Stained

by Jessica McBrayer

  “Trouble,” Raven cawed.

  “With a capital T,” she answered him.

  “Thorn, this is Detective Scettico. We wanted to ask you a few questions,” Sé said.

  “No problem, I hope you weren’t waiting too long.” She stored her food in the fridge. It would have to wait till later.

  “Not too long. I didn’t realize it was your night off. I tried to call you today but they said you didn’t have a phone, and there was no way to get in contact with you during the day.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Your staff said you don’t even have a cell phone. Is that true?”

  “It’s true. I sleep late because I’m up half the night. I cherish my personal time, so no phones.” She smiled at them to make it sound more normal. She knew in this day and age it was unbelievable to be without a cell phone. In fact, Scettico sneered at her.

  “Detective Scettico, nice to see you again.” She turned away, remembering what a pain in the ass he had been the last time she saw him. “Detectives, can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  “That would be great,” Sé said. While she made it she invoked a truth spell over it.

  “Some are evil, Some are kind, Now you all must speak your mind.” She sent a small flow of her energy into it. Without a potion the spell would be weak, and would only work if they were inclined to tell her the truth in the first place. She was very curious why Sé felt he needed another detective tonight.

  She put the full, steaming mugs of coffee in front of the two men, and they took a drink. It was a cold night, and they both looked like they’d put in a long day. Sé’s sparkling blue eyes had lost some of their luster and he had dark circles under them.

  “What did I do to merit a visit from two detectives?” she asked them, hoping the spell would work.

  “There’s been another murder, and we think you’re involved somehow,” Scettico said. He immediately flushed. Thorn would have smiled on the inside at the spell’s efficacy except for the news. Sé rolled his eyes at Scettico.

  “Do you have pictures you can show me?” she asked.

  “Yes, here, Thorn, tell me what you think of them,” Sé said. He handed her the photos and then rubbed his hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his eye. Thorn wanted to tuck his hair behind his ear. Instead she took the photos and concentrated on them.

  This couldn’t be! This was Richard’s dragon tattoo from last night. Everything was there except the talismans. Her shock must have shown on her face.

  “We talked to Speed at Lion’s Head, and he said this ink had your name all over it,” Scettico said.

  “This is your tattoo, isn’t it?” Sé asked her.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes,” she said, more strongly. “I did it last night as a matter of fact.” She cleared her throat. “A special client, I had the appointment at three a.m. and was finished by five.”

  “Why would you meet someone so late?” Scettico asked.

  “He flew in for the appointment, and didn’t get in until midnight,” Thorn said.

  “Why would someone target two of your clients?” Scettico asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. Why do you think?”

  “I think you did this,” Scettico slipped again.

  Sé gave him a disgusted look. “Thorn, do you have an alibi for the time between five a.m. and seven a.m.?”

  “No, I was in my apartment above the shop having a glass of wine and talking to Raven.”

  “Talking,” Raven cawed, startling Detective Scettico. Sé just raised his ebony eyebrow at him.

  “Detectives, why would I want my own work? This mutilation is perverse.”

  “Just stay close to home, Thorn,” Sé said. He went over and scratched Raven behind the eyes and left. Detective Scettico hurried to follow in his wake.

  “Double trouble,” Raven said.

  “I noticed you didn’t mind the scratch.”

  “Scratch good, still trouble.”

  “Yes, it is. So now I’m a suspect in a double murder. How the hell did Richard get killed?” She turned away and slammed her hand down on the counter. “He left here so close to dawn. I thought for sure he must have already planned a bolt hole.” She crossed her arms and started pacing. “I suppose I should get ready for a visit from the council. There’s no way they’re going to let this slide without talking to me.” Thorn retrieved her food and went upstairs carrying Raven on her arm. When she’d passed through her door, she bolted it. She didn’t want any unexpected visitors. Her employees knew never to bother her unless the building was burning down. Just after she poured a glass of wine and settled into a chair, a soft rap came at the door, something that had never happened before.

  She got up and looked through the peephole. Sé stood looking straight back at her, as if he was sure she was staring at him. He meant business, and she knew she couldn’t ignore him. He wasn’t going away. Her lips curled in a grim smile. She didn’t know whether to be happy at seeing him or pissed about having her sanctum invaded. She unbolted her door and held her arm to the side inviting him in. Without a word he entered.

  “I have some more questions for, you,” he said.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Big Trouble,” Raven cawed. Sé laughed, making the worry lines on his face disappear and his eyes sparkle.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “No, thank you, seven years sober. Coffee would be great, no truth spell this time,” he said, with a smile.

  Thorn didn’t change her facial expression, but she felt a frisson of panic. Her hands started to sweat. How could he have known?

  “My mamó was a cailleach. I recognized the glow around you the first time I saw you working,” Sé said, as he made himself comfortable at her little dining table.

  “Your grandmother was a witch and yet you never said anything—why?” Thorn leaned against her countertop, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

  “I figured you had your reasons, and it’s not something witches tend to offer up when they introduce themselves, and certainly not in interviews with detectives.”

  “What are you going to do with this information?”

  “I want to know what was cut out of those tattoos.” He hadn’t answered her question, instead asking her another one.

  “Talismans. They were bespelled for protection, love, wealth, that sort of thing. I have a reputation among a certain clientele for doing those kinds of tattoos.” Thorn poured his coffee into a mug. It was a one-of-a kind she had gotten from ACCI’s seconds sale and handed it to him.

  “I wondered. Is this Raven your familiar?” Sé asked, meeting her eyes, demanding the truth from her.

  “Yes. Raven was once one of the ravens at the Tower of London among other things.”

  “You are a special old bird,” Sé said, giving Raven another scratch. His jet-black feathers fanned out to let Sé get in closer.

  “Who’s old?” Raven said, bristling. Sé laughed.

  “My mamó had a cat. It used to follow me around, keeping me out of mischief.” His eyes twinkled.

  “I imagine that cat was busy.”

  “Very,” he said, smiling, causing his dimple to show. Thorn thought it took all the threat out of his face. Then he switched back to his cop face, becoming serious. “Looks like we have two murders with the same MO, a murderer who has ties to the magick community. What are we going to do about it?”

  “We?”

  “I know you won’t let your own kind be eradicated. It goes against the grain.”

  “I already talked to some people. Can I ask how they were killed?”

  “Both had their heads cut off.”

  “That would be the way to do it.” Thorn shivered at this and stared at the grain in the floor, as she sat mulling over the details while Sé sipped his coffee. He said nothing, letting the silence lengthen.

  “My partner suspects you because they were your tats, and because you were the last person to see Rich
ard alive. The case against you is weak but Scettico is gung ho to see you locked up for something. He doesn’t like you much.”

  Thorn shifted from one foot to the other. “No, I told you. When I had the break-in, he was the detective who came to investigate. He took an instant dislike to me. I’m not sure why. I see he’s moved up to homicide.”

  “Yeah, just last month. Now he’s my partner.” Sé frowned, but whether it was because he’d said too much or because he had more to say, Thorn didn’t know. “Forensics will be analyzing your inks. I’m looking for other leads because of my understanding of your nature. I know it goes against a cailleach’s way to kill. At least a white witch’s. You are a white witch?”

  “Yes, a doula as well, though I don’t practice anymore. I focus on my art and add my talents that way.”

  Sé nodded. “You might be a white witch, but your talents and practices bring other people pain.” He looked around Thorn’s apartment and gave an appreciative eye to her collection of art and her style.

  “Stay close to your shop, don’t leave town. Tell me if you hear anything, I mean anything at all. He got up and stretched, showing off his well-developed chest and his gun. He walked over and rinsed his coffee cup out in her little sink.

  “I will.”

  “I’m counting on it,” he said, as he strode to the door. “I’ll let myself out.” Thorn got up and bolted the door after he left.

  “You’re getting too close to that human.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. He knows about you. Are you going to tell him about vampires too?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see how much the council gets involved.”

  “You know the killer must be vampire or know of the ways. He cut off the head. And he had to catch Richard, very hard to do.”

  “I thought I saw another vampire last night when I was closing up. I wish I had warned Richard, but there was no way to know.” Thorn ran her fingers through her hair.

  Thorn thought about the underlying tension and questioning behind everything Sé said. He still didn’t trust her. That was fine. She didn’t trust him yet, either. He said he would help and that was a start. They would dance around until they had a better understanding of each other.

  It was going to be a long night. There must be stronger spells of protection, and she was determined to find them. She didn’t want to lose anyone else.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Salt and sea, of ill stay free. Fire and air, draw all that is fair. Around and around, the circle is bound.

  After a restful day’s sleep, Thorn was ready for a night of work and the distraction it would bring. She took a long hot shower, then she hurried and dressed. She had smudged the shop, with sage collected by a medicine man in Wyoming, the night before. The sharp fresh scent of the plant lingered. It was good to cleanse the building, especially after what happened to Richard.

  Thorn was early for her first client and took her time preparing her station. She carefully lay plastic down and then put on her gloves to get her machine out. Just as she was getting wipes out, her customer came in, a young woman who was a repeat customer. She was getting a large fairy put on her back, and this would be the final session to complete it.

  “Sit down, Heather. Let’s see how the last session healed.” Thorn examined the tattoo, and it looked perfect. She had worked a healing spell into the inks while she tattooed, and it had done the job well.

  “It healed up nicely. I hardly noticed it, Thorn.”

  “Excellent, it didn’t hurt too much, I hope?”

  “No, not at all. The worst part was the itching while it healed.”

  Thorn laughed as she picked out her needles and inks and started up her machine. The hum of it made her calm and drove out her thoughts about the murders. She concentrated instead on the design in front of her.

  An hour and a half later she was done, and Heather’s back was raw and red around the newly inked areas. With the help of her spell, it would heal nicely and she would have a beautiful tattoo. The garbage held bloody rags.

  “Thanks, Thorn, it’s gorgeous. I’ll definitely be back again someday.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Heather,” Thorn said, with a wink.

  Her next customer was a repeat, too, who was working on a sleeve. It was just in its beginning stages. After him was an ankle bracelet of skulls. Then she had a tribal armband and even though they were going out of style, she still liked doing them.

  She was just closing shop when Sé walked in. This was starting to be a habit. Gwynn and Reese smiled conspiratorially at each other. Gérard looked grim. Thorn scowled at them, and Gwynn and Reese left laughing, walking hand in hand.

  “I thought I could take you to get a cup of coffee this time,” he offered.

  “Please tell me there hasn’t been another murder,” she said, still scowling.

  “No, I just wanted to compare notes.”

  “Oh, good, sure. There’s a coffee shop around the corner that’s open until one.”

  They went out the front door, and she locked up behind them. The night was brisk and smelled funky on Telegraph. The air had a hint of patchouli no matter what time of year it was. Thorn thought the scent was embedded by now. The two didn’t say much as they walked around the corner. She noticed he wore jeans and an ill-fitting jacket tonight. Didn’t this man know how to shop? His broad shoulders didn’t fit in store-bought jackets. She wore tight-fitting, low-riding jeans and a high-rise, skin-tight sweater. All black. It suited her and fit the persona of Stained. Her carnelian chandelier earrings swung as she walked. Her gaze took in everything.

  They reached the coffee house and ordered drinks. Both took theirs black and full-bodied. After finding a place to sit in the near-empty shop, Sé took off his jacket to reveal a well-developed upper body—no surprise. His badge flashed at his waist. Thorn caught herself staring and quickly looked away but not before Sé saw her and grinned. She grimaced. Thorn had an almost non-existent history with men. What little there was, was terrible. Before her grandmother died she had dated a little, and not at all since. It was hard being a witch and traveling so much. She liked being alone, or at least she told herself that.

  “Have you learned anything new, Detective?” she asked.

  “Please call me Sé.” Thorn nodded her head in acknowledgement, hoping she wasn’t blushing too much.

  “No, we haven’t. You still remain at the top of our list, but admittedly a poor suspect.”

  “That’s a relief.” She took a sip of the warm French roast she had ordered, all sense of Sé’s ‘body beautiful’ gone.

  “Have you found anything else out?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve been working all night. I was thinking of talking to the head of the local coven, but I want to save that for when all else fails.”

  “You talk about them as if you’re not a member.”

  “I’m not.” Thorn crossed her legs. “I respect them, they respect me.” She ran her fingers through her hair nervously. “But I moved here a couple of years ago, and I’m used to being on my own. I travel a lot and have always been a solitary practitioner.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I make a habit of becoming acquainted with the local coven immediately, when I get somewhere new. We work together but I never join.”

  “You would have liked my mamó,” he grunted.

  “Were you born in Ireland?”

  Sé got more comfortable in his seat. “No, but I spent summers there with my mamó. Where did you pick up your Gaelic?”

  “I was born in Ireland. I’ve traveled broadly and lost most of my accent.”

  “How did a nice Irish girl end up in Berkeley?”

  “I was wandering for a while, looking for a place to settle. There was no one who had my talents per se in the west coast area, so I decided to establish myself here.” She took another drink of coffee. “I thought about San Francisco, but the vibes were better over here.”

  “How about you? Have you always li
ved here?” Thorn asked, uncomfortable with all the personal information about her history.

  “No, I’m a transplant. My parents live in New York. I came out here to go to school and never left.”

  “Oh? What did you study?”

  “Philosophy with a minor in European history,” he said, laughing.

  “How does a nice Irish boy with a degree in philosophy end up being a homicide detective?” Thorn asked, turning his words on him with a sly smile.

  “I couldn’t get a job in what I went to school for, big surprise there. Berkeley PD was recruiting college graduates. They had great benefits and wages, a pension, so I applied to the academy and got in. I really didn’t know what I was doing. Before I figured it out, I was already a cop. It’s been ten years now. I’ve been in homicide for four.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s always something new. My day is almost never the same. I wish I’d taken psychology. I could’ve used that a lot more in this job.” Sé leaned on the table. “Some days I just want to make my pension and then travel to all those places in Europe I’ve studied. Other days I’m trying to figure out some sick fuck’s head.”

  Thorn could see him sitting in the sun in Paris or Tuscany having a coffee and reading the paper. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see herself with him. She was so nocturnal. Maybe he would adapt to moonlight walks and bistros. She shook herself internally and looked away for a minute. He touched her hand and she pulled away quickly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just trying to get your attention. I was talking but you were somewhere else. Your hand is so cold. Do you want another coffee?”

  “No, thank you, I better get back. I have some things to do yet tonight, and Raven needs to feed. We usually take a run on the bike, so he can hunt.” She didn’t want to tell him she was cold because she was afraid. Afraid of the spell he was weaving around her.

  “A Ducati?”

  “Yeah, did you look me up?”

  “We had to when you became a suspect. I ride too.”

  “It’s addictive,” she said.

  “That it is. Keep a low profile though. No tickets.”

  “No problem, thanks for the coffee.” She got up to leave, and he stood too. She left before he could shake her hand, which was what he was going to do. He studied her, like he couldn’t get a fix on her. Welcome to the club, she thought. Thorn rushed out of the aroma-filled coffee shop and hurried the short distance home in the moonlight. She entered by the back, through the derelict alley and pounded up the stairs to get Raven. He looked at her, with his head tilted.