The sliding glass door opened again, and purple-eyed Dr. Ankh left, her soft shoes silent on the concrete floor. The only sound was her stiff cotton scrubs rustling.
Vincent headed for the exit without even looking back. I ran to catch up and caught him by the elbow. As soon as my fingers dug into the thick leather of his jacket, I clicked into him, like a piece of a quality jigsaw puzzle snapping into place. His sister’s feelings toward her brother mingled with my own toward a man I barely knew.
And then... I did know him.
I knew, without all of the specifics of their shared history, that Vincent Wick had always made mistakes. He’d always hurt people, but he’d also made amends. Eventually. His code of honor was not the same as others, but he did have a code, and he stuck to it. He strove for balance. For relationships to be equal. One gives, the other gives the same amount. One makes a mistake then makes amends and finds balance again.
Vincent Wick had electrocuted my father without giving him a chance to explain his presence in Tansy’s home, but then he had made amends by coming to me. You could always count on Vincent Wick to make a mess, but you could also count on him to clean it up. Always, Tansy’s spirit whispered.
I was on the verge of saying something, but I immediately forgot what.
Vincent glared at my fingers on his jacket arm. “What?” His beady eyes flicked up to my face.
“Nothing,” I said, and then, “Thank you for trying to set things right by me and my father.”
“Stop it,” he said gruffly, yanking his arm away. “I won’t be charmed by you, witch. Save your glistening eyes for another sucker.”
I stared at him, refusing to back down. I’d been trying to thank him, and he’d insulted me.
He stared right back. He leaned forward, getting his face into my personal space.
The words came from Tansy and onto my lips.
“Vincent Wick, you really are a big, stupid dung beetle.” I reached up and flicked him on the forehead again.
His face contorted into pure outrage.
“Tansy made me do it,” I said.
He looked down his hawkish nose and sneered at me. “Worm,” he said.
“Dung beetle.”
He turned and left.
I was alone in the waiting room, which was more of a concrete-walled hallway than a room. A proper waiting room would have some magazines or signs touting the benefits of frequent hand sanitizing.
I sat on a plastic chair and waited for news from Dr. Ankh.
I rubbed the sweat from my palms onto my long purple sweater. This sweater matches Dr. Ankh’s eyes. Had Zoey’s closet been able to foresee the details of tonight’s events when it had offered the clothing hours earlier? I’d thought its prognostication abilities were limited to the weather forecast.
I pondered this, since I had nothing else to do while waiting. I had left my house with nothing but the borrowed clothes on my body. No purse. No phone. Nothing to distract myself with.
Purple, I mused. I’d been wearing a purple blouse the first time I’d encountered my father as an injured fox. Probably a coincidence, I decided. If my house’s closets could tell the future, it would be a waste to use them only for wardrobe storage and selection.
My mind raced with the possibilities. I could use my all-seeing, all-knowing closets to become the Queen of the World. And then what? Besides increasing the funding for libraries, and ending all war and famine and disease and human greed and whatnot. Then what?
Tansy threw in a few suggestions about outlawing mini golf courses and artificial turf. She also had some decent ideas about true representational government.
This is good, I told her. Let’s start drafting up a manifesto.
She started onto a rant similar to the one she’d given earlier that day at the Atlantis Mini Putt and Water Adventure Park. This one, judging by the snippets I could catch, was about socialism versus pure communism. In a matter of minutes, she was out of control. Unrestrained by a physical body, she spoke at a speed I couldn’t comprehend. My whole head ached.
Thankfully, I was saved by the distraction of someone else joining me in the hallway. Tansy’s spirit retreated to the dark edges, and the headache receded as well.
The newcomer was a huge man with a familiar face I was happy to see.
“Knox!”
The big, muscular, dark-skinned man walked up to where I sat.
In his deep gentle-giant voice, he said, “Zara, you look like you could use a hug, and people say my hugs are the best.” He stretched out his trunk-like arms. I got to my feet and took him up on the offer.
Hugging Knox was like hugging a giant oak tree, if an oak tree could hug back. It was because of agents like Knox that the DWM had to get reinforced gurneys.
We sat down, and Knox listened as I relayed what had happened over the past five days, from my father’s dramatic arrival, to my current role as host to Tansy Wick’s spirit. If my father hadn’t been connected to Tansy’s disappearance before, getting caught inside her house had certainly done the trick now.
“He might not be involved,” Knox said, frowning thoughtfully. “You said it yourself, your father’s an opportunistic man. He might have broken into the estate for other reasons.”
“To steal anything that’s not nailed down?”
“Zara, have you considered that he might have been there to help you with your problem?”
I snorted. “Some help he’s been.”
“He’s staying with you, in your house. Didn’t he think it was weird when you suddenly started digging up the back yard? He might have heard about Tansy and put two and two together.”
“You think he’s investigating the case on my behalf?”
Knox smiled shyly. “What do I know? I’m just a big lunkhead. They didn’t hire me for my lateral thinking skills.” He flexed his big bicep to illustrate his point.
“Come on,” I said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
His brow wrinkled. “Tell me about the bird attack. The one in Pacific Spirit Park.”
I rolled my eyes. “My father claimed the bird was roaring,” I said. “Sounds pretty made-up to me.”
Knox rubbed his big hand over his mouth and chin. “I just wish we could make it a whole week without hearing about yet another bird attack.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Was my father’s attack part of some spree? Is there another monster on the loose? Maybe a former associate of Dr. Bob’s? He could have been working with others.”
“There’s no monster on the loose,” Knox said, his voice rumbling with annoyance. “Bird shifters are always the scapegoat. Throughout history, my kind has always been mistrusted and reviled.” He wrinkled his broad, flat nose as his nostrils flared. “It’s not fair for us to be treated with so much persecution.”
I waved one hand as though asking a question in a classroom. “Hello? There’s a witch sitting in this chair. Do you know how many women have been executed for practicing witchcraft? It’s always been a convenient way for the people in power to get rid of women who stir up trouble.”
His expression softened. “But you are always getting yourself into trouble.” He leaned back casually in his chair, looking me over. “Have you thought about teaming up with the good guys?”
“Me? Working for the DWM? I guess I’d consider it... if the Wisteria Public Library suddenly dropped into a giant sinkhole.”
He frowned. “Don’t say such things.” He glanced around furtively.
I patted his knee. “Thanks for the offer, but I love my career. I get to help people every day, and it’s the least I can do. Humanity’s collective knowledge is the result of countless hours of sacrifice and dedication. You know, you can tell a lot about a culture by how much they value knowledge, and by how committed they are to sharing it with everyone.”
“Good to know,” he said. “Never mind about working with us. You would fail the psychological tests with that pro-sharing attitude.”
“Are you saying I’
m a security risk? Because I believe in libraries?”
He didn’t have to answer, because I knew the answer was yes.
Chet had provided me with a single book, which was a drop in the bucket compared to the information the DWM had.
But as strongly as I felt about sharing knowledge, I did have some sense. The library doesn’t carry books about how to make illegal drugs. Or explosive devices. It’s not censorship, but we do adhere to community standards. And we use our heads.
I would, for example, never hold a press conference and announce to the world that witches were real. Did I want to be responsible for the mass genocide of magical beings? I’d sooner set off World War Three.
Not that I was against the idea of sharing more of the secret world of magic with others. Not entirely. I’d love to get a neurolinguist’s take on how Witch Tongue worked its magic. I’d been tempted to let Detective Bentley in on the truth. And even my boss, Kathy. The poor woman was probably developing a complex from all the times Frank and I suddenly stopped talking whenever she walked by.
And that was exactly why I would fail the DWM’s psychological tests. They would detect my slight wavering and reject me. With a complimentary mind wipe. Or if I put up a fuss, a dirt nap of the permanent kind. Knox and Chet referred to their organization as “the good guys,” but you know what people say about secret supernatural underground operations that wield untold powers. They don’t say much of anything! (Because of the aforementioned mind wipes and the dirt naps.)
I sighed.
“Don’t you worry,” Knox said. “Dr. Ankh will have your father’s tail wagging in no time.”
“About Dr. Ankh,” I said casually. “What is she?”
He grinned, his Knox-sized teeth gleaming between full lips. “Zara, you know I’m not supposed to tell you stuff like that.”
“But she’s good, right? By which I mean her moral alignment. She’s lawful good, not chaotic evil?”
He tilted his head. “You play Dungeons and Dragons?”
“Knox, we’re currently underground, sitting on cheap plastic chairs inside the hallway of what’s basically a high-tech dungeon. I’ve met your in-house lawyer, Steve, who’s about as close to a dragon as anything I’ve seen. Plus I’ve been reading the department’s own Monster Manual to educate myself on various magical creatures and what they eat.” I paused for drama. “Knox, I don’t need to play Dungeons and Dragons, because my regular life is Dungeons and Dragons.”
His grin got even bigger.
I punched him on his big bicep. “Plus your name is Knox. It doesn’t get more D and D than that.”
“If you say so, Zara Riddle, level four witch with a plus two base attack bonus.”
“Excuse me? Only plus two?” I shook my head. “I’m deeply offended. I should cast an animation spell and entangle you with that plastic ficus.” I pointed to the world’s least convincing artificial greenery.
“Do it,” he said with excitement.
Before I could admit I’d been bluffing and knew of no such spell, we were interrupted by the sound of approaching footfalls. A woman emerged from a nearby hallway and came toward us.
It was Charlize, dressed in a silver jumpsuit that would look right at home on the deck of the USS Enterprise. Her golden curls fell loosely to her shoulders.
“Sister Zara,” she squealed. “Wait. That makes it sound like you’re a nun.”
I replied, “Zara tries to be good, but Zara is not a very good nun.”
Charlize laughed. “I don’t get it.” She laughed again anyway and gave me a hug. She smelled like cupcakes. She squeezed me with snake strength. “Your dad’s going to pull through, I promise. Dr. Ankh will have his tail wagging in no time.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” I said once she’d released me from her boa constrictor grip. “What I’d really like is for him to shift back to human form so he can answer a few questions.”
“Such as?” Charlize raised a blonde eyebrow.
I glanced over at Knox. “Stuff,” I said. “Knox thinks he might have been trying to help me with something.”
“On Tansy Wick’s computer,” she said. “I got the details from our pal Vincent on his way out.”
Knox said, “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. Shifters are always getting blamed for stuff. There are a lot of bad stereotypes our kind has to deal with.”
“I wish I knew what he was doing on Tansy’s computer,” I said.
“I can answer that,” Charlize replied.
“Really? That would be amazing,” I said. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Chloe’s always saying you’re a genius on computers.”
“We can’t all be pastry chefs,” Charlize said with a wink. Then in a spooky, drawn-out tone, she said, “Come with meeeeeeee, Zara. To my seeeeeeeecret underground labooooooratory.”
Knox gave her a confused look. “All the labs are both underground and secret. The whole building is.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “Knox, never stop being so literal. Even if they find a way to regrow your sense of irony, just say no.”
Knox shrugged and looked at me. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll hand you off to Charlize so I can get in a quick third workout.”
I gave him a sidelong look. “Third one today, or third one for some other period of time that would be more reasonable?”
“Today, I think. It’s hard to tell the days apart when you’re underground.”
“Well, have a good third workout,” I said. “Do a chin-up for me. I’ve never done one, and it’s on my bucket list. I mean, it’s not, but I can write chin-up on there and cross it off right away for the buzz of accomplishment.”
“Will do,” he said without a trace of irony.
Charlize gave me a sympathetic look and then led the way toward her office.
Chapter 29
I used the phone in Charlize’s office to call Zoey and give her a quick update. I downplayed her grandfather’s injuries as best I could and told her to go to bed, since she had school in the morning.
Charlize glanced over from her computer screen. “It’s crazy that you have a sixteen-year-old daughter. That’s, like, a whole entire other person you’re responsible for. And you’re basically my age. I can’t even imagine.”
“Do you want kids?”
She grimaced. “I can barely look after my nephew for ten minutes without a major incident.”
“That’s all parenting is. Stretching out those minutes between major incidents.”
She chuckled and went back to her typing. “This will take a while. The server’s updating.”
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
Her golden-blonde eyebrows bounced. “You can ask.”
“How does the DWM coordinate investigations with the Wisteria Police? I’ve been getting to know Detective Bentley—”
“I bet you have,” she interjected.
I snorted. “As I was saying, he doesn’t seem to know about the town’s special qualities. Won’t that prevent him from doing his job?”
“Yes and no,” she said. “As for our system, I can tell you that all information from the police flows freely into the DWM, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.”
“Does it flow through Vincent Wick?”
“More like in spite of Vincent Wick.” She rolled her eyes. “Cases that involve supernaturals are worked on in tandem by both departments. We do have trained agents in place at various other agencies, including quite a few in parks and rec. But here’s the thing. The regular human cops who don’t know anything about magical creatures, it turns out they’re excellent investigators. They’re always chasing that thing that’s just out of reach. Mystery is the single greatest motivator, better than money.”
“Better than power? Or sex?”
She frowned. “Equal, maybe.” Her computer beeped. She began typing again. Without looking at me, she said, “The best detectives throughout history are the ones who are driven to madness by puzzles, by their own desperate qu
est for the truth.
“Like Fox Mulder from the X-Files,” I said. “The truth is out there.”
With her eyes still on her screen, she pointed her finger at me. “Exactly.”
“You’re trying to turn Detective Bentley into a UFO-chasing Agent Mulder.”
“He’s got the rugged good looks.” She tittered girlishly.
“What happens when he does uncover something? Assuming he doesn’t get mind-wiped or dirt-napped. Does he get promoted to the DWM? An all-access pass to Strangeville, Population Unknown?”
“That’s not up to me or you,” she said. “Now, let’s see what your bushy-tailed father was up to on Tansy Wick’s computer.”
For the next few minutes, my gorgon friend dove into the data stream, becoming one with the computer. She explained in a robotic tone that Tansy’s computer would be physically taken to the police headquarters on Monday, when the tech unit was given authorization. It had only been left at her house due to normal procedural delays, which had made it vulnerable to incursion by a sneaky fox. However, the DWM had previously attained a full data download from all of Tansy’s devices. That had happened within minutes of my missing persons report going into the system.
“This data is a perfect copy,” Charlize intoned, still eerily cyborg-like. “It includes a log of your father’s keystrokes.” She paused, transfixed by her screen. “He accessed some of Tansy’s file folders.” More typing. “What’s Project Buttercup?”
I leaned over to peek at her screen. It was a code view that looked like something from a sci-fi movie to me.
“Project Buttercup,” I mused. It didn’t sound evil or nefarious at all. Tansy, does that ring a bell?
My ghost was silent. Very silent. It was the kind of suspicious silence that a mother recognizes.
I shook my head. “My ghost isn’t telling me anything. Tansy’s hiding it from me. Guilty conscience, I bet.”
Charlize jerked her gaze away from her screen and stared at me. “She’s dead? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I still am. Is she inside you now? What’s that like?”
I shrugged. “What’s anything like? There are good parts and bad parts. She hasn’t shared with me what happened to her. From what I know of ghosts, they’re confused most of the time, and they either don’t know what happened to them, or refuse to remember. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.”
Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 21