by Marie Castle
After another moment, a steadier Mr. Richmond continued, “I waited, but Isabella never showed. I called her cell over and over with no answer. Part of me didn’t want to leave in case she showed up. What if she’d forgotten her phone? I could pass her on the road and never realize it. I waited four hours, enough time for Isabella to get from her apartment in The Burg to our house in NOLA. I called her boyfriend, Kyle. He tends bar at a club in NOLA. Kyle was at work and hadn’t heard from her. I couldn’t wait anymore.”
I jotted notes, nodding for him to continue.
“My daughter’s a creature of habit. She always takes the same routes. I followed the roads, stopping every time I saw a car pulled over in either lane.” He released a humorless laugh. “I ran across another girl my daughter’s age whose car had broken down. I called her a tow, but I never saw my Iza. When I made it to her apartment, it was empty. Her car was there. Kyle arrived soon after with some of the club’s bouncers, and they began to search for her.” He paused, put aside his untouched coffee, looked at me then looked away.
Why the sudden hesitation? Undoubtedly everything he’d said so far had been true, but we were about to get into some difficult questions. I didn’t like taking a job knowing only half the facts—case in point: Sunday’s run for the Kin.
“Mr. Richmond, I understood that your daughter was upset and is now missing,” I paused, waiting for his downcast eyes to meet mine. “But what brings you to my agency instead of the police?” Clients usually came to me weeks after the PD had exhausted their own resources. It didn’t bother me to be the second or third option. This was a poor area. No one wanted to pay a PI if the law would help them for free.
Before I could finish my question, I had a foreboding. Trouble was approaching. Just as Aunt Helena walked in, Mr. Richmond pulled a crumpled scrap of newspaper from his pocket. My stomach dropped, recognizing the ad as he placed it on my desk. The words “Now Taking Supernatural as well as Natural Cases” seemed to jump off the page, catching my aunt’s eye. This was the ad we’d fought over yesterday, the version I’d neglected to mention placing in The Burg’s paper.
Aunt Helena’s easy smile faltered. She not-so-gently shooed Hex from a chair and gracefully sat. I would’ve felt sorry for the cat if she hadn’t been evil incarnate. Other than to introduce herself and pat Mr. Richmond’s knee, Aunt Helena was silent. Hex, on the other hand, protested her cruel treatment loudly as she stalked from the room. I waved for Mr. Richmond to continue.
“You see, my Iza has very unique abilities.” His hands fisted. “The police wouldn’t be able to help me. And even if they could, I’m not sure they’d bother.”
I hid my frown. If I wasn’t mistaken, the man sitting before me was human. I didn’t sense even a smidgen of magical ability, but I wasn’t surprised by his claim. The PD’s Supernatural Crimes Units only handled magical cases against humans. If Isabella was Supernatural and missing she was the Council’s responsibility. But obviously, her father had his reasons for not seeking their help. Reasons he finally looked ready to share.
Mr. Richmond said, “This has never been discussed outside our family. If Isabella’s mother were still alive, she could explain better. My late wife was a Druid.”
I raised my eyebrows. Druids were humans with a genetic twist that allowed them to connect to the most ancient of magics. Unfortunately, there were few left. The bloodlines had become so mixed with other mortals that those left had little or no power. An issue I understood well, as some said this was the reason there were now so few guardians.
I didn’t need magic to know he wasn’t lying. No one would willingly label themselves or their child a Druid. Druids were one of the few humans with powers. Because they were human and magical, they were outcasts, not fitting with either group. It wasn’t a matter of being popular but having no structure to protect them. With their numbers few and scattered, they usually hid, pretending to be as powerless as other humans.
“Exactly what type of abilities does Isabella have?” I caught myself before saying, “did have.” Usually, when pretty young girls went missing they didn’t turn up, at least not alive. I didn’t need a reminder, but if I did I had the macabre photos of five such girls filed in the drawer inches below my teacup. Still, I was firmly an optimist, at least when it came to other people’s lives. I wanted myself and Mr. Richmond to believe she would be found alive.
His answer was barely a whisper. “Premonition. Very strong. Very clear. And the newspaper with your ad,” he placed a finger on the ad in question, “was in my daughter’s apartment, lying on the kitchen counter under her keys.”
A ring of red fire had been drawn around the print. I looked at it more closely. Over the text had been written four, red letters, CATE.
He raised his head, his eyes blazing with certainty. “My daughter wanted me to come here, wanted me to meet you. I feel it in my soul. And so, Miss Delacy, here I am.” There was silence as myself, my aunt, and Jacq, who had Mynx trying to stop her from entering the room, froze.
With difficulty, I tore my gaze from Mr. Richmond’s and gestured for Mynx and Jacq to sit. It seemed Jacq would need to hear this after all.
Precognition. Holy mother of all that was sacred. The true power of premonition hadn’t been seen in centuries. I met my aunt’s eyes, reading her thoughts clearly. That explained why Isabella Richmond had been so upset. I could practically see it in my head. Most likely, Mr. Richmond’s daughter had been picked to be the feature star in Nicodemus’s next grisly scene. She had seen something, possibly everything, in a premonition, gotten scared and tried to run. But it was too late. Isabella was a resourceful girl though. I agreed with Mr. Richmond. She’d left her father a message. Why else would a college student circle an ad for a runner—one conveniently looking into a case regarding other magical girls? More importantly, why write my name, a name not listed in the ad, over it?
Mr. Richmond pleaded, “I’ll pay you whatever it takes. Just bring my daughter back to me.” He lowered his head to hide more tears. I got up, rushing around my desk to stop his jerky efforts to retrieve a checkbook.
“Mr. Richmond…Henry, please.” I leaned against my desk, placing my hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take the case, but consider the fees paid.” I hadn’t missed his frayed cuffs and scuffed work boots. Even if I weren’t already being paid by both the Kin and the Council, I wouldn’t have accepted this man’s money. And if the case had been simply a missing girl with no magic, one who didn’t have a possible connection to my other cases, I’d still have accepted. Maybe I felt a kinship to Isabella Richmond who’d also lost her mother. Or maybe I envied her for having the one thing that as a child I’d always wanted: a loving father. I never made promises I couldn’t keep. I was going to make a promise now, and I’d raze the seven levels of Hell to honor it.
Mr. Richmond looked up. My eyes held his as I squatted, placing my warm hands over the cold ones still tightly clenching his checkbook. “We’ll bring your daughter home. I swear it.”
Mynx and Aunt Helen left to do their own things, but Jacq stayed. “Henry, this is my associate, Jacqueline Slone.” I didn’t dare say detective. He was worried enough. I hoped I wasn’t lying when I added, “You can trust her with Isabella’s secrets.” I looked from the crying man to Jacq and found her watching me. I looked away quickly. “We’re going to ask you a few questions now.” I pulled a chair close to Henry and Jacq and sat, notepad in hand.
“Does anyone else know about Isabella’s abilities?” Jacq asked.
“No,” Henry said.
But that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t hard to know Isabella had power. I knew this like I knew Isabella’s father had none. Magic users recognize each other, but it’s nearly impossible to tell what someone’s power does unless they’re like Necromancers and give off the smell of their trade.
“But Kyle, Isabella’s boyfriend, knew?” I asked.
“Yes,” Henry said, “but they’ve been together since they were young. He wouldn’
t have done this.”
“Of course,” I said, not meaning a word. Lovers’ quarrels had been known to get messy.
“We’ll still want to speak with him,” Jacq said.
This time I caught her looking at me, and she looked away. Something in that look made me wish I were again behind my desk.
“Yes, certainly,” Henry said, nodding. His tears had dried, his hands steadying as he focused on our questions. He reached into his pocket. “Isabella’s phone was by the paper. It has Kyle’s number along with the names and numbers of her friends and teachers.” He placed a small pink phone on my desk and smiled sadly. “She keeps her entire life in that thing.”
After several general questions, Jacq asked, “Are Isabella’s powers transferrable?”
I nodded, knowing where this was headed.
Henry cleared his throat. “I’m not certain I understand what you mean.”
“Some powers are linked to the body,” I explained, “others to the soul. Others still are a mystery. Is Isabella’s premonition something someone could take into themselves and use?” Transference was one of the darkest magics, not to mention a really bad idea. If you don’t believe me, just ask Hexamina. Yeah, that demon masquerading as my cat. Generations back, she’d been one of the most powerful sorceresses alive…until she’d gotten greedy and attempted to steal my ancestor Erin’s powers. Thankfully something had gone wrong. Hex had trapped herself in the body of Erin’s cat familiar, Mynx. Yes, the same Mynx that was my business partner and housemate. She’d ended up in the sorceress’s body. For some reason, Mynx and Hex never aged. And so the Delacys were left with cat-sitting duty.
“I’m not sure.” Henry shook his head. “My late wife always said her abilities were genetic.” He looked at us expectantly.
“That’s good.” Jacq gave him an encouraging smile. “Without her body, Isabella’s powers would soon fade after being taken. Possession spells and transference rituals take a great deal of power and effort, more than what someone would use for powers that would not last.”
I momentarily met Jacq’s gaze. We both knew there was more to it than that. Mortal, Isabella wouldn’t survive an attempt to steal her powers. But her death could generate a lot of magic, even if it didn’t give the recipient the power of premonition.
I asked Henry, “Why isn’t Kyle with you this morning?” If my lover was missing and I thought someone knew something, I’d be tearing down their door. I looked to Jacq. I could practically see her reassurance, wrapping around her like a warm cloud before seeping into Henry. She looked up, again catching me staring. This time, I detected a glint of humor in her gray eyes. Maybe I was getting better at seeing past her cool exterior, or maybe she’d decided to let me in. My attention turned to Henry.
“I didn’t tell him I was coming,” he said flatly.
I frowned. Hadn’t he just said he trusted Kyle?
Henry explained, “When Kyle was sixteen, he was in an accident. His parents were killed, and he nearly died. During surgery he was accidentally given blood tainted with the Lycan-virus. He’s a Were. So were the men he brought with him. They looked almost wild when they heard she was gone. I stayed at Isabella’s apartment hoping she might come back while they ran the streets, looking for her. Kyle returned to check in before running out again.”
Weres and they hadn’t been able to track Isabella? That eliminated random human violence. It would have taken someone with magical skill to hide their scent from a Were’s nose.
Henry continued, “Kyle was never alone, and while I trust my daughter’s boyfriend…” He met my gaze. “I don’t know or trust his friends. I couldn’t think of a way to explain why I needed to come here without revealing Isabella’s secret.”
We asked a few more questions then wrapped up. Every piece of information Mr. Richmond had shared made it clear: Isabella had been taken by someone off the grid. Someone with nothing to lose and no reason to play the game. Someone like Nicodemus. He and his followers needed power to open a darkmirror. And if Nicodemus had her, Isabella was the most powerful being taken thus far.
The gates to the Otherworld were currently shut, but our missing Druid could be the key to it all.
* * *
After Henry left, Jacq and I formed a plan. We’d try magic first. If that didn’t work, we’d do some good old-fashioned legwork. We began in the agency’s workroom scrying for Isabella. But instead of dropping on a spot the crystal danced over the map like a wind chime in a hurricane.
“Uggg.” That was my fourth attempt, and I was beyond frustrated.
“Can I help?” Jacq asked. I jumped, nearly dropping the crystal. Completely focused, I’d forgotten that she was standing close, watching me. Even with the phers’ decrease, her whiskey-smooth voice still sent shivers down my spine. “Are you cold?” This time I did drop the crystal as she touched me, sending a wave of hot magic zinging down my arm. I was already burning up inside, but probably not in the way she’d intended.
I rubbed my pleasantly tingling arm. “No, I mean yes.” I looked up from the maps I’d spread across a massive metal table. Her smoky eyes, today almost a light gray-blue, watched me with amusement. She’d obviously borrowed the guest shower. Her straight auburn hair was damp, and she’d changed into a pair of black trousers, gray shirt and matching black vest. My khaki cargos and blue shirt with a golden sun didn’t even compare.
I looked down. “You can help. I’ve upped the juice but keep getting the same result. Someone’s using some serious magic to block Isabella’s location. We need to try something else.” I moved around the room gathering supplies, talking as I went. “The easiest spell to hide someone is a simple magical shield. It’s easy to make, easy to break. Unfortunately, Isabella is being hidden by something more complicated, which takes her magical signature and distributes it into the ley-lines. Bits and pieces of the signature flow through the currents, causing the crystal to swing back and forth.” I dumped my supplies on the table, and Jacq looked curiously at the items I’d gathered. “That’s good in a way. Such a spell only works if a person is alive.” At least I could tell Isabella’s father she was still amongst the living.
“If not scrying, what do you wish to do?” Jacq tucked her hair behind a not-even-slightly-pointed ear. Likely not Fae, but she didn’t seem surprised at my explanation of magical signatures, which meant she’d patiently let me explain something she already knew.
“With your help, I’ll attempt to trace the signature back to its source. But at some point we may need to share magic.”
Cheeks flushing, I turned back to the map and away from her piercing gaze. The sharing of magic was very intimate, requiring people to drop their guards and share their very nature. Jacq had to know this. Most magic users did. I kept my eyes diverted, explaining the process and side effects anyway. Still amped on lust phers was a bad time to do this but if it would get Isabella Richmond home safe, it was a risk I was willing to take. I wasn’t the only one.
“Let’s try it.”
I blinked slowly, looking again at Jacq. Her expression was warily determined. The issue decided, I moved away, describing what and why as I closed the drapes and began to light candles. We’d do this now, before one or both of us came to our senses.
“The magical plane is bright. The less light to distract me from reaching it, the better. A candle is lit to each wind. To the North Wind. To hasten the Journey.” As I spoke, I placed each candle in a pre-prepared cradle in the room’s corners, lighting them with a taper. Both the main and guest houses had been built so the corners coincided exactly with the four compass points. I lit a white candle. It was scentless, which wasn’t the tradition. Then again, letting an outsider help was also a first. “To the East Wind, for clarity. May I not stray from the path.” This candle was sky-blue, also scentless. Jacq’s eyes followed my every step.
“To the South Wind, for strength to complete the necessary task.” I would be leaning on Jacq’s strength. This candle was tan with a strong
sandalwood scent, tying her to the spell. I barely whispered the last words, but from her worried expression, I knew Jacq heard me say, “And to the West Wind, to light the way and bring me safely home through the darkness.” With absolute certainty, I substituted a green sage candle for the usual clean-scented white one. The candles flickered, their scents merging, painting Jacq’s skin in a rosy glow and haloing her hair. I didn’t let my eyes linger, instead striding to the table and her side.
“Ready?” I held out my hand. This time, we wouldn’t use the crystal. I would use the maps to focus my mind as it traveled through the streams of magic. Hopefully, I could track the signature threads to their true source by finding the strongest one. It might be a long, tiring search, forcing me to rely on Jacq to guide me back. In that regard, it was a very dangerous spell, a fact I’d intentionally left out.
“Yes.” Jacq grabbed my hand, immediately bringing her tingling magic to where our palms joined. That magic, that strength, would be my focal point for return.
She would be my West Wind.
“One more thing.” My tone was low and tight, deadly serious. I put my other hand on the map. “This hand stays here. I can find my way back without the extra connection, but it would be much harder.”
Jacq nodded just once. Her worried words barely filtered in as I began the process of leaving my body. “If this is too much…”
My mind’s eye rose, too far gone to stop and reassure her. Unlike when I’d looked at Sarkoph, I didn’t halt my progression. As my consciousness continued up, flying beyond my body, I tightly chained my fire. We’d do this with my weaker earth-magic or not at all. Jacq was no beginner. Should I draw the other magic out, she would feel the difference. Plus, there was plenty to worry about without the possibility of unconsciously burning her hand off.
Using the maps as guide, my mind left my body, the house, even the county, traveling along the ley-lines, moving through magic roaring as wide as a river to lines barely trickling with power. No longer simply viewing the magical plane, I was part of it. Always glorious, it was the most spectacular, most freeing…most dangerous…of road trips. The thousands of variations of every color, brighter and more beautiful than the eye could comprehend, could be a deadly distraction.