Bound for Magic (The Tortie Kitten Mystery Trilogy Series Book 1)

by Constance Barker

  “But why Efrosini?” I kept talking, even if Nysa wouldn’t answer. “Was she part of the recruiting scheme? Do you think she would hurt Elektra and Ophelia?”

  Nysa started at the sound of the girls’ names. For a moment, her face clouded with an anger darker than the gathering clouds. She took a breath, hands flexing into fists.

  “She and Jacinth both bowed before men,” Nysa said, her voice echoing strangely. “It is forbidden. Jacinth would bid her daughters do the same. There is no room in this world for Maenads. Despite the feminist notions of this time, men still rule. It needs to stop with us, the last of our kind. We made that pact when we were children. I’m simply enforcing it.”

  “The girls won’t grow up to be Maenads?” I prompted.

  “Not without the training, the ceremonies. No, they will grow up to be women, strong women, but not cursed by our god,” Nysa said. “Their father is a good man, as I’m sure you know. He will raise them right. Jacinth never could, not without succumbing to the call of Dionysus.”

  It was good that Nysa was talking. My plan, vague as it was, involved me lying in wait to ambush Nysa, not the other way around. I had the upper ground. That was all I had. “Let me understand. Your sister, Jacinth, worked for the government for two years. Training. Something. Was her seeking partial custody the government’s plan, or hers?”

  “It was my backward sister, Efrosini’s plan. Jacinth spoke of a life in this country, where everything you wish can be yours. Efrosini said it would be much easier to indoctrinate Elektra and Ophelia if they were under Jacinth’s care, even partially. I would not have it.”

  “You want the girls to be normal girls. To be safe, not running around mindlessly, putting themselves in reckless danger for no reason. Right? I have a niece, too. She’s not here with me. In fact, I don’t know where her mother has taken her. But I’m doing everything I can to make sure she’s okay. More than everything. I’m sacrificing my life to it.”

  Sure, I thought this was just a ploy, stalling until I figured out what to do. Instead, I found myself tearing up. My voice became choked. I missed Memorie, I worried for her, I sacrificed for a child that wasn’t my own. And yet, I did think of Memorie as mine. Why else would I be on the verge of blubbering in front of a god-like murderess with me in her sites?

  “You understand, and your understanding makes you a formidable mortal foe,” Nysa’s features softened. “Only another woman could understand.”

  Sirens sounded, getting closer. I shot Nysa a question with my eyes.

  “Unfortunately, I was forced to subdue the guards on my way here,” she said. “But not so unfortunate for you, Inspector. It is a sad thing to die alone. At least, this way, your sisters-in-arms will witness your final, valiant battle.”

  With a gesture of her right hand, a thyrsus appeared. Nysa walked slowly toward me.

  “It is good that they will witness my final battle as well. This is the sad end of the Maenad. My life will be forfeit once I take the cursed amulet from your corpse.”

  What the hell was I going to do? Here she came, weapon in hand. She could blow me off the roof, swat me like a bug, all kinds of things that I couldn’t retaliate from. “I can just give you the necklace,” I said. “It might be easier than taking it off my corpse.”

  Funny, but I was actually voicing the only plan I had. I pulled the necklace off. I flung it at her. Instinctively, Nysa switched the thyrsus to her left in order to catch the sailing necklace.

  With all the strength I had, I lunged onto the top of the air conditioner housing. My fingers touched what I’d found there. It took some struggling, my feet kicking for purchase. Then I had it in my hands.

  Nysa raced across the rooftop, leafy weapon in both hands. She raised it to strike.

  But I’d found the one thing that could take out a Maenad. As I’d figured, if I had to use something repugnant, my next move would be to toss it away. Of course, had I tossed it, it would be on the rooftop. I was no Maenad. Nysa’s toss had thrown it on top of this seven foot structure.

  Swinging as hard as I could, I brought the ox-goad to bear. It was heavy, awkward, and I didn’t know if I should stab her or slap her with it. One of the curved edges caught her chin. My arms stung with the impact.

  Nysa stopped, mid-charge. Her eyes crossed. When she hit the roof, she slid a few feet from her momentum. I jumped off the picnic table, holding the ox-goad over my head for another strike. The Maenad didn’t move. Should I whack her anyway, just for good measure?

  “Holy smokes!” Over my shoulder, I saw Echo leading the PTA across the roof.

  “Don’t kill her, Mary!” Paisley yelled. “We’ve got her set up.”

  I wasn’t sure if I could kill her, even if I wanted to. “Who’s got bracelets? Quick! Quick! Before she comes to!”

  Drusilla did, of course. She tossed me the handcuffs. I caught them in mid-air. Dropped them, because I’m not athletic at all. I picked them up. From Nysa’s hand, I took the necklace. Quickly weaving it through the handcuffs, I tied it in a terrible knot. Then, I grabbed Nysa’s right wrist, slapped the cuff in place. It took a lot of effort, like I was lifting not an arm of flesh, but of stone. But I got her left arm behind her and snapped the bracelets in place.

  With an inhuman roar, Nysa came to. I jumped back. The gun at the small of my back leapt into my hand. Drusilla drew her gun and approached cautiously.

  “Nysa Galatas, you’re under arrest for the murder of Jacinth Galatas Smith and Efrosini Smith, assault on peace officers, and anything else we can come up with,” I said.

  She showed her teeth at me, looking feral beneath the skins and wolf hat. But her ferocity faded into wide eyed shock. Nysa strained at the handcuffs. Laced with the magic amulet, they held just fine.

  “Men cannot hold a handmaid of Dionysus,” she said through her teeth.

  “Probably not,” I admitted. “But at least it was a woman who arrested you.”

  Between Drusilla and myself, we got the bound Maenad to her feet.

  “She’s right, you know,” Echo said. “The minute they take those cuffs off to process her, she’ll bust free.”

  Paisley smiled. “Yeah, but Walleye is the guy who wants her. Let him figure that part out.”

  “I’m sure he’s already on his way here,” Drusilla said. “We’re not the only one with access to ViCAP.”

  I choked up on the ox-goad. The thyrsus was nowhere to be seen. But I kept my eye on the struggling demi-goddess. “We have the murder weapon. Motive. Opportunity. But no court will believe that anyone would have the strength to kill Jane Smith the way she was murdered.”

  “We’ve got that covered. At least for now. Walleye can come up with a better solution if he wants to. This is his mess,” Drusilla said.

  Speak of the devil, Walleye and Agent Stoney ran up the access stairs. Josephine Gustafson and Chuck Shen were on their heels. All of them stopped short at the sight of Nysa in full Maenad garb.

  “We’ll take it from here.” Walleye recovered first.

  He and Stoney took charge of the prisoner, and the ox-goad. The rest of us watched the Fish and Wildlife agents perp-walk Nysa down the stairs.

  “Good,” Drusilla sighed. “Let them handle it. I don’t like planting evidence, even if it is the only way to bring down a bad guy.”

  Shen wandered over. A goofy smile painted his face. “Hey, Drusilla.”

  The FBI agent looked pained.

  “Could you give me a moment with Agent Herald, Chuck?” I said.

  He hiked a shoulder. “Just a moment. Then it’s my turn.”

  I walked her away.

  “Just a few minutes with that amulet,” she muttered.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said. “It’s about the Florida RICO case. I have a definite lead on one of their (what, creatures? Spooks?) uh, people. And I could use your help with something related. It’s pretty important.”

  She studied me. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m due back in San Francisco,
but I’ll make time for you.”

  “I’m not sure exactly how to explain it all.”

  Agent Herald shrugged. “No one ever is. But it sounds like this might be beneficial to both of us. Let me get this case filed, and we’ll talk, Inspector.”

  Chapter 23

  I went to sleep early the night before my suspension ended. There were no more overnight stakeouts at the port. Oddly, I was looking forward to some ordinary gangland killings or serial robberies. Maybe I was here for a reason, the reason being to sort out these paranormal cases, because I was mildly paranormal myself.

  Mostly, as a cop, I just wanted to make a difference, and help people in need. Speaking of need, with Nysa under arrest, and even without the suppressing necklace, I hadn’t turned back into a slut. Not yet, anyway.

  The newspapers talked about the stars. In a few weeks, there would be a spectacular conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn in the night sky. While for some, it would be a few moments of viewing a stellar event. For me, I knew it meant the return of the Angle Man.

  Given that I had arrested a mythological warrior woman by myself, I felt less helpless, less hobbled by my fear of the haunting night figure. So far, I had only had brief conversations with Agent Drusilla Herald, but she and the rest of the PTA had heard of the Soul Brokers. With the right information, I might even be able to bust the supernatural leg-breaker. If not for the dread of the night terrors involved, I might even look forward to it.

  Waiting for sleep to take me, I thought of Errol Smith and his little family. Would we get together, for real? I wasn’t sure my small paranormal powers wouldn’t screw up everything. I pined for a normal life, a life that I almost lived before. That desire was also holding me back. I didn’t want to make someone else’s life denormalized (that probably isn’t a word) just by being part of it.

  And then there was Rembrandt Zelidon, who was far from normal. I was still crazy attracted to the hulking man. He was smart, and gentle, worried that his inner beast might surface and put me in danger. How could a girl not be attracted to that? His hunkiness was also a plus. Prom night notwithstanding, I was definitely feeling warm for his form. Did people still say that?

  Ugly wandered into the bedroom. She crawled in between my boobs and rested there. Her big, googly eyes stared into mine. “Rrrmm,” she said.

  I reached out. In this place, where I wasn’t even close to being the weirdest person, I needed to embrace my small share of power. I had to let my inner bruja flag fly, as it were. Part of that was a deeper connection to my familiar.

  “It’s hard to breathe with you sitting on my chest,” I said.

  “Rrrmm,” Ugly said.

  Warm, I heard in my head.

  “You can be warm lying next to me.”

  With a reluctant sigh—did cats sigh?—Ugly climbed off of me, her paws pressing painfully into my shoulder, my arm, her claws digging into my side when she started to slide. After kneading the blanket for what seemed like ten minutes, the animal curled up next to me. In a moment, she was snoring.

  US Fish and Wildlife came up with the most implausible frame-up for Nysa Galatas. The MO was a base jump that had gone bad for Jane Smith. It went bad because Nysa had sabotaged her parachute. Evidence of this was planted in Nysa’s apartment, with the corresponding nylon fibers “found” on the roof.

  On the one hand, Jane was a known thrill-seeker, so it kinda followed. On the other hand, no one in City Center had seen a woman parachuting on the afternoon of her death. The chute was described as blue and gray in color, not easy to see even in broad daylight. Said parachute was not recovered, of course. Nysa, they said, had recovered it, destroyed it, and they had evidence to back the story.

  In the end, I guess it counted as justice for Jacinth “Jane” Galatas Smith. Her murderer had been arrested and was heading for trial. Until someone decided to take the charmed handcuffs off of her. She was probably in the wind even as I thought about her. Like, literally, in the wind. Lieutenant Dan got his wish. The case was no longer in a purple binder.

  “Hey, Mary, you asleep?”

  On the verge of nodding off, I jerked at the sound of a voice. It was muffled, as if coming from behind glass. “Grammy Epi?”

  From my vantage, I could see her standing in the mirror above the built-in dresser.

  “I was just thinking that there might be some furniture in the attic. It would be nice to have mirrors in other part of the house. I’m tired of seeing you naked.”

  “There’s an attic here? Just when I thought the place couldn’t get any creepier...”

  Grammy Epi folded her arms. “It’s not creepy, it’s just abandoned. You could at least pretend you live here.”

  “I’ll look tomorrow,” I said.

  “You might need help. Probably a sofa and some chairs up there. I’m sure the bedbugs are all dead by now. It’s been more than a year.”

  Bedbugs? “What? Eew!”

  “Fleas and lice live even shorter lives without a blood meal.” Grammy Epi sighed. “Your stupid brother sure rented to some filthy people. Just make sure you vacuum everything really good.”

  “I don’t have a vacuum,” I said.

  “There’s probably one up in the attic.”

  “I’ll look tomorrow. I need some sleep. I work in the morning.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll let you sleep.”

  As I watched, Grammy Epi faded from the silvered glass. I turned over, punched up my duffle bag pillow. The cat protested and went back to sleep. How was it that I had become immune to a woman living in the mirror and a cat who could talk to me? Whatever. I started nodding off again.

  “Probably some linens up there, too.”

  I jerked awake. “Jeeze-Louise, Gammy, will you shut up?”

  “There hasn’t been anyone to talk to in years. So freakin sue me.”

  Of course, the simplest solution would’ve been picking up my duffel bag pillow and sleeping bag and moving to another room. But even in my grumpy, half-asleep mood, I realized something. “I kinda get it. I haven’t had anyone to talk to in a while, either. Not about important things.” I sat up. “Or even trivial things.”

  My great-grandmother faded back into view. “I’m glad you understand.”

  “I told you about the Angle Man. Do you want to hear about my last case? Well, cases, really, they sort of intertwined. It started with a murder just down the street from here. Mr. Sanchez shot at raccoons in his garbage. Do you know Mr. Sanchez? He lives on the corner. I’m almost positive he takes his dog to poop in his neighbor, Miss Gutierrez’ yard. Why? I don’t know. Anyway—”

  Grammy Epi held her hand to her mouth, suppressing a yawn. “Maybe you could tell me tomorrow.”

  “You sure? This is really interesting. See, Mr. Sanchez thought these were raccoons, but then a great big animal leapt up holding a human victim! The animal jumped over his fence with a woman in its paws. Me and my partner heard the gunshots from the front porch, so we ran over to investigate.”

  Grammy Epi held up her palm. “I’m gonna let you sleep. You probably have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure? Because this cowboy guy with different colored eyes showed up with his partner. You’ll never guess who they worked for. US Fish and Wildlife. Investigating a murder—I know, right?”

  “You’ve proven your point.” Grammy Epi faded from the glass. I heard another yawn. “Goodnight, Granddaughter.”

  Getting a TV for Grammy Epi was now a high priority. I was a notoriously lousy storyteller. But I didn’t think I could consistently bore her away. She probably had an endless arsenal of stories about “the old days.”

  I would do it tomorrow. There was a whole lot to do tomorrow. This included getting back to work at Delta Vista Metro. Without a doubt, I’d have to prove that I was a trustworthy investigator again. Shen understood, and Josephine, but not every cop on the force understood curses, hexes and spells.

  It meant I was in this place for a reason. While I was no expert on magic,
I did have a little of it in me. Delta Vista needed a cop who understood, who could be sympathetic, and at the same time, a cop who would fight for justice—even if a crime was paranormal, supernatural or plain ol’ odd.

  And just when I was completely full of myself, overly optimistic about facing future challenges, no matter how scary or impossible they might be, and super-eager to rebuild my community and my life, Ugly made a couple jerky urk-urk sounds and hairballed on the sleeping bag.

  She made a few meow sounds.

  Sorry, I got in my head. Such is life.

  She padded away for less hairbally quarters.

  I squirmed out of my sleeping bag. Gross! Okay, so no grandiose future planning. Sometimes, you just want to sleep, and you get a disgusting hairball. I decided I should just take things one day at a time.

  Don’t miss the next book in the Tortie Kitten Mystery Series:

  Strange Brew

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  Catalog of Books

  The Tortie Kitten Mystery Series

  Bound for Magic

  Strange Brew

  Wandering Eye

  The Farmer’s Market Witch Mystery Series

  Charmed to Death

  Third Crime’s a Charm

  A Devilish Charm

  Hard Knocks Charm

  Secret Charms

  Magic Charms