CHAPTER TWELVE
By the line of my will, as I sit still, protect my body, mind, and soul. Give me control!
Uncle Charles arrived two days later, at three p.m., by taxi since Thorn only had her motorcycle. The wrinkled old man reminded her of a withered apple. He was using a cane now. She could see the trip from Ireland had tired him out, but underneath the wrinkled skin was a mind as sharp as any that could be found. Thorn was thankful he was able to practice in the States. She was also grateful he was her grandmother’s brother. He was a connection to her mamó, which she needed right now.
“Uncle, I’m so happy to see you,” Thorn said, as she gathered him in her arms. He hugged her and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
“I’ve missed you too, little one.” He brushed her hair away from her forehead like her mamó used to do, sending Thorn back to her childhood. “Where’s my old friend Raven?”
“He’s upstairs. Come, let’s get you settled.” Thorn led him through the shop front, where Uncle looked everywhere, curious as a bird, and up to her apartment. Raven cawed softly to him. The bird and Uncle went back quite a few years. Her uncle gently scratched Raven’s neck. Raven shut his eyes enjoying it.
“Well, niece, you’ve got into a mess this time. Tell me the whole story,” he said, as he lowered himself into a chair.
“There have been three murders,” she said, as she started her electric tea kettle. “All three of them were past clients of mine. I gave them special talismans as part of their tattoos.”
Thorn gathered loose Irish black tea and picked up a ceramic teapot while she waited for the water to boil.
“That sounds like more than a coincidence,” Uncle said, holding a hand up to interrupt her.
“Yes, that’s what the police think too. The three were beheaded. Then the talismans were cut out.”
“We’ll deal with that later,” Uncle said, watching her as she brewed the tea.
“I’ve discovered that Caleb is here and responsible for it. He’s coming after me, Uncle. I know it. I think he wants to strip me of my powers and then kill me.”
The old man squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He sighed, “This is worse than I thought. I wish Muirin was still with us.”
“I do too,” Thorn whispered.
“I suppose you don’t have an alibi?”
Thorn poured the tea into mugs and handed one to Uncle.
“No, that’s one of the reasons the police are looking at me,” Thorn said, with a wry smile. “That and the murders happened to my customers.” Thorn paused, took a sip of hot tea. “One of the detectives has the sight. His grandmother was a cailleach in the old country. He doesn’t fully trust me yet but he’s the best chance I’ve got.” She rose and began to pace, leaving her cup behind. “But he can only do so much without giving me away, and of course, the police won’t believe in anything to do with witchcraft.”
“Trouble,” Raven cawed.
“Yes, trouble,” Uncle Charles said.
“It gets worse. I tattooed the detective, Sé his name is, with a double protection talisman imbibed with old Irish magick.” Uncle Charles raised his eyebrow. “I think I’ve protected him well, but I’ve also now made him a target,” Thorn said, lowering her eyes.
“Child, I will not lecture you on the danger of that. You already know that Caleb will find out and use it against you.”
“Yes. I’ve already figured that out. I just haven’t told Sé that. I don’t know how much to tell him. I don’t want to endanger him more.” Thorn shook her head.
Uncle’s eyebrow went up again.
“Trouble,” Raven said.
Uncle looked down and smiled.
“I’ll leave that to you. Now, let’s finish our tea and have something to eat. I suppose we need to go to the police station then and make a statement. Do you have anything respectable to eat in this house?” Uncle Charles asked, smiling at her.
“Yes, of course, Uncle,” Thorn said, with the first true smile she’d had in a long while. She got busy in the kitchen frying up steaks and making a salad. Uncle was old school about his food. Lots of red meat would be consumed in her house while he was staying. She cut up a few pieces for Raven and he cawed a thank you to her. While she finished her tea she thought of the many hours she spent in the old family kitchen watching her grandmother doing the same things. Her grandmother made tea for every occasion, to celebrate or commiserate, it didn’t matter, tea would fix it. Her rough stone hearth burned brightly on cold Irish winter days. Thorn would hurry home from school to smell fresh baking bread coming from the oven, and enjoy it slathered with butter and jam, along with tea with mamó. Afterwards, they worked on her lessons in magick. Thorn shook her head, putting away the happy memories that were still too painful.
After their simple meal, Thorn asked her uncle if he wanted to rest before they went to talk to the police. He said he’d rested enough on the plane, so they called a taxi.
They walked through Stained on their way to wait for their ride. Uncle Charles looked over Gwynn and Reese’s shoulders as they worked, commenting on this and that. Thorn was forced to introduce them. She hated mixing her private life with her business persona. Uncle Charles was his usual charming self, and the girls were instantly smitten.
“Reese dear, you can tattoo me anytime. It might take a gallon of ink to travel through the miles of wrinkles though,” Uncle Charles said.
“Anytime Charlie, I’ll put a nice pinup girl on your shoulder for you. The girl who got away,” Reese said.
“Only if she’s a redhead, my heart sings for copper tops,” Uncle Charles replied. Reese, the redhead, and Gwynn laughed. Gérard was polite enough when Thorn introduced Uncle to him.
“Good evening, Mr. Beglan. It was good of you to come,” Gérard’s words slid out in his honeyed creole accent. Thorn’s defenses went on alert. Gérard was pushing magick out at Uncle! How dare he! Thorn threw out a protection circle around Uncle and it made Gérard stumble back and his eyes flew open wide. Thorn was pissed and she was just getting ready to walk over to him and slam him up against the wall, when the taxi pulled up. Thorn dragged her flirting uncle out the door instead.
“Uncle, are you okay?”
“Yes, dearest. I felt your protection go up around me. Let me guess, that nasty Gérard?”
“Yes,” Thorn said, with a snarl. “I’ve had my suspicions about him but I’ve been so busy. Now I have to do something about him,” she growled.
“Be careful. His magick felt foreign, not like yours or Muirin’s.”
“Voodoo, I think. All the more reason. Having another system of magick in my space might disrupt the sanctity of my shop. Let’s focus on the matter at hand. I’ll deal with him later tonight.”
“As you wish. We talked about what you will say. You know what is appropriate and what isn’t. I’ll be there to annoy them and to keep you out of jail. Just relax now, niece of mine,” Uncle instructed, patting her on the knee.
“Let’s hope it’s a female cop. The way you flirted with Reese we’d have it made,” Thorn teased.
“You’ve always been my favorite niece, don’t make me change my mind, missy,” Uncle teased back.
“I’m your only niece.”
“So true and for you I would fly half way around the world at the drop of a hat.”
“Thank you, Uncle. I love you,” Thorn said, kissing him on the cheek.
“I love you too, little one.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way. Thorn used the time planning how she would handle Gérard. The cab eased up to the curb, breaking her concentration.
“We’re here,” Thorn said. “This building across from the park.” Kids rode their skateboards off the short wall in the park. People of many ages milled around the area. The YMCA was just around the corner, new YMCA Youth Center was across the street. Liquid amber leaves fell down around them.
“Let me do the talking first, Thorn.”
As they paid the
taxi, Thorn felt the brisk wind up her back and it made her teeth chatter. A premonition of what’s to come? She hoped not. She wanted this interview to go well. Thorn and her uncle made their way up the stairs to the Berkeley Police Department on Martin Luther King Boulevard, better known as MLK. It was a newer building with its art deco lettering and well-lit exterior in the early October evening. Thorn had called from Stained and said they would be coming to give her statement, so Sé and Detective Scettico should be waiting for them.
Her hands were slick with sweat as she passed through the front doors. Her stomach muscles tightened. Uncle Charles looked supremely calm, whistling, and chatting with the policemen they encountered. His charming Irish brogue put them at ease.
While uncle was busy with the policeman, a blonde in a beautiful navy suit walked briskly up to Thorn.
“Hello, I’m Special Agent Simms with the FBI, you must be Thorn.” She flashed her badge at Thorn. Her expression was grim, she pressed into Thorn’s space. Thorn was startled but remained impassive. She couldn’t imagine what the FBI would want with her.
“What can I do for you, Agent Simms?”
“You can start with a confession.” Simms had a hard look on her face. A grimace that passed for a smile.
“Are you kidding?”
Simms backed Thorn into a corner so they wouldn’t be heard. “Thorn, this would be so much easier to keep this between us girls. We can get together and chat about the details anytime you’re ready,” Simms said, as she tapped Thorn on the chest. Thorn no longer wanted to laugh. She felt her Irish temper rising. This woman’s aura was all mucked up and she was giving off horrible energy, and she kept pushing her proximity in a way that was meant to be intimidating.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Agent Simms, and I’d appreciate you backing up,” Thorn said, as she pushed forward, forcing Simms to move with her or get stepped on.
“Just remember my offer and take it seriously. Here’s my card. Call me if you want to talk.” Simms gave Thorn her official card with a cell number handwritten on the back. Thorn watched as Agent Simms sashayed away.
She found Uncle, and a young policeman escorted them into an interview room. Thorn caught a glimpse of Sé. He had a deliberate look on his face. She wondered if he had seen Simms or if he was gearing up to nail her in the interview. She wasn’t sure what she should be most worried about.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anger, inside me, let me be. With this candle, with this charm, I cast this spell and none shall it harm. With the element of fire, I banish thee. Hear me, anger, set me free.
Sé watched Thorn’s curves as she moved through the darkness leaving the police station. The shadows caressed her. Her uncle had a firm grip on her arm. He wasn’t sure who was holding up whom. The interview had gone pretty much as he had expected. Thorn wasn’t shocked or outraged at the new information they had, which showed she felt she had nothing to hide. He, on the other hand, had a nagging sense that Thorn still knew more than she let on.
Scettico gloated. He strutted around like the prick he was, boasting about how he had dominated her and finessed pertinent information out of her. The man was an ass. Sé wondered again why the Captain had burdened him with such an incompetent partner.
Sé signed out and went to his unmarked car. The door screamed its protest when he opened it and the old reek of stale cigarette smoke came at him, like an uninvited visitor, after the clean fall air. A sharp knock on the window drew his attention.
“Hey, Sé, baby,” Special Agent Kate Simms said. “What are you up to?”
“Not much, Kate? You?” Sé forced himself to maintain a calm reaction, as he fought the urge to slam the door on her and drive away.
“Just had a chat with your little suspect. I thought I’d lend a hand, like in the good old days. You know, technically, with this many murders you could call me in.”
“I think we have this covered, Kate, thanks though.” Sé went to shut the door but Kate slid in between the door and Sé. She ran her fingers down the side of Sé’s face. He shivered in revulsion. Kate took it the wrong way and regarded it as encouragement.
“Come on, Sé. Let’s go eat or something. Emphasis on the something.” She laughed.
“I’m just fine, Kate. Maybe some other time.” Sé shut the door on her and saw her confused look as he drove away.
Sé’s brief relationship with Kate had been a mistake from the beginning. She was an aggressive barracuda. In bed and out, manipulative and sneaky. All the traits that turned him off. It had been one of the worst mistakes of his life, and she had been trying to get back together ever since he called it off.
He turned off Center, taking side streets to Stained. He assumed Thorn would be working. He just wanted to see her. Let her know he believed in her. Maybe ease the nagging unease inside of him.
When he got to Thorn’s he parked in the loading zone again. It was night so he could park there, but he threw his emergency light in the window for good measure. He walked into the cacophony that was Stained. Buzzing thrum from the guns and music going in the background, mixed in with people from every walk of life. What was missing was Thorn. She must have the night off. He went through the back and up the stairs to her personal door and knocked. It took a few minutes for someone to answer.
Thorn greeted him with a tentative smile. She was uncertain after the interview where he stood, where she stood, he understood. Her uncle was nowhere to be seen, all the better.
“Trouble,” Raven said.
“Yes, I am,” Sé said, and grinned at him. Raven shuffled on his perch and cawed. The exchange brought a genuine smile to Thorn’s face.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Sé said.
“I gathered that by your appearance at my door,” she said, quietly, peering up at him through a curtain of midnight hair. Her accent was more pronounced after being around her uncle. It stirred him. The lilt of her gentle brogue sent him back to his childhood. “I need to talk to you,” she said, “and I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Sé asked. His stomach clenched. She shook her head. Sé wasn’t sure if her reaction was because her news was something she knew he’d feel she’d been holding back, or if it was something that had nothing to do with deception.
“While I was at the station, I had a visit from Special Agent Simms.”
Sé’s demeanor went icy. Thorn grew cold at his reaction. Was he upset with her or Simms, she wondered.
“Thorn, stay away from her. I won’t go into details but she’s not working this case and she’s bad news.”
“I’ll try. But she was pretty adamant about talking to me again.” He wasn’t angry with her, she thought and something uncurled in her. “I got the impression that she is involved with the case.”
“I’ll straighten her out,” he promised. “Don’t worry about it.” He studied her a moment, then said, “Thorn, tell me what else is going on.”
She returned his stare and let out her breath in a long sigh before she answered.
“I can’t tell you right now. It would be dangerous for you.”
“Dammit, Thorn, do you know how guilty this makes you sound? How am I supposed to trust you?” Spitfire replaced the sparkle in her violet eyes before he got the words out.
“Trust me or don’t trust me, I wouldn’t expect anything less from a copper.”
“Don’t go throwing me in with Scettico,” he replied, calmly, backing the energy down. “You know I don’t think like him.”
“You just said I sounded guilty.”
“The evidence is stacking up against you,” he reminded her gently.
“You don’t think I can help myself?”
“It doesn’t sound like you think I can take care of myself,” he replied.
“It really is dangerous for you, Sé.” Her mind flashed to Caleb’s victims and the way he tortured Azayrid and she shivered.
“
Why? Tell me and I’ll help.”
His scent, a mix of fresh air, mint and sandalwood, teased her senses.
“Thorn, tell me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a request. She knew he needed to know as a cop. But she was sure any knowledge of Caleb would endanger him so much more than not knowing. Worry for Sé would weaken her focus. She’d be worried about his well-being. But wasn’t she already? A stalemate. Her feelings for him were overpowering her fear for herself.
“I can’t tell you anything. You don’t understand how dangerous this is.”
“What is, Thorn?” Sé asked.
Her lips formed a straight, tight line. She changed the subject.
“You’ve put us in a compromising situation by coming here. You don’t know what you’re up against and I can’t tell you.” She shook her head. He was up against something a bullet couldn’t fix. Even with his acceptance of her magick, he was a cop, and a man, and not about to meekly back away. Raven echoed her thoughts.
Sé was quiet for a long time. The responsibility of keeping him safe weighed on her. The desire to protect him from something he wasn’t equipped to deal with strengthened her resolve.
“What does your uncle know?” Sé asked.
“Everything.”
“Why can he know and I can’t. Dammit, Thorn. This doesn’t make any sense. If you’re in danger, then tell me. We’ll put a patrol unit on you.”
“That’s very generous and sweet,” she whispered.
“But…”
“But they wouldn’t have a chance. And he can track me. It’s how he found me in the first place. Your people couldn’t see him, let alone touch him. I can defend myself better without innocents getting in the way. Besides, he’d have a very difficult time getting into Stained, I have it warded.”
“I don’t understand. Are we dealing with another witch?” Sé asked.
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