by Debra Dunbar
“Which is why we wanted the hotel to give us information on when and if she checked out. When they’d seen her last. When she’d last used her pass key to the room.”
I crossed my fingers inside my coat pocket and hoped we’d find Liz still in the room, unharmed. But I knew that probably wasn’t going to be the case.
Tremelay finished his notes, then motioned for us to follow him into the hotel. Once inside, he flashed his badge, asked for the manager, then introduced Rick and explained the man’s lack of identification.
The manager nodded. “I don’t recognize you, but I do know the name. Rick and Elizabeth Dimond were registered guests here this week.”
“Can you let us know when Miss Dimond checked out?” Tremelay had his nicest smile on, and even I was charmed. Janice was right. The guy was good-looking, and pretty bangable when he smiled liked that. Of course, I was already with the hottest guy in the city, probably the whole world, as far as I was concerned.
I wondered if he liked smart, tall, leggy women? Although given Janice’s profession and what a pain she’d been in Tremelay’s side, I doubted I’d ever be able to make a match between those two.
The manager hesitated for a moment. “I recognize the name because she didn’t check out. Thursday we auto-checked the room out as Wednesday night was the last reservation date, but when housekeeping went in, all the belongings were still there. We contacted both numbers on file, and when we didn’t get a response, we charged the room for another day. When housekeeping went in Friday, the belongings were still there, but there was no sign that the beds were slept in or that any towels or washcloths were used, so we left messages that we would be removing the belongings and storing them.”
Rick swayed and put out a hand to the wall. I sucked in a breath, thinking the worst. Tremelay didn’t bat an eye.
“Did housekeeping make any notes as to whether the beds were slept in when they cleaned Wednesday morning?”
“Let me look at the records, just to check.” The manager went behind the front desk at typed away. “It doesn’t say. They didn’t note anything for Thursday either, but that’s not unusual. Sometimes guests don’t sleep in their rooms, if you know what I mean. They only noted it for Friday because we’d flagged the room as an overstay.”
Tremelay nodded. “Do you have any record of the housekeeping staff that serviced the room Wednesday and Thursday mornings? I’d like to see if they remember.”
The man wrote down a few names on a piece of paper. “Sasha and Dee. I can ask them, but they might not remember. They’re cleaning dozens of rooms a day.”
“I appreciate it.” Tremelay pointed to the computer. “Can you see if there were any phone calls made in or out of the room anytime Wednesday through Friday?”
The manager typed again, then shook his head. “No, but that’s not unusual. People have cell phones and most of their friends or business associates don’t use the room phone.”
Tremelay nodded. “Is there a way we can see the items left in the room?”
The manager hesitated. “I hate to release them without consent.” He turned to Rick. “When your ID gets here, I can let you have them since you were on the prior reservation.”
“Can we just see them?” Tremelay had on his charming smile again. “You can watch to make sure we don’t take anything. I just want to check and see if there’s anything that might let us know where Elizabeth Dimond might be.”
The manager nodded. “Of course. If the poor woman is missing…I mean, I know it’s urgent that you find her if no one’s heard from her for days.”
He pulled out a pass key and led us to a back room, then went through several old-fashioned, metal keys before inserting one into what looked like a bunch of stacked, locked, wire dog cages and opening the door. There were two carry-on sized suitcases, then a huge black construction sized trash bag full of stuff. Tremelay and Rick went through the suitcases, which held only clothing and some receipts, while I went through the trash bag.
Make up. Toiletries. Phone chargers. A pair of men’s shoes and a pair of women’s heels. A stack of printed e-mails. I turned to Rick.
“Let me look through her clothes. Unless you know what she packed and what she was probably wearing when she went missing?”
Rick shook his head. “I barely know what I packed. I don’t really pay much attention to Liz’s clothes or shoes or purses or anything.”
I didn’t know what she packed in her suitcase, but I did remember what she was wearing Tuesday night. The super cute cowboy boots weren’t in the bag or the suitcase, but the short black skirt and silky t-shirt were.
“She changed clothes.” I held up the t-shirt. “So Tuesday she went into the room and changed. Her nightclothes are in the suitcase, so I’m going to assume she spent the night in the room Tuesday, got up Wednesday for the seminar, and disappeared sometime after that.”
Rick frowned. “How do you figure that?”
“If she was taken from her room, she’d either be wearing the club clothes or her night clothes,” Tremelay told the man. “And if she got an emergency call and quickly threw on some clothes, she wouldn’t have bothered to fold and pack the pajamas in her suitcase. She’d have tossed them on the bed and they would have been in the trash bag with the toiletries and other things.”
“You don’t have any information about that seminar, do you?” I asked Rick, thinking if we could confirm Liz’s attendance or absence, that might narrow down the timeline a bit.
Rick rattled off the name of another hotel.
“I’ll follow up on that,” Tremelay said before turning to the manager. “Do you mind if we take these receipts? And these e-mail print outs? I can sign something if you need.”
The manager nodded. “I’ve got a voucher up front you can sign saying you took them. I hope you find her. It’s horrible to think that something might have happened to her.”
Tremelay went off with the manager to sign for the papers while I went up front with Rick and got him checked into his room.
“Get some sleep,” I told the man. “You’ve got my number and the detective’s number. Call either of us if anything comes up. I’ll call my friend and meet you tomorrow morning to go see him about this spirit possessing you.”
The man chewed on his lip. “I’m so worried about Liz. She’s been gone for days, and I didn’t even know it. What if she’s…?”
“You were gone for days and you’re okay.” I reached out to squeeze his arm. “Detective Tremelay is a good cop. He’ll contact you as soon as he knows anything.”
I watched the man take the elevator up to his room, then turned to see Tremelay coming toward me, papers in hand. We walked out to our cars, both of us lost in thought.
“What if she got a text from her brother asking her to meet him somewhere?” I conjectured as I pulled my keys out of my pocket.
“I was thinking that too, but I want to check up on this seminar first.” Tremelay frowned. “I would think they would have contacted the funeral home if two of their registered attendees just didn’t show. I’ll also pull a picture from Elizabeth Dimond’s driver’s license and get it out there. I’ll need to take Rick down to the station for a formal missing person’s report as well as the report for the possible kidnapping, assault, and theft of his belongings. I wonder if the Ottobar has cameras?”
I let out a breath and felt my shoulders relax, knowing that Tremelay was on the case.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” I said as I unlocked my car.
A tired smile creased his face. “That’s my job, Ainsworth. You take care of the supernatural stuff, and I’ll take care of this sort of thing.”
I would. And if I hurried back, I could grab a quick hour or two of sleep before I figured out what the heck sort of spell was on this wand fragment and had to attend what would no doubt be a very tense meeting between my boyfriend and my mother.
Chapter 18
“Royal blood,” Mom mused as we sat in my basement
behind a protection ring, the broken piece of wand safely within a two-by-two null space we’d created.
“The rogue vampires kidnapped a prince?” I shrugged, as I threw the idea out there.
Mom slowly shook her head. “You know, I’m beginning to think you were right about a mage. If Marblehead means a golem, then perhaps Knight D’Angelo was sent to stop the golem, and thus the mage.”
“And the rogue vampires are just hired thugs.” It made sense. They help protect a mage while she raises a golem, then she rewards them by ousting the Balaj and giving them the city. Or paying them with either money, blood donors, and/or magical items.
“I still can’t figure out what a golem would have to do with royal blood,” Mom said.
“Maybe the mage is the royal? It sounded as if Knight D’Angelo was saying that the Marblehead wasn’t the only thing that needed to be stopped, but the ‘royal blood’ as well.”
“Possibly.” Mom waved a hand toward the wand. “Well, if we’re going to be going up against a mage or a group of mages, let’s get an idea of what she and her buddies are capable of.”
I stepped forward to dismiss the null space while Mom readied her sword, angling herself to protect me from any magic that might come my way. The null spell dropped and I jumped back behind the protective circle of runes as Mom stepped forward.
Nothing happened. I let out a breath and Mom sheathed her sword.
“See the safeguard magic?” I pointed at the faint aura around the broken wand. “It reminds me of one of our Templar blessings.”
“That’s because it is.” Mom’s smile held a sharp edge. “A Templar’s blessing broke this wand.”
Holy crap, she was right. “The Walk With Me blessing.” Now that I had the wand in decent light and could see the magic properly, I realized exactly what D’Angelo had done.
It was a powerful blessing, but not normally powerful enough to destroy a magical item. The amount of energy Knight D’Angelo expended to do this must have left him weak and vulnerable. He’d put everything into destroying that wand—energy and effort he could have otherwise used to escape his captors.
“What did the wand do?” I asked, moving past the protective circle to peer closely at the symbols etched along the sides of the magical item.
Mom moved up beside me. “I’m more of a kill-the-bad-thing Knight, so I’m not really sure. Looks like there’s quite a bit of Mercury symbols, though.”
Dad wouldn’t know either. He was more knowledgeable about magical spells than Mom, but he’d still need to research this and we needed answers fast.
Too bad Reynard wasn’t returning my calls. That left me with two choices for fast information, and I wasn’t about to risk summoning a Goetic demon again after what happened last time.
“Wait here,” I told Mom before running upstairs.
Seconds later I was back, thrusting a spoon in front of the broken piece of wand. “What do you think?”
“Nice.” Chuck’s voice was clear and loud, as if he were standing right next to us. “Inflicts pain without leaving a mark, and pulls the truth out. Basically whoever was at the business end of this wand would be in agony and telling every secret they ever had from the candy bar they’d stolen in second grade to the married woman they’d had an affair with last year.”
Mom scowled at the spoon, clearly not happy with my use of Chuck for information, but too bad. I delivered caramel popcorn to the guy every month, I was entitled to some free consultation as far as I was concerned.
“Like a truth spell?” I asked the mage. “The spellcaster asks a question and the subject is compelled to answer truthfully?”
“More. There’s no way to prevaricate or dance around this spell. Whatever information the mage wants, they get. I’ve mainly seen these used with fae, who are notoriously tricky about answering truthfully. They can’t lie, but the bull they spin is just as bad as a lie.”
I frowned. “It’s powerful then. The wand would have been an expensive magical item to purchase? Because we’re not sure if a mage was wielding it or some rogue vampires.”
Chuck laughed. “There is no way in seven hells a vampire or any non-practitioner was using that wand. It’s not beginner stuff, and anyone who went to the trouble of making one wouldn’t sell it for a price that a bunch of rogue vampires could afford. Either this was in the hand of a very powerful mage, or a mage who had one heck of a trust fund.”
“Then it’s a mage, or mages, with a cadre of hired rogue vampires,” Mom mused from behind me.
I felt the spoon vibrate. “Who is with you?” Chuck asked.
“My mother, Knight Mavia Ainsworth.” I turned the spoon so Chuck could see my mother.
There was a second of hesitation where the spoon grew hot in my hands before the mage spoke. “Ah, the beautiful woman who threw me across your kitchen earlier today.”
I bit back a laugh, but my mother’s face hardened, one eyebrow rising. “Do not harm my daughter, mage. I’m rather occupied at the moment, but I can easily spare a few hours to drive to Jessup and put my sword through your skull.”
The spoon warmed once more. “Promises, promises,” Chuck teased. “Yes, Knight Ainsworth, a mage held this wand. And one more thing, since I’m inspired by your beauty to share all I know—whatever broke this wand caused damage. The caster of the counter spell, which isn’t one that is familiar to me, would have been protected but not the others. If vampires were nearby, they would have suffered magical wounds that would take days to heal. The mage, unless he or she were particularly skilled in the healing arts, would bear scars. Burns. Probably on the arms, although possibly on the face and body as well depending on what the mage was wearing.”
“Enough of an injury to go to the emergency room?” I asked.
“Maybe. Maybe not. It depends on the mage. One that had good reflexes might have been able to throw up a protective shield in time to avoid the worst of the blast. And some people are more knowledgeable about home medical care and able to tolerate pain better than others.”
I looked over to my mother, who was gazing at the broken wand, a thoughtful expression on her face.
Turning the spoon to face me, I spoke. “Thanks, Chuck. I appreciate the help.”
He nodded. “Let me know if I can help further. I’m intrigued that there might have been a powerful mage in Baltimore that I was unaware of. Keep me in the loop.”
It was more of a command than a request, but I let it slide because right now I needed Chuck more than he needed me. Taking the spoon back upstairs, I shoved it in a cabinet before heading back down to see my mother holding the broken piece of wand.
“When I was out today, I searched the garage where you found this and walked around asking residents and business owners about the incident.”
“And?”
“No one heard anything that night, although that’s to be expected given the silence spell you found in the garage. The man who found the body early in the morning was upset and worried. He claimed there was an elderly Italian man who had been in the neighborhood quite a bit the last month, and that this man gave him a scary vibe. He referred me to a corner grocery where he said the evening clerk was friendly with the man.”
“Fidel,” I told her. “He’s one of Dario’s and not involved. That’s his favorite…neighborhood.” I didn’t want to say hunting grounds because that sounded a little more predatory than I wanted.
“The residents are concerned. They said they’ve taken to locking their doors at night. One woman had sprinkled holy water around her house, claiming she’d seen a gang dragging a man down the street after midnight Thursday. She said this gang is well known around Franklin Square and that her hairdresser claims they are demons who suck the life out of people.”
Franklin Square. Everything seemed to be pointing to that neighborhood.
“I spoke to the hairdresser, and she gave me several contacts among the locals who knew where this ‘gang’ was hanging out. I went there, but didn’t find a
ny vampires at the time. It’s clearly not their daytime resting place. Depending on what your boyfriend has to tell us tonight, I’m thinking that’s the area I need to search this evening.”
“Need a backup sword?” I asked. “And possibly a few vampires on our side?”
“You have other commitments,” Mom said. “That man who was kidnapped and possessed by a spirit, and his missing sister. Your boyfriend’s struggle to retain his territory. Your job at the coffee shop. I can handle this on my own.”
Templar enforcers tended to work alone, unlike back in the days of the Crusades when we were part of an army, fighting for God and His Kingdom. That didn’t mean I liked the idea of my mother doing this solo. Not because I thought she was incapable of handling anything she came up against, but because this was my city, and my responsibility, and anything that went down here as far as supernatural crimes, needed to be under my eye.
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone a week or two on little to no sleep,” I insisted. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve juggled three of four competing priorities and responsibilities and managed to get them all done. I’m Baltimore’s Templar, Knight Mavia Ainsworth. And if you’re hunting rogue vampires and a mage who have killed a Knight, then I need to be involved.”
She shot me a quick smile. “It’s almost sunset. Send a follow-up text to your vampire boyfriend. Order dinner. Take that poor dog for a much needed walk. I’ll be up in a moment.”
I headed upstairs, texted Dario, ordered Chinese, fed Gaia and Fulk. And I felt the surge of Templar magic the moment my mother snapped the splintered wand in her hand.
Chapter 19
“I can assure you that the killers are not part of my family,” Dario snapped.
We were sitting in my living room with containers of Chinese food spread all over my coffee table. Gaia was curled up in Dario’s lap snoozing, and Fulk was sitting at my feet, hoping I would drop some food on the floor for him to snatch up. Dario was the only one not eating, and I didn’t blame him given the circumstances.