Page 65 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade

At the mention of Dr. Jack Seward, Stratton put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him, his shoulders still hunched. Seward’s history had been fictionalized by Bram Stoker. Parts of the tale held grains of truth; the rest, not so much. Seward had recently found himself under the thumb of a necromancer along with an organization that prided themselves on being some of the worst of the worst as far as bad guys went. Stratton had helped to free him from their hold. “He wasn’t dead, per se.”

“I thought he was a vampire,” said Brett.

“He is,” returned Stratton. “But that doesn’t mean dead.”

“That’s debatable, but go on,” said Brett with a motion of his hand.

Stratton continued. “Had he actually been dead, I’d have left him that way. You never know what you’ll get when you bring something truly dead back to life.”

“Then what was he and what did you do to make him not that?” asked Brett, his jaw setting. “And why do I think you could have brought him back even if he had been dead-dead?”

“It’s complicated and hard to explain,” admitted Stratton. “His soul, his essence, for lack of a better word, was being held by dark magik. Since he has a demon within him at all times, being a vampire, that made him more susceptible to those dark magiks. Easy prey, so to speak. They held him in a type of purgatory, commanding him, making him do their evil bidding. What I am, what I can do, can reverse that state of being.”

“Can it also cause that?” asked Brett, the anger leaking out of him.

Stratton nodded. “It can.”

“Can it reverse someone who is, how did you put it…truly dead?” asked Brett.

Again, Stratton nodded.

“Have you brought someone who was dead back to life? That why you know so much about what can go wrong?” asked Brett, his gaze still firmly set on Stratton.

“I’ve never done that,” admitted Stratton. “I’ve seen the consequences. Part of what I am—what I do—is clean up those types of messes.”

Brett was quiet a second, clearly reflecting on the information he’d just learned. When he spoke again, the accusatory tone he’d had before was gone. “Have you ever used your power to un-alive someone?”

Stratton couldn’t blame him for asking. The man had been dealing with a shitstorm of paranormal activity in Grimm Cove as of late. He had to feel powerless and like he was fighting an uphill battle. In some ways, he was. It wasn’t like he had all the facts to work from. Even Stratton didn’t have all the answers. “It’s not a death magik I like to practice myself. I tend to use my magik to summon forth weapons that I use to kill things that should not be allowed to continue on. But, to answer your question, yes. I have used it for that. I didn’t mean to. It happened by mistake about thirty-six years ago when I was in New York. Something caused a similar flare in my magik eighteen years back as well.”

“So, what you can do is called death magik?” Brett took a deep breath.

Stratton thought hard on his words before he said them. “The name encompasses a lot. But ultimately, yes. That’s what I’m most powerful at. Keep in mind, you can’t have death without first having life.”

“So, you’re able to giveth and taketh?” asked Brett, paling.

“I am,” replied Stratton. “But I can do other things with my magik. Stuff most Fae can do. Things like what Marcy can do.”

“Talking to dead people?” asked Brett.

“Yes. Though I spent a long time working on blocking the dead from being able to contact me with any kind of ease,” he confessed. “Same with animals and nature. Marcy is a superstar for letting it all bombard her all the time. I couldn’t do it. Not many I know can. It can be overwhelming. Between that and my duties as a Nightshade Hunter, I had to do something to protect my sanity.”

Brett lifted a dark brow. “Nightshade Hunter? What is that, exactly?”

Stratton shrugged. “Many things rolled into one. I’m something of a tracker, parole officer, bounty hunter, a police detective, and a marshal. A lot of duties in one roll. So, a more extreme version of what I do here in Grimm Cove as a detective.”

“More extreme than here?” asked Brett, surprise showing on his face. “In the last few months, we’ve dealt with a succu-witch, hordes of ghouls, an evil master vampire, Jack the Ripper, a batshit crazy necromancer, Peter Pan’s Death Shadow, and now whatever is stealing hearts. You’re telling me what you do for the Fae is more extreme?”

Stratton nearly laughed at Brett’s description of what had happened to Seward. The man had basically been reduced to nothing but a dark shadow that had been forced to do the bidding of two crazy men. “Should you ever really encounter Pan’s shadow, Ihighlysuggest you run the other way. Even I’d use caution around it.”

Brett blinked. “That’s a real thing?”

“It is,” said Stratton. “As to your other question, on my hunter job being more extreme than what we’ve been dealing with lately, yes. What I’m required to deal with for the Fae side of things is more extreme than all that put together.”

“Tell me they let you tag out when you’ve had enough,” said Brett.

“I’m on something of a hiatus right now. Extended leave if you will,” replied Stratton, hoping Brett would catch his meaning. The Nightshade Clan didn’t accept resignations. You stopped being a hunter when you were dead.

Plain and simple.

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