“You could talk to me about it. All I have to look at every day is blank walls. Have you considered actually moving in?” The woman arched a brow at me. I couldn’t arch back, with a missing brow poorly penciled on.
Why not? It was a woman stuck in a mirror. “I slept with a guy, a really good looking guy, who was a person of interest in a suspicious death I’m investigating.”
“Wow.” The woman blinked at me. “Because you’re under a spell?”
“I’d like to blame the hex, sure. But I’m attracted to him for more than his looks. He’s a single dad, with two pretty adorable little girls.” And then, I poured my heart out. It was a relief, having someone to talk to, about the weirdness, about the guilt, the stress, and the fear.
“Wow,” she said again. “So you’re living in my house, because it’s practically free, so you can pay off your ex’s debt in order to keep your non-really-niece from losing her soul. That’s better than most of my soaps. I’m glad the trust finally worked out for one of you brats.”
How did she know about the trust?
“You’re, what, great-grandchild number four? Your cousin, Sheena the Bitch, tried living here, but her husband was freaked out by the place. She gave it up. Your cousin Bill tried to knock the place down and build a new house. The trust didn’t allow for it, so he gave it up. Your brother, Brock, tried to rent the place out. The trust allowed for it, as long as he lived here, too. But he couldn’t keep renters. They found the place too haunted. Eventually, he rented to a bunch of junkies and crackheads. They stayed the longest, but eventually, they opted to spend money on drugs rather than rent. So Brock gave it up to live in a tent under the overpass in Playtown. Now, there’s you.”
I felt shocked at the revelation. “You’re Bisabuela Epifanía?”
“Of course. Grammy Epi. I think the only time we met, you were in diapers.”
My great-grandmother was the woman stuck in the mirror. Maybe I should’ve figured that out a while ago. This was her house, after all. Who else would haunt this crappy place? “How did you get stuck in the mirror?”
She waved a hand. “Long story. Longer than the one about your not-really-niece and all that. I’m running out of juice.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Pay the Angle Man. At least, until you figure out that you are part of a huge community of brujos, naguals, fantasmas, mocuanas and sihuanabas who might help you. Sorry, I have to fade away now.”
And she did. I had no idea what she was talking about. Nor did I know when or if she would appear again. I did feel a lot better, just talking about my woes.
My woes. There was a lot to think about. Usually, when a case stumped me, I would kick it around with whoever was in the Homicide Unit, or CAPs, now. But I was still suspended. I walked downstairs, amazed at how cold the bathroom was. Ugly sat on the card table, one foot in the air, licking herself.
“What do you think I should do, Ugly?”
Without stopping, the cat growled, “Owwwt.”
Okay, whatever. I shrugged on my windbreaker. Each steep porch step acted like a trampoline as I descended. While I could live in the house for practically nothing, I didn’t know how much longer the building would stand. I headed for the corner. One by one, I went through my woes.
First, I had three month’s pay, a bonus, the money left over from my house sale, estate sale, and since I no longer paid for anything fun, like cable TV or real groceries, I had worked all the overtime I could. I figured I was good for my next extortion payment to the Angle Man. With no sign from the stars that payment was due (whatever that meant), I could keep saving. I figured I was okay there.
Second, my reputation in the department was in the toilet. Even if I solved this case, I knew a bunch of super crappy cases were headed my way. If I didn’t solve the case, I’d probably be looking at a transfer to a department that didn’t suit my abilities. Boring duty, in other words. So I had to solve it. Which led me to...
Third, I didn’t have a solid motive for Nysa. Maybe the servants of a Greek god didn’t have regular motives. I also didn’t have a lead on her location. Even if I did, how was I going to arrest someone who could knock a woman a half mile through the air and disappear in a bolt of lightning?
Mr. Sanchez's house stood quiet and empty looking as I passed. Down at the end of the extension, I looked through the trees in the direction of the dairy farm and mutilated cow. Bull, that was, Maenads sacrificed bulls, the symbol of Dionysus. I tried to remember what Walleye had said. It seemed that there were three cattle incidents. Two of them, I could tie up with murders, the unknown victim (who was no doubt the terminated Efrosini Galatas) and Jane Smith. The third? Maybe there was another murder in the works. Since Nysa braced me on the roof, I was likely the next victim.
Shivering, I walked back, and started wandering. It was hard to imagine a woman with the strength to sacrifice a bull single-handed. That sounded like someone I didn’t want to tangle with. I had tangled with her, and it hadn’t turned out well. Maybe that’s how Nysa gained her god-like powers. The slaughter of a bull gave her some kind of super energy charge. Given what I’d seen earlier, Nysa was fully charged and ready. But for what?
I was so lost in thought, that when I looked up, I had no idea where I was. The west end of The Hammer had a lot of curving streets, with blocks that seemed to go on forever, and some that suddenly dead-ended. Lost in thought, and now a little lost, I thought. A car slowed and pulled over next to me. My off-duty carry was in the small of my back.
The passenger window buzzed down on an SUV. “What are you doing out here, Mary? It’s not safe.”
“Remy?” I peered in the vehicle.
Remy Zelidon leaned into the street light. He smiled. “You want a ride home?”
Had I walked that far? “No, I’m just walking and thinking.”
He gave me a thoughtful look. “You want me to walk with you?”
“Really?” I was feeling a little like a loser. The request surprised me. “Okay, what the hell?”
Remy parked and got out. After a glance up and down the street, he walked beside me. “What are you thinking about?”
“A case.”
He made an accepting noise. “Probably something you can’t talk about.”
“How is your inspection going?”
His rough face lit up, making him more handsome. “We passed. Everything in order, inventory right on with the controlled substances, and what a relief.”
“Is it tougher with your brother running the market?”
He nodded. “They take a harder look at us. But he’s family. You do everything for family. He was crazy as a kid, drug dealing and smuggling. Leo told me he just wanted the easy life, you know? But he found out later that the easy life had nothing to do with money. Everything was so much better when he held down a regular job, and just watched his kids grow up.”
“Leo has kids?”
“Six,” Remy grinned.
“It’s kinda funny you saying that. I’m trying to figure out why a woman would murder her sisters.”
“Whoa.” Remy seemed taken aback. “I can’t imagine that. How cold do you have to be to kill your sister?”
“My sister is a typical, entitled Californian in-your-business snob,” I said. “My brothers are worse. Still, I can’t see killing them. I can’t imagine what would bring me to that.”
“Well...” Remy had a thought, but he kept it to himself.
I thought I’d try to drag it out of him. “What? I’m grasping at straws here, so anything might be helpful.”
For a while, we just walked. I didn’t think Remy was going to talk. His face went tight, jaw muscles working. Darkness clouded his eyes.
“I was just thinking, before we opened the farmacia, Leo wasn’t long out of the joint. He fell off the wagon. He’d gotten cleaned up in Q, but he started to use. Heroin, meth, fentanyl, something hard. Something bad. His wife called me about it. There were dealers at the house, around
my nephews. Leo thinks he’s a tough guy and all. But I told him if he didn’t quit that shit, not only was he going back to prison, he was going back in pieces.”
It wasn’t about being cold, I thought to myself. Remy looked totally heated.
“Family is family, and you do everything for family, but niños? I won’t let anything hurt those boys. Not even my brother.”
My own situation seemed so similar. I was living like a nun, or maybe a homeless person, in order to let my not-really-niece keep her soul. And that’s when it hit me. “Holy shit!”
“It didn’t come to any violence.” Remy’s face shut down in defense. “A lot of talking, a little time in rehab.”
I reached out and took Remy’s hands. “No, I think I get it now. I think I know why Nysa killed her sisters.”
We walked on, companionably. Each of us was contemplating the future, I knew from his touch.
Chapter 21
The local FBI office was in an industrial park next to Highway 99 in Ripon. It wasn’t a long drive, but it cost me half a tank of gas. Babykiller had a big tank, too. I walked into the very plain building. Only a small sign on the glass door indicated the Bureau’s presence.
I was escorted to a conference room on the first floor. The PTA was already in residence. Paisley wore a black lace dress in a spider web pattern, purple corset and matching, laced up witch boots. Drusilla wore her black leather jacket and jeans. Echo wore a Fredonia Blue Devils hoodie, board shorts and ratty sneakers. Sgt. Gustafson was there, looking more like a bachelor party stripper than a cop, but that’s how she always looked.
Paisley tapped some pages even on the conference table. “Still waiting on one.”
Was Shen sitting in again? I’d never known him to be late for anything. Plus, he was seriously crushing on Agent Herald. Or charmed by her, as the PTA called it. Instead, a long, lean man sauntered into the room. Long brown hair hung down his back, muscled frame snugged in a polo shirt and boot-cut jeans over biker boots. It took me a moment to recognize Kade Wallace without his cowboy getup.
I took a chair, my eyes wandering. How had I gone from a homicide detective to being a member of the Odd Squad?
Agent Herald put her elbows on the table. “I’ll start. Contacts at the FAA and ICE don’t have a record of Nysa Galatas leaving the country.” Her eyes shifted to Walleye. “Of course, neither the Federal Aviation Authority or Immigration and Customs Enforcement have a record of her entering the country, either.”
Walleye turned his blue and green eyes on her. “Far as we know, she’s still around.”
Drusilla didn’t wither under the spooky gaze. Kade Wallace didn’t appear charmed. I jumped in.
“From what I’ve learned about Maenads, I’m guessing the cattle mutilations are sacrifices. That’s how she gains her strength. She’s definitely primed for something.” No one blinked at the phrase cattle mutilations. For better or worse, we were all on the same, strange page.
“That sort of extends from what we’ve deduced about the pendants, and the ox-poker,” Paisley said. She went through her sheaf of notes. “Ox-goad. If the symbol tempers their power, their behavior, then it would be... anathema? Is that a word? I can’t read my own scribbles. In other words, it would be like a vampire beating another vampire over the head with a cross. It wouldn’t be good for either of them.”
“Maybe the suspect needed the sacrifice just to use the ox-goad,” Echo said. “Or maybe to perform any distasteful act. From the reports I’ve analyzed, the attack and murder of the victim in the federal preserve, no animal was involved. This despite the witness accounts. A threatened animal won’t try to keep its prey. That’s a human attribute. Greed. Additionally, there hasn’t been a disturbance in the general p-brane or D-brane world volumes around here, so your suspect isn’t extradimensional. Which pretty much excludes me from this case. Those are my fields, and we aren’t playing in either of them.”
Was she talking about some kind of quantum mechanics? I couldn’t follow the girl. Although I was fairly certain that the victim on the federal preserve was Efrosini Galatas and the not-an-animal killer was her sister, Nysa.
“I could help if this was an animal-related incident. Even a sort-of-animal incident. “Echo turned to Walleye. “I don’t know if the killer being human excludes Fish and Wildlife.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
The girl folded her notebook and sat back.
Drusilla gave her a “nice try” smirk.
“We want her,” Walleye said. “She took out one of our most promising assets.”
Paisley raised her blue brows. “Are you planning on dissecting her?”
“Our plans for her are classified. Off the record, I’d like to see a little justice done, here. When you bring her down, I’ll take her in. We’re equipped to deal with her.” With that, Walleye got up and sauntered back out of the room.
The goth watched him go. “Okay... So, next point, since Agent Wallace brought it up. How do we draw her out? How do we actually arrest Nysa Galatas? I don’t think we can just slap the cuffs on a demi-goddess, or whatever she is.”
“The kid and I managed to run a protocol through ViCAP,” Drusilla nodded at Echo. “Any crime with Maenad characteristics in a hundred mile radius will get flagged. The PTA can act as a CIRG. Can we count on you, Sgt. Gustafson? Inspector Garcia?”
It took a second to sort through the Bureau-speak. ViCAP, the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, was a database run by the FBI, and contributed to by law enforcement agencies nationwide. A CIRG, I think, is a Critical Incident Response Group.
“I’ll have to talk to my supervisor.” Josephine was way ahead of me.
“We already have,” Paisley said. The PTA, apparently, was way ahead of Josephine Gustafson. “But this is crazy dangerous stuff. It’s your call.”
“Crazy Dangerous is my middle name. Names,” Gustafson said.
Paisley squinted at her. “Your file says Annabelle is your middle name.”
Drusilla Herald leaned closer to Paisley. “She’s saying she’s in, Paise.”
“Is your middle name Crazy Dangerous, Mary?” Paisley asked me.
“It’s Elizabeth,” I said. “But count me in anyway.”
ON THE DRIVE BACK TO Delta Vista, I pondered what the PTA had learned. Or, at least, what they surmised—who can really know for sure with handmaidens of a god on the loose? What stuck most in my head was a vampire slapping another vampire with a cross. Both vampires would get hurt. But if one of them was super-charged with blood, or whatever? I knew as much about vampires as I did Maenads.
Still, it gave me a plan. I didn’t spill my theory on Nysa’s motivation to the PTA on purpose. My interest in the case had evolved into something intensely personal. That was on Nysa. I wanted to take her down myself. I finally thought I had all the pieces I needed to do that. Although, in the process, I’d probably get seriously hurt or more seriously dead.
It was still morning. The thought of confronting Nysa at night didn’t hold much appeal. Besides, my suspension was running out. I needed autonomy to finish this. Truth be told, I might have to wait for nightfall for her to appear. I stopped at a liquor store for some junky pastries and coffee, just in case.
I parked in the courthouse lot before noon. That gave me six hours. Maybe. Or maybe I didn’t have any time at all. The roof access door was unlocked. I expected people to be eating lunch up here at the picnic tables. Apparently, everyone had opted to eat elsewhere. And I could see why. Although it wasn’t in the forecast, Dark clouds rolled in from the west. Wind picked up. Maenad weather, I thought.
From what Paisley Cartwright, expert in spooky antiques, said, I thought about holding something you didn’t want to hold on to. Maybe it burned the hands, or sent a shock through the body; or maybe it was like holding onto a snake or a big rat. I was creeping myself out. Which was good, because it made me think as if I was holding something repugnant, something I needed to do a job with. And then what? I look
ed around the roof.
The air conditioner structure seemed a likely place. It was maybe seven feet tall—and I wasn’t in any shape to scale it. For a moment, I considered going to a gym more regularly. Strike that...going to a gym at all.
Although it was heavy, I dragged one of the picnic tables over to the side of the metal housing. With a step on the seat, and a step on the table, I was at eye level to the top. Just as I was thinking, use the horrible thing and toss it away, there it was.
It was out of my reach, but if I got up on tip toes and half-hauled myself up, I could just reach it.
“Too late, Inspector.”
Lightning flashed. I turned from my precarious perch. Then, I saw the same thing that Antonio Sanchez had seen behind his garbage cans.
Chapter 22
She was barely dressed in animal skins. Rusty red of a fox, mottled gray of a wolf, with an actual wolf’s head for a hood. A lithe, fit form was revealed by the lack of cover. Nysa Galatas, although obviously older than me, also looked a whole lot fitter.
Fat, bruised clouds raced overhead, blotting out the sun. Still standing on the picnic table, I pulled out my phone. It only took a few seconds to find the picture I had taken of Ophelia and Elektra Smith.
“It wasn’t you Jacinth was recruiting, was it?” I asked, holding out the screen to her.
The Maenad stood framed by the doorway, unmoving, save her eyes. She took in the screen, then looked back at me. “She would make them like us. Wild, uncontrolled, savage women at the mercy of the god’s whim. I couldn’t allow it. This world is not fit for the handmaidens of a god.”
“She was going to teach them to be Maenads, and at the same time, put them in the service of this country. Whatever that might mean,” I said. “I get it. You wanted to protect the girls. No one gets it better than me.”
The demi-goddess didn’t speak. It was hard to read her, in full-blown Maenad mode. But I caught a solid hit that my words struck a chord with her.
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