Black Truth White Lies

  BLACK TRUTH, WHITE LIES

  HAILEY EDWARDS

  Copyright © 2021 Black Dog Books, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Sasha Knight

  Copy Edited by Kimberly Cannon

  Proofread by Lillie's Literary Services

  Cover by Damonza

  Illustration by NextJenCo

  CONTENTS

  Black Truth, White Lies

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Join the Team

  About the Author

  Also by Hailey Edwards

  BLACK TRUTH, WHITE LIES

  Black Hat Bureau, Book 3

  When one of Santa’s reindeer meets a grisly end during the annual A Downtown Dickens Christmas Festival, Rue realizes her enemies are closing in on her location, and Samford will pay the price.

  But when one creature turns into two, and two into three, and then three into four, Rue knows the problem is bigger than a singular threat to her new hometown. And that’s before a holiday shopper strolls into Hollis Apothecary claiming to be a long-lost relative. Of her father’s.

  As old loyalties are tested and new relationships threaten to unravel the fabric of her identity, Rue must choose either the family she was born into or the one she created for herself, and the losing side might not survive her decision.

  1

  Forget Santa. Forget the live reindeer. Forget adorable kids dressed as elves.

  Asa in a black silk top hat was giving me hot flashes.

  The tidy cravat was weirdly sexy. Very Mr. Darcy. He wore his Black Hat-issued dress pants, crisp white button-down shirt, and polished dress shoes. The cane he carved from a downed limb on my property, and he knitted a scarf for the occasion. The town festival closet—and yes, under Mayor Tate, we had a costume department—provided a period-appropriate jacket.

  His gorgeous hair was scooped into a man bun to give him a clean nape for the sake of his character, and I already missed his braids. Though I was slightly obsessed with the black post earrings, representative of coal, and the thick black bar piercing his septum.

  The sunset bathed his features in a golden glow, and the scowl cutting his mouth made me want to chuckle. Since it was genuine, not acting, I behaved myself. Mostly. Except for the videos and photos I sneaked of him while he bah humbugged at the citizens of Samford, come to enjoy A Downtown Dickens Christmas.

  He could Ebenezer my Scrooge anytime.

  “Scrooge is hot.” Camber fanned her face. “Good thing Mayor Tate skipped the fake snow machine.”

  “His hotness would have melted it,” Arden agreed. “Puddles everywhere.”

  The glare I cut them would have drawn blood in my black witch days, but I was a white witch now.

  And I got zero respect. Seriously. None. At all.

  Forget the boogeyman I ought to be to them. I was more of a fairy godmother in their eyes.

  The ding to my pride was enough to almost make me miss inspiring pants-pissing terror in my enemies.

  But fear, as sweet as it smelled—minus the urine—had never made me as happy as the simple love from these two human girls. Girls with expensive, if impeccable, taste. Girls who had long ago memorized the shop credit card. Girls who, after years of practicing, could forge my signature with frightening accuracy.

  Like the one Camber scrawled on the receipt for our Victorian-inspired dresses with modern hemlines.

  Camber was a vision in pine-bough green, while Arden made a bold statement in cranberry red. I got the best of both worlds in a plaid pattern that incorporated both of their colors with light gold accents. Black flats, shining jingle bell jewelry, and matching updos pinned with the liberal application of faux-holly hair sticks lent us a uniform customers would notice when it came time to ask questions or make a purchase.

  The extra expenses brought a tear to my eye, but this was our grand reopening. We aimed to dazzle new customers while reminding old ones we were still here, and we were back in business after the remodel.

  Not that the girls, or anyone else in town, knew the truth. That a black witch wrecked Hollis Apothecary in a fit of rage. They all blamed my fictional ex-boyfriend, and I had no choice but to let them. I hated to lie to the people who had embraced me, but I had fabricated a life story when I arrived in Samford, and I couldn’t edit the fine details at this point. They were facts in the minds of the townsfolk, and I was stuck.

  Movement caught my eye where I stood in the doorway to the shop, welcoming in customers.

  Dressed in ragged brown pants, a dirty white shirt, and ratty ochre jacket, Clay waved with his crutch.

  His crutch.

  That Asa, sucker that he was, carved to scale for him.

  At seven feet tall, four hundred pounds, Clayton Kerr had no business dressing up as Tiny Tim.

  Though I will admit, he was cute as a button in his newsboy cap covering his wildly curling brunet wig. He wore a gray scarf rescued from the bowels of my closet and a pair of fingerless gloves from the dollar store. His black suspenders, as mismatched as the rest of his outfit, strained to accommodate his height.

  Those flimsy metal clips holding his pants up didn’t inspire much faith, so I was glad he kept his distance. I did not want one to cut loose and pop me in the eye if he moved the wrong way. That would hurt like…

  …the Dickens.

  And the mayor would never forgive me if I made a spectacle that marred her winter extravaganza.

  Never mind our town was so small that characters outnumbered shoppers two to one.

  That was the only reason Mayor Tate agreed to let the guys pitch in. Arden’s idea. Not mine. I would not have put Asa through this. He preferred to disappear into the background, not be thrust to the fore. Had I not assigned him Scrooge, we might have had a problem. His stark masculine beauty drew stares, and a middle-aged woman swooned at the sight of him. Granted, hers was a fear response, though she had no idea why gawking at him led to her collapse seconds later. His threat, his power, was a nagging prickle in the brain that warned prey to run, run, run until a thick door with a hefty lock separated them from him.

  Not that either barrier would make a lick of difference to a daemon as determined as the one inside Asa.

  Still, Arden had earned brownie points with the mayor for volunteering nonlocals to fill critical roles. She was hoping to sweet-talk her way into the second parking spot mentioned in our lease. I told her to save her breath, Mayor Tate had selective hearing when it came to me and my shop, but she was an optimist.

  “Do you smell that?” Arden pinched me. “They’re roasting actual chestnuts on an actual open fire.”

  “Hmm?”

  “She’s busy undressing Asa with her mind,” Camber explained to her best friend. “I am too.”

  For the first time tonight, I was grateful Colby had elected to stay home to party with her friends online.

  “Okay.” I snatched a plastic holly sprig from the garland decorating the doorway. “That’s it.” I whacked Camber between the eyes. “Stop being a brat.” I swatted her shoulder. “Bad shopgirl.” Again. “Bad, bad girl.”

  “Hey.” Laughter in her eyes, she danced back. “That hurts.”

  “You asked for it.” Arden cackled. “You can’t cry about it now.”

  “You started it.” She pointed a finger. “You offered to lick the powdered sugar off his mouth for him.”

  Camber forgotten, I wheeled on Arden. “You did what?”

  “He didn’t hear me.” She yelped when I smacked her. “He was already standing on the corner.”

  Keen as his senses were, he’d heard her. Loud and clear. Probably chuckled to himself about it too.

  Me?

  I wasn’t laughing.

  Thanksgiving had been a disaster.

  Okay, okay, fine. Dinner hadn’t been the problem. The meal was quite delicious, if I do say so myself. Asa and Clay, however, didn’t know that firsthand. No sooner had I nailed down a mental list of bullet points on how to tempt Asa to cash in on his permission to kiss me, than a time-sensitive case hit his inbox with the thud heard ’round the world.

  My world, anyway.

  So, yeah, Thanksgiving had been a bust.

  Two weeks later, Christmas wasn’t looking much brighter.

  Let the girls fantasize about Asa’s lush mouth. I didn’t mind. At least then I would be in good company.

  With a final swat to both girls’ bottoms, I returned the sprig to its garland and forced my eyes from Asa.

  “We need to set out more sugar cookies.” I did a quick mental tally. “We have about two dozen
left. Can you refresh the cranberry punch while you’re at it?” I aimed the question at Arden. “I’ll get the cupcakes and napkins.” Camber raised her eyebrows, waiting for her marching orders. “You can man the register.”

  With a twirl that showed off her frilly petticoat, she positioned herself behind the counter.

  Arden slid her arm through mine and rested her head on my shoulder as we walked to the back.

  Her trust was a gift, one I didn’t deserve, but I was grateful each time she gave it to me.

  “Two weeks until Christmas.” She stared up at me. “Are Clay and Asa spending the holidays with you?”

  Had the girls not brought a hefty plate of Thanksgiving goodies to my door after I passed on joining them for dinner with their families, they wouldn’t have known I was sprawled on my bed, sulking with a book about a turkey shifter and a cranberry farmer that made me question if my dark tastes had gone too far.

  Probably not a good idea to read a romance whose main characters made my stomach rumble.

  I might have devoured those leftovers with a bit too much enthusiasm for a black witch in recovery.

  “A lot can happen in two weeks.” I bounced a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe. I hope so.”

  “Is it weird that, like, they’re a package deal? Clay could stay in town, give you two some privacy.”

  “We don’t need privacy,” I blurted before my brain caught up to my mouth. “Forget I said that.”

  “Aww.” She patted my cheek. “That would explain why you’ve been so grumpy.”

  “I have not been grumpy,” I grumped. “I don’t know where I stand with Asa, that’s all.”

  The hair bracelet said one thing, but the lack of ravishment said another.

  “He looks at you the way Camber looks at a chocolate peanut butter cake.”

  Except Camber worshipped those cakes with her mouth.

  Goddess bless, I was not jealous of a slice of cake for seeing more action than me.

  “Thanks for the pep talk.” I bumped shoulders with her. “Are you and Louis still talking?”

  “No.” She pinched her lips together. “He got weird, after…”

  After David Taylor, the Silver Stag copycat, kidnapped her and Camber.

  “I’m sorry.” I brought her in for a hug. “Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”

  “Maybe.” She wriggled free and picked up her share of the treats. “Or maybe it’s not meant to be.”

  The melancholy statement wasn’t intended for me, but it hit home all the same.

  “I didn’t mean you and Asa,” she rushed to assure me when my face fell. “You guys are different.”

  Arms loaded down with my half of the supplies, I shot her a smile that promised I wasn’t upset.

  Out on the sidewalk, she and I began restocking our table as the caroler troupe swished past.

  A prickle of unease stung my nape, and I angled my head to scan the busy street.

  Shoppers. Kids. Characters.

  Nothing amiss.

  Shaking off my paranoia, I dusted the table free of crumbs then straightened the cups and napkins.

  A scream rent the night, frantic and desperate, and townsfolk rushed to the source.

  “Rue,” Arden breathed, her hand fisting the back of my dress.

  “Stay here.” I pressed my tray into her arms, ushering her backward. “Don’t leave the shop.”

  “Okay.” Eyes haunted, she inched toward Camber. “Be careful, Rue.”

  On my way out, I kicked the stop up and shut the door. Not that glass panes offered much in the way of protection, but until I knew what was going on, the illusion of safety was all I could give them.

  Tiny Tim was jogging toward the action, his crutch forgotten, but Scrooge fell in step with me.

  “Let’s hope it’s not food poisoning again.” I kept my pace brisk. “Our festivals are earning a reputation.”

  “The mayonnaise isn’t to blame for this.” Asa pitched his voice low. “I smell blood.”

  As much as I wished for a mundane explanation, say, a hemophiliac slicing their thumb open at the gift-wrapping booth, I could tell this was more. And that was before the scent hit me.

  Fear soured the sweet night air, amplifying the crowd’s response to Asa. They shied away, uncertain why their hindbrains screamed at them to run when he was such a handsome man. So polite and helpful too.

  A perfect predator.

  “Everyone, step back.” Clay waved Asa and me forward into a cleared space. “We need room to work.”

  “Oh no.” I jolted with surprise. “It’s Dasher.”

  The reindeer’s throat had been ripped out, its spine all that kept its head attached to its body, and blood spread across the pavement. Massive jaws had torn off hunks of meat, moss and duckweed coated its soaked fur, and a distinctive fishy smell battled against the reek of its disembowelment.

  Slime, algae maybe, floated in hand-sized puddles. Like footprints, or pawprints, they led away from the scene, but they were evaporating. Water dried fast on asphalt. Deep South winters tended to run warm, and today had been downright hot.

  “The police will be here in a minute,” I warned the guys. “Two officers are working the event.”

  Samford had a police force of six, including the chief, and they would have heard the commotion.

  Clay used his phone to film the scene, and the gawkers, while I snapped photos. Asa knelt beside the body, scenting it while examining it for clues. He didn’t get far before the crowd ejected two familiar cops who clearly weren’t vibing with having their scene trampled by frantic locals or stolen by slick out-of-towners.

  “What the hell d’you think you’re doing?” Officer Waters bulled up to Clay. “This ain’t your jurisdiction.”

  There went our best shot at tracking the beast responsible before the trail went as cold as poor Dasher’s body. Waters was like a dog with a bone once he sank his teeth into a case, and he wasn’t about to cede the limelight to Clay and Asa. We couldn’t afford to have him tag along with us, so we couldn’t afford to hunt.

  “Officer Kerr.” Officer Downy nodded to each of the guys in turn. “Officer Montenegro.”

  Ignoring Waters, which lit a fire under him, Clay shook hands with Downy. “Good to see you again, sir.”

  “We apologize for overstepping.” Asa rose with inhuman grace. “Habit.”

  “You can take the cop out of—” Downy tilted his head. “Where did you say your precinct was again?”

  About to spin another lie out of thin air, Clay caught my subtle head shake and buttoned his lips.

  “We’ll leave you to it.” I hooked an arm through his and tugged him after me, calling over my shoulder to the officers, “Thank you for your service.”

  Asa took my hand, threading our fingers, but none of us spoke until we reached the shop.

  The girls stood with their faces pressed to the glass, desperate for a glimpse of what was happening.

  “Wait here.” I parked the guys beside my table and entered the shop. “We’re done for the night.”

  “What happened?” Camber clung to Arden. “Why is the news van parking by the diner?”

  The news van was a soccer mom ride with honor roll brags pasted on the bumper, and the reporter was also often the camerawoman. When Casey Evans’s husband was busy with the kids, she used one of those selfie sticks to record her pieces. She had already made her rounds down Main Street to cover the event. One of her sources must have had Casey on speed dial for her to have made such a quick U-turn.

  “I’m not sure.” I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to scare her either. “The police are handling it.”

  And I planned on making busywork in the shop so I could keep an eye on their progress.

  Arden tucked Camber against her side when her friend turned pale. “Will they need to speak to us?”

  “No.” I set a hand on each of their shoulders. “You two didn’t see anything.”