by LJ Rivers
“I don’t get it.” I threw my hands up.
“Think of it more like a soul. Witches believe the soul can linger. Sometimes, a soul lingers for far too long, which is how spectrals are made.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “You mean ghosts?”
“That’s one word for it.”
“You have a thing for words, don’t you?”
“Understanding the nuances and different meanings of a word is important. The origins of our languages, phrases, and the way we communicate have meaning.”
“I was only pulling your leg.”
“I’m not offended. Also, did you know that the phrase you just used alludes to how people would pull at the legs of a hanged man to ease his suffering? At least, that’s one interpretation. Another—and more believable one—is that it came from how thieves and robbers used to trip their victims.” When I grimaced, he laughed softly. “At any rate, what I call spectrals will probably differ from your understanding of what a ghost is. They’re not white sheets floating around, and my grandmother cannot appear as she once was. A spectral is the magical energy—the soul, if you like—of who a person once was. A part of that is tied to memories and emotions meant to cross over but for some reason stay bound.”
“Cross over to where? To heaven?”
“Or Nirvana.” He tossed a pillow at me, and I caught it with both hands, then rested my chin on it. “No, no one knows exactly where souls go, but since magic is tied to energy, to living things, rebirth is a common theory among witches.”
I worried my lip. “Does this mean Naunet is a spectral now?”
“Too soon to tell. Her soul had yet to relinquish her body, which is why touching her still activated her shield magic. At least, that would be my theory.”
“I hope she finds peace. Or gets reborn, if that’s what’s supposed to happen.” My gaze fell on a modest piano by the back wall. A pile of note sheets lay on the pine-colored wooden music rack, a pen resting on top of it. Trust didn’t come easily to me, and I had only begun to scratch the surface of the veiled world, but something about seeing that piano made up my mind. “There’s something I have to tell you. I wasn’t sure if I should, but I didn’t want to say anything until I had my facts straight. With the murder on our hands, I won’t be getting the answers I was looking for, and I think you ought to know the full story.”
He put his bottle down and put his feet on the couch, leaning against the armrest. “You’ve got my undivided attention.”
While my chin sank deeper into the soft pillow, I gathered the courage to trust him. Not all the way, but if we were to be true partners, I had to at least give him something. “After you left last night, I got a phone call from Naunet.”
He cupped his hand over his mouth, but didn’t interrupt as I told him everything Naunet had said. I even included how I had packed my backpack, leaving out the fact that my Glock was in there.
He was silent for a long while, then picked up his root beer from the table and took several large swallows. “I think we can rule out Petra as the target. I’m not abandoning the idea just yet, but it seems to me that you’re the one in danger.”
“I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself, Leon.”
“Of that I have no doubt, but invisible enemies are the worst kind. This has to be veiled world related, and you’ve only dipped your toe into the ocean thus far.”
“Should we call off the meeting with the queen bee?”
He sputtered, as if choking on his drink. “Don’t let her hear you call her that.” He cleared the table and went to the kitchen, returning with a regular beer for me and another root beer for himself. “Ursula may have some insight as to what might look like a vampire but isn’t. If there is even a minute chance she knows something that can help us, we have to talk to her.”
“I didn’t pack my Dracula costume.” I pushed my lower lip out.
“I know I said there’s no dress code, but Ursula is a queen, and she likes to be treated as such. She’s hundreds of years old, maybe more, much older than Saga, and while Saga holds this territory, Ursula only barely tolerates her claim.”
“I don’t have a fairy godmother either.” I sighed dramatically. While Edwin had never bothered to read me fairy tales, I still remembered my mother’s love for them. Edwin’s close friend, Wolfgang, had slipped me a few books now and then without my guardian’s knowledge, and Cinderella became one of my favorites. It had nothing to do with the prince, but I always loved her quiet tenacity, not to mention the humility and strength she carried. Besides, what child didn’t dream of a fairy godmother to dress them up in a princess gown?
“Just mind your manners, and you’ll do fine.”
I tossed the pillow back at him. “What’s wrong with my manners?”
He grabbed the pillow with one hand and tucked it behind his back. “Not one thing.”
“Is there a chance you could give me some privacy?” I plucked my phone from the table. “I need to make a couple of calls.” At least.
Leon hopped to his feet. “I’ll head down to the store on the corner and grab some snacks and more beer. I’ll want a real one after we’ve seen the queen bee. Can I get you anything in particular?”
“Actually, I’d love some pretzels.”
“Coming right up.” He swung on his coat and slipped outside.
Once he was gone, I began my phone mission by calling Stefan. He had messaged me a couple of times during the day and was probably wondering why I hadn’t replied.
“There’s my raven.”
I melted a little at the sound of his voice. “I don’t know why you insist on calling me that.”
“Your hair, for one, but also because ravens are cunning, intelligent creatures. It suits you.”
“How was your day?”
“Uneventful. But I’m free now. Want me to swing by?”
I looked around the room and realized I was about to serve him a lie. “Actually, I know you wanted to hang out, but I’m exhausted. I’ve been on the phone with my agency all day. They have a job for me.”
“Oh.” Disappointment laced his voice.
“It’s in Berlin,” I assured him.
Quick as a beat, his tone brightened. “Sweet! I’ll leave you to it, then. Catch up tomorrow maybe? A long run in the Spandauer Forst? It’s been a while since we went there. I know it’s a Monday, but I’ve got the evening shift.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I’ve sort of already started my new job, and it’ll keep me busy for a while.”
Something clanked in the background, like metal against metal. Was he in the kitchen? “That was fast.”
“I’ll let you know. Once I get my feet grounded, it’ll be easier to know what my schedule looks like.” I felt like an ass for keeping things from him.
“No worries. I have a full week myself, just wanted to make room for my raven.”
“Talk soon, Stefan.”
“Don’t be a stranger.”
We hung up, and I quickly made my next call. Once again, Edwin’s voicemail picked up. Instead of leaving a message, I called the second number in my favorites.
“Wolfgang,” a gruff voice answered, and my heart swelled with relief.
“Hey, uncle, it’s me.”
“Cam. It’s good to hear your voice, Buttercup.”
He always called me that whenever Edwin wasn’t around. “Listen, I’ve been trying to reach Edwin for a couple of days now, and he hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
Wolfgang paused, and I heard him scratch at his unkempt beard. It was usually longer on his chin and above his lip, but shorter on the sides and cheeks, and the man never managed a clean shave. “That’s not like him. Tell you what, I’m on a—umm—hunting trip at the moment, but I’ll be back by morning. I’ll hop on the train and swing by his place first thing.”
“Thanks. I’m beginning to worry.”
The wind crackled in the speakers, and I held the phone away from my ear for a moment.
Wolfgang’s voice carried just fine either way. “He’s been seeing someone lately. Estelle, I think her name is, so it’s possible he’s just caught up in the romance.”
“Edwin?” I choked on a laugh.
“Cross my heart. Regardless, I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
A little out of juice, I managed to make my last call.
“Kenau Security Europe. This is Lotte.”
That was strange. Usually, when Lotte noticed my number, she’d prompt me with one of the many coded sentences my agency was so fond of, and I would reply with the one that told her both who I was and what situation I was in.
“It’s ... Camryn.”
There was an awkward pause before she replied. “Camryn who?”
“Anker.” I looked at the screen, checking that I had the right number, even though there was no mistaking Lotte’s name and voice.
“Anything I can help you with, Miss Anker? We have a wide variety of potential—”
“No, I’m not in the market for a bodyguard. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
Neither did I. Lotte had never had a sense of humor, and if this was her attempt at being funny, I was less than amused. “I was just wondering if I’m not supposed to come in for questioning. I haven’t heard anything, and it’s unusual for it to take this long, isn’t it?”
Something tapped against wood as if she was playing with a pen on her desk. “If you’re under investigation, you should be talking to the police. Good day, Miss Anker.” She ended the call.
I was still staring at the phone when Leon returned, carrying two bulging paper bags. He set them aside in the kitchen, and I wandered over to sit by the modest kitchen table while he restocked his fridge. “Would you happen to know why my contact at the agency seems unaware of who I am?”
He gnashed his teeth together, looking as guilty as a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. “About that. I completely forgot. Since Rosamund fired you, and Saga decided to hire you, I didn’t think you’d be contacting the agency just yet, if at all.”
I glared at him. “I got attacked during an assignment. Job or not, I’m obligated to write a report and give a statement, at the very least.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. It’s been taken care of.” He turned and began stocking the cupboards.
“Because?” I pressed.
“Once Petra got involved, and you turned out to be a witch, the case became a matter for the veiled world. We had to tie up loose ends, so we’ve made sure all your files at the agency were destroyed, and a mindwipe team was sent to scrub anyone who’s had contact with you.”
I flattened my palms on the table. “Mindwipe? You’re all a bag of nuts.”
“It’s standard protocol.”
“What if I wanted to go back?”
“There are plenty of security jobs in our world, Cam, and Saga already hired you for the duration of this case. If you do well, she’ll want to keep you on.”
I shook my head. “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide where I want to work?”
He sighed and leaned against the fridge. “You’re not part of the human world anymore, Cam. It will take some adjusting, but being a witch means living on the fringes of human society. We do interact with them, but you’ll find we usually stick to our own kind. Some of us work in the human world, but those who do work under orders from the Fauve or at their leader’s command.”
The chair screeched as I stood up. “I can’t even do magic.”
A grin played on his lips. “I’d like us to try something.” He erased the space between us and took my hands in his. I let him. As he knelt down before me, I laughed.
“Dude, I’ve known you for two days. It’s too early to get hitched.”
He crooked an eyebrow at me. “I want you to borrow my empathy.”
“Huh?”
“That’s your gift. You’ll need to find out how it works. Saga is trying to find a clan that will take you in and teach you, but I doubt she’ll have much luck. In the meantime, you need to start practicing.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Nor do I, but I can tell you how it works for me, then you can try. It might work differently for you, but we’ll practice until you figure it out.”
I was acutely aware of his skin against mine. His warm palms were softer than I had expected. In stark contrast to the touch I was used to from men who worked with their hands. Stefan’s hands were like that, calloused and rough. I pushed the thought away and locked eyes with the witch in front of me. “What is it you do, then?”
“For me, I can’t really stop the flow of emotions around me. It’s always there. What I can do is separate them, push some further away and pull some closer, almost like I’m mentally shuffling the energy around. It takes time and practice, as with all magic, and it’s something Noelle still struggles with.”
I plopped down on the nearest chair, still holding his hands. “I’m not sure how to interpret that.”
“Remember I told you magic is in your soul?”
I nodded.
“Well, your soul is your inner force, it’s what drives you. It’s also where your magic comes from. It’s a part of you, yet not entirely bound to the confines of your bodily shell.” He looked at the ceiling for a second. “It’s tied to your will, your emotions, and your memories, and it’s fueled by energy, like from the sun or a flower.”
“Or a person,” I added.
“Exactly. Every time we use magic, we take a small piece of energy from what surrounds us. Practicing witchcraft will always require some sacrifice, but the special gifts given to us, like my empathy, don’t rely on sacrifices. It’s more like a battery, one which is charged by sunlight. Unlike vampires, we need the sun.”
“What happens at night, then?”
“A battery, remember? We stay charged for a long time, but too much time away from the sun, and our batteries become weaker.”
“I think I sort of get it, but I’m still not sure how that helps me.”
“I imagine my energy like a sun in and of itself, one that shines beyond my body. I can use those beams to better control my environment, shining a light on that which is most important, the things I want to see, leaving the unimportant noise in the shadows.” He looked at me expectantly, as if I had to understand what he meant.
I drew in a breath and pulled his arms a little closer until I could rest the back of my hands on my thighs. Closing my eyes, I tried imagining a sun shining inside me. My inner voice was mocking me, but I told her to shut up. Instead, I told myself to draw on Leon’s empath power, willing whatever magic supposedly lived in my soul to borrow his power.
Of course, nothing happened. I didn’t feel a single spark. So I shifted gears and imagined myself as a magnet, because why not? He said we could pull energy from things, and maybe I had to activate my inner magnetism. Smirking at myself, I gave it all I had.
Slowly, I opened my eyes and found Leon’s probing gaze. My shoulders slumped. “I can’t do it.”
He let go, and the absence of his warm hands in mine made me shiver. “We’ll keep trying, but the sun has set, and Ursula is expecting us.” He opened the cupboard and held out a small paper bag. “Want a pretzel for the road?”
“Do I?”
He chucked the bag at me, and I picked out one that looked particularly crunchy, with lots of salt on top, and took a big bite.
“Off to the Emerald City,” I pronounced as I stood from my seat, clicking my heels together.
Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, eyeing me with an exasperated stare. “She’s not a wizard.”
“Oh, right, that’s Saga’s den.” I flashed my teeth in a wicked grin. “Next stop, Transylvania.”
Chapter Fourteen
“This doesn’t look like Dracula’s castle.” I stuffed the last piece of pretzel in my mouth as Leon showed me to the door of the club aptly named The Batcave. It was an S&M club with exclusive memberships. I had walked
past it on numerous occasions, but stepping inside was a brand-new experience. The entranceway was a long hall, lit with crimson lights, the walls draped in red and black velvet.
“Do they really turn into bats?” I asked.
Leon simply shrugged.
“This is where we’re meeting the queen?” I said under my breath. “Tell me, is she a submissive or a dominant?”
He was clearly fighting the urge to laugh, judging by the twitch in his lips. “Definitely dominant, though not in the way you’re suggesting. Ursula lives in the penthouse apartment.”
“She lives here?”
We came up to a velvet-covered booth. Beyond, a scarlet curtain barred my view of the rest of the club.
“Yes?” A man with beach-blond, messy hair gave us a sideways glance from inside the booth. A leather police cap shaded his eyes, and thick, black eyeliner was smeared underneath them. An arrangement of black leather straps and two giant nipple rings barely covered his pale torso.
“Cut it, Christian,” Leon said. “We’re here to see Ursula.”
“Ah, Leon.” Christian’s lips widened into a sardonic smile as he leaned forward, arms outstretched on the counter, his nipple rings clinking against the hard surface. “It’s been a while. I didn’t see you behind this,” his head bobbed up and down in my direction, “delicate wine.”
I cringed when Christian licked his teeth in a suggestive motion and climbed up to sit on the counter, exposing a tiny leather thong covering his privates—well, most of them. None of it was as disturbing as his fangs, however. Instinctively, I slid my hand underneath the hem of my jacket to the small of my back, making sure my Glock was still there. I had no idea what good a gun would do against vampires, or if I even needed it, but it made me feel better. Come to think of it, perhaps I needed silver bullets. Or was that another myth? Where would I even find such ammo?
“May I take your coats?” Christian asked. “The cave is steaming tonight.”