“No. No. No. That…” Her voice cracked.
“Annie, what’s wrong?”
She had been so lost in the first picture, she hadn’t heard Cham enter the kitchen.
“It can’t be,” she murmured.
“Annie?”
Though she hadn’t acknowledged him, he sat beside her and grabbed the first picture. His jaw went slack. “This is… this is your mom,” he said and turned the picture over. “With Arden Blakely?”
Annie shook her head, unable to speak. The shock was so raw that she ached.
But what is it really?
Reluctantly, she picked up the next picture and forced herself to stare at it, focusing on what she might learn from it.
The faces, so familiar, so young—and yet to Annie, there was nothing in their expressions to make her think they were friendly. Her mother’s eyes were squinting, possibly by a hot sun. They appeared empty, sad maybe. But it was her jaw that stood out to Annie, clenched tightly as though she would vomit or was under great stress.
Eight years ago, Dr. Arden Blakely had less gray in her short hair, fewer wrinkles around the mouth, and her eyes appeared focused and determined, not hazy with post-traumatic stress. Annie guessed she was probably a full-time assassin for the secretive Fraternitatem of Solomon back then.
Mom? Why?
Seeing the pictures of her mother, alive when she was thought to be dead, brought up a swirl of memories of her father’s death, and each memory socked her in the stomach a second time.
Annie remembered the days when Jason Pearce didn’t make it home due to a hot lead on an investigation. When she and her sister, Samantha, were young, babysitters or friends had been lined up. When they were old enough, he’d send word that he wouldn’t be returning until late—or early, depending on one’s view point.
But the night he died, there had been no contact. As the hours stretched without word, Ryan Connelly, his Wizard Guard partner, grew worried. After twenty-four hours, several Wizard Guard colleagues—Milo Rawley, John Gibbs, Ryan Connelly, Trish Buck, and Kirby Winslow—began a frantic search of the Black Market. When they hadn’t found Jason at the market, they searched for him at all of his usual haunts, called and visited his contacts, and even interviewed Archibald Mortimer. There had been no clues as to where Jason Pearce had gone.
Kathy Connelly and her son, Robin Price, had come to the house to sit with Annie and Samantha to keep them occupied while they waited to hear from Jason or the team.
By the end of the second day, the telecom manager, Melissa Swiss, came to Ryan with news of a John Doe in the Chicago morgue. The dead man’s description was uncannily similar to Jason.
When Ryan came home alone, his face was pale and forlorn. Annie’s heart sank, her stomach roiled. She couldn’t see Samantha through the flow of tears that she couldn’t stop.
The days passed in a blur. People arrived with food and condolences. Janie Parker, Dave Smith, and Cham Chamsky sat with her. When she couldn’t speak, they stayed anyway.
Eventually, Annie would move on and live her life, graduating from high school, becoming a wizard guard. In the years since Jason died, she had gone to the records room at Wizard Hall and copied the contents of his death investigation folder.
Sometimes she wished she hadn’t; the crime scene photos of where he died had left her shaken. He died alone, battered and broken, only discovered when employees returned to work on Monday morning. She could never un-see those images. They would be with her forever, and when she thought of them, she would feel numb and cold with an anger that would fill her all over again.
While it was the common belief that Wolfgange Rathbone had killed him, there was a lack of evidence until they convicted him of the murder of Princess Amelie of Amborix. To rattle Annie and attempt an escape, he admitted his role in Jason’s death. Though Annie knew it was a ploy, she also knew that he indeed killed her father.
“Annie, please say something,” Cham said, his voice filled with such anxiety that she finally pulled herself away from the dark memories.
“I’m sorry,” Annie whispered. “I just opened the folder now.” Her voice was parched. She summoned the note with trembling hands. “The newspaper article with Amelie pushed this all away. You were sleeping, so I finally decided to tackle it.” She was breathy, it was difficult to suck in the air and release it. She passed him the note. “I found that earlier today. In the folder.” Since finding it, she had clenched it tightly, folded it and reopened it several times. It was almost as worn as she felt.
Annie rested her elbows on the table, her head fell in her hands and she cried. There was no point in hiding the bitter emotions that had been violently stirred within her.
Cham slid the folder back across the table and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Take your time. We’ll go through the folder when you’re ready,” he said. “I can call Ryan if you’d like.”
Annie pulled away from him, sat straighter, and summoned the folder. “No. Not yet. Not until we know what this is.” She wiped her eyes, her hands still quivering.
“We don’t have to do this now.”
She reached for the letter. “Read this. Now,” she demanded. While he read, Annie picked up the next picture. The images of her mom took her breath away. She pulled the next picture, a blurry image of her mother in what Annie knew to be the Cave of Ages in southern Israel.
The Fraternitatem!
She pushed the photos to the side, unable to look at them any further, and fumbled with the notes, not sure she wanted to read the contents.
“A prophecy. He’s implying you’re in danger,” Cham said with much anxiety in his voice.
“Apparently,” she responded coolly. Her emotions seemed to burn hot and cold as she attempted to grasp what it all meant.
Cham shuffled through the additional pictures. “I don’t even know where to start asking questions,” he admitted, still stunned by the images and her father’s explanation.
“Who’s buried in her grave? Did Dad know it wasn’t her? Did she leave willingly, and why? If she’s with Arden Blakely in the picture, does that mean she’s a member of the Fraternitatem? Is she one of their assassins?” Annie asked, all in a rush.
“Yeah, those questions.” He sighed.
When Annie glanced up, Zola, her Aloja fairy, stood in the shadows. Her emerald green eyes were shaded with gray, for the sadness she was unable to hide. Zola had been magically linked with Annie since she was a baby. What Annie felt, Zola felt.
“You knew about Mom.” Annie didn’t mask the accusation.
Zola glided across the wood floor. Her transparent wings were like wisps of fragile skin, fluttering when she walked. She took a seat across from Annie, her expression determined and thoughtful.
“There was something…” her eyes crinkled in concentration “… odd. Her body felt odd. But she wasn’t magical, so I couldn’t trust the reading.” Zola saw the folder on the table top and pulled it close. A small squeak escaped her lips when she saw the photos. Her hands shook.
“Don’t tell Samantha until you know when these were taken and if she’s still alive. Your pain is more than I can bear right now,” Zola said as she placed the pictures away in the file.
*
Annie promised Zola she’d keep the pictures to herself until she knew for certain what the images meant. Before returning to work, Annie did an internet search for Emily Pearce, but she discovered she wasn’t as creative or as knowledgeable as Bucky Hart, the computer guru at Wizard Hall. Rather than fumbling aimlessly through the internet, she thought she’d ask Bucky to take a crack at the search.
She held her breath as she knocked on Bucky’s cubicle wall, knowing asking him to do this would open up so many more questions, but Annie needed to know. While Jason had hidden the files to protect them, he must have known that Annie would eventually find the box in the crawl space.
“Hey, Annie Pearce. Come on in,” Bucky said as he cleared a chair for her.
; She took in a deep, slow breath which did little to ease the nausea in her belly.
“What’s up?” he asked. He frowned when he saw her pale face.
“How much do you know about my dad’s murder?” Annie whispered. Instinctively, he placed a hand on the wall and sent a muffle spell across his small cubicle, enveloping them in privacy.
“I know Rathbone did it. It’s related to the Fraternitatem and the Chintamani stones. Beyond that, I’m clueless,” Bucky said.
Annie shook her head. “This needs to stay between you and me. If I’m not around, find Cham. He’s the only person who knows this.” Bucky understood her stern, serious expression and nodded in agreement.
She handed Bucky a picture of Dr. Arden Blakely with Emily Pearce. He examined the picture and glanced back at Annie. “Isn’t this that doctor? The assassin? She looks younger, but…”
“It’s Dr. Arden Blakely,” she said quietly.
“That’s not why you want me to see this,” Bucky said.
Annie nodded.
Bucky grimaced and reviewed the picture again. This time, he couldn’t ignore the striking similarities between the other woman and Annie. He stared back at Annie. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the other one is related to you,” he said guardedly. Bucky, all of twenty years old, had been a child when Annie’s father had worked in Wizard Hall. He had heard about Jason Pearce and his skills as a wizard guard and only knew from others that Annie’s mom died when she was very young. Until now, it probably hadn’t occurred to him that he had never seen a picture of her mother in her cubicle. Bucky observed Annie carefully.
Annie cleared her throat to find her voice. “It’s my mom, Emily Pearce.”
Bucky turned the picture over, and noted the date—July, 2011—and the name of the two women: Emily Pearce, Dr. Arden Blakely.
“Annie, I’m not sure what to say except I’m sorry.” His concern was overwhelming.
“Thanks. I found this in a folder hidden in my crawl space. Dad was protecting someone… her, us. I don’t know why. This was taken eight years ago. I looked for her online, but I’m not you,” Annie said.
Normally Bucky would have made a smartass-y joke, but he sensed Annie’s pain and said, “I can do a search. Find out if she’s still alive.” He stared at the picture again. “Maybe the Middle Eastern Guard… never mind that. Everything about the Fraternitatem is very difficult to find. She might have gone dark.”
“Weirdly, they still used Arden’s real name. Maybe they are with Emily? I get that I’m asking for the impossible. That’s why I’m coming to you.” Annie sighed and her hands shook as she took back the picture.
“I appreciate your confidence. Just so I know, is there anything else in the folder that might help?”
Annie shook her head. “I haven’t gone through it all yet. I’ll pass along what I can when I find it.” Annie grimaced and wrote down some names. “I’m assuming if Emily’s alive, she’s in the Middle East. Though Arden Blakely was eventually released. Emily could have come home. I have a grandmother here. I haven’t seen her since I was three, but her name is Gloriana Worthington. Maybe Emily got in touch with her. Maybe?”
“I’ll do what I can. Though I can’t help but wonder if you really want to do this,” Bucky commented.
Annie chuckled. “I don’t, but I can’t not look.”
Bucky pulled out a folder, marked it data search, Lady Elizabeth in honor of Annie’s middle name, and placed the note about Annie’s grandmother inside. He held out for the picture. Annie stared at it before handing it over. He quickly made a copy and handed the original back to her. Once he had the folder created, he punctured his finger in his blood lock and placed the folder inside, closing the drawer. “It’s lucky I like you,” he quipped.
“Yeah, I know.”
*
By three in the afternoon Annie received the following text: Nothing yet. But it’s the Fraternitatem. I will keep looking. It may take time. B
Annie pocketed her phone and sighed. She pulled up the folder she was reviewing on a cold case, but she couldn’t concentrate on the new lead. Restless, she decided to share with the one person who was there when the events happened and who could remain detached if needed. She knocked on Gibbs’s cubicle beside hers. Each tap jiggled the wall.
He glanced up from a picture he was reviewing with a large magnifying glass. “Girl,” he said and motioned for her to sit. “You look like hell.” He observed her carefully.
“Not sleeping.” She pulled out the file and slid it across his desk. Gibbs of all people recognized the handwriting, the case number, the folder.
“You found the missing file.” He pulled out the contents. Annie had left Jason’s note on the front of the contents. He picked it up and read.
His hands shook as he read Jason’s words, his warning to Annie, her imminent danger. Gibbs said nothing as he continued through the folder, stopping on the picture of Emily and Dr. Arden Blakely. He turned the picture over, noting the date.
“Who else knows?” Gibbs asked.
“Cham, Zola, and Bucky,” she said.
“Has Bucky found her?”
Annie shook her head. “Not yet.”
Gibbs returned to the folder, quickly perusing the rest of the images, and stopped at the cassette tape. “Have you listened to this yet?”
Again, Annie shook her head. “I need a tape deck that small. I don’t have one. I’ll listen soon.”
He reassembled the documents and slid the folder back to Annie. She placed them back in her field pack. “He never told me he found her. Who did we bury?” Gibbs asked mostly to himself as he turned around. He, like most wizard guards, had a blood lock on the credenza. He punctured his finger, opened the drawer, and searched for his personal folder on Emily’s death.
“Zola thought there was something odd about her body,” Annie said.
“We didn’t see a glimmer on the body. We couldn’t find any distinguishing magic that would tell us how she died. While we found inconsistent magic on her, we thought she was killed by a nonmagical.”
“So what happened?”
“Someone with an agenda, with complex magic, needed Emily for some purpose,” Gibbs said softly.
And who would fall into that category?
“I have my notes here.” He slid the folder to Annie, who placed it in Jason’s file. “When Bucky finds her, let me know. Okay?”
Annie nodded. “I will.”
Chapter 1
Annie shot awake as the sound of a text message pierced the darkness. Her breathing was heavy and her hands trembled as she read the message. It was sent by the telecommunications rep, Max White, one of the hundreds of reps across the United States who managed the 911 emergency call systems, searching for hints of wayward magic, creatures, or evil wizards.
Multi cls. 2 Poss dmn Howard St. Evanston.
Annie put down her phone and contemplated the report. Multiple calls, 2 possible demons on Howard Street in Evanston, Illinois. Depending on the police reports, odd calls were sorted and turned over to the appropriate department, whether it was the on-call wizard guard or to the Vampire Attack Unit. Tonight, the call was routed to the Wizard Guard department, specifically Annie and her partner Spencer Ray, who were on call for the night.
Rolling her eyes, she knew it could be a number of things from vagrants to teenagers pranking local residents. While many calls were legitimate demon reports, Annie wasn’t expecting much of anything at three in the morning during summer vacation.
She raced through her morning routine, dressing in her demon-chasing clothes: jeans, T-shirt, thick hoodie, and gym shoes. Observing herself in the mirror, she gathered her thick, chocolate-brown curls into a messy bun, clipping it with an etched golden protection amulet Zola had given her when she was a young girl.
Checking her phone, she groaned before finishing up; dropping eye drops in her red eyes caused from another sleepless night, dotting concealer around the dark circles that she couldn�
�t erase, and running lip gloss across her lips.
“Ugh,” she murmured and shut off the bathroom light. Stopping at Cham, she bent over him and kissed his cheek.
“Everything okay?” Cham murmured, wrapped tightly inside the blankets.
“Mysterious demons near Howard Street,” she said.
He sat up and held her wrist. “You okay? You tossed and turned a lot last night.”
She hesitated. It wasn’t the moment to let him in on her night’s musings because it was the same thing that had kept her awake for the last three months: no news from Bucky regarding her mom. She sighed softly. “I’m fine. We’ll talk later. Gotta run.” She kissed him one last time before racing down the stairs for the demon.
*
“This is the neighborhood,” Spencer said as he re-checked the coordinates left an hour ago by Max White.
They had walked up and down Howard Street for several blocks in either direction and began making a large circle around the neighborhood.
“And Max heard these calls on the 911 call system? I don’t see the police,” Annie commented dryly. As she expected, this looked like it would end up being a wild goose chase. “Why are we here again?”
“More than one call came in. Buck it up,” Spencer teased.
Their flashlights swept the sidewalk as they turned down an empty alley, a perfect place for teenagers to cause trouble.
Each house stood silent as families slept, their side yards empty and their backyards filled with swing sets, barbeques, and the occasional blow-up pool or trampoline. Up ahead, Annie spotted a trail of overturned garbage cans, used food containers, ripped plastic bags, and rotted food.
“Looks like we found something.” Annie pointed her flashlight down the road as another garbage can was tossed into the alley with a loud crash.
Annie and Spencer glanced at each other, bemused. Both shut off their flashlights and cautiously crept along the alley, following the sound of garbage cans being clacked together.
Stopping short, they listened to angry grunting and plastic bags being ripped apart, with unwanted items strewn into the road. Slowly, they stepped beside the garage door and poked their heads around the wall, expecting a gaggle of bored teenagers. Annie’s jaw dropped.
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