by R. L. King
“Precisely.” Happenstance looks pleased.
“So this is looking more and more like somebody’s trying to make you think the Skelligs are behind this,” Nick says.
“But why?” Twyla asks. “Why would they want to do that?”
“Easy,” Nick says. “Remember, Grandfather said before that he thinks somebody’s trying to destabilize the magical syndicates? This would be a great way to put the Happenstances and the Skelligs at each other’s throats, especially if Grandfather retaliates against the Skelligs. The whole thing escalates, and before long you’ve got open warfare.”
I nod. “Yeah. So, did you retaliate?” I ask Happenstance.
“I did not. In fact, I’ve just come from a meeting with Lucas Skellig, the head of their organization.”
“You can do that?” Nick asks.
Happenstance isn’t the kind of guy to roll his eyes, but I suspect if he was that kind of guy, he’d be doing it now. “Of course we can do that. We don’t do it often, but as I mentioned before, most of organizations normally enjoy agreeable, if not entirely amicable, relations. When difficult situations arise between two or more of us, sometimes the best way to resolve them is to talk.”
“That’s all surprisingly civilized,” I say sourly. “Three cheers for making nice with the other kids in the organized-crime sandbox. So what did this Lucas Skellig have to say?”
“The short answer: his people aren’t involved.”
“Not surprising. What’s the long answer?”
“The long answer is that he’s as concerned as I am. Mr. DeVries was a trusted member of his organization.”
“Did he tell you why DeVries was meeting with Selene? Does he even know?”
“Yes. That took a bit more persuasion. Since there’s no direct connection—at least none we can identify so far—between that and what’s going on between our organizations, it’s not technically my concern. I had to make certain small concessions to convince him to reveal the information.”
“What kind of small concessions?” Nick asks.
Happenstance waves him off. “Nothing you need concern yourself with. I wasn’t pleased to do it, but it’s the price of doing business. I wanted the information.”
“So…what is the information?” Anticipation starts my heart beating faster again.
“He had arranged a deal with Selene.”
Nick, Twyla, and I all exchange shocked glances. “What kind of deal?” Twyla demands.
“A fairly standard one, if he’s telling the truth. He didn’t seem to feel as if it was anything momentous. Apparently she was chafing under certain restrictions within your family back East, and she wanted to expand her personal power base by forging an alliance with one of the organizations here in Los Angeles. I don’t know why she chose the Skelligs, but Lucas confirms that they’d been in communication for some time, and she had agreed to ongoing payments in exchange for certain arrangements. She didn’t want to meet in person for obvious reasons, so she arranged for Ms. Rainwater to deliver the first good-faith payment during the course of her unrelated meeting about the video production.”
“She used me as a mule?” Twyla snaps. Her eyes flash with anger at yet another betrayal by her trusted mentor.
“Has she tried to contact Skellig again since DeVries died?” I ask.
“He claims she has not. He was shocked to find out about DeVries’s—that is to say Hooper’s—death, and believes whoever murdered him also stole the money Ms. Rainwater was supposed to deliver. I did not disabuse him of that notion,” he adds with a wry smile.
“Has he tried to contact her?”
“He’s been unable to reach her at the number she gave him.”
I let my breath out. “Well, this is a big mess. So Selene is—or was—in bed with Skellig, but Skellig and Torres both claim to know nothing about Hooper’s death. Did you tell him about the Tarot card and the attempt to frame your organization?”
“I did. Apparently this isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened. I hadn’t heard about it until today, but apparently just last month, the Crowfeather and Whitehall organizations nearly went to war over a series of poisonings at one of Crowfeather’s restaurants that had all the marks of Whitehall’s work. It was only through some last-minute diplomacy and powerful magic that the crisis was averted and kept quiet. And Skellig has told me—in strictest confidence, so do not spread this around, please—that some of the other organizations are equally concerned, and tensions are running higher than I suspected between some of them. That doesn’t surprise me—several of the other organizations’ leaders aren’t as willing to look beyond the obvious as Skellig and I are.”
“What about the zombie cannibal stuff, and the magical roid-heads?” Nick asks. “Does Skellig know anything about that?”
“More of the same, he suspects,” Happenstance says. “Someone behind the scenes is using some sort of magic to aggravate the gangs, and all of the organizations have been affected.”
“So somebody is trying to stir you all up against each other. This can’t all just be coincidence.”
“So it would appear. But so far, none of us have any idea who it is. Unfortunately, our raid last month was the closest we’ve been able to get to this mysterious provocateur, but even after examining the machine we found, we still aren’t any closer to identifying who might have built it.”
“Well, we know who built it,” I say, frowning. “Those were demons back there. I’m sure of it.”
“Yes. I don’t disagree with that. But that doesn’t tell us whether the demons are behind the problem or were merely being used as muscle. Even that is disturbing enough, granted—and so far, I haven’t shared any of the information we discovered during the raid with any of the other organizations. That might have to change.” He sighs. “As much as none of us like the idea, we may be forced to arrange a summit between all seven of the local organizations, to avoid second-hand information.”
“Mr. Happenstance,” I say abruptly, “have you ever heard of someone named Razakal?”
Nick and Twyla both shoot me sharp looks, but I ignore them. Maybe telling him isn’t the best course of action, but right now I’m more interested in tracking the bastard down than in keeping secrets.
Happenstance tilts his head. “Can’t say I have. Max?”
“Nope. Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Who is he?”
Now I do exchange glances with Nick and Twyla, but only to make sure they’re not completely against me telling the rest. I still feel like, ultimately, this is my story to tell or not. Yeah, Selene killed Twy’s mom, but she’s fucked up the last five years of my life with her scheme and now it seems like she’s at it again.
“Ms. Broome?”
“Okay. I don’t even know if this is related to your problem, but here goes.” Keeping my voice dry and delivering only the facts, I give him the basics of the ritual I did and what I found out.
He listens without moving, his unblinking, bright green eyes fixed on me like a lizard on a rock observing a tasty bit of potential prey. When I finish with the part about Selene dismissing the spirit, he leans forward in his chair. His expression has gone utterly still.
“So?” I say. “Does that say anything to you? Are you still sure you don’t know who this Razakal person is?”
He remains silent long enough that I’m just about to speak up again. But then he finally looks away and lets his breath out. “I don’t know who he is. I’ve never heard of him.”
“Do you think Lucas Skellig might know?” Nick asks. “If Selene is dealing with Razakal—”
“Yeah, but that was five years ago,” I remind him. “We have no idea if she still is. Maybe she’s moved on.”
“But that thing did show up in the circle again, which means somebody’s still pulling its strings. We also don’t know how many other arrangements Selene’s set up,” Nick says. “If she’s trying to do this one with Skellig, maybe she’s got more, in other ar
eas.”
Happenstance shakes his head, waving his hand like he’s trying to clear the conversational field. “So far, we have no idea whether this Razakal individual has any connection to what’s going on with our organizations, beyond his or her association with Selene. Have you attempted to contact her at all?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “We called Nana this morning and told her the whole story. I was afraid to do it, but now I’m glad we did. I’m certain she’s not involved. Selene was supposed to be in Prague, but when Nana tried to reach her, she couldn’t. She’s disappeared. Not sure if that means she got wind that we were on to her, or she found out about DeVries and got spooked, or what, but so far we’ve got nothing. I’m going to call Nana back when we’re done here and ask her about Razakal, but the fact that she hasn’t called us back tells me she probably doesn’t have any news yet.”
“Damn. This is turning into a knotty problem.” Happenstance finishes his drink and gets up. “All right, then. I’ve got some things I still need to take care of today, but please keep me updated if you discover anything else. I’ll do the same if I do.”
“Yeah.” I try not to let my discouragement reach my voice, though I’m sure it’s in my aura. That’s another thing I’m going to need to do if I decide to pick up magical study again—learn to control my aura. But I honestly have no idea whether I even want to at this point. I like the mundane life I’ve made for myself, and magic has caused me nothing but trouble. “I could use a good night’s sleep, if nothing else. Coming, Nick?”
Nick hadn’t gotten up when Twyla and I had. Now, he glances between me and Happenstance. “I…think I might stay here for a bit, if that’s okay with you, Grandfather. I’ve—got a couple things I want to discuss with you.”
“Of course,” he says. “You’re always welcome here, my boy.”
Twyla looks like she’s about to say something, but I touch her arm and shake my head. It’s a good thing I hadn’t made any bets about how long it would take Nick to hit Grandpa Godfather up for magical advice, because I’d have lost.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It’s late to call Nana, so Twyla and I head back to my apartment. Rory meets us at the door with her standard You’ve been gone FOREVER! guilt-inducing expression, and Alice has cued up some light jazz on the stereo. I hate light jazz, but I think she finds it comforting. I let it go because I’m too tired to argue about it.
Flinging myself down on the sofa, I let out a loud sigh. “I got nothing, Twy. Until Nana gets back to us, we don’t have any idea where Selene is, or what she’s planning. Is she working with this Razakal guy, or Skellig, or both? And is she planning to come after us?” I wave, encompassing the apartment. “Even with the wards you put up, we don’t have anywhere near the magical defenses to hold off somebody like her. Especially if she’s got any more of those big bad spirits on her side.”
Twyla nods understandingly, but she looks stressed too. “The only connection we have between Selene, what happened to my mom, and what’s going on with the L.A. syndicates is this Razakal guy. And that’s only because Selene is connected to both the syndicates through Skellig, and Razakal through the ritual. That could just be a coincidence.”
I shamble to my feet. “All I know is I’m tired. Those wards should warn us if anything tries to get in, right?”
“I hope so.” She sounds dubious.
“Well, if they don’t, maybe Alice will. But either way I have to get some sleep or I’m not going to be worth shit for anything.”
I half hope, probably for the first time ever, that I’ll have another dream to poke some insight into my mashed-up brain. But when I head out front in the morning and find Twyla sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal and a hopeful Rory, I realize I might as well have been a corpse last night.
“You didn’t have any dreams, did you?” I ask her.
“Not a thing. And I’m not sorry to say that.”
“I guess nobody tried to get in. Right, Alice?”
The box of Lucky Charms scoots across the table and drops to the floor. Rory leaps after it.
“I guess that’s a confirmation.”
“So…you want to call Nana, or should I do it?”
“Let’s do it together, I guess. She’s probably awake by now.” I put my phone in the middle of the table, put it on speaker, and punch the familiar number. I’m not sure why I feel as nervous as I do.
It’s picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
I recognize Belinda’s chirpy voice. I can’t ever remember being that cheerful, especially not this early in the day. “Hey, Belinda. It’s Bron and Twyla. Is Nana around?”
“Oh, wow, I’m sorry, guys. She’s not. She’s off dealing with something, but she didn’t tell me what. I guess she never tells me what, though, so this is nothing new.”
I sigh. Remember how I mentioned that my mom is basically a Luddite when it comes to modern technology? Well, next to Nana she looks like the love child of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. I don’t even bother asking Belinda if there’s a number we can reach her at. The people back there have magical ways to contact her in emergencies, but those won’t work from this far away. Plus, this isn’t technically an emergency. It can wait a couple of hours. “Okay, then. That’s okay. Do you have any idea when she’ll be back?”
“She didn’t give me a time, but she has an appointment this afternoon, so I guess she’ll be back by then.”
“Thanks, Belinda. Can you ask her to call us when she gets back?”
“Sure thing. Twyla, I can’t wait to hear all your fun stories about California.”
Twyla and I exchange glances, and I’m sure we’re both thinking the same thing: should we tell her about the drugged-up cannibal zombies first, or the guy with his heart ripped out of his chest?
I hang up and jam the phone back in my pocket. “So…what do you want to do? Still not in the mood for sightseeing, I’m guessing?”
“Not really. Plus, I don’t think it’s a good idea to be out running around if Selene might be looking for us. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind just hanging out for a while. Why don’t you call Nick and see if he wants to have another book-sorting party at the shop? If you provide pizza for lunch, I’m happy to be free labor again.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “Twy…am I sensing a little attraction here?”
She shrugs, but I don’t miss her guilty smile. “Mmmaybe. I don’t know yet. I hardly know him, but he is cute, and as long as you’re not going after him…You don’t mind, do you? I’m not talking a long-term relationship or anything, but if he’s up for a little fun while I’m out here…”
Some things never change. “That’s up to him. I’m not sure he’s a one-night-stand kind of guy. But who am I to stand in the way of true love? Want me to give him a call?”
“Well, if you wouldn’t mind…” she says slyly.
I don’t know whether it’s because he’s bored or because Twyla’s feelings are mutual, but Nick agrees right away to meet us at the shop. “You’re lucky my work’s a little sparse this week,” he says. “I don’t have another reading until Monday.”
I’ve been feeling bad about keeping the shop closed for the last couple of days, even though most of my business doesn’t come from walk-ins, so I decide to open up for a while, at least until we can talk to Nana. Nick arrives a little after we get there and finds us examining one of my paintings behind the counter.
“Showing Twyla your weird ‘sound painting’ thing?” he asks.
Twyla laughs. “Oh, this is nothing new. She’s been doing these since we were kids. I still remember when I used to blast all that terrible bubblegum pop stuff and she used to paint these wild pictures to go with it. I used to be so jealous—I was halfway convinced she was making the whole thing up to get attention, except she never wanted attention. I’m kind of amazed she’s actually making money at it now.”
“Yeah, well, nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public.” I put som
e brushes back in a can and push it back on my work table. “That quote gets attributed to H. L. Mencken, but it never actually appeared in his work.”
“You read too much, Bron,” Nick teases.
“Pot, kettle, black, dude. How did your talk with Grandpa go, by the way?”
He grins. “Pretty good, actually. You want to see something?”
I give him the side-eye. “I never know how to answer that.”
“I do,” Twyla says, waggling her eyebrows. “Want to see something, I mean.”
Get a room, you two. Sheesh.
It takes Nick a second to catch on, and he actually blushes a little. It’s cute. “Uh—yeah. So anyway, I spent about an hour with Grandfather last night, and…well, come over here for a minute.”
Curious, we both follow him to one of the tables I’ve got out for people to sit and read at. He grabs a magazine from a shelf and puts it in the center of the surface. “Okay. Twyla, please levitate the magazine. Just a couple inches off the table.”
She frowns at him. “It’s not going to work with you there.”
“Just try it, okay?”
With a quick look at me, she shrugs. “Okay, but I’m not responsible if this blows a hole in Bron’s table.” She concentrates on the magazine, which lifts neatly off the table and hovers there.
For about a second and a half, anyway. Then it flutters and flumps back down.
“That was entertaining…” I drawl.
“Hang on,” Nick says. He was staring at the magazine even harder than Twyla was, and now he sounds a little frustrated but not daunted. He takes a couple of deep breaths, then nods at Twyla. “Try it again.”
Twyla’s looking dubious, but she humors him. Once again, the magazine rises from the table and floats, a little higher this time.
Nick’s brow is furrowed, and his face is scrunched up like a baby who’s about to drop a diaper delivery.
The magazine continues to hover. It dips a little and almost seems like it’s going to crash and burn, but then it seems to catch an air current and remains where it is.