Lana’s report left me stunned. A retroactive camouflage spell was classified weapon material, the non-human’s equivalent to government-exclusive firearms like the AA12 Atchisson assault shotgun. The spell Lana spoke of was able to delete all types of evidence – printed photos, digital files, and just about everything connected to the spell’s subject. Once activated, any such data from that point in time and all the way back to the subject’s date of birth would be erased.
“That’s a serious accusation, Agent,” Tamara voiced sharply.
“It’s the only logical explanation—-”
“Is it, really? Or maybe you guys simply aren’t looking hard enough.”
Lana stiffened at the implied criticism. “We know what’s at risk here. We wouldn’t be so careless or negligent—-”
Dike raised her hand. “Enough.” Her voice, treacherous softness underlined by razor-sharp steel, sliced everyone’s words into silence. “Agent Gries’ concern is understandable. Lana, I’d appreciate if you could get the other agents to make a sweep of everything again, and failing that, I’d like you to continue monitoring real-time footage. Assuming that such a spell is in effect, it doesn’t cover any footage made past the date of activation, yes?”
Lana nodded.
“That said—-” Dike turned to Agent Gries. “Agent Spears was also right to bring up such a possibility. We are not the kind of agency that operates with our heads buried in the sand, Agent Gries. If by any chance our Jane Doe is using such a spell, then we need to act based on worst-case scenario and assume that the whole system is compromised.”
I wasn’t the same girl when I left Dike’s office. I had never realized how naïve and idealistic I was when I first worked for the agency. It had never occurred to me that it was possible for one of us to betray the agency, but that was obviously a possibility now, and one I couldn’t deny.
Zeus’ spell-induced slumber had forced everything into a standstill, and with the non-human public suspicious but still mostly unaware of the threat literally hanging over our heads, all agents had been ordered to proceed as normal.
In my case, that meant continuing to field calls about a missing cauldron at Demi’s Bakery, Mr. Norton’s pet that was possibly showing signs of low-level demonic possession, and pretending I was my usual self as I turned down a date from Jason, a handsome, easygoing executive based in the city. We had been seatmates in my flight out of California, and we had been friends ever since.
“You sound stressed,” Jason commented bluntly. “Are you still adjusting to your new job?”
“More or less,” I hedged, not wanting to elaborate.
“Maybe we could talk it over dinner?”
I had to laugh, thinking how it was just like Jason not to give up after the first try. “What happened this time?” Although Silver Mist was an hour’s drive away from Portland, Jason once told me that the distance was a small price to pay in exchange for enjoying one evening of no-strings-attached fun.
“A woman tried to spike my drink over lunch,” he revealed in disgust. “How bad do you think that is?”
“Very bad,” I had to concede.
“Enough to take pity on a poor guy—-”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Ha!” He had more money than he would ever know what to do with in a lifetime; that was how “poor” he was.
“Just dinner,” he cajoled.
“I honestly can’t, not tonight. But next time—-”
“If you mean that, give me a date then.”
I glanced at my calendar, thinking that all these blank boxes and crossed out dates would mean nothing if we didn’t survive tonight. “We have a local fair coming up two Saturdays from now,” I said finally.
“Perfect. What time should I pick you up?”
When I put the phone down, I was startled to find Roseanne standing behind my cubicle, and with a smile on her lips that could only be described as catty. “How very shocking,” she sneered. “Who would think someone like you would be juggling your time between several men?”
“Excuse me?” Was she seriously accusing me of playing around?
“So it isn’t serious between you and the INTERPOL detective?”
So that was what this was all about. She was interested in Paul. I slowly shook my head, saying haltingly, “We only work together.”
Her lip curled. “So you’re telling me he sends out an escorted Bentley SUV for every person he’s worked with?” My surprise must have been shown, since Roseanne spat, “They dropped you off right in front of the lobby, little girl. Do you think people wouldn’t notice?” Her voice started to rise. “You wanted to be seen and so you were seen—-”
“Is this official business, Roseanne,” a cool voice interrupted, “or could you spare Blair for a second?”
Roseanne’s lips tightened when she saw who it was. “The little girl’s all yours, Agent Gries.” She stalked away without looking back, and Tamara shook her head as she leaned against the wall of my cubicle. “She really has it for you, doesn’t she?”
“We have our differences,” I said lamely, wondering all the while if everyone in SMHS knew of Roseanne’s inexplicable grudge against me.
“Then again, everyone did see the shiny Bentley coming up the driveway...”
I could only shrug awkwardly in response, knowing that any honest explanation would only make things sound more serious between Paul and me. He had called me up early this morning, saying that he had assigned two of his men to follow me around as added protection, in the event that our anonymous shooter had me as his next target.
‘It’s either me or them, Blair,’ he had asserted calmly. ‘It’s your choice.’
But of course Paul had known it wasn’t a choice at all. I’d have to be the most selfish idiot to have Paul act a chauffeur when he had so many better things to do with his time.
“Your face is giving you away, Agent Vavrin,” Tamara said with a sympathetic smile. “I’m guessing our INTERPOL detective didn’t give you a choice over this morning’s ride?”
“Well...” I didn’t really want to say anything against Paul, but I had no intentions of lying either.
“No need to cover up for him, Agent Vavrin,” the CIA agent dryly. “Don’t forget – I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him in action, and he strikes me as the kind of person who’s used to getting his way.”
You don’t know the half of it, I thought, but out loud, I said diplomatically, “It’s probably because he’s INTERPOL.”
“That was what I was thinking, too,” Tamara admitted. “And that’s why I sought you out now actually. I just wanted to make sure everything’s alright between us after yesterday—-”
“It is,” I said quickly. “I truly understand where you were coming me from—-” The other agent started shaking her head, and I stopped speaking.
“I was out of line, Blair,” she said ruefully. “It’s as you said, you know. He’s INTERPOL, and I had no right to question his decision like that. I still don’t understand what it is that you can do that I can’t, but obviously Detective Paul Without A Surname—-”
I choked back a laugh.
“—-sees differently, and I should have respected that.” She offered her hand. “So...no hard feelings?”
“Not a one.” I shook her hand, touched that the older woman would go out of her way to clear things up like this.
Tamara had already started to walk away when she suddenly turned back to look at me, saying, “I almost forgot. Any new updates on the case?”
“No, unfortunately. But if Paul lets me know or anything, I’ll keep you posted.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Tristan and Maria pounced on me as soon as Agent Gries left the office. “What was that about?” Maria asked curiously while Tristan perched himself on my desk and pulled his girlfriend close to sit on his lap.
“Minor case-related issue,” I said evasively. “What are you guys working on right now?”
“A will,
” Tristan answered, “possibly falsified.” Forgery was as much a crime as it was in the non-human world, and Maria specialized in detecting spells used to forge documents. Tristan’s field of expertise, on the other hand, was the equivalent of forensic biology. Every time an individual performed a spell, the magic a non-human wielded left an impression as unique as a person’s DNA. Unfortunately, a person with the right knowledge could also avoid leaving such impressions, the way a human criminal would remove all traces of blood from a crime scene.
“It seems strange, doesn’t it?” Maria’s voice was unusually somber. “Working like everything’s normal even when it’s not.”
I looked outside our window. It was a deceptively sunny day, but who knew how long it would last?
Chapter Ten
Time moved ever so slowly, and I had just finished writing my case reports for the entire month when I got a call from Lana. “I might have found a possible hit,” she told me in a rush, “but it’s well below our benchmark.”
“I’ll take it,” I said without hesitation. At this point, verifying the flimsiest of leads was better than doing nothing, which was gradually driving me crazy.
“I conducted a new search based on the assumption that a retroactive camouflage spell was in effect.”
“So you found real-time footage of our Jane Doe?”
“Not quite. That’s why I told you this is below our benchmark. With this new search, I used secondhand information as my data source, and thank Gaea for people’s obsession with social media.”
“You’re losing me, Lana.”
“Remember how the siren you spoke to described our Jane Doe?” she asked eagerly. “I used your transcript to acquire new search parameters, and then I started digging and going through all online conversations involving sirens working for Dion’s establishments. From there, I narrowed the search to anything that had to do with a siren who—-”
“Didn’t dress like the others did and was more human than siren,” I finished rather breathlessly. “Lana, you’re a genius.”
“Not if you ask Agent Gries,” she muttered.
“She just wants to solve this case as much as we do,” I soothed.
“I don’t think so.” Lana was normally reticent about most things, but she could be a tad bit belligerent when someone tried to mess with her work. “Anyway, don’t let Agent Gries know about this yet. It’s just a hunch anyway—-”
“I trust your hunches,” I assured her.
“You’ll have to drive all the way to Portland for it,” Lana warned, “and my hunch mostly has to do with a couple of sirens having their own Facebook group chat to talk about a certain Amanda who – quote unquote – has no problem poaching other girls’ clients.”
“That does sound like our Jane Doe,” I murmured, remembering Monica’s theory about the missing siren.
“A certain Sonja also complains – and I quote – she keeps using my phone, and she never bothers to ask for my permission.”
“I’m...not sure about that.” It was a rude thing to do, but I wasn’t sure that had any bearing on my Jane Doe. “Anything else I should know?”
“If Amanda is the Jane Doe we’re looking for – according to the Facebook chat I’m following, she’s missed work for three days in a row now.”
“Three days,” I echoed slowly. It had also been three days since Zeus’ so-called mood swings had started, and didn’t that make quite a coincidence?
TROY AND PHILIP ALREADY had the Bentley running as soon as I stepped out of headquarters, with instructions to take me to Portland Gotz Talentz, which was yet another seriously questionable choice of name for one of Dion’s bars.
A grim-faced Paul was waiting for me by the front door when we arrived, and he wasted no time flashing his badge and getting the bouncer to take us to the employees’ private quarters.
We showed the sirens the photo of our Jane Doe – probably the only one existing in the world. If not for tech support’s strict adherence to SOP, a retroactive camouflage spell would have made the photo I obtained from Midas’ casino vanish as well.
“Is this Amanda?” Paul asked.
I felt light-headed with relief when the sirens nodded even as they exchanged looks of confusion with each other.
“Is she in some kind of trouble?” one of the women asked.
“It’s not something we’re at liberty to discuss at present,” Paul evaded. He cast a glance at our surroundings, which had the same apartment layout as TVF’s. “Which room is hers?”
A siren named Sonja introduced herself as Amanda’s roommate and volunteered to show us the space she shared with our missing person. It was a reasonably sized room, with one bed on each side. Sonja’s half was a bit of a clutter while Amanda’s side was neat and orderly, extremely so.
“Is it always like that?” I asked.
“She hates mess,” Sonja affirmed.
None of Amanda’s belongings appeared missing or disturbed, and this worried me. Her laptop was on the desk, next to her cellphone and purse. I glanced at Paul, and the hard look on his face told me he was thinking along the same lines.
These days, people never left their cellphones behind by choice.
At Paul’s nod, Troy put on gloves, and I noticed Sonja pale when the blue-eyed agent whipped out evidence bags.
“Has something happened to her?” the siren asked shakily.
“She’s a person of interest,” I answered quietly, “and any kind of information you or the others could share about Amanda is of paramount importance.”
The atmosphere was tense when we returned to the living room, with the sirens huddled together on the couch as they nervously watched Troy carry out evidence bags containing Amanda’s belongings.
As the two agents left – Troy to take Amanda’s possessions to CSI for analysis and Phil to deliver a report straight to Mt. Olympus – Paul and I set out to interview the sirens one at a time. A little while later, Dike herself arrived, along with a large team of agents that included Lana and Agent Gries, and another round of questioning began. I expected the sirens to start getting restless, but they remained cooperative and quite willing to answer every question asked.
“When did you last see Amanda?” Three days ago.
“Has she ever spoken to anyone of you or mentioned anything about Zeus?” No.
“Has she exhibited any sign of unusual behavior?” No.
“Have you noticed any suspicious person showing up in the bar or anywhere near this place in the past three days?” No.
We rephrased the questions, asking the same things over and over in hopes of tripping one of them into betraying themselves but none of the sirens did.
It was almost midnight when Dike finally decided to call it a day, and the jubilation we had felt earlier upon finding our Jane Doe was completely gone. Both CSI’s lab team and tech support hadn’t been able to extract any kind of evidence from Amanda’s laptop or mobile phone. Amanda’s room was also completely clean.
As the other agents piled into the black sedans that lined up the street, I started to do the same only to have Paul cup my elbow and turn me towards the other direction. “Let me drive you home.”
I wrinkled my nose at his bit of high-handedness. “Is that a request or an order?”
“Whichever will get you inside my car,” Paul answered mildly, all the while leading me to his car.
I considered standing my ground and telling him that these things he did would only have more people talking about us.
Paul opened the door for me. “Blair?”
Oh, never mind. Who cared about what people said? If the world were to end soon, wouldn’t it be better if I spent more time with Mr. Handsome?
Paul asked me what I thought of the other sirens as he started to drive, and I took my time mulling over his question. “It didn’t seem like they were lying,” I said slowly. “Did you feel they were?”
“No.” The single word seethed with such frustration, I couldn’t help but blink
, and a grimace touched his lips at my reaction. “Sorry. I’m not used to drawing blanks, but there’s just something about them...”
“You can’t quite put your finger on?”
Paul’s gaze narrowed. “They bothered you, too, didn’t you?”
“They did. For one thing, none of them acted like you were Mr. Handsome—-”
Paul sputtered.
“I’m serious,” I insisted. “Look at how Roseanne reacted to you. Even Agent Gries wasn’t immune to your looks. Sirens love beautiful things—-”
“And you think I’m beautiful?” he asked with a hint of a smile. “Is that it?”
I quickly turned my head away, not wanting him to see how my face had turned red. “For an INTERPOL detective,” I couldn’t help muttering under my breath, “you’re horribly bad at getting the point.”
Silence, but I could practically feel him laughing at me.
Clearing my throat, I said quickly, “Anyway, that’s not the only thing that bothered me. There’s also the lack of motive – I can’t seem to come up with any possible reason for one of them to go after Amanda and Zeus.”
“It could be there isn’t any possible correlation,” he murmured pensively. “Amanda could have had her own reasons for poisoning Zeus, and we could have one or more individuals responsible for Amanda’s disappearance but without having anything to do with Zeus’ condition.”
That was a good point, but a more complex one at that, and I made a face. “Okay, now my head hurts.”
Paul flashed a slight smile at my quip, and despite everything, my heart still managed to skip a beat at the sight. Here we were, facing imminent global disaster, and all I could think about was how handsome the man seated next to me was.
I mentally shook my head. Focus, Blair! Now wasn’t the right time to think about Paul’s looks. I had to focus on preventing the end of the world first, and after that –
A Season of Gods and Witches Page 7