Sé went back to the station and poured over everything they had on Thorn. He spent the day trying to track down her financials. He made calls to her friends overseas.
When Sé made a call to her last known place of employment in Japan, he put the phone on speaker and waited.
“Irezumi Ink,” a heavily-accented voice said.
“This is Detective O’Bradigen from the Berkeley Police Department in California. I’m calling to get some information on an old employee of yours, Thorn, no last name?” Sé leaned back in his seat.
“Thorn, yes, we miss her greatly,” the voice said.
“Good, you remember her. What can you tell me about her?”
“She was an excellent apprentice. Her work was very beautiful. She learned quickly all our traditions. When she left we lost customers.”
“I’ve seen her work, she is very talented. What did she do in her spare time?”
“She studied Kenjutsu. She became quite good at it. Between studying here at the shop and working out at her dojo, she didn’t do much else.”
“Really,” Sé said, as he picked up a pencil and tapped it softly against the desk. “Does she still study?”
“Not that I know. I guess after her master was killed and her best friend, she lost a taste for it. That’s when she left Japan.”
“What happened to them?” Sé asked.
“Someone murdered them. Both the same day. The police couldn’t determine how her master died. It looked like he had been mummified, all dried up.”
“Had he been missing for a long time?”
“No, he’d been seen just that day. It was the freakiest thing.” The sound of someone yelling in Japanese, distracted the speaker for a moment. “Sorry,” he apologized for the interruption. “Her best friend was found later that night with her head cut off. Thorn found them both after working all day with me.”
“She was decapitated?”
“Yeah, the police figured the murderer took her master’s katana.”
“You’re sure she was working with you at the time of both murders?”
“Positive.”
“Well, you’ve been very helpful. I’ll let you get back to work.”
Sé sat back thinking about what he just heard.
“I like her for all of it,” Scettico said.
“Didn’t you hear, she had an alibi?”
“I think she got a taste for it,” Scettico said, seemingly deaf to Sé’s question.
Scettico, considered his theory, rocking back and forth on his heels.
Sé grunted in disgust. He agreed to an interview with Thorn. That much was warranted.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Divine Goddess, Goddess Divine, Divine God, God Divine, if evil dwells within this place, please make it leave my space.
Thorn woke up to pounding on her door. She sat up, instantly alert, ready for action. Her stomach clenched, and a cold sweat broke out all over her body. Her old fears of having to run from city to city gripped her, as she gathered her power about her. With her power building she sent it out to all corners of the building, trying to sense any danger. She couldn’t sense any. She threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, and answered the door. Using her inner eye she tried to ascertain who was there. She looked through the peephole. It was Detective Scettico and Sé. She didn’t like the idea of letting Scettico into her apartment, her one place of peace and purity. Opening the door, she stepped onto the landing.
“Thorn, we have some questions for you,” Sé said. He had his cop face on, it was hard to tell what he was thinking, and the circles were back under his eyes.
“Ok.” She knew there must have been another murder. She was not going to let Scettico have the satisfaction of seeing her reactions.
“Where were you last night between one and four in the morning?” Scettico asked her.
“About one thirty I took a ride on my bike. I got back a little after three. Then I read for a while and went to bed, why?”
“Can anyone vouch for that?” Scettico asked, his posture and voice aggressive. “Do you know a woman named Azayrid Goldstone?” Sé kept his head down as if he weren’t a part of his partner’s performance.
“In passing. I don’t know her well.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to come down to the station with us for more questioning, Miss Thorn,” Scettico said, obviously enjoying himself. This is what Scettico lived for.
“Why? What does this pertain to and will I need a lawyer present?”
“Just come with us and don’t ask a lot of questions,” Scettico said, bristling like a challenged bear.
Raven flew from his perch and Scettico suddenly had a foul streak down his suit. Sé coughed, a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
“Raven!” Thorn admonished.
“Pretty bird, pretty bird,” Raven sang.
“Is this shit? Is this what I think it is? Fuck! Aww fuck!” Scettico shouted in outrage.
“I’m so sorry. Let me get something to clean that up.”
“No, I’m fine,” Scettico growled.
After recovering from his coughing fit, Sé turned back to Thorn. “You’re entitled to a lawyer, Thorn. Azayrid Goldstone was murdered last night in the same way as the other two victims,” Sé said, gently pushing past a cursing Scettico.
Thorn nodded and went straight down the stairs. The men followed her as she went to the employee break room. She picked up the phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. She whispered a quick, terse conversation and then turned back to the two detectives.
“My lawyer told me that I’m not supposed to go with you unless you have an arrest warrant. He’ll be in town in a couple of days and will accompany me to the station to make a formal statement at that time. If you two gentlemen have anything else to say, you can say it to my lawyer, Charles Beglan.” Thorn took one of her business cards and wrote her lawyer’s number on the back. She handed it to Sé. Sé looked somewhat relieved. She felt some of her tension ease as his face relaxed. She needed him to be in her corner.
Scettico reached for the card and read the number on the back.
“What kind of number is this? Where the hell is your lawyer from?” Scettico complained.
“Come on, Scettico, there’s nothing else we can do here,” Sé said, gruffly, putting on his cop persona for Scettico.
“We’ll be back with an arrest warrant. You won’t be able to hide behind a lawyer then.” Scettico flexed his muscles and cracked his neck. His shirt bulged out. He stank of adrenaline.
The minute they left, Thorn went out front to the shop and had Jason cancel all her appointments for that night, and the two nights after that, something she had never done before. She needed to study. Someone was out to get her and her creations and they were taking out her customers. She had to protect Sé or he might be next. She had to protect herself.
Upstairs, Thorn fed Raven some meat and changed his water.
“I take this to mean no ride tonight?”
“No, I’ve got too much work to do. Uncle Charles is coming into town and I have to find out who is committing these murders. Why target me?”
“Do you think the bad one has found us?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t felt him. But he may have learned to cloak himself better this time. The more I learn, the more he could learn as well. Azayrid was a wise, peaceful soul. She did not deserve to die that way.”
“None of them did.”
“No they didn’t. I’m going to need some of your lucky intuition tonight Raven. Help me to put the pieces together.”
Raven mantled, puffing his feathers, drawing his wings up as if to shelter her, and cawed.
Thorn went to her bookcases and took off the wards to the old grimoires bound in worn leather, and held together with magick. Many ancient texts, some bound in rough animal hides, some in wood and some in fine-grained leather. They were warded to look like ordinary books until she took the spell off. She pulled down her family�
�s grimoires handed down among witches for generations, her book of shadows and any other texts she thought might help her in her search. Tonight would be long and arduous, and if all else failed she would scry for the dark one. She hoped she didn’t have to go that far. It would be like ringing his doorbell.
Thorn moved the first and most likely grimoire close to the light so she could study it. It was older than her, older by 300 years and written in Gaelic. The cover was dyed black leather and the pages were fading. The spells placed on them kept them from disappearing altogether. Intricate drawings littered the margins and bizarre ingredients that were very difficult to find were listed throughout the book. Thorn tenderly went through, page by page studying each one, looking for something that made sense.
Towards the end of the book she found an annotation that intrigued her.…to capture their power you must use a bag made of skin from magick makers…
It was written in someone’s handwriting and the rest had faded away. But it grabbed her attention. She quickly pulled down another book, and another, to cross-reference power-stealing. What she found both amazed and frightened her.
She learned there was more than one way to capture another witch’s power. One was at the time of their death. You said an incantation over them after you killed them. The crux was that you must be the one to kill them. This was definitely dark magick. No wonder she had never heard of it before. The second way was the way she was looking for, and much more difficult. She felt sure the killer was using both methods.
In the second power-stealing method, you used a bag or satchel sewn out of the skin that has been magicked. Her talismans would fit this requirement perfectly. In this bag you would capture the powers of a particularly powerful witch. The actual attack would take place during a battle and would strip the witch of his or her power. This was the only way to take the power of a born witch. It was best to use pixie, fairy, or vampire skin, but witch skin would work in a bind. Since the first two were very hard to find, the killer must be banking on her bewitched talismans to make the skin more powerful. That’s why this killer hasn’t tried to kill her. He doesn’t have enough skin yet.
Now, to track the dark one. He was a born witch too. His father had taken him away at birth and she only found out about him after Muirin died. She remembered meeting her brother, the first time.
It was the night Raven came to her. He’d flown in the window and cawed softly at her.
“Aren’t you special,” she said, in an awed voice.
“Need me,” Raven said.
“What’s your name?”
“No name. Name’s bad.”
“I’ll call you Raven,” Thorn said, as she scratched him behind the eyes. Raven cawed softly again and shut his eyes in appreciation. At that moment the doorbell rang.
“Trouble,” Raven said. Thorn went on alert. She knew he was there for a reason. Mamó must have sent him. He had found her, that’s how it was with familiars. She answered the door.
Thorn looked out at a young man not too much older than herself. He seemed familiar. She opened the door. He fidgeted, looking around. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. He was not much taller than her own, five-foot-seven-inch frame and had her blue black hair. It was long and in a ponytail. His eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen. Just like the ones that shone out of the pictures she had seen of her mother. He wore a garnet colored velvet jacket in an old fashioned style, with a poet’s shirt. He looked like a bad imitation of Lord Byron. Magick radiated from him. He made her nervous.
“Thorn, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Who are you,” she asked, hesitating on the doorstep.
“I’m your half-brother. Caleb. We share the same mother.” He reached out his hand to shake hers. When their fingers met she felt a shock run between them. She was surprised, but Caleb seemed to expect it. “My father took me away when he found out our mother was a witch,” he said pleasantly, looking at her sideways. Smiling, always smiling.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “Our mother passed away during childbirth.”
“I know. I’m sorry too. I would have liked to have known her.” She should have let him come in but she hesitated, stepping out onto the porch instead. Raven cawed an alert in the background.
“Why haven’t I heard about you?” Thorn asked.
“Our mamó didn’t want me to meet you. She shielded you from me. I take it she has passed as well?” he said, looking askance, smiling, still smiling, as if that fact pleased him. Thorn didn’t appreciate that. Mamó’s death was still very raw. His reaction to her sweet, kind grandmother added to her uneasiness. She took another step back, putting more distance between them.
“I can feel the magick in you. What does your father think of it now?”
“Nothing,” his voice registered no change in inflection. “He’s dead.” He turned his back and leaned against the porch railing watching a rain-laden cloud move over the green hills.
“Muirin wouldn’t teach me when I approached her,” his voice took on a hard edge, even as it became softer. “I went to others to learn the Craft. I had no choice.”
This alarmed Thorn. Mamó was truly generous. Why had she refused to teach Caleb? What had she seen in Caleb for her to protect Thorn from him for so long?
“What do you want from me, Caleb?”
“I want us to be sister and brother.” He turned and looked her in the eye for the first time. “I want us to practice together. With the magick in the two of us we would be unstoppable.” His speech became more rapid and his eyes glinted.
“I don’t think I’m interested in practicing with anyone,” she said slowly. “I’m a solitary practitioner. I planned on a peaceful life here in Kilkeel. Of course, I would want to get to know you more, brother.” Thorn hurried to add the last part. She’d felt his magick rise with his temper.
Caleb shook his head. Smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Little sister, if you won’t join me, then I will have to consider you my enemy.” He put his finger out and charmed a gray wagtail onto it. “I’ll give you one last chance,” he said, as he smoothed the tiny bird’s feathers. “Join me or I will have to destroy you, like I did my father.” He smiled at her, as his magick surrounded the bird and crushed it. Raven cawed loudly.
Thorns eyes went wide and she slammed the door in his face. She was young and inexperienced, not confident she could match his power.
“Wards protect me!” Thorn called. She felt the shift as her grandmother’s ancient spells were called up, reinforced by her own. They surrounded the house in a bubble of protection.
She heard Caleb try the door. He screamed in pain as the wards reverberated through him. He yelled her name in anger. Then taunted her. Thorn packed her bags. She boxed up her grimoires and other occult books and had them ready to send to Uncle so he could forward them when she settled somewhere her brother couldn’t find her. She wrote her uncle a letter explaining everything. After she got away, she would call their neighbor and have her mail everything for her.
Caleb finally left, after promising he would spend his life hunting her. She believed him. She left in the darkness with two suitcases and Raven at her side. Two days later, she and Raven landed in Japan. It took Caleb three years to find her there.
She ran again. Each time he found her, she set off again. To Indonesia, England and the States. She vowed never to get close to anyone for fear Caleb would harm them trying to get to her. She continued to learn and practice her magickal skills and her tattoo art, depending on the culture she was in. Thorn learned enough to shield herself. But he kept finding her. She thought she had finally done it this time. There could be no one else who would target her this way.
She set out herbs to cleanse the room, placing candles in the four directions to mark her circle. She then sprinkled salt around the circle and traced it with her athame, as she asked the Goddess and God to protect her. Once the circle was invoked, she sat inside it resting her hands in her lap. Sh
e focused herself and concentrated on Caleb, as she dropped into a deep meditation.
Soon she was getting images of him. Flashes of him in Berkeley, watching Stained, tracking Willow, killing her, watching Richard go into her shop. She saw him following her to the Irish pub when she talked to Azayrid. She flashed on images of him performing the murders. Stalking Azayrid, and kidnapping her. Killing her. Slowly she came out of the trance. Her stomach rolled. She opened her circle and ran for the bathroom, where she emptied her stomach. The room spun. Splashing cold water on her face helped settle her down. She crawled to her bed and rested her head on the cool coverlet, for a minute, until she got her bearings. Raven flew to her and nudged her with his beak.
“I’m okay, Raven. It’s Caleb. It’s all been Caleb.”
“I know, my witchling. I saw what you saw.”
“How could he commit such acts? He had surprised Richard and Willow, but Azayrid had been kidnapped and was so scared. She’d been crying.” Thorn sobbed as she remembered. She wiped at her face.
Once she could stand, she made her way into her kitchen area and fixed some mint and ginger tea before she sat down. She sipped slowly letting the tea soothe her stomach.
Why hadn’t she sensed him? He had followed her, had been watching her. He must be cloaking at an unbelievable level. Now that she knew he was out there she would be more aware of him. She couldn’t get the images of his victims out of her head. He had taken the skin off Azayrid while she was alive. He enjoys his work. The sick bastard. Thorn’s hand went to her stomach, as she tried to keep the nausea from rising again.
One thing she knew for sure. She had to stay away from Sé. Her brother would think it the ultimate coup to kill him and steal his talismans. She didn’t want to let her brother know she had tattooed Sé. A cop with a talisman, it would be like candy for him. A cop, who has a touch of magick in the sight, and who Thorn was becoming attached to.
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