The Hermetic Detective (A Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mystery Book 7)

by Kirsten Weiss

  The door opened, and she raised her Glock, spun toward the hallway.

  Ash put up his hands. “It’s all clear.”

  Breathing hard, she holstered the gun. “I heard a shot.”

  His face twisted. “We ran him off.”

  “Him?”

  “Or her. I couldn’t get close enough to describe whoever it was.”

  “I heard a shot,” she repeated.

  “It’s Oz. He got the closest to the intruder. He shot him.”

  Her heart clenched. “Is Oz—”

  “Two of the guys are taking him to the emergency vet now. We didn’t think we should wait for your okay.”

  “Of course not! But he’s alive.”

  “As far as I know.”

  She holstered her gun and grabbed her phone off the bureau, relief and fury twisting in her veins.

  “Who are you calling?” Ash asked.

  “Donovan.”

  “I already have. He’s on his way.”

  Her hands clenched, released. “It seems you’ve taken care of everything.”

  “Everything but catch whoever it was on the grounds. The guys are rechecking now, but no one saw the intruder on the video monitors. Right now, we have no idea who he or she was.”

  Only that the attackers had come bearing arms.

  They knew where she lived.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “One person with magic attacked the wards,” Riga said. “Another, without magic got through.” The late afternoon sun glinted off the lake, blinding, and she unhooked the sheer curtain, let it drop. “If I wasn’t sure before, I am now. Tanhauser’s got an accomplice.” Her wards had done their job, but she twisted her wedding band, remembering her sensei’s words. Never seek a fight. There will always be someone bigger and badder than you. Tanhauser had her beaten physically. She still wasn’t sure of the extent of his magical prowess.

  Donovan paced in front of their bedroom’s glass-paned balcony doors. “No one got a good look at whoever made it through, but they all agree the person was smaller than Tanhauser. The videos were useless.” He stopped and stared at the far-off mountain peaks. “I should have been here.”

  “Our security worked. The kids are fine.” To her amazement, after all their howling, the twins had gone down for a nap. The only casualty was Oz, still in surgery at the animal hospital. Her nostrils flared, rage spiraling through her.

  Donovan growled. “Our security didn’t work if someone made it onto the grounds. Again. And I’m…” His lips pressed into a thin line, and he pulled her to him. “I’m just thankful you’re all right.”

  She pressed her head against his chest, relaxing into the warmth of his embrace. His heart pounded, strong and steady.

  “I want everyone to move to the penthouse,” he said. “It’s safer.”

  Riga pulled away. “How do you figure that?”

  His brows drew downward. “There are only two entrances to guard. Here, someone can come at you from any direction, including the lake.”

  “But here, we’re magically protected. Any wards I place there will never be as strong as what we have at the house.” It had taken her a year to finish the wards, a year to bless and strengthen each compass point on the proper astrological holiday. But there’s always someone bigger and badder.

  “Whoever shot Oz used a gun, not magic.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. Was he right? Her instincts told her to stay put, but her instincts hadn’t been batting a thousand. “Maybe you’re right. This was too close. If he gets near the twins…” Her fists clenched. “If they have magic, he’ll sense it. They’ll become a target.”

  “The twins, plural? What’s Emma been doing?”

  “I’m not sure. It happened right before the alarms went off. I’d been showing them the Tarot cards—”

  “You’re teaching them magic?” His brow rose.

  “They’re only Tarot cards. Anyway, I set them on the side table, turned around, and one flew up and hit me in the head.”

  “Riga—”

  “And then the deck exploded.”

  “That might have been caused by whoever attacked the house.”

  “It couldn’t have. My wards held. No dark magic got through.”

  “Could another kind of magic have made it through?” he asked. “Sending a deck of cards airborne is hardly the work of the dark arts.”

  “I don’t want to believe Emma did it either,” she said. “And yes, there could be alternate explanations. But when the cards went flying, Emma seemed so… delighted.”

  “That settles it. We’re moving.”

  “But I can’t protect them from magic as well at the penthouse,” she said. “Besides, two entrances may be easier to defend, but it also makes escape more difficult.”

  “Ash and I talked it over, and—”

  “I respect Ash’s opinion, but you should be talking to me, not over me.” She raised her head, jaw tightening.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You want us somewhere convenient, where you can keep an eye on us.”

  His voice rose. “Is that so wrong?”

  “No!” Dammit, they were having their first real fight, and Riga sensed she was on the losing side. She felt out of the loop, out of control, and that wasn’t Ash or Donovan’s fault. Riga forced her breathing to steady. “But I would have preferred to have been a part of that conversation.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “We’ve been here before. When it comes to your work, and the risk it entails, one of us always seems to be the outside man.”

  “I thought we were getting better.” She sighed. There were so many accusations he could have made. That she’d brought danger to their doorstep, that she’d been the one to place their family in jeopardy. And he hadn’t. Of course he wanted to protect their children.

  “All right,” he said. “Ash did say the penthouse had risks as well. I do think it’s marginally safer, but if you feel that strongly about it, we won’t move.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And you’re right. I should have brought you into my conversation with Ash. But when I thought about Jack and Emma and what might have happened, I went into crisis mode.”

  “I overreacted.”

  “Oh, shut up.” He crushed her to him, claiming her lips, shattering her sensibilities. Desire flared deep inside her, and her arms encircled his waist. She molded to his hard planes, her legs quivering.

  A weak cry sounded from the baby monitor on the dresser.

  “Ignore it,” Donovan said, hoarse.

  A second voice joined in, the wails rising.

  He pressed his forehead to hers, smiled. “Rain check?”

  She glanced at the king-sized bed. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  They hurried to the nursery. Rain check. Diaper check. Bottle check. Cuddling.

  Donovan carried the twins downstairs.

  Riga crossed the hall to her bedroom and picked her phone off the bureau. Opening the balcony doors, she stepped outside, called her sister. The air had begun to cool, the sun dipping toward the mountain peaks.

  “Riga! Is Pen all right?”

  “Yes, she’s fine.”

  “Oh, thank God. When you called, I thought…”

  “Thought what?” Riga prompted. Donovan emerged below with the twins. He carried them to the shore and sat them on a blanket on the sand, pointed at a trio of Canadian geese.

  “Nothing. I’m glad you called,” Rebecca said. A dog woofed in the background. “How are the twins?”

  “Loud.”

  Her sister laughed. “I don’t suppose Pen’s told you what her plans are?”

  “She wants to move into the guest cottage.”

  “Are you going to let her?”

  “If you don’t mind.” A breeze drifted off the lake, and Riga’s flesh pebbled.

  “I don’t mind. I’d rather she was with you than… I don’t understand what’s wrong with her. The psychiatrist said
it would take her time to recover from New Orleans, that withdrawal was normal—”

  “She was withdrawn?” Riga asked.

  “For a time she barely budged from her room. I wasn’t thrilled when she took that film crew job in L.A., but at least she had a purpose. Now she’s just drifting.”

  “I’m not sure if she’s drifting,” Riga said. With her sister, magic was a conversation killer. Rebecca didn’t believe in it, a worldview Riga sometimes wished she shared. But it meant they’d never discuss Pen’s real struggle. Or Riga’s. She scrubbed a hand across her face.

  “Well, if she starts to drive you crazy, feel free to kick her out. She’s our responsibility, not yours.”

  “It’s fine. She’s been a great help with the twins. You said she was seeing a psychiatrist?”

  “Oh, Riga. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  She stared across the glittering lake. “Rebecca, how bad was it?”

  Her sister sighed. “In layman’s terms, she had a nervous breakdown, I guess. But the doctor said it was normal after an ordeal like that. And she seems to be recovering. I’m just afraid she’s lost confidence.”

  “Strange. She seems more confident than ever to me.” And it wasn’t that cocky, I’ll-live-forever confidence of youth. What Pen had ran deeper.

  “Then why won’t she return to work? Or to school, for that matter? She should be in college. She’s got the brains.”

  “No argument there,” Riga said, thoughtful. “Rebecca, I’m sorry. I had no idea Pen’s visit was… I didn’t know. But she seems to be doing well. Have you spoken with her lately?”

  “She calls me every day. And yes, she’s the one who initiates contact. She’s cheerful. Polite. She’s saying all the right things. But she feels different. You’ll watch out for her, won’t you? She may be twenty-one now and technically an adult, but she’s my baby. You know?”

  Jack threw a fistful of sand at his sister. A high-pitched squall drifted up from the lake.

  “Yeah,” Riga said. “I know.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They carried the twins inside and set them in their bouncers on the kitchen counter. The solstice was in three days, but the twins didn’t care that Riga was on the clock. They had their own schedule, and it was time for their four-thirty snack. And after today’s attack on the house, spooning apple sauce into Jack’s mouth calmed Riga’s soul.

  Donovan scraped sweet potatoes off Emma’s chin. She kicked the edge of her bouncer.

  Jack turned to watch the action, and a beam of afternoon sunlight fell across his face. He winced, and Riga angled his bouncer away from the light.

  “You don’t have to stay home with us if you need to go back to the office,” she said. “We’re fine.” She checked her phone. No word yet from the animal hospital. They’d promised to call when Oz was out of surgery. Her lips pressed together. At least none of the guards had been hurt, but the thought of losing Oz made her ache.

  “I want to stay. I miss this.” Donovan motioned at the twins. “I’ve been thinking of taking weekends off.”

  “Because of what happened today?”

  Jack returned his attention to her, and Riga popped a spoonful of applesauce into his mouth.

  “Because while you’ve been going stir-crazy at home—”

  “I wouldn’t say stir-crazy.” But she’d leapt at the opportunity to help Mrs. Norton. She shifted in her chair.

  “—the kids are changing every day, and I’m missing it. I’ve always said family comes first, but when the twins were born, I kept on with my normal routine. It’s time to ease up.”

  “I’d love to have you home for the full weekend. But how will you manage the time away from your office?”

  “My cousin’s—”

  Pen bounded into the kitchen, smiling. “Hi, everyone!” She smoothed Jack’s hair and peeled off her lemon-yellow motorcycle jacket, dropping it on the back of a kitchen chair.

  “I take it your alchemy lesson went well,” Riga said.

  “The women were amazing.”

  “You’re taking alchemy lessons?” Donovan quirked a brow. “Is Brigitte outsourcing?”

  “Pen was the teacher,” Riga said. “Tell us about your lesson.”

  “We worked on separation. About shifting our sense of identity from the egoic, outer stuff to the inner person.” Pen’s brow furrowed. “When I came home, the men at the gate seemed tense. What’s happened?”

  “Someone got onto the property,” Riga said, explaining about the attack.

  Her niece clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oz! Is he—”

  “Still in surgery,” Donovan said. “The doctor will call us when he’s done. Oz will be fine.”

  Riga shot him a sharp look. They didn’t know that.

  “I should have been here,” Pen said. “I knew you had a case, and—”

  “And I’m glad you weren’t,” Donovan said. “It was only a scare.”

  “Was it Tanhauser?” Pen asked.

  “He had to have been involved,” Donovan said.

  “He couldn’t get past my wards, but someone did,” Riga said. “He must have an accomplice who’s non-magical.”

  “What about the security cameras?” Pen asked. “Could you ID the guy?”

  Riga shook her head. They’d only caught brief glimpses of the intruder on video. Whoever Tanhauser’s accomplice was, he or she knew what they were doing.

  “What is this guy?” Pen asked.

  “A sorcerer, I think,” Riga said. The sketch artist had pointed her in that direction, and her research had borne out the theory.

  “Not a necromancer?” Pen asked.

  “There’s death magic being used,” Riga said. “I felt it at the Sunset Towers. But a demon’s running the show.”

  “How?” Pen asked. “I thought you said he was a sorcerer. Wouldn’t that put the sorcerer in charge?”

  “Yes and no,” Riga said. “Sorcerers invite – well, invoke – demons to possess them.”

  “So… the demon is here by invocation only?” Pen’s lips quirked.

  Donovan snorted.

  “It’s not funny,” Riga said. Okay, it was kind of funny. “It’s very old magic.”

  Pen smoothed her expression. “Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. Not when Oz… Poor Oz! Are you sure he’ll be okay?”

  “I’m sure,” Donovan said.

  Riga wasn’t. The doctor at the animal hospital had been careful to make no promises. Donovan was trying to protect Pen from worry, but if Oz died…

  “But seriously,” Pen said, “why would anyone want to invoke a demon? Wouldn’t you lose control?”

  “Eventually,” Riga said. “The sorcerer could be arrogant enough to believe he can control the demon, and maybe he can for a time. But the demon always wins.”

  Pen scraped back a chair, sat. “Because anyone unstable enough to invite a demon inside doesn’t have the mental makeup to keep it under control.”

  “It’s not anything I’d want to try either,” Riga said. “The power of the collaboration, of the human’s energies working willingly together with the demon’s, would be awful.” She canted her head. Hadn’t Vinnie said something along those lines? She struggled to remember.

  There was a scratching at the glass door, and a hollow thunk.

  On the deck outside, Brigitte flapped her wings, feathers askew.

  Leaping from her chair, Pen hurried to the door and pulled it open.

  The gargoyle hopped into the kitchen. “Ze wards! What have you done? They flambéed my feathers.” Craning her neck, she picked at a wing with her stony beak.

  Riga pursed her lips. “I might have added some energy—”

  “Some energy! Your wards are a gargoyle death ray!”

  “You seem to have survived,” Riga said.

  “And if I had not? Then you would be sorry. No more Brigitte to guard, to advise. No more Brigitte to teach, to guide.”

  “I’m sorry,” Riga said. “I
should have warned you.”

  The gargoyle’s feathers rippled, and she sniffed.

  “Why would Brigitte have trouble with your wards?” Pen asked. “They protect against dark magic. She’s not dark.”

  The gargoyle tossed her head. “You think I am only one thing? Shallow, like one of those reality TV stars?”

  “Hey,” Riga said. “I was a reality TV star.”

  “Of course I am dark,” Brigitte said. “Like any other sentient being, I am ze dark, and I am ze light. I have many parts.”

  “The point is, someone tried to get through,” Riga said, “and during the attack I boosted the wards. The effects should fade. They’ll soon be back to normal.”

  “How did you get through the wards?” Pen asked Riga. “You’re magic.”

  “They’re my wards. And I never left the grounds.”

  “I didn’t have trouble getting through,” Pen muttered, frowning.

  “Not enough evil in you,” Riga said. “Why do you think I let you babysit the twins?”

  Jack whined, and Riga hastily spooned the applesauce that she’d been holding just out of his reach.

  Donovan’s phone rang on the counter, and he picked it up. “Yes…? Thanks… I’ll be right there.”

  “What is it?” Riga asked.

  “Someone at the gate. He says he’s got a package for you.”

  Riga slid from her chair. “I’ll—”

  “I’ll handle this.” Handing her his jar and spoon, he rose and strode from the room.

  Emma squealed, kicking her feet. Riga pulled her daughter’s rocker closer and shoveled applesauce into her open mouth.

  Brigitte snorted. “And so you play mommy while your husband checks if there is a bomb or a severed head in that package. And you imagine yourself unconventional.” The gargoyle sneered.

  “Just because I find my children more interesting than you—”

  “Oh, children! Children are everywhere, crying and calling. There is nothing unique about any of them. But there is only one Brigitte!”

  Pen choked on a laugh, coughing. “Riga, do you need me to babysit?”