Hexed (The Gwen Sparks Series Book 4) (2 page)

BRIGHT FLUORESCENT LIGHTS blinded me as I pushed through the double glass doors leading into the police department. One main desk sat in the middle of the floor. A short wall formed a U around the reception, blocking anyone from entering the main section.

“Gwen?” A woman with shoulder length brown hair and deep set green eyes stared at me. The dip in her eyebrows told me she was as confused as I was. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“You know me?” I asked expectantly, recognizing she had used the same name as Dorian.
Hello, my name is Gwen.
That was the first puzzle piece into figuring out who I was. The crease in the woman’s forehead deepened. She came around her desk to stand in front of me.

“Of course I know you,” she told me. “It’s me, Marie. I’ve been working here for the past five years.”

“Right, of course,” I said, trying to pull off nonchalance. “Did you lose weight, change your hair?” I had no clue why I was pretending as if I remembered her. She was as much of a stranger as my own reflection.

“No,” she said looking down at herself before meeting my gaze again. “Are you okay? Has something happened?”

“I’m okay, but something has happened,” I told her. “Is there a police officer I could talk to?” I swiveled my head to stare around the department. Other than Marie, it looked pretty empty. Half of the lights were off, except the one over the reception and one toward the back.

“I’ll call Micah,” Marie said, moving back around her desk and picking up the phone. By the way she said his name, I was guessing I knew this Micah guy, too. The question was, did I know him because we were friends or had I gotten in so much trouble that I was on a first name basis with the police. Didn’t Dorian say something about me getting in trouble a lot? I sunk into one of the plastic chairs lining the entrance and buried my head in my hands.

“He’ll be here in five minutes,” Marie said. “You want something to drink?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you.” What I really wanted was to crawl into a warm bed, sleep, wake up, and find out this had all been a bad dream.

The doors opening brought me out of my thoughts. A man with broad shoulders and shoulder-length brown hair stopped in front of me. My eyes took a little trip down his body, taking in his jeans and long sleeve Henley that had three little buttons at the neck, all undone. When my gaze made its way back up to his face, I noticed the unusual color of his eyes. They were the color of whiskey, but with more yellow. Strange, but beautiful.

“What’s happened now?” the man asked me with a small smile.

“You’re Micah?” I asked standing up and crossing my arms. “You’re a police officer?”

“Detective,” he responded with caution. “Gwen, what’s going on?”

My eyes flitted over to where Marie stood beside him, her gaze just as bewildered as Micah’s. The only thing I had to go off of was what Dorian told me.

“Come on, we’ll talk in my office.”

Without another word, I followed Micah down the tiled aisle. Five desks sat off to the side while walled offices were to the left. Micah entered the third one down, shutting the door behind us. The room was basic: white walls, gray carpet, one window behind a gray desk. A corkboard hung on the wall, a picture of a map with routes highlighted.

“Have a seat,” Micah offered, walking around his desk and sitting. When I sat down, Micah leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers in front of him. “So, what happened?”

“I don’t remember anything,” I told him, just now realizing that he may think I was sick rather than bewitched.

“Something happened, but you don’t remember?”

“No,” I told him, “well, yes, something happened. I mean…” I took a deep breath and tried again. “I can’t remember anything as in…
anything
. I don’t know where I live, who I am or
where
I am. I don’t recognize people who know me, or remember anything about my life.”

Micah sat up straight, his eerie citrine eyes widening. “So, you really don’t know who I am, don’t remember anything about us?” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought that little act in the lobby was a joke.”

I shook my head. “Not a joke.”

“Shit. When did you lose your memory, and where are Dorian and Fiona?”

“You know Dorian?” I asked. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though; Dorian looked like he had a few run-ins with the police. “I haven’t met anyone named Fiona.”

“Yeah, I know him. You and he…have been working together. He’s supposed to be teaching you how to yield your powers.”

My eyebrows arched. “I have powers?”

Micah’s face scrunched up. “Of course you do. You’re a witch, Gwen. Well, a spirit walker to be more precise.”

My head was in a whirlwind.
I’m a witch?
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what a spirit walker was or not. If I was a witch, did that mean Dorian was one, too? Was that why he was teaching me?

“Was Dorian with you when you lost your memories?”

I shrugged. “I think so, yes. He said we were in a bakery, and then I couldn’t remember anything.”

“So, you’ve spoke with him since it happened?”

I nodded. “Yes, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust him or not. My memories may be gone, but I still possess my red flags, and he sent all of them up.”

Micah surprised me when he laughed at my statement. “Yeah, he’s hell on the senses. Believe me, I know.”

I studied Micah a little closer. Essentially, he looked normal. The only bizarre thing about him was the color of his eyes. Then again, looks could be deceiving in a place like this. The woman I had run to help for had looked normal also, until she reanimated the rose bushes. Maybe she was a witch too.

“What is this place?” I asked Micah. “I’ve seen some things, things that shouldn’t be possible. Is it some government test city?”

Again, Micah laughed. “Wow, you really don’t remember anything, do you?” When I frowned at him, he continued. “Supernaturals exist: witches, vampires, elves, werewolves… They revealed themselves to the public in the eighties, called it the Great Revelation. Humans accepted us for the most part, but there are segregation laws in some states that determine whether humans and supernaturals can co-exist. For those states, there are magical communities set up for all otherworldly beings. We live in one called Flora. It sits in Missouri, but is bewitched to look like a cornfield to the human eye. This is for our protection against those who wish to harm us.” He gave me a friendly smile. “And that is your history lesson for tonight.”

“Wow, okay,” I said unintelligently, “So it is possible that someone put a…spell on me? Why would someone want to do that, and how do I fix it?”

Micah’s lips thinned as he thought for a moment. “I’ll have to consult with our lab team to see what they know about these kinds of spells. Tomorrow, I’ll investigate the bakery and its workers. I really should talk to Dorian. He may know more about this than you.”

“Someone say my name?”

I spun around to find Dorian standing just behind my chair. The office door was still closed, and I hadn’t heard him enter the room.

“How the hell did you get in here? Are you stalking me?”

He shrugged unapologetically. “I knew Detective Reynolds would want to talk to me. What information is he going to get from a woman who can’t remember anything?” Without invitation, Dorian sat down in the chair next to me.

“He’s right,” Micah added.

I crossed my arms and zoned out while the two men discussed me as though I wasn’t there. I had come to the police station in hopes of finding a quick fix as unrealistic as that was. While Dorian spoke to Micah, I took the time to study him more closely. His square jaw had stubble shadowing it, and he still wore those damn sunglasses. Weirdo. Despite all my misgivings about my stalker, he was attractive—in a biker criminal sort of way. A hint of danger clung to him, almost palpable in its intensity. My eyes fell to his lips, the bottom a little fuller than the top. Something stirred in my gut when I watched his mouth move. He wasn’t just attractive; he was sexy. I mentally smacked my subconscious for that sinful thought. Dorian’s head shifted toward me the slightest bit, and those lips I’d been admiring secretly turned up at one corner. I quickly shifted my gaze to my lap, paranoid that he’d heard my internal thoughts. There was no way he knew what I’d been thinking, at least, I hoped he couldn’t.

“I can’t do much until the morning,” Micah said. “Take Gwen home, and I’ll let you know something tomorrow. With any luck, this is just a temporary spell, and she’ll be as good as new after a good night’s sleep.”

Micah and Dorian both stood, leaning toward each other while they shook hands. Standing, I eyed Dorian with reluctance. Micah had been nice, and he didn’t seem alarmed by Dorian’s presence, or me being alone with him. I had to assume that Dorian wasn’t as bad as my imagination made him out to be.

Dorian and I were silent as we walked out of the police department and down the long walkway that led to the street. I still wanted to know how he’d gotten in Micah’s office without ever opening the door, but I figured there were some things I could not grasp until I got my memories back. Everything in this town was one big conundrum. I felt like Alice, but instead of quirky characters, my Wonderland ended up being filled with monsters. Lucky me.

“You followed me, didn’t you?” I finally said, stopping once we reached the sidewalk. A shiny motorcycle sat beside the curb. I didn’t need Dorian to tell me it was his; what else would someone like him drive? I mentally chuckled at the thought of him cruising around in a minivan.

“Yes, but only because I knew Micah would want to talk to me.” Dorian stepped toward the bike and swung his leg over it, sitting down.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that?”

He shrugged. “You were pretty hell-bent on getting away from me.” He curled his hands around the handlebars and rotated them back and forth. The motorcycle roared to life, even though I hadn’t seen him insert a key. “I’m not the bad guy, Gwen.”

I took in the sight of this magnificent man straddling the motorcycle and that tightening in my gut returned. His last comment made me feel guilty for judging him before actually knowing him. Though his attitude left a lot to be desired, he had helped me.

Dorian motioned with his head. “Get on.”

“No thanks, I can walk.” I started down the sidewalk, then realized I didn’t know where home was. Stupid. Half-turning, I looked at Dorian expectantly only for him to motion with his head to the bike again. Scratch him being helpful.

“I don’t think I like motorcycles,” I told him, trying to remember if I had any ill feelings toward bikes. I knew my apprehension was more for the man controlling the machine rather than the machine itself. Dorian just put me on edge, plain and simple.

“You don’t know what you like, cupcake,” Dorian said, his tone a little too suggestive for normal conversation.

“Let me guess,” I said, turning and taking a couple steps toward him, “you do?”

“Would you like me to enlighten you?” Dorian asked. “There’s this thing I do with my mouth that you begged me not to stop doing last night. Maybe a refresher would jar your memory.”

My mouth fell open, my voice disappearing from my lips. Dorian chuckled at my shock, his lips peeling back in a shit-eating grin. Jerk.

“You’re lying,” I accused. “You and I…there’s no way.” Only, I thought I remembered him telling the witchy woman who attacked him with the roses that he was my boyfriend. Why hadn’t I remembered that until now?

“I didn’t think it was going to happen either,” Dorian said, “until you presented yourself to me dripping wet and clothed in only a towel.”

“You’re full of shit,” I told him. There was no way I would do something like that, right? Was I that ballsy? It made me call into question just the kind of person I was. Did Dorian and I know each other for a long time? Were we dating before I
presented
myself to him?

“You’re independent and sexy, Gwen,” Dorian said, breaking into my thoughts. “I see you analyzing the reasons behind why you would do something like that. It’s because you’re a strong woman that goes after what she wants. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m more worried about getting that woman back rather than offending your naïve brain. Hearing these things might help you remember.”