Page 66 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade

Yes, you could take a break, but you were never really out.

“Can you tell me more about death magik?” asked Brett. “Like would someone need to collect body parts to perform any rituals? And maybe need brains specifically?”

Stratton understood where Brett was going with his line of questioning. “Yes, but there are a lot of rituals performed by a whole lot of different types of supernaturals that require all those things. Then you have to also add any kind of supernatural who eats brains. There are even more things that would fit the bill.”

“Have you ever heard of anything like that or, well,doneanything like that?” asked Brett.

“I didn’t kill these people or the bear,” stated Stratton evenly. “I have no use for brains or body parts. Had I killed them, there wouldn’t be any evidence. Part of what I’m tasked with as a Nightshade Hunter is making sure no trace of the supernatural or the inciting incident is detectable when I’m done. My magik, it can cleanse a crime scene with ease. You saw Dana’s grandmother do something similar at Jeffrey’s house after the Dragos attack.”

“Wow,” said Brett in a hushed whisper. “The way you’re so casual about the death part of that is kind of scary.”

“Would you rather I put on a false front? That I pretend that death bothers me like it does others?” asked Stratton. “I’ve been alive alongtime. I’ve seen a lot of death. I’ve been responsible for a lot of it too. Is it sad and tragic that three people are dead because something supernatural killed them? Yes. Would having me cry about it bring them back or solve the case faster? No. What helps me function and do my job as a detective and what I was born to do—hunt supernaturals gone bad—is to focus on the facts. Not emotions. When I focus on my emotions, bad things happen.”

“Aren’t you afraid of losing your humanity by doing that all the time?” asked Brett.

Stratton snorted. “I’m not human. I’ve never been human, and I never will be human. I can’t fear losing something I’ve never had.”

“Didn’t realize I hired such an unfeeling bastard.” Brett sat back in his chair, looking tired.

“I have feelings,” protested Stratton.

“Okay, if you say so,” said Brett.

Stratton eyed him. “You served in the military. I’m sure you saw and did things while serving that you managed to shut off emotionally, at least to some degree. Am I wrong?”

Brett took a moment before tapping the desk. “No. You’re not wrong.”

“Imagine being born a soldier,” said Stratton, holding his head high. “And from that day forward you’re part of a war that most don’t even know is happening. One that is fought in the shadows. That when you were in your teens, you’re handed a sword and sent out to slaughter the enemy. To kill anything that puts the secret of supernaturals at risk. Anything deemed a danger to innocents. Imagine having to kill childhood friends who grow up and cross the line of what’s acceptable behavior. Imagine having to kill a supernatural who was only guilty of doing what its instincts tell it to do—all while it begs for its life. That’s what I’ve been doing for longer than you or your buddies put together have been alive, so if you could spare me the passive-aggressive responses to the fact I’ve learned to cope the only way I knew how, that would be much appreciated.”

Brett sat up in his chair. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was being a dick.”

“I didn’t say that,” returned Stratton.

“Yeah, but it was implied,” replied Brett with a half grin.

Stratton chuckled. “Yes. It was.”

ChapterTwenty-Three

Stratton

“Canyou shed any light on what might be behind the recent killings?” asked Brett, a note of hope in his voice as he leaned back in his office chair.

“Eighteen years ago, my cousin and I tracked some things here, to Grimm Cove. Theirmodus operandiwas like this, missing limbs and brains,” said Stratton. “We’d been following their trail across multiple states, detecting a pattern. We’d finally gotten ahead of them, at least somewhat. Our hope had been to stop any more murders. They’re something we’d dealt with before.”

Brett watched him closely. “When I interviewed you for the position here, you told me you’d never been to Grimm Cove before.”

Stratton didn’t bat an eye. “I lied. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, about my last visit here might have been left behind and discovered.”

Brett tipped his head. “You said you can magikally cleanse a crime scene. Doesn’t that mean you had nothing to worry about?”

A laugh fell free from Stratton. “What happened here, it ended in a way that didn’t give me a chance for a cleansing. One second, I was standing face-to-face with too many different types of supernatural enemies to even count and the next I was bathed in white light. When it cleared, I was back in Chicago, in my apartment. My cousin found himself in a small town in Montana of all places. Let me just say, Drest and I were at a loss as to how that had happened. We still are.”

“So vanishing and appearing somewhere else in the blink of an eye isn’t normal for you?” asked Brett.

“Not even a little,” stated Stratton. “My first instinct was to book a flight back here.”

“And did you?”

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