by Sierra Cross
We locked eyes in the mother of all standoffs. It was high noon at the OK Corral. My eyes burned from not blinking, but I wasn’t backing down.
He huffed and spun his chair to face the wall. Sliding a stack of books out of the way, he opened a small safe. When he turned back around, Marley’s chain dangled from his fingers.
“I don’t have to tell you how sensitive this investigation is.” He let out an audible breath. “For the sake of discretion, I’ve been running it outside the normal channels. But it’s been slow going to say the least. Perhaps your hail Mary incantation will amount to something.”
He had possession of the chain all along? I prayed my face didn’t betray my shock. The last thing I wanted was for the Director to know I was growing suspicious of his handling of this case.
“Damn it!” Several hours later, Liv dropped Asher’s solid gold pendulum and the bronze chain onto the butcher-block surface of the lab table for the seventh time. “So much for my idea.”
It had taken most of the day to source and prepare the items for the spell. All four of us—even Matt—helped to carefully combine witches’ herbs, then crushed them together and burned them. The bronze chain had been bathed in the flame of the small candle with the obsidian in its base. On the lab table, a circle of ash from the herbs rimmed a map of the city of Seattle.
“Maybe it’s your pronunciation?” Matt asked tentatively.
“Thank you, guardian, for your expert insights on spellcasting,” Asher quipped.
“Well, shit, at least I look for solutions rather than constantly pointing out failures.”
“Except just now, you mean?”
It was a decent comeback, I thought, but Matt sat up straight, his voice almost a snarl. “You calling me a hypocrite, warlock?”
Whoa, Asher had struck a nerve.
“If the steel-toed boot fits.” Asher met Matt’s angry gaze and I knew the two of them were not entirely joking.
“Okay, okay, let’s take it down a notch,” I said, thinking it was backward that Matt was angry and Asher was chill. That’s it. “Liv! Say the spell in reverse. Say the whole thing backward.”
Asher looked like he was about to object, but the look Matt gave him made him think better of it. He nodded at Liv encouragingly, “Go ahead. Try. We’ve got nothing to lose.”
Liv picked up the pendulum and the chain and pulled the paper with the spell written on it. Tucking the chain in her left palm, she held the pendulum over the map with her right as she read the spell completely in reverse. She stumbled over the pronunciation, but I knew—even if Matt didn’t—that how you said a spell didn’t count as long as you got all the words out.
And before she finished the spell the pendulum started to swing. Slowly at first. Then in a superfast, tight circle over the Spelldrift neighborhood.
Asher ripped the map out from under the pendulum. Grey ash flew everywhere. “What are you doing?” I coughed. “It was working!”
He rummaged through papers on the shelf next to us. Pulled a map printed from his computer, just a close view of Capitol Hill, the Spelldrift outlined in red marker. “Yes, it is,” he said excitedly. “That’s why the pendulum was just spinning. We’re too close.”
He quickly poured another ash circle. “Do it again!”
Liv dangled the pendulum over Asher’s print out, and it pointed to an address only two blocks away.
Next door to Dick’s Burgers was a small comic book shop, Banshee Comics & Games. We stood in front of it, Liv still holding the pendulum.
“Whoever it is has to be in here,” she said, confident.
Matt yanked the door and marched through the tidy rows of brightly colored offerings on the shelves. Glass display cases showed off collectible action figures as well as pewter game piece miniatures that had been painted in painstaking detail—with price tags to match. On a shelf at eye level, a ten inch tall Harley Quinn—clad in a skintight black and red jester costume, holding a huge mallet mid-swing—glared at me. I couldn’t help but admire the multiple daggers she had strapped up her legs. Made my ankle-boot setup look minimalist. I resolved to get a cooler rig.
At the back of the store were a half-dozen lunchroom-type tables populated with hardcore gamers. The players were animated and serious, but seemed good-natured in their disagreements. I’d done some gaming in high school and knew how much fun it could be, and these guys and girls were having fun for sure. Most of them looked a little younger than me, though a few were much older. It was extremely disturbing to think one of these harmless-looking, nerdy folks may have killed Marley.
As they started to finish up, some of the players were getting up to get snacks from the back of the room, while others moved to watch games wrap up at other tables. So they were constantly crisscrossing back and forth. How were we supposed to figure out who was the one?
Liv held up the pendulum, and it spun and spun. “Any suggestions, team?”
“Let’s go wait by the front.” Matt glanced at his watch. “They close in twenty minutes. Liv, just keep it swinging as they exit.”
I noticed a store employee was walking up and down the rows, moderating the remaining games. His greasy blond hair hung over his forehead and a Marvel Avenger’s T-shirt clung to his underweight from. A scraggly beard obscured his jawline. He had to be at least twenty-five, but still sported a smattering of teenage acne. Though his posture was terrible, shoulders hunched downward, I realized he was actually a tall guy who could be attractive in a long, lean way if he put in the slightest effort. As he answered questions, I got the distinct impression he was more interested in spending his effort telling people when they were wrong. So wrong. The sound of his arrogant voice grated on me after five minutes. Then his phone rang and he stepped to the side to answer it. He said a few things I couldn’t hear but as I moved in closer I caught the tail end of the call. “…as soon as I close up. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I won’t be late.”
Whoa, what happened to his arrogant tone?
“Leonard! We need a ruling here,” one of the players called to the shop guy.
“As I’ve told you multiple times, moron, it’s Damon now.” And the arrogant tone was back.
He immediately ruled against the guy who called him Leonard—I was sure it was retaliatory.
At 10:00 p.m., the players slowly started to file out. We didn’t, even though Leonard looked at us a number of times like he was willing us to leave.
Liv stood there holding the pendulum, fiddling with it, like it was just something she was doing out of boredom or awkwardness. The last customer filed out and the pendulum didn’t change its course. The only other person left in the store was Leonard.
Guess that wasn’t too much of a shock.
“Closing time.” Leonard snuck a glance at Matt’s brawn, clearly trying to act like he wasn’t intimidated. “Gonna have to ask you all to leave.” He flipped the store lights off and tried to lead us toward the front door.
“Oh, no. I think it’s time for us to get to know each other better.” Asher stepped in front of him, flipped the lock and turned the open sign to closed. “I think we should go someplace private and have a chat.”
Leonard’s face blanched with fear. “I’ve got maybe a hundred bucks in the till.” He backed up to the wall. “Just take it.”
“Drama much, Asher? We aren’t even sure it’s him.” Liv turned to the guy. “Look, we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to ask you a few questions.” She put an arm gently around his shoulders and led him toward the back. I wondered if she was playing good cop or what.
The five of us only barely fit into his office, which was already crowded from having a desk and two chairs in it. A single office surplus lamp with a low wattage bulb was the only light in the room. Well, at least we were no longer visible through the front windows.
Asher pulled his gloves off one finger at a time. The roiling tattoos were emanating an eerie golden glow in the half light, and Leonard’s eyes practically popped out of his he
ad. “I actually am here to hurt you.” He flicked a finger and sent a flickering spark that hit the chair near Leonard’s arm. The shop guy squeaked in imagined pain.
“Stand down, Asher.” Matt’s voice was gruff. “Let’s find out what he has to say.”
“We think you have something we’re looking for.” Liv said patiently. “A stolen amulet, and we need to get it back. And, not to put you on the spot or anything but…the residue of its magic is lingering on you.”
Leonard was either a clueless Wont, or doing a good job of looking like one. What were the odds he was lying? I was just about to think we’re at another dead end when I caught a whiff of Leonard’s scent.
An acrid, chemical smell. Where had I encountered it before? The bar fight. Several weeks ago, outside of Sanctum, a nasty guy had jumped me and almost gotten the better of me, thanks to the magic potion he’d bought and ingested for the occasion.
“This guy’s a mage,” I said with certainty.
“What? How do you know?” Matt asked.
“I can smell it on him. Can’t you smell it?” The others shrugged. Huh, something I could do that they couldn’t? “He smells like the guy from the bar fight,” I said, looking at Matt. “It’s forced alchemy, not magicborn. Lab magic.”
“So what?” Leonard sputtered. “Being a mage isn’t illegal.” His voice turned arrogant again like when he was making imperious rulings to his fellow gamers. “Threatening bodily harm, however, is punishable by up to two years jail time.”
The little creep. I had no doubt he’d pulled those numbers of out of his ass.
“Fat lot of good it’ll do you if you’re a smoldering ash heap.” I flicked my hands into position, ready to call my magic. The peach pit quivered in my gut and with an icy chill I remembered the green tinge that might show itself. Kicking up my heel, I grabbed my karambit and held it up to his cheek. “Or I could introduce you to my blade.”
Matt shot me a withering look, but I didn’t back down. I was with Asher on this. This guy could be the difference between freedom and the penitentiary. I wasn’t going to torture him for goodness sake, but I was more than willing to scare an answer out of him.
“Okay, okay!” Leonard held up his hands in an embarrassingly quick surrender. I sheathed my blade. “So I delivered it to the witch in Edmunds. I’m a courier. It’s just to pick up some extra cash on the side. I securely deliver magical artifacts and other magicborn items you don’t want scanned through UPS. I do runs for demons and vampires, primarily. Occasionally for witches and warlocks.”
I tried to ease my own deep disappointment. So Leonard was only a mule? Except, wait a minute, we’d just scried for the last person to touch the amulet. If all he did was deliver it to Marley as he claimed, why would the signature lead to him?
“Bullshit,” Asher said.
“Very helpful,” Liv shot Asher a look. “So if you weren’t the last person to touch it, who was?”
“How should I know?” Leonard shrugged and looked to the door as if he wanted to escape.
I held out my hand. “Give us your client list, then.”
“You think there’s a list?” Leonard sounded disgusted at my stupidity. “Obviously people pay with cash, and human runners drop stuff off for me. I don’t know where it comes from,” he added in case I was still too dumb to get the point. “Only where it’s going. It’s impossible to trace.”
Asher sparked magic on his fingertips, forming tiny wriggling strands of magic. They swam toward the mage like tiny ethereal fish, diving into his nostrils. Leonard sucked them in and spat them back out through his mouth, unfazed.
“A truth spell, really?” The mage wrinkled his nose. “How lame do you think I am?”
Undaunted, Asher pressed him. “There are plenty of other ways we can find out if you’re lying, Leonard.”
“I’m not lying.” The mage reached over and picked up a shiny game token from his desks, turning it in his hand nervously. “I told you, I don’t know anything.”
“Somehow I’m not quite buying that, Leonard. You don’t have a trustworthy face.” Asher smiled devilishly. “We can break your little fingers. Or give you a hundred cuts on the soles of your feet. Or we could pinch the sensitive skin under your arm repeatedly—you’d be amazed how effective that simple torture is.” Asher was starting to look maniacal. The mage’s eyes darted from me to Liv to Matt, as if he was wondering if we’d let Asher go through with it.
I decided to back up Asher’s bluff. “Have at it.” Asher lifted the leg of his jeans and pulled a dagger from an ankle holster. The sharp metal made a high-pitched tone as it was freed from its sheath. He was just bluffing, right?
“Warlock,” Matt said in a warning tone.
Leonard squirmed and whimpered, but gave no additional information.
Matt looked about ready to do half of the stuff Asher was threatening, only to Asher himself. I didn’t know which one of them I was more annoyed with. Liv looked from Asher, shocked. We weren’t getting anything but on each other’s nerves. Something was going on here.
Leonard kept nervously rubbing the token between his fingers. Was it my imagination or was his acrid lab smell slowly getting stronger, like he was layering it on? The token. The smell had started getting stronger when he picked that damn thing up. Every time he wove the small bit of metal in and out through his fingers, my irritation rose. I grabbed the token out of his hands and shoved it into my pocket.
“Hey, that’s mine,” Leonard said with a sly smirk. “So, are we done here? I kinda have somewhere to be.”
Right. The phone call. Leonard was anxious to get out of here to face…whoever he had called sir. Repeatedly. Which, given his general disrespect for other humans, was intriguing to say the least.
And something told me we’d be better off following him to that meeting than continuing to bang our heads against the wall of his evasive answers.
“Okay.” I shook my head, feigning a look of defeat. “We’ve gotten as much out of him as we can. We should get out of here.”
All three of my coven mates started speaking at the same time, a cacophony of disagreement. But it was time for an executive decision. And I was pissed at all of them enough that I didn’t care what their opinion was. I marched out, and from the sound of their angry huffs and stomping boots I knew my coven was following behind me.
The nerdy mage let us out the back to the alley behind the comic book shop and closed the door behind us. The smell of rotten food in the dumpsters hung in the damp night air. Through the darkened window I saw Leonard’s silhouette, sneaking a peek, like he was waiting for us to leave. Perfect.
“Come on.” I motioned for them to hurry up. I was about to tell them about the overheard phone call and my plan to follow him when Matt stopped, spun, and glared at me.
“What the hell was that in there?” He was livid. “Am I the only one who has a problem with us torturing a human being?”
“No, Mr. Perfect, I wouldn’t have allowed that to happen,” Liv interjected. “Like you’re the only one with a conscience.”
I was about to explain to them that we didn’t have time for philosophical discussion, we had to follow that mage, when Asher cut in, his anger matching Matt’s.
“No one tortured that smug little shit, they were empty threats.” The two men squared off, and I wondered in a panic if this was the moment they’d finally come to blows. “I only did what was necessary. If you could see beyond that holier than thou guardian code shit—”
“If you had a worthy thought in your head—”
“All right, nice testosterone party,” I said. It was startling how we’d all gotten so angry so fast. Our coven was like a tinderbox. “But we don’t have time for this. We need to follow the mage—”
“Oh, for Chrissake, Alix,” Matt sounded exasperated. “Give it a rest. We’ve exhausted that lead, don’t you get it? And I’m not proud of how we did it.”
“I didn’t touch the guy. I wasn’t going to.” But his
disappointment in me was so palpable I could feel it weighing me down, sinking my chest, caving in my shoulders. I forced myself to stand up straight and look into his eyes. “You’ve got to trust me on this. He’s going somewhere, somewhere he’s nervous about, and we need to follow him.”
“No, we don’t. I need to go for a run.” Abruptly, he turned and walked away.
“Matt’s right.” To my surprise, Liv looked equally disturbed. “We stepped over the line here. I feel like I need to take a shower or something.” She turned, calling behind her, “Catch you in the morning.”
I opened my mouth to call after my friends—but screw them. They should know I would never resort to torture. Asher…I wasn’t entirely sure about Asher. He’d played the part of would-be torturer awfully convincingly. But we didn’t have time to deal with this now.
Half my coven had stormed off. My hand found its way to my pocket. I pulled out the token and flipped it between my fingers as I tried to figure out next steps.
“Why are you playing with that?” Asher snarled.
“What?” Oh, the token. “I don’t know. Just something to help me think.”
“It called to you.” Suspicion darkened his features. “It’s enchanted.” He slapped it out of my hand before I could respond. “Damn it. The little shit used a disruption spell on us.”
I’d read a little about that particular spell. It was designed to sow the seeds of discord.
“That explains our little family snit,” Asher said.
“That was weird,” I said recalling how my anger had snuck up on me. “It was like our whole conversation got magically hijacked.” But was it really the token’s fault, or did the spell just amplify the fault lines within our coven?
The effects of the token hadn’t totally dissipated. Anger still boiled in my blood, but at least I knew what had poked that hornet's nest. I wasn’t about to let it slow me down any more than it had. Whatever that mage was hiding, we were going to find out.
CHAPTER EIGHT