Asherah was the difference. “Orchards have rows of fruit trees.”
He shrugged. “Grove.”
“Did the man say anything to you? Did he have a German accent?”
Husani stepped in between me and his brother. “Calm down.”
I shoved Husani aside. “Did he?”
“I don’t know. He spoke Arabic but he was Jewish.”
“Got some basis for your racial profiling?” I said.
“He wore a Star of David necklace.”
I stilled. Chariot. A fucking angel feather had been unearthed on an archeological dig near where Asherah was worshipped and Chariot had come looking for it. I rubbed a hand over my jaw. Was Nadija part of Chariot and the man had tossed her tent because she’d been compelled and refused to hand the feather over? Had Evil Wanker brought me to the grove not because of the ring, which may well have belonged to Gavriella’s father, but because he suspected I had the feather?
Chariot had first touched my life fifteen years ago when Yitzak tattooed the Star of David ward on me despite his loyalty to that organization. They were this spiderweb, their gossamer fine strands spinning through both the Nefesh and Mundane worlds. When they’d appeared nothing more than a criminal organization with a religious bent, I’d been mildly intrigued, but they kept crossing my path, to even this seemingly unrelated P.I. case.
Now they had my full attention, but I had to tread very carefully.
“I still say you’re too stupid to marry my daughter,” Ivan said.
Rachel glared at her husband and put an arm around Shannon. “Don’t listen to him. He can’t stop the wedding.”
Omar squirmed like a worm on a hook. “I never–I didn’t mean–I couldn’t help it.”
“You probably couldn’t,” I agreed. “But you could have said something after the attack. She didn’t touch you, did she?”
He shook his head, abashed.
The Queen watched the entire proceeding from the terrace.
“You still want this woman brought to justice here in Hedon?” I called out. “All she did was come for what was hers by trying to scare Omar.”
Nadija hadn’t attacked Omar but she had trashed my office and she might belong to Chariot. She was mine to apprehend. I hoped.
The Queen looked beheading-level angry. But not at me, so I sat down to enjoy the fireworks.
Masika stepped in front of her grandson, her hands together in supplication. “Your Highness, I beg you. He is a foolish boy but he didn’t mean to deceive.”
Shannon’s lip quivered. “Please let us get married. I love him.”
Omar better have a magic dick, because otherwise, cut him loose, lady.
Chione was still snickering and I failed to give a damn one way or the other so long as I got Nadija and the vials. Everyone else did statue impersonations while they waited for the Queen’s verdict.
“The wedding will proceed,” the Queen said at last.
I raised my hand. “What about the woman?”
“Who was the German you’re interested in, chica?”
“Different case,” I said. “House business.”
The Queen gave me a look like we’d return to this subject at a future date. “Then this Nadija is yours.”
“How about our deal?” I stood up.
“Still in place. Same terms. This case must be wrapped up before the wedding.”
“No loose ends.” I stood up and boffed Omar across the head. He scrunched into himself, thoroughly miserable. “Way to go, dumbass.”
On that high note, I used one of my few remaining tokens and vanished.
Chapter 18
“Hey Miles, you still meeting with Priya?” I tossed my cell, which was on speakerphone, onto Moriarty’s passenger seat and started the engine.
“I can’t understand you.”
I swallowed the bulging mass of tiny Ritz crackers and cheese in my mouth. “Priya. Is she there?”
“Yeah, why? Did you want to speak to her?”
“No. Apologize to her for interrupting but I need your help. It’s urgent.” I explained about Nadija as succinctly as possible, starting with the attack on Omar that wasn’t, moving on to the vandalism on my poor office, and finally my speculation that she was connected to Chariot.
The Queen had handed the woman over to me to deal with and I was bringing the House into it as the most expedient way to wrap this up, with the least collateral damage to any innocents.
Traffic and construction were fairly minimal between the office and my apartment, so I was almost home by the time I’d wrapped up.
“The attack and the vandalism make this a job for the police,” Miles said.
“The same police who tipped off a member of Chariot, enabling him to assassinate a man in your jail cell? Do you know yet whether you have cops on Chariot’s payroll?”
“No,” he grudgingly admitted.
I backed Moriarty into one of the three parking stalls behind our building. “Can you swear you don’t have any cops feeding intel to the Untainted Party either? Because Nadija is under the influence of a powerful artifact, and if they find out about its existence, it’ll throw fuel on the fire.”
There was a pause. “You’re protecting Levi.”
“I’m making sure our city stays riot-free. Consider Nadija possibly unhinged and therefore dangerous.” I locked up and headed around the side of the building to the front door.
“She’s an Animator?” he said. “Okay, we’ll take proper precautions. My people will find her.”
“Appreciate it. Let me know when she’s apprehended.”
“What about the artifact?”
“I’m dealing with it. Oh, and watch out for her wings.”
“Fucking hell, Cohen.” Miles hung up.
I inserted my key into the front door of my building and jerked back like I’d gotten a whopper of an electric shock. My magic had returned, bringing the cravings back with a vengeance, the song in my head blaring.
I tried to open the door, but my hands were shaking and I dropped my keys. I’d gotten them in the lock once more when a guy walked past with a young woman, lighting her cigarette with a tiny flame that he conjured up.
I salivated, smelling the charcoal of his magic, and fell into step behind them, my eyes narrowed on my prey.
“Ash?” Beatriz, the earth elemental who owned my favorite bakery Muffin Top, stood in front of me, frowning. Her baby, Miguel, was snug against her chest in a cloth carrier. “You don’t look too good.”
My prey rounded the corner and was lost to view.
I swallowed hard. Beatriz was a powerful Nefesh. The rush would be insane. The tiny sliver of rationality left in my brain screamed to get out of here, but I couldn’t seem to make my feet move. All my energy was engaged in sizing her up like a prime cut of beef.
“Do you need help?” she said.
Miguel gurgled and batted a chubby fist at me. He had magic, too. It would taste as sweet and innocent as his smile.
I gently caught his fist. “Gotcha.”
The baby laughed and tugged free, waving at me to grab him again.
My magic surged under my skin, the song tightening like a noose.
“Gotta get upstairs,” I croaked and fled. I locked myself in my apartment, sliding down against the door to the floor, my head in my hands, until my lungs expanded enough to drag in a deep breath and the rushing in my ears faded.
How did Jezebels handle this?
I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face with a renewed resolve to find my team and hope they had a way forward for me, because Blank was not the solution.
Starting tomorrow, because it had been a long day and I needed sleep.
Friday was bright and sunny, making it easier to haul my butt out of bed. Priya had texted about staying with Kai again so I foraged for breakfast in the quiet of my apartment.
Omar’s case was wrapped up, more or less, and it wasn’t time to go visit Vespa and learn more abou
t the feather.
Knowledge was power, after all.
Right now, I required knowledge of a different sort. Dressed and sitting comfortably on the sofa, I held up the ring that Levi had gotten at the strip club. Was it something sinister, simply an item of sentimental value for Gavriella, or a token that would transport me to Jezebel HQ?
I shot off a quick text to both Priya and Levi. If things went sideways with the ring, they’d have a starting point for figuring out what had happened. Plus, it was only right to give them a heads up, since being left in the dark when I’d been transported to the grove had shaken the two of them.
Crossing my fingers that the ring led me to my team and not directly into the clutches of Evil Wanker, I slid it on my middle finger…
… and found myself in a round windowless room.
Five square smooth pillars, each one about waist-height, occupied the center of the room. Three of them glowed softly while one was actively dark and the last one neutral.
They were smooth to the touch, but they didn’t do anything.
One section of the curved wall was covered in custom-built shelving. The top shelves held a jumble of scrolls, the center section was lined with chunky leather books, and the lower ones contained more modern Moleskines and journals.
Stretching up on tiptoe, I pulled down a scroll and carefully unrolled it. The parchment was yellow and brittle, covered in tiny writing in some Cyrillic-based language.
I exchanged it for one of the leather-bound tomes. This one was in French, and while I could pick out some of the words, most of the verb tenses were incomprehensible. I finally found a book written in old English. The first few pages detailed the training regimen of a Jezebel called Catriona. The chronicler was exhaustive to the point of anal-retentive with such fascinating details as her preference for porridge with honey and salt.
I shelved the book and sat down to peruse the bottom shelf. Pulling out a Moleskine, I flipped it open to a middle page. The block printing was uniform and very neat.
Rachel, our newest Jezebel, is proving to be a quick student of Kabbalistic concepts. Today we discussed the concept of “the divine spark” in regards to Yechida. How Yechida is the level of the soul that in essence transcends all worlds, since it is never separated from G-d. It is a spark of the Creator within the created.
I flipped ahead, since I’d learned that in my grade eight magic studies unit. A drawing of a ghost-like blob stopped me.
Rachel questioned why Repha’im tasted different to the shades pulled from a person when destroying magic. In the Hebrew Bible, the living, both those with magic and those without, are referred to as Nefesh Hayyah, the living body or spirit, while the dead are Nefesh Met. Their spirits are Repha’im who’ve crossed over and inhabit Sheol, the underworld.
Jezebels can fight those Repha’im who once had magic, though they behave and taste differently to living magic–like dust–being deceased souls. But as a Jezebel has no power over a Mundane, so is she helpless against those Repha'im who never possessed powers.
Did those ten who brought magic into our world know that in creating Nefesh magic, they tore a hole between our world and Sheol, the place of darkness that houses the dead?
“How did you get in here?” Evil Wanker appeared, startling the crap out of me.
I hastily stuffed the book on the shelf and scrambled to my feet. Solid as the room was, he remained a flickering figure. There didn’t seem to be a bow tie on today’s agenda but I got the distinct impression his jacket had patches on the elbows.
I twirled a finger around the room. “I expected more dripping candles and a chandelier made of skulls for Chariot’s evil lair.”
His brows knitted together and then he barked a laugh. “You think I’m Chariot?”
“Your opening monologue was straight out of some grade B henchman playbook, you took me to a grove with an almond tree, both associated with Asherah, and you warned me off being a Jezebel.”
“With good cause. This insanely misguided deduction of yours confirms that you need to spend more time learning to be a detective and much less time playing around with this magic. You’re not fit to have it.”
“Not fit” sounded suspiciously like he cared who was worthy. “Fuck balls, are you Team Jezebel?”
In answer, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing an ornate almond tree with pink blossoms tattooed on the inside of his forearm. It stood out in stark relief to the obscured details of the rest of him. “By George, I think she’s got it.”
The Evil Wanker moniker hardened into concrete form.
“I already have the magic, bub. Find me lacking all you want, there’s not a whole hell of a lot you can do about it.”
He dragged one of the two chairs away from the modern rectangular cherry wood table and sat down. The furnishings were a mishmash of periods: there was also an antique desk with a hole for an ink pot, and two vintage high back chairs with tufted sage green upholstery.
“Once again, I see you are woefully ignorant,” Evil Wanker said. “Did you know that unless you meet my standards of being a Jezebel I can take your pretty little powers away? I do hope you ask me to prove that I’m serious. I’ve been waiting to be rid of you for a very long time.”
I flinched. Lose my magic? It would destroy my dreams. Okay, calm down, Ash. Think this through. “You talk a big game about knowing more than I do, but somehow my finding this place still surprised you.”
“Yes, and I’m still wondering how. It shouldn’t be possible until you fix our connection, and as I still can’t see you properly, you’ve obviously failed at that simple task.”
Yup. Evil Wanker.
I gave him the finger. “Can you see this?”
“No need to be rude.”
“I meant the ring.” I tapped the band on my middle finger.
He grabbed my hand, but passed through my flesh like he himself was a ghost. “Bloody hell! Is it a wood band?”
“Yeah. Same scent as the almond tree in the grove.”
He exhaled. “It was Father’s. I did wonder what had happened to it after his passing.”
“Gavriella had it.”
“I searched–” He snapped his mouth shut.
“Gracie’s apartment? Yeah, I know that too. The ring wasn’t there. Guess you’re not as good a Seeker as I am.” Though that explained how he’d gotten past the wards. No hostile intent. “But nice of you to take out her trash. What more do you want from me? I passed your three tests in the grove, I found the ring, and I found you.”
Evil Wanker sighed, and looked tired. “If you truly want this so badly, then convince me you’ll bring something substantial to this fight.”
Perfect. I just so happened to have a feathery ace up my sleeve. “I bet you didn’t know that Chariot–” The rest of my sentence was a burst of static. I tried again–to equally dismal and eardrum-jarring results. “God damn it! What is that?”
“Another point against you. Nothing about your magic is acting as it should. It’s never played out this way before.”
“You smooth talker,” I said.
“Aren’t I just? If you have something pressing to tell me, you may find me and share it in person. If you can. Your faulty magic has complicated things for fifteen years, and I refuse to waste more time on a broken toy. I have a mission to see to, and if you’re unwilling to step up, you are more than welcome to step aside.” He vanished.
“Fuuuuck!” I pulled off the ring, finding myself on my sofa once more.
This jerk was serious. He could strip me of my magic and then I’d be back at square one. And as much as the cravings and the responsibilities threatened to sideline me from being the world’s greatest Nefesh P.I., I’d take them any day over being powerless again. So he wanted to vet me before accepting me onto the team? Fine. I’d been a stellar detective for years with zero magic. I’d blow his pompous, doubting ass out of the water.
How would I find him? I had no name, no idea of his exact magic powers, and n
o clue if he was a Jezebel himself. I spun the ring between my fingers. He was British and there were only four Houses in the UK. Provided he wasn’t a Rogue like Gavriella, hopefully he’d be registered in one of them. I could make a list of the types of magic he was most likely to possess and cross-check them against his guesstimated age and gender. It was a clunky idea, but it was a start.
All fired up, I put on my motorcycle boots, only to remember my trashed office. I had to put it to rights. The list of everything I’d have to replace was expensive and depressing. My credit history was shaky enough that no bank would qualify me for a loan, and even if they did, it would take time to jump through all the hoops.
I needed money and I needed it now. Priya didn’t have that kind of spare cash laying around and there was no way I was going to Levi for a handout. We didn’t need the extra complication of money. That left one person who could loan me the cash immediately.
I clutched my phone running through all the ways I could possibly pitch this. Hey Talia, remember our conversation about me having magic that upset you so much? Could you forget it for the moment and lend me some money because I’m in a bit of a bind? Ten minutes later I’d come back around to my initial conclusion that there was no good way to make contact.
I texted her before I lost my nerve.
Me: Can we meet sometime?
The three little dots appeared and disappeared too many times for a simple yes or no answer, then vanished entirely with no incoming message popping up.
So this was what we were now, two contacts who couldn’t figure out how to communicate anymore.
Me: My office was broken into and I’d like to please discuss some financial help to put it to rights.
Talia, Destroyer of Egos: Jackson is speaking in the atrium of the Law Courts tomorrow. Meet me there mid-afternoon.
Summoned to the belly of the beast. That was one way to assure I behaved, but I was in no position to argue. I texted back that I’d see her then.
Another text came in on the heels of that one.
Imperious 1: You used the ring?! If you’re not alive, I’m going to kill you. If you are, same offer.
Me: Love you, too.
Death & Desire: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 2) Page 20