by Kim Schubert
He blew out a breath as we climbed into the SUV. “I don’t want to put an innocent life in danger because of who I am and what I’ve done.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you are overreaching on your enemies.”
He smiled, but it was strained. “Maybe.”
…
We arrived at the cemetery twenty minutes later, and it was a zoo.
“Holy fucking hell,” Jerry whispered, covering his nose as we exited the SUV. The stench of death, decay, and rotting bodies assaulted our noses.
I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to judge if he was going to puke. Shaking his head, he pulled it together.
“I’m good,” he croaked out.
Turning back to the scene in front of me, I walked toward the yellow crime scene tape and a plainclothes officer in a tweed suit.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Detective Miller.”
He turned dark eyes, sizing me up before returning his gaze to my sea green ones. I had already given him the once over upon approaching.
“Who’s asking?”
“Your fairy godmother.”
He grunted, “Olivia, Executioner from the Council.” Nodding, he held the yellow tape up so Jerry and I could cross under.
“I’m Miller.” He turned, looking over the cemetery. His bewilderment was evident.
“Can you take me through it from the beginning?” I asked.
He nodded, about to begin when a large officer bellowed at us.
“Whoa Miller, who the hell do you think you are bringing them in here? This isn’t a damn attraction.” One of the uniformed guards stopped the gray-haired Miller with a forceful hand to the chest.
“Back off Daniels,” Miller growled in response, pushing the hand off and stepping into the giant’s personal space. “These are the Supernatural Council’s representatives.”
I moved forward, extending my hand. “Olivia, Head Executioner.” I loved the way his eyes widened. “This is Jerry, Head Transporter.”
Jerry quickly shook off his stare of disbelief at me for assigning him a position as he shook Daniels’s hand. I wanted to call him Head Mage, but they hadn’t exactly come out to the public at large. Granted, from the little news I saw, humans were demanding to know what other species were out there.
We just weren’t obliging.
Daniels ran a hand over his shaggy hair. “I apologize. It’s been a long night keeping reporters and civilians out of here.”
“I can imagine,” I said with a nod. I wish I had known they were here last night. Talk about wasting time sleeping.
“The dead just don’t disappear,” Daniels stated, clearly having a hard time with the situation.
“No,” I agreed, “they don’t.” Even vampires left dust behind.
“I’m going to take them through the time line. Since you were first to arrive, do you want to accompany me?” Miller asked.
Daniels nodded, falling in step with us.
“The caretaker was out here at four in the morning tending to the lawn, removing trash and such when he found this.” Miller waved his hand toward the 52 empty graves. I could imagine his brain was having a hard time processing what he saw: these graves had been dug out of, not into. As Daniels said, the dead don’t disappear.
“After he recovered from the shock, he heard chanting and followed it,” Daniels took over seamlessly. “He saw four women holding hands and chanting in dark robes, with a woman in white in the middle.”
Jerry’s quick inhale had both men turning to him. “Does that mean something?” Daniels asked observantly.
Jerry turned to me and I shook my head. “Let’s get all the facts first,” I advised.
He nodded mutely.
“Let’s see the site of said chanting,” I asked. Alright, I attempted to ask. It came out as more of a command.
Both men started to walk as Jerry and I fell behind a step.
“Olie,” Jerry hissed, infusing his fear and worry in my name.
“I know,” I answered, annoyed.
Next to a towering stone crypt with the name Morrison etched into it was a makeshift altar of blue cloth. Upon it rested incense and a bowl holding something truly rank smelling. Around the circle were the bodies of three dead witches.
“There’s so much blood,” Jerry whispered, picking his leg up only to feel his shoe pulling free from the gore with a sticky sound. That had him gulping down his breakfast.
Crouching down to the bowl I asked, “Do you have gloves?”
Miller and Daniels both provided me a pair. I handed one back to Jerry, watching as his dark skin turned slightly ashen.
“You good?” I asked.
He nodded, giving me a tight-lipped smile.
I snapped the gloves on and poked around in the bowl, wishing for a shifters sense of smell as I inhaled deeply.
Standing up, I handed the bowl to Jerry, not getting much off it. He repeated what I had done. Moving to the victims, I rolled the first one to her back. Dark brown locks were plastered together with her sticky blood. Her face was frozen in surprise, her throat neatly sliced open. Moving to the others I found much the same, except that in the case of the last, her face was frozen in anger. I could almost hear the scream on her pale lips.
With a groan I stood back up, looking over the graveyard.
“All the bodies are gone.” It was a statement, not a question.
“All,” Daniels said, paling slightly.
“How did they move all the bodies?” Miller asked, with a mix of awe and fear.
Jerry answered after setting the bowl back down with a grim expression. “Nobody moved the bodies. They walked off.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I turned to the pale-faced officers, “We need to speak with the caretaker.” I removed my gloves, hoping I hadn’t smeared dried blood on my face.
“Dead bodies do not get up and walk.” Daniels heavily emphasized each word.
I cast a look at Jerry, who shook his head, also removing his gloves. Daniels was in way over his head.
“The caretaker, please,” I repeated, about done being nice. His inability to process reality was not my problem.
Miller responded, moving away from Daniels, who just stood there too dumbfounded to move.
Cracking my neck, I scanned the overly bright day. I should have worn a coat; the sun wasn’t doing much to dispel the cold here. Miller led us back deeper into the property and under another yellow police tape line, taking a small, worn path that we walked down single file. The path opened up into a flourishing clearing with a full garden in the front yard of the dwelling.
Our knock on the door was greeted with a disgruntled, “Enter.”
Miller opened the door and stepped back. “I need to check on Daniels.”
I nodded, pushing into the quaint home, not expecting the sight that greeted my eyes.
Intelligent emerald eyes sized me up. He sat puffing on a pipe in front of a low fire, recognition flaring in his gaze.
“Executioner,” he greeted me, tipping his head in respect.
“Have we met before?”
The orange haired leprechaun shook his head, pulling his blanket firmly around his shoulder. “Nay—though you did end my third cousin once removed. I’m Fergus, Fergus McLawson.”
His look of contempt had me crossing my arms. “I’m sure he deserved it.”
The leprechaun spat in the fire. “Aye, that he did.”
Turning his wrinkled face back to us, he asked, “What do ye want?”
Jerry stepped forward. “We are trying to figure out what happened.”
“Bah,” Fergus spat, “ain’t it obvious?”
“It would be, except witches and necromancers don’t work together,” I answered.
Satisfaction lit Fergus’s eyes. “You know what the woman in white is?”
“I do,” I answered.
He nodded. “Perhaps rumors of your incompetence have been exaggerated.”
I huffed.
“Fucking hell,” I hissed, rubbing my eyes.
“How powerful were the witches—any mages?” Jerry questioned, maintaining his composure.
“Nay, hardly a blip on my radar. I thought the wee ones were playing out there again, until the white woman tapped her power. Bloody hell, I almost lost my supper.”
Jerry sighed and looked at me, silently asking if I had any more questions. I didn’t.
“Don’t run off, Fergus,” I warned him as we left.
“You sound like the bloody bobby!” he called after us.
“Where do you think they learned their best moves from?” I yelled back, not bothering to turn.
A scuffling sound had me turning to see his hunched figure at the door, his eyes serious. “Be careful Executioner, the witches are up to something revolting.”
I sighed, “Any idea what it is?”
He nodded. “Trust me, ye do not want to know.”
I smiled, showing my teeth. “Do not presume to speak my mind for me, Fergus.”
Shifting, he lowered his eyes, “The rumor is the witches are trying to open a portal to the Fae.”
He was right, I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t hide the look of pure terror or the blood leaving my face.
Fergus nodded. “Glad to see ye have a healthy respect for that power.”
With that, he slammed the door on us.
It took a few moments before I could focus on Jerry in front of me. Grasping my shoulder, he shook me slightly.
“Olivia, the witches can’t contact the Fae.”
I gulped. “I fucking hope not, or we are all doomed.”
…
Jerry walked around the graves, taking time to stare down into the holes with a mixture of intensity and horror. Some unknown witch had a small fucking army of zombies, not to mention a necromancer, at her disposal.
Fuck.
My ass started playing, “Move Bitch (Get Out the Way).”
“Dammit, Tommy,” I hissed, pulling out my phone. Then I chimed, “Speak of the devil! Tommy, what are you doing?” I couldn’t help the smile in my voice.
“OLIE!” he shouted. “Disneyland is amazing. I miss you!”
“I miss you too, bud.”
“You’ve gotta come out here, Olie, the rides are awesome. The parades are out of this world! Not to mention all the different worlds, we haven’t even been to half of them yet.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Okay, I gotta go. Love you, Olie!”
The phone clicked off before I could respond.
“Kids?” Miller asked, coming to stand next to me.
“Yeah,” I answered, not elaborating. I refocused on the case as Jerry came to stand before me with a distant look in his dark eyes.
“Anything?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing we didn’t already know.”
I nodded, stowing my phone again.
“What’s our next move?” Miller asked.
“For you, nothing,” I sighed. “For us, there are avenues we can attempt.”
Miller shifted, uncomfortable with my honesty. “Don’t take offense, Miller. I’ll update you on what we find out and worst case, if these things kill us, the Council will have your information.
He regarded me closely, his eyes searching my own. “You go after dangerous shit a lot?
“Yep.”
“Death wish?”
“Killing keeps me sane,” I admitted.
He shook his head, moving away.
“Any spells you can cast to lead us to the mysterious witch?” I asked Jerry.
He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Maybe, if we can find a local shop.”
I nodded, heading to the SUV.
Daniels ambushed us, grabbing my arm and spinning me forcefully around to face him.
“Where do you think you are going?” he demanded.
Slowly, my eyes trailed up from his hand resting on my bare skin to his eyes.
“Uhh, you need to be letting her go now.” Jerry reached over to remove his hand.
“Don’t,” I hissed.
Daniels shifted his focus from Jerry back to me, “You need to explain—“
Rage swelled and I hit him full force with fear—weak-in-the-knees, pee-yourself, can’t-breathe fear. His reaction was exactly as advertised, dropping to his knees, trembling. I lifted his hand off my arm and bent down to his ear. “No one touches me.”
With that, I walked away. “When the fuck did witches start binding necromancers?” I asked Jerry.
He gave me a wide berth after my power display.
“I don’t know Olie, but was that necessary?”
I turned on him quickly, stepping into his personal space. I’ll give him props for not backing up at the intensity in my eyes. “The moment I allow the humans’ government to dictate what I do is the moment we are all lost. These interactions are far more important than one human’s hurt ego. My power keeps us all safe. Do not forget get that.”
Jerry lowered his head slightly before following me to the SUV.
I should stop trying to keep friends. I wasn’t built for it.
…
“Turn right in five hundred feet,” the GPS’s curt voice informed me.
“What’s it called again?” I asked.
Jerry checked his phone. “The Bitchy Witchy.”
“I’ll fit right in.”
Jerry snorted, “That you will.”
Dammit, me and my trying.
The small parking lot was deserted and we didn’t have a long walk to the blacked out glass door entrance.
The overpowering reek of smoke blasted out of the shop. My eyes were having a hard time adjusting from the bright sunny day to the dark, cluttered interior.
“I ain’t buying nothin’!” yelled a rattling voice.
Jerry pushed in front of me to greet the hunched over witch hobbling toward us, leaning heavily on her cane.
“I’d like to purchase.”
She squinted up at him with a huff before turning to me. “You wait here.”
I nodded, annoyed. Why did I always have to stay out in the lobby when the witches were talking? Fucking Blake had me do the same thing.
My jaw tightened, my eyes misting of their own damn accord. Fucking hell, I had to give up. I had to move on. My fucking heart wasn’t letting me. I just missed the asshole so much.
After ten minutes I went back to the car to wait for Jerry. Unlike in the other shop, I was fairly certain I was not allowed to peruse the wares.
…
Grams called just as Jerry was climbing into the SUV, probably missing driving his Beast around.
“Olivia.” Her tone had warning signals spiking through my veins.
“What?” I clipped out.
“Do not break anything.”
“Maybe I should drive,” Jerry offered.
Tapping the steering wheel, I nodded my head in agreement and we made the switch.
“Alright, go ahead.”
“We’ve been invited to Blake and Angelina’s wedding.”
Rage colored my vision, a snarl leaving my lips without my permission.
“No.”
Grams cleared her throat, “No!” I reaffirmed.
Softly, so as not to disturb my already delicate sanity: “We are head of the Supernatural Council, dear.”
I sat back against the seat with an audible thump, causing Jerry to flinch from the sudden movement.
“No,” I tried again with less hope.
“Just think about it,” Grams concluded with a sigh.
Think about it? Think about the only man I’d ever allowed myself to love marrying someone else?
“Nothing good can come of this,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “When is it?” Maybe I could just conveniently forget. Yeah, no one was going to buy that excuse.
“Two weeks.”
“WHAT?” Jer
ry and I asked in unison.
“Two weeks,” Grams repeated.
I groaned, “I hope I get taken by the witches.”
“Olivia,” Grams scolded, “do not even think of allowing that to happen in order to get out of going.”
I groaned again.
Noise from the children colored the line. “Think about it,” Grams repeated before ending the call.
“He still loves you,” Jerry stated confidently.
“Ha,” I humorlessly replied. “Why then, wise man, is he marrying another woman?”
Jerry was silent, so I answered for him. “Because she can solve his problems. I can’t, because I will always and forever be a demon whore.” I hissed the last two words.
Jerry shifted in the driver’s seat, clearly having no idea how to answer that.
“I don’t know about that, but I do know Angelina feels threatened by you. That’s why she invited you.”
“She invited me because I am the Head Executioner for the Council.”
“Really?” he asked, looking at me for a brief moment as we made a right turn. “How many weddings do you get invited to yearly?”
He had a point. It wasn’t one I was willing to concede, though. “There’s our hotel.”
He grunted, my blaringly obvious topic change noted.
…
“This is taking forever,” I complained again, watching Jerry sitting cross-legged on the navy carpet of the hotel room, with bowls, ingredients, and books spread around him.
Perched on the bed, I rested my chin in my hand, lying on my stomach.
“It’s an art form,” he replied through clenched teeth.
I huffed, rolling to my back to stare at the ceiling.
As is a common theme in my life, I didn’t wait well.
Jerry grunted and I rolled back over to his look of satisfaction.
“Done.”
“Where is she?”
He sighed. “It didn’t exactly work out like that.”
“Why not?”
“She shielded at the graveyard. I was able to create a locator so that in a 100 yard radius, or so, you can track her, like playing a game of hot and cold.”
I pursed my lips at him. I wasn’t celebrating this as a win.
“If you knew anything about magic you would be applauding my immense talent and skills right now.”
I slow clapped, “Woohoo.”
“Rude.”
“If you want recognition, hang out with your own kind.”