAPTER 3

Landon switched off the light in his office and called it a day. His work here didn’t keep him as busy as his duties in the hospital, but he still sometimes needed to put in a late night. He guessed the discrepancy in the workload between the morgue and the main hospital was normal, whether he worked in a small town or in a large city. The number of people who needed medical care always outnumbered those who needed a spot in a morgue. That was, of course, for an obvious reason. Dead people didn’t know what they needed anymore. And those who ended up in the morgue usually didn’t have relatives or anyone who cared for them.

This was the first time he had received a body from an active crime scene. Not that there wasn’t any deadly crime occurring in the area. Sometimes criminals even used small towns just outside the city as dump sites for bodies. But since the town was only forty minutes’ drive from Melbourne city, the bodies from cases that involved the central police would usually be transported straight into the city.

He sighed and thought of the dead female body from the B&B. He had never seen anything like it before. The body was half changed between a human and some kind of furry animal. It was lucky they called him first instead of the central police.

The B&B owners had abandoned the premises, left the keys to Jasmine, and fled the town. He couldn’t blame them.

When Beatrice called him, she told him the half-animal was a form of werewolf.

He was a paranormal empathizer, but he had his limits. His knowledge of and sympathy toward the paranormal pretty much came from all the supernatural novels he had read and movies he had watched.

He’d never seen anything paranormal in real life.

Beatrice and Jasmine had been telling him they were witches. He took their word for it. He’d seen Beatrice perform some magic tricks. But he had to admit, he couldn’t tell the difference between the magic she did and what he saw when he went to the circus. If Jasmine claimed her meals were magic, that was something he would definitely believe. But apart from that, the paranormal community they’d mentioned, the one they said would need his support, had existed only in fiction.

But now, the paranormal world was as real as it could get.

As he reached the end of the corridor and was about to exit to the car park, he heard a crash from the morgue. He knew the dead weren’t responsible for it because he was quite sure they had no need of what he had in there. But it wouldn’t be the first time some junkies from the city broke into a medical center to steal meds. Landon would rather deal with paranormal creatures, whatever they might be, than addicts once the drugs took control of them.

He did what he thought he would never do in a situation like this—he returned to the morgue.

“No cash or drugs are kept here if that’s what you’re looking for …”

A large shadow standing in the darkness turned toward him. The light switch conveniently chose that moment not to work for him, and the only reason he saw the large shadow was because of the dim light from the medical equipment and the temperature control panel.

To Landon, the shadow looked more ape than human, over six feet tall and bulky. He backed up toward the door from which he had entered, hoping to make a getaway, but it had slammed shut behind him.

A dead body in a bag draped over the shoulder of the ape-shaped shadow.

“Look, if you want to take this one, help yourself—I don’t think the dead care. I don’t know who you are, and I won’t tell anyone about this. I didn’t see a thing. Okay?”

He tugged at the handle of the door again. It didn’t budge.

The shadow lay the body down onto a bench.

Then it charged at him. Landon had no firsthand experience of being hit by a truck. But he knew this was what it must feel like. His body was slammed into the wall so hard he could hear his bones rattle. Then he dropped to the cold cement floor.

A quick mental medical examination of himself told him that he might have a broken rib or two, and his left shoulder was dislocated. But he knew his head and neck was still attached to his shoulders. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to think right now.

He couldn’t move or speak to negotiate with the attacker. His body wasn’t obeying him. Maybe staying silent and playing dead was a better strategy. Or maybe he was dead.

He lay still, his eyes closed, and heard the clanking sound of his metal mortician’s tools being dropped into a plastic bag. It didn’t take too much thought on his part to know it was a body bag.

Whoever was in the room was trying to steal a body and all his medical equipment.

He pressed his eyes shut and kept still until consciousness left him.

CHAPTER 4

Jasmine reached the top of the Merlot block. Vines & Soul Resort was built more like a sanctuary than a commercial luxury resort. There were twelve cabins altogether, scattered throughout the vineyard. Although it felt to guests as if they stayed among the vines, they didn’t. The vines were precious and needed to be protected from any kind of contamination. It didn’t matter how old and sturdy they were, once contamination occurred, it meant the end of the vines.

The cabins sat on blocks separate from the vines, but they were sandwiched on either side by the blocks where the vines were located, all of which were named after grape varietals. The cabin Jasmine put Bertram in was at the top of the Merlot block, and thus, naturally, it was called the Merlot Cabin.

It was only a one-minute walk from the restaurant to the Merlot Cabin. It wasn’t a long enough time for her to come up with a way to test whether Bertram was susceptible to magic. He could be a nonbeliever, but if his psyche was accepting of magic, then there was a chance they could convert him into an empathizer. But if he didn’t accept it, then even if he saw magic with his own eyes, he’d end up hating it.

She had some tricks up her sleeve to test him. Some of them were more intrusive than others, and using magic on someone without consent left a bad taste in her mouth.

She began to turn into the private entrance of the cabin, but then she stopped. Bertram had opened the window and was leaning outside with his cell phone, trying to get a phone connection. He had no chance for central cell coverage out here. She had totally forgotten to give him the information about their private network. In the grand scheme of things, telling him about the resort’s free cell phone service was the last thing on her mind.

But what had caught her attention first and brought her steps to a complete halt was the fact that Bertram was shirtless. He was well over six foot two and lean, with well-toned muscles that formed a six-pack on his abdomen when he arched over the windowsill, leaning further outside to get a phone signal. She blinked and tried to shake off her distracting and inappropriate thoughts.

That was when he saw her.

Damn.

“There’s no cell phone coverage out here, Bertram.”

Seeing her, he pulled himself back inside, put his shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned, and opened the door. “Sorry, I was just trying to do some work…” He tapped on the phone helplessly and then pointed at his laptop. “I was just about to hot-spot my computer. Can’t do that now without a network.”

She put the picnic basket on the table. “Give me your phone.”

He handed her the phone. She opened the note app and typed in the network information. Then she handed it back to him. “It’s a private network we use in the vineyard.”

“Thank you,” he said, looking at the network icon blinking on his phone. He put the phone away and buttoned his shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of the dinner as soon as she opened the cover of the basket.

“Well, it’s too late for you to go into town central, so I put something quick together. Nothing fancy.”

“I’ll take you out for dinner tomorrow night.”

She smiled at him. “Sure. I’ll pick a suitable place. For tonight, this is prawn cocktail and mango salad, pasta with wild mushrooms in red wine and garlic, and dark chocolate cake.” She put a bottle on the table. “And our signature Shiraz.”

“This is your quick meal?”

“The pasta and the salad are easy to make. And I cheated with the chocolate cake. I made it last night.”

“Right. Sure.” He helped set the table and pulled a chair over for her. “I saw the light at the back of the restaurant. Is that where you’re staying tonight?”

“No, that’s my office. I grabbed the Chardonnay Cabin, just behind yours. The vineyard isn’t at full capacity tonight.”

She watched him as he moved. Very efficient. Every movement precise and with purpose. Almost as if he did a mental calculation of the best route to go from A to B, and the quickest way to get it done. Maybe it was a professional hazard of being a detective. She sat down at the table after he set it.

“Which part of England did you come from?”

“I can never shake the accent, can I?” She smiled. “I was a London girl before I came here. I traveled a lot, so it’s hard to pinpoint the place I would call home.” She poured the wine. “But I must say, I feel that I belong here.”

He swirled the glass lightly three times on the table before smelling the wine and taking the first sip. She smiled. He knew his food and wine. What she served him wouldn’t be wasted.

He looked as if he approved of the wine. “This is perfect to balance the sweetness of the mango and prawn salad, and it gets us ready for the pasta. I suspect you didn’t use tomato sauce out of a bottle.”

She smiled, leaned back, and sipped her wine. “Tell me, what do you think I cooked the pasta in?”

She saw a quirk at the corner of his lips. He took this as a challenge.

He put a small portion of pasta on his plate and tasted. Then he frowned. “The pasta is full of flavor. But there’s no sauce. How did you do that?”

She smiled. “That’s my secret!” Then she spooned a dinner-sized proportion onto his plate. “I learned the technique at a French kitchen I worked in a long time ago, and I added a few twists of my own to make it mine.”

“Jasmine’s secret recipe,” he said with a grin.

“I don’t use recipes per se.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time. I create what feels right for the occasion and for the people sharing the meals with me. As the situation changes, people’s moods change. I don’t see the point of sticking to formulas and assuming they’ll work for all occasions and for everyone. Sure, there are basic ingredients. But my kitchen rule is ‘no scale, no fail.’”

“That means there are no logical rules applied in your kitchen.”

“There doesn’t have to be a logical explanation for everything …” Suddenly, Bertram’s image wavered in front of her. A storm of emotions washed over her.

Fear.

Confusion.

She heard Bertram call out to her, but his voice seemed to echo in the distance.

She knew what was happening.

Her psychic channel had spontaneously kicked in at a very inconvenient time. She could sometimes track people’s emotions, and she was paying dearly right now for that unstable ability she couldn’t control. Sometimes, it triggered when she didn’t expect it and connected her to random people.

This time, however, it wasn’t a random person. She felt Landon’s emotions—or lack thereof. They came out strong, then faded rapidly. It felt to her like he was drowning or dying. She could feel the cold of the morgue floor. She could feel his pain. She could hear the humming of supernatural creatures.

“Landon!” she said out loud as she was yanked back to her reality.

She was floating. No, Bertram was carrying her in his arms, and they were out of the cabin. She realized she had passed out. This wasn’t the first time her psychic ability had played tricks on her, but she had never passed out because of it.

“Put me down, Bertram, please.”

“You need to go to the hospital,” he said, but he still put her down as she asked. He kept a hand on her shoulder to ensure she was steady. She pulled out her cell phone, and as soon as Mia picked up, she said, “Mia, Landon is in trouble. I can sense him. He’s at work.”

“I’ll go there right now, and I’ll call Beatrice. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, there’s no time.”

“Okay, I’ll call you when I get there. Bye now.”

Jasmine put the phone away and could see the concern in Bertram’s eyes.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said. “That’s not negotiable. One second you’re talking, and the next second you’re on the floor. The very second you’re back up, you’re on the phone about the trouble you sense Landon is facing, whatever that means. I don’t need a logical explanation for this because I have a feeling you wouldn’t give it to me. But I need to hear from a doctor that you’re okay. I’m the police, and that’s my protocol. You’re a citizen in need of assistance.”

She sighed. “Fine. Hospital then.” This could be handy, she thought. She drove her car into a ditch last week, so she was carless. The morgue was in the basement of the hospital. If Bertram drove her there, she might be able to sneak down and see if Landon was okay—if she could somehow lose Bertram during the process so that he wouldn’t see the half-transformed body in the morgue.

***

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