Nine Lives: Providence Paranormal College Book Nine

by Perry, D. R.

  “Well, it is one. Of the search and retrieve variety.”

  “I guess you know what you’re talking about. You’ve been one of the queen’s knights for a couple of years now.” Al took my blatant attempts to avoid asking him questions in stride.

  “It’s been three as a knight, after the year I spent as a page and the next as a Squire.” Al sighed. “It feels like forever, though.”

  There was something I had to know, and the only way to find out was to ask at least one direct question. You only live once, right?

  “If you don’t mind my asking, are you happy?”

  “That’s a personal question.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s personal because it’s so general and specific at the same time.” I took a deep breath and started again. “What I really mean is, I’m worried about how much of a chore Quests generally are and want to know whether it’s possible to be happy doing them.”

  “They are, and they aren’t.” Al’s eyes got as distant as the peak of Mount Everest. “My queen is demanding, exacting in her standards, and her rule is law. A harder sort of law than the mortal ones we’ve been preparing to practice here. The king is an entirely different kind of ruler.”

  “How so?” I stopped short of putting my hand over my mouth or kicking myself for being sloppy and asking a second question.

  “I’m sure your Gnomish assistant can tell you more than I know, but I have heard rumors.” He smirked.

  “I don’t mind listening to those.” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Mainly, they say that his rules bend. In fact, he expects flexibility.” Al’s smirk grew into a smile. “I’ve been given to understand that the more rules bent and boundaries pressed while on his Quests, the greater the reward.”

  “So, I can expect a longer and stranger trip than Ed’s little adventure this spring?”

  “Stranger, yes.” He shrugged. “Longer is up for debate.”

  “And I’ve gone and asked you three questions like a total idiot.” I hung my head, then shook it. I looked back up again and got a crick in my neck. “Ow.”

  “Don’t worry. I can’t demand a favor from you while you assist the king.”

  “I bet that’s because I’ll be on his side of the Under.”

  “Exactly. And don’t worry too much about owing me. You were bound to owe me something simply because we are interning at the same firm.”

  “Interesting.” I tilted my head AND The stupid crick in it twinged. “I wonder how much Mr. Ichiro owes your mother.”

  “Nothing at all. In fact, she’s still paying off a twenty-three-year-old debt to him.”

  “Wow. I bet that’s an interesting story.” I would have nodded or otherwise physically indicated my curiosity but didn’t want to aggravate my stupid neck.

  “It is, and if I knew it, I’d tell it. All I can say is that it involved an aunt I've never met. You need to look at that file and make it to the courthouse by an hour after dusk.”

  “I’ll see you then, Al. And thanks.” I grabbed the door, preparing to close it.

  “After ending up in my debt, I ought to be the one thanking you, Olivia. Good afternoon.”

  I watched him go, wondering why his straight back and square shoulders gave the impression of some old and secret sadness. The file held photos of crime scenes, evidence, and a report to the Federal Bureau of Extrahuman Investigation. I had way too much to do in too little time. Beth had been right about one thing, the same thing Al had implied when he declined to tell the story of Mr. Ichiro and Mrs. Dunstable.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on the past.

  Chapter Four

  Olivia

  The night court loomed ahead of me in the darkness, except it didn’t look dark by that point. Going off the meds had enhanced my night vision. I stared at it, the tall, granite-gray lines of its Art Deco architecture making it more imposing than Batman in a dark alley. I wondered what it’d be like to shift and fly up to perch on the top like a gargoyle, but I’d fail this city if I didn’t head inside and help Mr. Ichiro do his job to defend an innocent man.

  My feet pattered on the stone steps, flat and without an echo. I pushed through the door, letting the bailiff wave a wand over me and the briefcase I carried even though I’d just passed through the rectangular metal detector around the door. The contraptions looked like wedding arches for robots, or maybe cyborgs. I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, battling the image my mind conjured. It had me walking with my father down a long aisle lined with my friends and packmates, with Tony at the end.

  “You okay, Miss?” The bailiff’s forehead was a concerned crinkle.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Sure, whatever.” A hand clapped me once on the shoulder. “I’ve got it from here, George.”

  I glanced right to find Josh Dennison, the wolf-shifter Alpha of Tinfoil Hat, wearing a security badge. It made sense. He was majoring in Extrahuman Criminal Justice and was expected to join the Providence Police Force’s Extrahuman Unit after graduation. He held out one hand, gesturing toward the hallway that led to the courtroom. “Hey, I want to apologize for Beth. She was way out of line.”

  “No, she wasn’t.” I looked down, watching the inlaid marble pass under my feet as I stepped along. “Beth’s had an experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

  “It doesn’t excuse her for making assumptions about your life, though.” Josh snorted. “Beth’s temper came back from the dead with Ren. It’s good for some reasons, but not so much in the socialization department.”

  “It’s all good, Josh.” I stopped to wait by the closed courtroom door.

  “Okay.” He turned to face me. “Now, what’s this I hear about the Goblin King?”

  “Oh, he wants me to help him find some kind of interloper in his demesne.”

  “Did he say who?” Josh scratched his chin. I wondered whether he was thinking about his brother, Derek, who’d gone missing seven years before. But he’d been hauled off for shifting in public by some Psychic Federal agent named Natalie Johnson, not Unseelie faeries. His family hadn’t been able to find out where he’d been incarcerated, either. I knew because I’d read the report.

  “No.” I shook my head. “He only said it’s someone who doesn’t belong there.”

  “Huh.” Josh sighed, then stopped scratching his chin to run one hand through his hair. “Well, you should drop by Nox’s place when you get a chance. She’d been on that side of the Under before and might have some useful intel for you.”

  “Um, but…” I wasn’t sure I wanted to correct my Alpha, but he never seemed to mind much when Lynn or Blaine did, so I went ahead. “Well, won’t I just be an owl the whole time I’m there, anyway?”

  “Oh, right. Yeah.” He put his hands on his hips. “Hmm. I wonder why the king wants you there, then. It’s not like you could talk to this person if you find them. Or fight them, even. Unless it’s a mouse shifter or something.” Josh chuckled. “Someone like that would be terrified of your owl.”

  “I mentioned that to Ron…um, I mean the king, but he said he wanted me specifically.”

  “Leaping Luna!”

  “What?”

  “Did you just—” Josh blinked. “I mean, the Goblin freaking King had you call him by one of his borrowed given names!”

  “Shh.” I glanced around, but the hall was still empty. Mostly. There were a few ghosts in there, but they hadn’t so much as looked at us. “It’s not something I want the world to know about, okay?”

  “Okay. But wow. That’s serious.” Josh narrowed his eyes. “When was the last time a Magus checked your coincidence? Have you had a Psychic reading recently?”

  “I dunno.” I shook my head. “Well, Mr. Ichiro checked my Luck last night, but I don’t have time for any of that.” I jerked a thumb at the massive oak door, which had started to creak open.

  “Yeah. Okay, right on.” Josh nodded. “I mean it about going to see Nox. You never know what information might come in handy.”

 
; “Okay, I’ll do that.” Mentioning that I didn’t have time seemed like a bad idea. I turned to look at the courtroom entrance, watching a flicker of dim light grow between the two wooden panels of the double doors.

  Josh waved, glancing back over his shoulder as he walked away. The wolf shifter probably thought the doors opened by telekinesis or all on their own. But some ghosts in uniform pulled it open even though owl shifters like me weren’t supposed to be able to see them. I gave each of them a nod, then headed inside.

  I’d been in the night court building before, but never the big courtroom. The place reminded me of a cave if only caves had Rococo carvings at the bases of their walls. Columns that tapered toward the middle like conjoined stalactites and stalagmites framed the Judicial bench, also ornately carved. I wondered how, before the reveal, anyone could have believed this room was mundane. The sense of wonder it inspired was like the first night I remembered seeing the full moon.

  Setting the briefcase down, I sat in the first row. Unzipped, the case reminded me of some reptilian creature who’d choked on a ream of paper. It didn’t take long to sift through to find the photos and documents we’d need and set those aside.

  There was still time, so I flipped open the report to the Federal Bureau of Extrahumans. My eyes bugged out at all the dropped names. I’d expected to see Brodsky, Watkins, and Thurston mentioned, but Hertha Harcourt? Gino Gitano was there, and Tony’s name sat at the bottom of the potential contacts list, right under Detectives Weaver and Klein of the Newport PD.

  Closing my eyes, I thought back to Kimiko’s story about Spring Break in Newport. Tony had played informant for a drive-by shooting with Blaine Harcourt as its target. His stepfather Wilfred had also died that week, and the circumstances surrounding his death were baffling. I checked the notes and found a few lines about him. Pharaoh’s Rats in the Harcourt hoard? No wonder they’d dinged the FBE.

  That’d be a second crime against extrahumanity, if intentional. Introducing predatory magical critters into a non-native habitat was just a misdemeanor, but planting them in a dragon’s home is a flat-out felony of the premeditated murder variety. If the feds knew back in the spring, why hadn’t they been involved since then? I leaned back in the chair, trying to think of some reason. The only thing that made sense to me was that they'd sent an agent who'd failed.

  “Miss Adler.” Mr. Ichiro set his epic briefcase down on the defendant’s table. “Thank you for coming prepared. However, you’ve taken the incorrect seat.”

  “Oops.” I got up, managing not to spill everything off my lap. Then I headed to the other side of the table, set the documents down in a neat pile in front of me, and tucked the FBE file away.

  A few minutes later, a bailiff escorted Pavlo Brodsky in from the secure entrance and ushered him to the vacant seat beside Mr. Ichiro. I hadn’t actually seen him since before he got arrested, only heard his voice on the recordings I’d transcribed.

  “I see you got the suit,” said Mr. Ichiro.

  “Da.” Professor Brodsky cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. Thank you.” He brushed a speck of lint off his sleeve. “Are you sure about this brown?”

  “Yes.” Mr. Ichiro nodded. “It gives an academic impression, which is what we want on the day your colleague testifies.”

  “I can hardly believe he recovered in time.” Professor Brodsky shook his head. “It’s miraculous.”

  Professor Brodsky couldn’t hear the faint squeak of rubber wheels on the stone floor. Mr. Ichiro’s faint grin hinted that his hearing was on a par with my own. I turned halfway around in my seat to see Nathaniel Watkins in his wheelchair, Josh pushing him along. More guests, witnesses, and the prosecution team filed in after them.

  “Miraculous me has some ghosts, a medium, and Adler here to thank.” Professor Watkins chuckled. “Hello, Pavlo.”

  “You look like death, Nate.”

  “I know.” Professor Watkins chuckled again. “It was all the rage back during the Emo craze, but I seem to have missed that trend.”

  “How can you joke when the one who did this to us is still out there?” Professor Brodsky paled. He refrained from looking in the jury box’s direction. I would have too, were I in his shoes.

  “How can you not?” Watkins winked. I couldn’t help but giggle a little. “See? Adler gets it. Keep that sense of humor. You’ll need it.”

  A door closed on one side of the bench and I automatically stood, even before the bailiff gave the announcement to rise for the right honorable Judge Beatrice Fiori. I glanced at the prosecution’s table just in time to see Karen Gunn, the Assistant District Attorney, tuck something black and shiny into the briefcase in front of her.

  Since it was the second night of the State of Rhode Island versus Pavlo Brodsky, the lawyers had already given their opening statements. Karen Gunn presented evidence analysis of two dead vampires’ remains, along with photos and video of the destruction at the Nocturnal Lounge, PPC Library, and Henry’s apartment building. An MCSI had gone on the stand to explain the magic and Psychic powers needed to make such attacks with wards in place. Justice Fiori called the court to order, and Karen Gunn rose to call her third witness.

  “The prosecution calls Henry Baxter to the witness stand.” The pointy leather toe of Karen’s shoe tapped in counterpoint to the stamp of Henry’s Doc Martins.

  Henry wore a shirt, tie, and sports coat instead of his Sisters of Mercy t-shirt and the leather jacket with the painted Bauhaus logo. The Alliance Medallion that officially linked the vampire to a shifter pack dangled from his tie clip. He stepped up to the stand, then followed the swearing-in process. They gave vampires the option to swear on something other than the Bible, but Henry didn’t request that option. His hand looked right at home on the pebbled black leather binding of the book.

  Karen Gunn paced toward the witness stand, stopping less than a foot from the court reporter, who looked like he wasn’t happy about the invasion of personal space. The prosecutor tapped her foot three more times on the floor, her sleek ponytail bobbing along like a chestnut- and gray-streaked robin, the red blouse under her gray jacket only enhancing that impression.

  “Mr. Baxter, how many times were you attacked last January?”

  “Three.”

  “And you say two different creatures came after you, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Name them for the court, please, Mr. Baxter.”

  “The first two times I got attacked by a Grim and the third time, it was a Spite.”

  “I see.” Miss Gunn turned her back on the stand and Henry, facing the Judge. “No further questions for this witness, Your Honor.”

  “That’s no good.” Professor Brodsky stared down at the table in front of him. I understood what he meant. Brodsky was the only Summoner in the Rhode Island Registry to control both a Grim and a Spite. Mr. Ichiro wouldn’t be able to ask about anything besides the attacks or the creatures on cross-examination. All the same, my boss got up and strode across the stone floor to smile up at Henry.

  “Mr. Baxter, what else did you see during those attacks?”

  “Objection.” Karen stared daggers at Yoshi Ichiro. “Indefinite question, Your Honor.”

  “Sustained, Miss Gunn.” Judge Fiori nodded. “Narrow your focus, Mr. Ichiro.”

  “Please name any other humans or extrahumans present at the start of each attack, Mr. Baxter.”

  “The first time, I was with Tony Gitano, cat shifter.” Henry sighed. “No one else was there. The second time, I was with Maddie May, Umbral magus. And the third time, this was the Spite attack, again with Miss May.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Baxter.” Mr. Ichiro bowed his head to Judge Fiori. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  Yoshi paced back to our table, grinning at Karen as they passed each other. He took his seat, and she waited for Henry to vacate the witness stand. “I call my next witness, Margot Malone.”

  I glanced at Mr. Ichiro. We hadn’t anticipated the prosecution calli
ng an extrahuman expert witness to the stand.

  “Miss Malone, you’re a Summoner, like the defendant, correct?”

  “Yes.” Margot’s coppery curls bounced on her shoulders as she nodded.

  “Exactly how long have you been summoning supernatural and pure faerie creatures?”

  “Since nineteen sixty.”

  Karen Gunn took five clicking steps over to the prosecution’s table and pressed a button on her briefcase. A magigraphic display hovered in mid-air. “I’d like you to look at these photos taken by MCSI at the defendant’s apartment. What are the items in the display, Miss Malone?” Karen stepped toward Margot again.

  “These objects are anchors creatures have an affinity to. Summoner-class Psychics like me can use them to call for aid.”

  “Can anchors call dangerous hunting hounds like the Umbral Grim and the Seelie Spite that tortured and killed two vampires and attacked Mr. Baxter?”

  “Yes, if the Summoner has an agreement with a Grim or a Spite, they can make an anchor together.”

  “How long does it take to develop powers strong enough to get an agreement with either of the creatures you mentioned?” Karen clicked back toward the briefcase again.

  “Half a century of study, at least.”

  “This is a record of Professor Brodsky’s credentials from Providence Paranormal College faculty archives.” Karen pressed the button again, and the display showed a doctoral diploma inked in Russian. The display captioned the image with an English translation, naming the institution as the Minsk Psychic Institute. “Please tell me how many years of study it takes to get this degree and read the date, Miss Malone.”

  “A Ph.D. takes from twelve to fifteen years of study at a college like PPC from Baccalaureate all the way up. And that date says January twentieth, nineteen forty.”

  “No further questions, Your Honor.” Karen sat down on the edge of her seat.

  “Miss Malone,” Mr. Ichiro stood, then pressed his own button for our magigraphic display. The image went back to the evidence photo. “Please point out the Grim and Spite anchors in this picture.”