CHAPTER 2 | return to salem

📎A/N. Hello my lovelies. I hope your weekend is going well... Thank you to everyone who left a comment on the first chapter. It was so very heartening to find so many of hopping on their broomsticks to join us on our journey..

Don't forget you can also connect with me on Twitter @mnjgreenhill and on Facebook.

I hope you enjoy the chapter. Don't forget to vote.

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"This is so cool," Marcus declared with excitement as they exited the cab and stood in front of their hotel.

Keira paid the driver and glanced in the direction he was pointing. The busy street, filled with tourists, was similar to its sister - Bourbon Street, New Orleans, only louder and with a lot more variety of crazy.

"We aren't here on holiday," she reminded him. The uneasy feeling that had begun the previous day had increased the closer they got to their destination. Keira was no longer sure whether it was because of her history with the place or if it was a warning of things to come.

"I know," he said, "but with my student debt, I'd never be able to afford to come here."

Keira rolled her eyes and reached for her luggage. "Just be careful. You know the rules."

Marcus scrunched his nose. "I know. You spent the majority of the six-hour flight time reading me the riot act. I'm just looking forward to being free of my contacts for more than a few hours at a time."

Once they had checked in, Keira left Marcus to his own devices and headed out to meet with Deacon Kincaid. Mayor of Salem and bearer of bad news. The question was – how much did he really know?

It was early evening, and she had to swerve more than once to avoid the oncoming pedestrian traffic. There were families with young children, college students, young couples, old couples. She had to give the city credit, they managed to attract every demographic to flock to them and spend their hard earned money. Many of them had donned elaborate costumes and more than once, she found it hard to distinguish between the locals and a tourist.

The city had changed somewhat since she left. The town she remembered had grown into something no longer recognisable. The feeling, however, hadn't changed.

After a couple of wrong turns, she stood outside the narrow colonial brick building and looked up at the giant billboard plastered across most of the frontage and couldn't help but let out a small groan. The ground floor of the structure housed a blood bank, and, based on the number of people queued inside, it wasn't short on customers.

How can Naturals be that gullible? she wondered, referring to the non-Supernatural population.

She entered the building and was surprised to discover it looked very much like a typical doctor's practice; with the exception that the female nurses were dressed up as the brides of Count Dracula.

Keira took her place in the queue and waited her turn to speak to someone behind the counter. While she shuffled forward, she took the opportunity to glance around the room. The reasonably sized foyer housed comfortable chairs and couches which were dotted around the space. Navigating through them were over made up pale-faced men in smart suits who checked on those who had newly donated. It took all her will to not laugh out loud at the stereotype vampires as they mingled with their 'prey'.

A flash caught her eye, and she spun her head around to notice a family having a photo taken with another overdone vampire whom she recognised from the billboard. She had to admit, this one was gorgeous and reminded her of a suave James Bond.

If he's the typical bait to attract tourist dollars, it's no wonder people are more than happy to fork out $20 a pop for an action shot with a vampire that's about to bite you.

The family had just left when Keira cringed at two high pitched squeals as two college-aged girls rushed from the back room and made a b-line towards him.

"We're next," gushed the taller of the two.

Keira decided that Barbie girl number one was clearly not shy. When she sauntered up to him, she pulled down her already low cut top and battered her fake eyelashes at Mr. Bond the vampire.

She winced involuntarily at the girls high pitched voice. "I want you to bite me right there," Barbie one said, pointing to the top of her breasts which, at this moment, were in danger of falling out of her one size too small bra.

"And then you can do me," demanded her friend, not to be outdone.

Bond glanced at the two women, his eyes way too low to be looking at their eyes and said, "Happy to oblige ladies." His grin widened as he continued to feast on the flesh they were flaunting in front of him. "After all, you've kindly supplied me with my next meal."

At this, the Barbie twins giggled. Keira wasn't sure who to be more scared for; the girls, or the costumed vampire. She had to stop herself from letting out the snort that had almost escaped.

Mr. James Bond, licenced to thrill, bent his head down, opened his mouth and let out a grin at the camera as his extended canines lightly came into contact with her skin. A moment later there was a flash as the photos were taken.

"So what time do you get off work?" the first girl asked, once they were done.

"Sorry babe, but a vampire's work is never done. I'll be in the parade later this evening. But maybe if you swing by The Devil's Tavern after that, you can buy me a drink."

Keira didn't hear the response; she was finally at the front of the queue. After introducing herself, she was given directions to Mayor Kincaid's office. Quickly exiting the building, she took the doorway next to the one she had just come through and proceeded up the stairs.

As she reached the landing, she heard a voice call out, "I'll be with you momentarily."

Not sure what to do, Keira looked up and down the small hallway. This floor clearly held offices. The question was... for what? There had been no signage below, and nothing in the immediate area to give any further clues.

She swung around when she heard someone approach.

"Sorry to keep you waiting Dr. Wyn—" Deacon Kincaid, the man Keira recognised from the city's website, stopped mid-stride and visibly swallowed. A shocked look quickly replaced the welcoming smile which had initially greeted her.

"Annabeth?" he whispered.

Keira physically recoiled and took a step back. A sense of panic fought to escape her carefully constructed exterior. Annabeth had been her mother's name.

Deacon cleared his throat and shook his head in disbelief. "No. It can't be."

He continued to stare at her, and his eyes dropped to the ever present amulet around her neck.

"You're one of her daughters." His eyes rose to meet hers. "So the legends are true."

He paused as he continued to regard her silently and an unreadable mask descended over his features. Deacon exhaled and said, "Perhaps I shouldn't have dismissed them out of hand, but no one's heard from you or your sister in over a century."

She tensed, not sure how he knew who she was. Her fists tightened, and she prepared to defend herself. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Keira's mind sifted through the spells that she could use to fight him off if the need arose. She wasn't prepared, however, for the chuckle that burst from him as his face relaxed.

"You look so much like your mother," he said as he continued shaking his head from side to side as he tapped a finger against his lips. Deacon smiled and raised an eyebrow at her staunch posture. "I can see you inherited her fiery temper along with the matching hair. Morsus Mihi. Have no fear, your secret is safe with me."

Keira frowned. How could he know that phrase? It was the one her mother used to identify friend from foe.

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot," Deacon said, as he took a step closer and held out his hand. "Dr. Wynter, words can't express how much I appreciate you coming out on such short notice; and considering your connection to the place, I am not sure I will know how to repay you."

Keira regarded the tall, distinguished-looking man and debated whether to leave before things got any worse. However, the fact that he knew the one phrase that identified him as an ally, gave her cause to hesitate. She had never met him. However, he clearly knew her mother. More questions than answers bombarded her mind as she gravitated between standing her ground and fleeing. She came to a decision and sighed. She was here now, she may as well finish what she started. "Don't mention it," Keira said. "And I mean, don't mention it."

"Your identity is safe with me. You have my word on that," he said solemnly.

For some reason she knew without a doubt, he would keep his promise. However, she needed to tread carefully. He might have known her mother, but how much did he really know?

"I'd like to get started on the case if you don't mind," she said, changing the subject.

Whatever Deacon was about to reply was cut by the sound of his phone emitting a sharp beep. He glanced at the message and looked back up. "Sheriff Ryker's been detained; he'll be here shortly; it's him you'll be working this case with."

He held out his hand towards the office he had originally appeared from. "While we're waiting, can I offer you a drink? I don't know about you, but I think a fortifying drop is in order."

She couldn't agree with him more.

The office which overlooked the main street, was larger than expected. Deacon moved over to the bar and began to pour them a drink while Keira made her way towards the window.

"You'll find Salem has changed somewhat since you were last here," Deacon said as he came to stand beside her.

She accepted the offered glass and turned to gaze back out on the street below. "It was still a village when I left, quite frankly, I'm not sure what to think. I've never seen anything like it." She watched as a woman in a 1700's peasants dress sell a trinket in one of the outdoor stalls to a tourist. In the stall next to her, a gothic punk style vampire was touting vampire, witch, and demon makeup kits. Still further up, she raised her eyebrows at the spitting image of the wicked witch of the west, from the original Wizard of Oz movie, as she meandered up and down main street scaring the tourists.

He chuckled before taking a sip of the amber liquid. "Well, we decided to capitalise on people's fascination with the macabre and things that go bump in the night. Since the city has such a rich history, it seemed the logical place to set up shop. It's a win-win. Tourists get to rub shoulders with witches, vampires, demons and all manner of beings. We give them a thrill, a bit of a scare and a holiday to remember; and they keep the dollars flowing in."

"Not to mention the blood," Keira remarked dryly, recalling the blood bank on the ground floor.

"To be fair, ten percent of the blood donated does actually go to the Red Cross," he said.

"But why the elaborate costumes and the overdone makeup?"

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and his eyebrows rose. "Unfortunately, since the era of the silent films, we have become stereotypes. Vampires have been written as some sort of albino creatures of the night who can't step foot in the sun. So our vampires play the part expected of them. It makes the tourists happy and deflects from the reality. A reality that would set the Natural's world into panic."

She had to agree, Naturals, or people who didn't fall into the Supernatural categories, were better off not knowing they didn't share this world with others.

Keira shook her head. She still couldn't believe vampires and witches roamed around the city pretending to be a Natural, who were pretending to be a paranormal creature of the night. It was making her head spin. "But what about the new sparkly look that's all the rage with the Twilight books?"

Deacon's gazed fixed on his drink, and he swirled his glass absently. She heard the melodic noise as the ice brushed against the crystal. He shook his head and exhaled through his teeth. "Don't remind me. The local vampires refused, point blank, to scatter glitter over their bodies. It was the only time there has been any threat of an actual union being formed."

She couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her lips. "So how is it that no one's ever worked out that the locals aren't fake. In all this time, not one tourist has stumbled on something they shouldn't have."

"Don't get me wrong," Deacon began, "we have had more than our fair share of close shaves. But Natural's only see what they want to see."

Without warning Deacon's head snapped round towards the door. "He's here."

"Who?" she asked, not hearing anyone.

A moment later a deep voice called out, "Hey pops, did you move the phone charger?" From the muffled way it came out, she could only assume the owner was in one of the offices along the corridor. "Never mind, I found it."

She was surprised when, a moment later, a uniformed man strode through the door holding a phone in one hand and charger in the other.

"Well hello there! You must be the Doc." He quickly closed the gap and held out his hand. "Sheriff Kincaid; but folks around here call me Ryker. I hope the old man's been behaving himself."

Kincaid? Pops?

Keira was dumbfounded. The two men were complete opposites, with the only common ground - they were both easy on the eye and both vampires.

Despite his impeccable speech that screamed gentleman and scholar, she was sure Deacon Kincaid had not originated from England. If she had to guess, with his olive complexion and sinfully dark hair, he hailed from Spain.

Ryker on the other hand, with his blue eyes and thick dirty blond hair, could have passed for All-American. Where Deacon was serious, Ryker was clearly a player. This was reinforced with the once-over he gave her as they shook hands.

Her confusion must have been obvious when Ryker gave her a wink and said, "I think she's overwhelmed at the resemblance."

Deacon made a small sound at the back of his throat and let out an exasperated breath. "She's probably wondering how my good manners after all these years haven't rubbed off on you."

"To be honest, I've never heard of a vampire sire being referred to as a parent," she admitted.

"Neither have I," said Deacon. "And for the record, I am not Ryker's sire. I stumbled upon him after he had been turned and left to fend for himself."

"Yep, he kinda adopted me," Ryker said as he let go Keira's hand and made his way to the wet bar.

Deacon rolled his eyes. "Worst mistake I ever made," he muttered.

Ryker chuckled. "You keep saying that, old man. One day you just might believe it."

Once he had poured himself a drink, he made his way back over to them. His expression on his return was nothing like the jovial one from a moment before. His boyish charm was now on simmer, replaced by the hardened expression she had seen on FBI agents who had seen one too many deaths.

He started at the liquid intently before speaking. "It's been a nightmare couple of days I don't mind telling you," he said. "I don't know if Deacon's already mentioned it, but we do really appreciate you helping out like this. We really can't have the feds coming in and poking around. There's only so much we can hide under that sort of magnifying glass."

Ryker took a long gulp and headed towards the small meeting table in the centre of the room. "I suppose you're wondering how we knew to call you?"

Deacon indicated for her to follow and she quickly took a seat. "The thought did cross my mind," she said.

"We had been aware there was a witch working with the FBI. We just didn't know who it was exactly. However, about a year ago we had a graduate from Berkley pass through on her way home to her coven in France. In addition to her spectacular flexibility and that amazing thing she did with her—"

"We don't need to hear about your extracurricular activities," Deacon said, cutting Ryker off.

Ryker crossed his arms over his chest and grinned, "I bet you're dying to know what she could do though?" He shrugged his shoulders and turned to Keira. "In addition to her ability to speed up plant growth," he raised an eyebrow and his eyes darted towards Deacon with a twinkle. "She was a fount of information about her professor."

Keira immediately knew who he was referring to. The girl was being groomed to join one of the Crossroads covens in Europe. So that explains how they knew I was a witch.

"Okay, so we know each other's secrets," Keira said wanting to move the conversation to the reason she was there. "Can you walk me through the case?"

Ryker, back in Sheriff mode, reached to one of the folders on the table and slid it across the table towards her. "The bottom line is we have two problems. The first is who did it. We just don't have the experience to know if it's a Natural that's gone on a killing spree, or if they were deliberately targeted by a Supernatural. The Crossroads Coven was the most visible, so they were an easy target, for either side of the veil."

She reached out for the folder and held back from opening it. "Why would you think it might be a Natural," Keira asked. Why would a human make the effort to kill that many people?

Deacon placed his elbow on the table and clasped his hands together forming a steeple. "The sad state of affairs is, that while we are a major tourist attraction, we do get a lot of threats from the general public. We're accused of everything from destroying society with our heathen ways to global warming. You name it, we've been tainted by it," he said.

Ryker nodded and said, "The Governor is putting pressure on us to call in the FBI to investigate. He doesn't want to lose the tourist dollars, and if the public get wind that a killer is on the loose, they'll leave in droves."

"I spent the better part of the morning trying to stop that happening," Deacon said and nodded to the folder her hand was resting on. "They've agreed to wait for your assessment."

"What about the other covens. How have they reacted to this?" Keira asked. She had to tread carefully. She had no idea how much Deacon and Ryker really knew. Even among the witch community it wasn't common knowledge.

Ryker ran a hand through his short hair. He was clearly worried about the situation. "Understandably they are in shock. But that won't last. There's always been a tenuous relationship between the different factions. The danger is that the local covens will start placing blame. If that happens, I can't tell you just how volatile that will be. It could expose us all."

Keira stared at the folder, not sure she wanted to open it. "What about the remainder of the Crossroads Coven?"

Ryker rubbed his jawline thoughtfully before replying. "That's the odd thing. They've closed ranks, and they are refusing to answer any questions. The rumour is they haven't even spoken to the others."

"How many are left?" Keira asked, closing her eyes and fortifying herself for the answer.

"They have the numbers, not the strength," Deacon said quietly.

Keira's eyes bolted open, and she snapped her head to face him. He knows!

Deacon's expression softened for a moment, and she saw the pity coupled with fear in his eyes. He knows! She was now sure of it.

"Strength for what?" asked Ryker.

Keira faltered at Ryker's confusion. She frowned and her forehead crinkled as she looked back at Deacon.

"I am a vampire of my word," Deacon said, "I made an oath to your mother to keep the knowledge to myself."

"What the hell am I missing here?" Ryker demanded as he looked between Keira and Deacon.

Keira took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The world was spinning out of control. Her fingers brushed across the folder, its smooth surface belying the possible ugly truth contained within it. She had put off the inevitable as long as she could.

Perhaps this is just a big mistake, and a Natural has gone on a rampage. His choice in people was merely a coincidence. Wrong place wrong time.

However, the drain she could feel the closer she got to Salem, was enough to tell her no amount of wishing would make it so. She opened the folder and let out the breath she had been holding. Her eyes fluttered open, and she glanced down at the crime scene photo.

Keira's face paled, and she felt a hand squeezing her chest. Struggling to breathe, she reached for her amulet and fought to remain upright. This was her worst nightmare revisited a hundred fold.

From a distance, she could hear a muffled sound. Ignoring it, her breath began to come out in shallow breaths; each one more painful than the one before. She sunk deeper and deeper into the void. The noise persisted, and from her periphery vision she recognised contact with the outside world as a hand covered hers. It was enough to break the moment, and she was violently pulled back to the present. Keira followed the arm up and looked into Ryker's deep blue gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I probably should have warned you they were a little graphic."

Keira shook herself out of her anxiety attack and closed the folder. She wrapped her arms around herself as if the room had just plummeted to sub-zero temperatures.

Someone's trying to open the door.

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📎A/N. What did you think?? There is more to Keira than meets the eye...

And what did you think of our two vampires? There's obviously more going on in Salem than we Naturals know...

What do you think Deacon knows that Ryker doesn't?

Don't forget to vote if you enjoyed the chapter.

Till' next weekend, take care and be safe!

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