Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Allies

by Lydia Sherrer

  He’d had to pick his words carefully, what with Tina listening in. But based on her abrupt silence, his words had found their mark. Perhaps too well. “Look, never mind,” he said into the lengthening silence. “I’ll come. Just give me twenty minutes.”

  “Fine,” she said, tone clipped.

  He massaged his temples, trying to figure out how to salvage the conversation. It had not gone at all how he’d hoped. “See you then, I guess.”

  “Good day,” she said, and hung up.

  He stared at his phone, expression morose. Well, that had been a disaster.

  “Lovers’ quarrel?” Tina asked, eyebrow raised in interest.

  Sebastian’s stomach did a somersault at the mere idea of such a word being associated with Lily. “Nah,” he waved a hand casually, hoping to deflect her curiosity. Which was completely unfounded, of course. “Just one of my other contacts. They’ve got some stuff for me, so we really do need to wrap up. So, where was I…right.” He collected his thoughts and hurried on.

  “Remember that memo? The one about how they’d found illegal activity tied to Rex Morganson popping up in each city two years before a kid went missing? And how each of the kids went missing at two years old? This LeFay guy was the first one whose two-year-old, well almost two, went missing under the same suspicious circumstances. And then, none of the women could tell the police who the father was. There was no father listed on the children’s birth certificates. The mothers could only give a physical description, no name. But the physical descriptions from every woman were very similar, and they matched this LeFay guy. You have to admit, that’s pretty suspicious.”

  Tina was still looking at him oddly, but she seemed willing to get back into the debate. “So, what, this dude is going around getting women pregnant and then kidnapping the kids? That’s crazy. I could see a disgruntled dad kidnapping his kid if the mom was trying to lock him out of the picture. But for the same guy to do it nine times? What the heck is he doing with them all? Making a circus troupe? That theory is just crazy. Even if it wasn’t, Rex’s profile is all extortion and theft. What does that have to do with kids? No wonder the FBI is getting nowhere with this investigation. Whoever’s running it is a raving lunatic.”

  Sebastian didn’t agree, but that was because he knew things about John Faust that Tina didn’t. And he wasn’t about to share them. So instead of disagreeing, he changed tack. “Okay, forget about all the other stuff on Rex. There’s no way we can prove he was behind any of it. Instead, let’s suppose that Morganson is LeFay, and he’s somehow involved in the disappearance of the kids. Doesn’t it seem suspicious that none of the women could remember anything? If it was just one, I might agree with the shrinks. But all nine? That sounds like magic to me, some kind of mind-control spell or brainwashing. What if we found one of these women? We could interview them and figure out how to break the spell. If we could record a full confession, we’d have solid evidence.”

  Tina looked skeptical. “That is, if there actually is a connection and if there is even magic involved. I think the FBI has its head up its butt on this one. None of this makes sense.”

  “Well,” Sebastian hesitated, not sure how much he should say. “Maybe there’s more to the story,” he hedged. “It’s worth at least trying to track down one of these women, right? We could start with the most recent disappearance. Her contact info is probably still good.”

  With a sigh, Tina slumped down even further into the couch, taking a swig of beer. “Fine. But not until tomorrow. I think I’ve worked enough today.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” Sebastian said, getting up and collecting his things. “But no later. We need to move fast on this. Call me as soon as you have something, okay?”

  “Sure thing, boss,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “For someone who enjoys meddling in the affairs of wizards, you sure are a boring person. Work, work, work, all the time. Positive you don’t wanna stay and hang out for a while?” She winked suggestively, patting the couch beside her.

  “Ah, no. No, thanks.”

  She looked disappointed but not surprised, and he beat a hasty retreat before she, or Percy, could think of any way to delay him further.

  Sebastian was not in his normal counter-stalking spot, mostly because he made a point to stay as far away from badges as possible. Not that he had anything against them. They were a vital part of society. Sort of like dung beetles. If you didn’t have them around, the dung would pile up and destroy the world. But that didn’t mean he wanted to get caught up in their “cleaning” activities. So that Friday evening, instead of hanging out one apartment building over, he watched Lily’s doorstep through a pair of binoculars, sitting in his car a block down the road.

  He’d been prepared, albeit with no small amount of subconscious grumbling, to stay out of the way when it came to Lily’s choice in men. It wasn’t any of his business, after all. None at all. Zip. No matter how protective he felt, it wasn’t his place. Okay, so he’d allowed himself a few jokes here and there—what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t?—but he had strictly forbidden himself from interfering. Not even when she’d chosen to take up with Agent Doofusface.

  What he was doing now, he told himself, wasn’t interfering. It was following up on a hunch. If he was right, then he would interfere, for Lily’s own safety. Now that he thought about it, the list of what he’d done—and was doing—for her safety was growing uncomfortably long. Most of them were things that annoyed her, like not telling her everything she wanted to know, or things that would annoy her if she knew, like his counter-stalking. Thank goodness he’d dodged the “Thiriel” bullet, at least for now. He’d learned all too well in his short life that ignorance really was bliss. But Lily would never see it that way. At least their “powwow” last night in the Basement had been informative. And, surprisingly, his aunt had shown him a bit of respect for the first time since he was a teenager. He’d long since stopped caring what she thought, but still, it was nice.

  The arrival of Richard Grant’s car put an end to his musings, and he watched as the agent ascended Lily’s front steps and rang the doorbell. What she saw in that self-righteous, unimaginative, hunk of dung beetle he had no idea. Seriously, roses? Any guy with two brain cells would know to bring Lily a book, not flowers. And if you just had to be traditional, at least pick flowers with some character, like daffodils.

  Watching the exchange through his binoculars, he saw the FBI agent gesture inside as Lily held the roses and blushed. He couldn’t hear her reply—he’d resisted the temptation to have Jas relay the conversation—but it was obvious she’d rebuffed her date’s attempt to get inside, instead taking his arm as they headed to the car. Good girl, he thought. At least she had some common sense.

  As Richard’s car pulled away, Sebastian set down his binoculars and waited. He knew where they were going, so there was no rush, and he wasn’t stupid enough to try and tail an FBI agent. Not that they were all that observant, the average badge. But there were good ones out there, and Sebastian hadn’t seen enough of this particular one to know which he was. Better safe than sorry, that’s what he always said. Well, sometimes. Occasionally. In this particular instance.

  After giving them a good five-minute head start, he pulled out of his parking space and headed toward the Majestic Diner, mind busy as he mulled over his plan. Yes, he’d intended to keep his nose out of Lily’s private life. But that was before he’d learned the FBI had an open investigation on Lily’s father, and they knew she was his daughter. The daughter Ursula LeFay had filed a missing person’s report on twenty-three years ago. Tonight Sebastian planned to kill two birds with one stone. Well, three, actually, if his hunch was correct.

  Parking in a lot across the street, he carefully scanned the diner through his binoculars, hoping he could spot them from where he sat instead of having to creep closer. Lily would roast him alive if she caught him. And he would deserve it. But his well-being, and her feelings, were unimportant when it came to keepin
g her safe.

  Examining the far end of the diner, he hit pay dirt. They were sitting by the mirrored wall, talking animatedly. He waited a few more minutes, giving them a chance to order. Technically, there was no need to delay, but he hesitated anyway, feeling guilty for ruining Lily’s date. Despite the fact that he’d like to punch Mr. Doofusface in the face, he knew how hard it was for Lily to muster the courage to voluntarily engage in social activities. It seemed a shame to waste all her hard work. Then again, perhaps it was better not to draw it out.

  Sebastian withdrew a recently purchased pre-paid phone from his pocket and dialed the number for the local FBI field office. He ground his teeth as he waited for the automated system to finish telling him his options. It finally shut up and transferred him to the operator, much to his relief.

  “FBI.”

  Pitching his voice low and giving it a gravelly tone, he said: “I’ve got information on Rex Morganson. I want to talk to the agent in charge of the case.”

  “Excuse me, sir, who? And what did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t. Tell your superiors that I have critical, time-sensitive information on Rex Morganson in connection to John Faust LeFay and that I want to talk to the agent in charge of the case, ASAP.”

  “Alright,” the operator said over the sound of rapid typing. “Is there a number where they can reach you?”

  “No. I want to meet them in person, tonight, at”—he glanced at his watch, which read 6:20—“seven o’clock, sharp. Tell them to come alone. I’ll be in the abandoned warehouse off Alders avenue,” he said, naming a location in south Atlanta.

  “Sir, I don’t think—”

  “Just tell them. They’re looking for evidence and I can give it to them. Seven o’clock. Do it,” he finished, and hung up. Taking the back off the cell phone, he removed the important bits and set it all in the seat beside him. He’d wipe them down and dispose of them on the way to the meet. Picking up his binoculars, he refocused them on Lily and her date. Give it about five minutes, he thought, for the operator to pass the information up to someone senior enough to know what it meant. Then, if he was right…

  Sure enough, after about five minutes Agent Grant shifted, taking out his phone as he stood and turned his back to Lily.

  Sebastian punched the air in triumph. He’d called it. Three birds. One stone.

  Going back to his binoculars, he saw that Agent Grant had disappeared, leaving only a forlorn-looking Lily. Scanning the restaurant, he just caught sight of the man disappearing out the front door, phone back to his ear as he headed for his car.

  Well, that was his cue to skedaddle, Sebastian thought. He started up his old clunker and headed out a different entrance, avoiding Ponce De Leon Avenue. It would take about fifteen minutes, perhaps longer, to get to the meeting place, and he wanted to get there before the cavalry arrived.

  The abandoned warehouse was nothing special, just one of the many places in Atlanta that had fallen into disrepair for various reasons: money, pollution, changing demographic, or just the inexorable march of time. It was a popular hangout for kids who liked the thrill of trespassing, and graffiti artists had had their way with it for many years. The surrounding fence and boarded-up windows were in such a state of decay that it wasn’t an issue of “breaking and entering.” More like “walking in and trying not to stab yourself with broken glass.” From his previous forays into the abandoned structure, he knew there was a door off its hinges around the back that made for the easiest entry. He parked several blocks away and sprinted along the back alleys until he got to the derelict fence. Slipping through, he entered the building from the back and set up camp next to one of the front windows where he could see out but not be seen from the outside.

  He’d shunned a more public location because his backup didn’t like crowds. Despite the fact that Pip was perfectly capable of using fae glamour to hide from the human eye, she still didn’t like being around people in general. Sebastian didn’t blame her. He wasn’t a big fan of people in general, either. In an abandoned place like this, she would be perfectly comfortable. Speaking of Pip…

  “Elwa Pilanti’ara. You ready?”

  He waited, finally hearing a tinkling laugh off to his left. Despite the sound, there was still no sign of her. Darn that pixie. “Look, Pip, this isn’t the time for games. Men are going to show up any minute. Now get over here.”

  Another tinkling, high-pitched laugh, this time behind him.

  Grumbling about pixies who didn’t understand the concept of “urgent,” he crossed his arms, adopting a casual tone. Yelling or getting upset at fae got you nowhere. It just egged them on. You had to know how to push their buttons. “So I guess this means you didn’t want that glass of Captain Morgan’s Pirate Paradise I was going to make you, huh?” He waited. No tinkling laugh. Pixies were especially fond of mixed drinks, as they couldn’t make them themselves, and rum was Pip’s weak spot. This particular drink was a mix of elderflower liqueur, coconut water, rum, syrup, and lime juice. He was rather partial to it himself. It was an exquisite drink.

  A tug on his ear told him he’d won. “Uh-huh, I thought so,” he said to the little slip of a fae hovering at eye level.

  She squeaked at him.

  “Two? In your dreams. That’s extortion, that is.”

  Tiny arms crossed, a minuscule nub of a nose pointed in the air.

  “Alright, fine, you little rascal,” he said. “But I have to go somewhere tonight and I may be away a few days. You’ll have to wait until next week to get payment.”

  Pip squeaked in agreement and did several loop-de-loops in excited anticipation.

  “Yeah, yeah. Calm down, short stock. Here’s what I need you to do.” He explained the situation, and she nodded in understanding. It was a cakewalk for her, and nowhere near worth the price of two mixed drinks. But he had a soft spot for Pip and usually let her get away with her extortionist deals. All she had to do was keep watch, make sure no one snuck up on him, and distract the cops if he needed to make a quick getaway. Hopefully none of that would be needed, but he’d been in the game far too long to not plan for the worst.

  He settled in to wait as Pip cloaked herself and zipped off to scout the perimeter. They didn’t have to wait long. Barely ten minutes had passed before an unmarked yet unmistakably government sedan pulled up in front of the building. Two people stepped out: Agent Grant, accompanied by his partner, Agent Meyer. Sebastian had seen them both for the first time at the Clay Museum when they’d arrived after the fiasco with Veronica. Though they hadn’t spoken directly to him, they would probably still recognize his face. Which was why he wasn’t wearing his normal face. While he didn’t have strong enough fae magic to completely change his appearance, he could subtly alter features, and that was all he needed in a situation like this. He’d worn a baggy shirt and pants to obscure his physical build. A touch of fae magic and his face appeared to morph, brows thickening, chin sharpening, skin sagging in wrinkles on a thin face below dark hair now shot through with grey. He made sure his hands appeared as wrinkled as his face and stooped slightly for added effect. As a last precaution, he changed the color of his clothes.

  Since he was playing the part of a nervous informant, he hid behind a stack of old boxes off to one side, waiting patiently as the two FBI agents checked out the front of the building. Most likely backup wasn’t far away, ready to swoop in should this turn out to be a trap. It wasn’t, of course, but the FBI didn’t know that.

  As the two agents moved toward the front door, he felt a double tug on his ear, Pip’s signal that the perimeter was clear. At least they’d had the sense to not try and jump him. That was a bad way to build trust. Of course, he hadn’t given them any time to set up surveillance on the building. Otherwise they’d have had the building bugged long before he arrived.

  Agent Grant took point, stepping cautiously up to examine the front door outfitted with bar and lock. Of course, the fact that the bar was hanging off the door, unattached to
the surrounding building, made the security measure kind of moot. Agent Meyer peered in the front windows and, seeing no one, gave her partner the go-ahead. She kept watch while Agent Grant pushed and cursed at the door—exactly the reason why Sebastian had come in the back. Rusted hinges did as good a job as locks at keeping people out.

  The two FBI agents finally got the door open, both, he was sure, unhappy at the amount of noise they’d made in the process. Looking wary, they peered around the unlit room, bright evening sun outside making it hard to see in the cool dimness. Well, Sebastian thought, I’m up.

  “Good evening,” Sebastian said calmly, stepping away from the boxes with his hands held unthreateningly out to the sides. The last thing he wanted was to get shot by a startled FBI agent.

  Predictably, both agents jumped, surprised. Agent Meyer’s hand even went to her holster. But seeing him alone, unthreatening and unarmed, they relaxed. “You the one who called?” Agent Grant asked, approaching.

  “I am.”

  “Good. I’m Agent Grant. I’m spearheading the investigation into our mutual friend. You wanted to talk, Mr….”

  Sebastian ignored the question and stepped closer, making sure to keep his back bent and his voice soft and wavering. “I asked to speak with the head of the investigation. Alone.”

  The two agents looked at each other, probably sharing some nonverbal communication built over years of partnership.

  This was taking too long. Sebastian needed to get home to prepare for their hunt tonight with his aunt and Lily. He didn’t like this man, with his perfect hair and calm eyes hiding lies behind them. But he had a job to do, so best be about it. “You can pat me down if it helps. I came to pass on information, nothing more. But I will only talk to you.” He pointed at Agent Grant, then took another step forward and raised his arms above his head, inviting the agent to check him for weapons.