I really didn’t want to be the one to call Harvey, but he had to know Natasha really was missing. Although we’d already compromised the crime scene, we tried not to touch anything else and moved back downstairs.
When Harvey arrived to take over, we gave him our statements—at least Annie and I did. Basil had shifted to a bird when the regular police had showed up with Harvey,. Detective Liam was as rude as ever, his comment about Basil leaving feathers and effluence all over the scene irked me. How I’d ever considered him a good catch was beyond me. Looking good didn’t necessarily mean a good heart. Besides, I was more interested in a dark-haired man with a scar.
We hadn’t found Felix’s killer, and now Natasha was missing. I wasn’t sure that Basil wanted to go looking for her, but I was sure he wouldn’t just leave her to die. At least I didn’t think he would.
Annie was the first to speak as we drove home. “So, how do we find her?”
“Not sure I want to,” Basil replied, clicking his claws.
“Oh give it up. You know as well as I do that she’s part of the investigation now. She was snatched from her bed.” I pointed a finger at Annie. “And you are not getting involved.”
“No blood means she wasn’t killed in the house. There were two other people in there. A man and a woman,” Basil stated.
“How do you know that?” Annie asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
“I just do, and you ask too many questions,” Basil shot back.
“Well, excuse me…no need to be rude,” Annie countered.
“Will you two stop fighting? We’re almost home.”
“We’ll go up to my attic and figure it out,” Basil said as we headed upstairs.
“What’s the point? It feels like we’ve been going around in circles. And we’re no closer to figuring out the who and the why. Sam shot Noah and murdered Sally, he also enchanted the scrolls, but we don’t know who’s behind it. That person has to be the one who murdered Felix. Then they attacked me, and now Natasha is missing.”
“You’re just tired,” Basil said, batting me with a wing.
“Yeah, and I’m getting fed up with all this drama.”
“You’re going to give up?” Annie asked, “You can’t. We have to find Natasha.”
“Maybe we should leave it up to the professionals. Like Harvey said, they know what they’re doing.”
Basil rolled his eyes, “Ha, you don’t believe that, they’re running around chasing their tails,” he paused before adding, “she may already be dead.”
“Well, if you two are giving up, then I’ll have to take over,” Annie decided, crossing her arms and huffing.
“You’ll just get yourself killed. There’s still two cursed bullets out there; we’ll handle it.” Basil was adamant that Annie wouldn't be participating, and he sent her off with a wave of his hand. “So, who’s left on our suspect list?”
“There’s Francesca, but we already cleared her,” I groaned, we were out of suspects and I knew we were missing something big. The missing souls, the undead and Felix’s murder had to be linked. Phineaus could have created the spell to change the scrolls, but he was dead. And why did he have all those souls stashed in globes? Did someone kill him and take the souls?
Basil had gone over to his desk and was flipping the pages of a book. I moved closer, curious about what he was reading.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Basil looked up at me and flicked his wrist. “Depends on what you think it is.”
“It’s one of Phineaus’ manuscripts, isn’t it? Did you steal it from the vault?”
“No, it was never in the vault. It was in the bookcase, the book that opened the door. I figured it might come in handy,” Basil said, as he nonchalantly flipped a page.
“You said they were dangerous. Why did you steal that one?”
“I also said they needed to be destroyed. Especially this one,” Basil said tapping a claw on the book. “Iggy would’ve just thrown it in with the others and then forgot about it. I couldn’t take the chance that it would reappear someday. When I’m done, I’ll get rid of it. Don’t you have someone to reap?”
“No, I don’t. What does it say?” I was bored, my scroll box had been empty this morning—good thing I got paid whether I worked or not.
Basil ignored me and kept reading. I called Skye to ask if they would have time to cast another locator spell, this time for Natasha. Fortunately, the mothers were still in town, they had been busy hiring movers and packing up Noah’s belongings. I have to admit that I took a perverse pleasure in interrupting them and delaying Noah’s departure.
Uncle Iggy touched base later that morning; the soul found in Natasha’s globe had been identified. Sadly, it had suffered irreparable damage, we both knew what was going to happen, but left it unsaid. He also believed, as I did, that Phineaus had been conducting experiments with souls, using the books as a reference guide. It’s too bad Phineaus’ soul had slipped away, I would have loved to send him straight to hell.
“So Phin was involved,” Basil sat staring off into space, claw tapping the keyboard. “He must have been buying souls for his experiments. I bet Felix tried to arrest him and got shot.”
“Phineaus was a wizard, he didn’t need a gun to kill Felix. Besides, Felix was looking for Dante’s amulet, and I don’t think he had any idea what Phineaus was really up to. Somebody must have believed that he was a threat and got rid of him. And why attack me? It’s not like I know anything. We’re still missing something and I’ve run out of ideas.”
Chapter 19
Basil had his nose stuck in his stolen book and I was curled up on the sectional, giving the remote a workout. My thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha, so I distract myself by flicking through the channels. I checked in with Greg since I was already playing with FaceTime on my phone, thinking he'd be more entertaining than Basil was at the moment. I wanted an update on their wedding plans, but I admit I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to know if he had any information on Dante Ogden. The man kept turning up in my life; he intrigued me and I was more than a little curious about him.
Greg was in a manic mood—their wedding plans were causing havoc. The two of them couldn’t agree on the venue, colors or anything else for that matter. After half an hour of listening to him rant and argue with John, I changed the subject. “Do you know anything about Dante Ogden?”
“Oh, you’ve met him, he’s a hottie. Too bad I bat for the other side,” Greg responded with a wry smile.
Greg’s face distorted and disappeared from the screen as John appeared and interrogated him about his feelings for Dante. He even threatened to call off the wedding.
After placating John, Greg adjusted his phone, rolled his eyes and apologized for the interruption.
“I met him the other day; he keeps turning up. The first time was at Felix’s murder scene and then when someone broke into the funeral home. So, what can you tell me?” I left out the hospital scene on purpose since Greg was a world class gossip.
“Let me see, I met him on the job, about 15 years ago. He’s connected if you know what I mean—his parents were both on the council. They were grooming him to be the next Stewart, trouble was, reaping bored him to death,” Greg covered his mouth and sniggered.
“They wanted him to be head of the world council? Wow.” I’d never given much thought as to how Stewart, aka Death, got the job, I’d just assumed it ran in his family.
“Anyway,” Greg continued, “about ten years ago he chucked it all in and set up on his own. First, he tried the PI thing, you know, like divorce cases and insurance fraud. He ended up spending most of his time sitting in a car on stakeouts and chasing around after unfaithful husbands. That turned out to be more boring than reaping, so he tried rogue retrieval…”
“What’s that?” I asked.
Basil called out from across the room, “The British version of bounty hunting.”
“That’s it,” Greg continued. “You can’t repeat what I’m
going to tell you, to anyone. Promise?”
“Okay, I promise.”
“Me too,” Basil said.
“One rogue he was chasing, a Henry something or other, gave him some cock and bull story about a missing daughter and gold coins. Her family hired him, promising him a huge payday if he returned with both the girl and the coins. He’d still get paid if he only recovered one of them—the daughter or the coins—just not as much. He’d followed their trail around the country and was closing in on them when he ran out of funds. In desperation, he stole a few souls to cover his expenses. I think Dante must have been getting bored again because he actually followed up on the story, and the family confirmed it. Anyway, idiot that he is, he stashed Henry somewhere safe and quit the retrievers. I don’t know how he got away with it, aiding and abetting a rogue, but he did. The two of them teamed up, found the girl and the coins in Alaska, got her home and split the fee. Now he’s calling himself a treasure hunter and is running around chasing cursed objects, lost treasure and other stuff. From what he told me, it’s the best job he’s ever had, even though it’s all or nothing.”
Dante’s job sounded like a lot of fun, even the bit about not finding stuff. “Okay, but is he trustworthy?”
“I’d trust him with my life. If that’s what you want to know.”
I smiled and nodded at Greg. “He said I should call him if I needed help.”
Greg looked up over my head and started laughing, “What’s Basil doing?”
“Reading, why?”
“Turn around.”
I turned around to look at Basil but couldn’t see him; he wasn’t at his desk, but a second later, he swung into view. He had changed into a bright yellow parrot and was looping around on a big ring attached to one of the rafters.
“Heh heh heh,” Basil chortled as he swung faster and faster.
“What are you doing? You’re going to fall off if you go any faster. I thought you were reading. Why are you a parrot right now?”
“You ask too many questions…I’m prettier this way,” he sniffed as he hung upside down, “and I like getting dizzy.”
“You’re a fool,” Greg snorted. “Hey…are you male or female?”
“What? What difference does that make?” Basil replied, looking confused.
“Just curious—straight or gay?” Greg was purposely trying to goad Basil. They had done the same thing when they met in Oregon, and this conversation was headed in the same direction.
“I’m not one or the other,” Basil scoffed.
“Good or evil?” Greg continued. Now I was sure he was baiting Basil.
“Neither; born of stone, no human attributes. Stones don’t lean one way or the other,” Basil said as he leapt from the ring and landed as a gargoyle on the back of the sectional. “Why would you think I’m evil?”
“Are stones square?” Greg inquired with a straight face.
“Who ever heard of a square stone. Why would you ask that?”
“You said you don’t lean, so you must be square.”
“You’re worse than Zoey, what a dumb comeback.”
“Why are you a Basil?” Greg inquired.
A familiar headache was forming behind my eyes, these two were going to drive me nuts again. I prayed it would end soon because Basil was looking confused, he was gaping at the screen in silence.
“Why are you Basil? Why not Harriet or It?” Greg demanded, egging him on.
“Cause a witch wanted to change my name. She wanted me to be her butler,” Basil shot back. “I don’t buttle. That’s just a high classed name for a servant. And Cousin It’s a hand that lives in a box.”
“It would always lend a hand. Anyway, familiars are servants,” Greg continued.
“When’s the last time you had a familiar? Never. Witches just think they’re servants, but they really run the show. I’ll give you a hand out the door though.”
“You are evil, and you sound dumb when you’re a parrot. You make more sense as a gargoyle,” Greg countered
“What makes you think I’m a gargoyle, this could be one of my many disguises.”
Basil shifted back to a parrot, flew up to the ring and hung upside down. “Give up, I can beat you with laryngitis.”
“It’s a good thing you live on the opposite sides of the country. I don’t think I can take much more of this,” I said covering my mouth to stifle a laugh.
“I won,” Basil smirked.
“I’d call it a tie,” I countered, “You're as bad as each other.”
“Good luck you guys. Call Dante if you get in trouble.” Greg was still laughing when he ended the call.
“So, what did you learn from that book?”
Basil sat at his desk drumming his claws on the old manuscript. He appeared to have finished reading it and even though I was dying to hear what he had learned, I waited until he spoke.
“It’s an Alchemic guide on souls. It details how souls can be used to facilitate a transfer.”
“What the heck does that mean?”
“It means that you can transfer your soul into another body.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. How is that even possible?”
“Phin thought it was, but it isn’t complete. But some pages are missing or unreadable.” Basil got up and moved to his desk.
“Why would he want a new body?” I asked.
“Maybe he knew he was dying and wanted to live forever, like Ponce De Leon.”
“So he just decided to swap bodies. I would have thought curing your own would be smarter. And wouldn’t the owner object to having his body stolen and put up a fight?”
“Probably.”
“And what happens to the owners soul—is it sidelined or is it ejected?”
“Don’t know, that part is missing.” Basil looked off to the side, wrinkling his brow. “I wonder how many souls he used before he got it right? Then again, did he succeed or did he die before he finished?”
That explained a lot, Phineaus must have supplied the enchantment for the scrolls. He would have needed a steady supply of souls for his experiments and that was the only way he could get them.
“His soul was missing, so my guess is he succeeded.” What a horrifying thought—that sounded worse than being fed to a wraith. “He had to be in contact with whoever he was going to use. There might be a clue in his house, we should probably go back and take a look.”
“Male or a female?” Basil said and I’m not sure he meant it as a question.
“I think it would be a man, I mean, it’d be hard for a guy to pull off being a woman.”
“Depends,” Basil replied with a grin. “Let’s head over there.”
The house looked much the same from the outside, but inside was a different story. The stacks of magazines and newspapers that had lined the hallway, were now piled up in the dining room. The living room, staircase and upstairs bedroom were covered in fingerprint dust, it reminded me of the mess the police had created in my office. Even though they had finished with the house, I didn’t want our presence to be noticed, so I donned a pair of gloves. Basil sported a pair of orange kitchen gloves, the extra-large rubber kind.
“Look for an address book or some kind of journal,” I said as we began searching the bedrooms.
We met up in Phineaus’ room and discovered that most of the books and all the manuscripts were gone. They were probably sitting in the vault at the council headquarters. I pulled open the drawer of a bedside table and found nothing of interest, just a few tissues, some denture cream and a tube of Bengay. Basil was staring at the hidden room; it had been cleaned out as well, and the only things left in there were a few dust bunnies. We headed downstairs to search the living room and dining room and came up empty.
“The only thing left is the kitchen and based on the rest of the house, it’ll probably be a waste of time,” I said dejectedly; this had sounded like a good idea two hours ago.
Basil gravitated toward the fridge while I rummaged through the cabine
ts.
He squealed in delight and dove into the fridge. “Yum, goodies!”
I had trouble keeping a straight face when he emerged, his lips and chin were smeared with pink icing, and a yellow flower clung to his nose. He licked his fingers while holding a chunk of the mangled cake. “I love birthday cake. The only thing missing is ice cream.”
“You shouldn’t be eating that. You don’t know where it’s been,” I had always wanted to say that. “Who’s birthday was it? Does it say?”
Basil picked up what was left of the cake and dumped it on the table. “Oops, my bad,” he said, looking between the cake and the chunk in his hand. “Looks like it might have been Frank’s birthday.”
The chunk Basil had broken off had contained part of a name, his claws had obliterated the letters. “Frank? That’s really helpful. I don’t know a Frank, do you?”
“Frankly…no,” Basil quipped, “Heh, heh, I slay myself.”
I rolled my eyes. “Put that back and let’s get out of here, this had been a total waste of time.”
Skye called while I was napping in Basil’s attic room. They had a general location for Natasha and were positive that she was still alive. The area they had pinpointed overlapped the Forest Glen suburb, which bordered the abandoned Lost Hope silver mine. A few years ago, a group of town residents banded together and started a petition to fill in the mine shafts. They were worried that the town could be sued if someone died falling into the shafts. The cost of the project turned out to be much more than the city could afford, so a compromise was reached. A fence was installed around the perimeter of the mine and volunteers would patrol the most dangerous areas. As time wore on, the patrols dwindled from daily to weekly, and eventually stopped. If Natasha was in the mine, she was in a lot of trouble. I thought about calling Walter and letting him attempt the rescue, but quickly dismissed that idea. I believed Natasha was being held in the mine, but there’s no way Walter would just take my word for it. By the time he was ready to check it out, Natasha could be dead. The other problem was that the whole area was unstable, the shaft roofs and passageways were prone to collapse. There were also unmarked shafts, hidden by overgrown vegetation. Too much activity in the area might trigger a cave-in, killing her, as well as the rescuers. We needed to proceed with caution if we were to find and rescue her. Basil and I argued about asking Dante for help. I was positive that we could handle it ourselves, but he wasn’t so sure.
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