“You know I’m right. I want you to promise me you won’t get stupid and try to keep everyone else safe. None of us have that luxury. If you can’t promise that, then I swear to God I’ll find a way to lock you down until you do.” He sounded like his throat had filled with jagged glass.
She leaned back, brows rising defiantly. “Think you can?”
His eyes hardened. “Do you want to find out? I’m not crazy about you being on the front lines of this mess, either, but that’s what we do. So you don’t try to keep me out of it.”
She didn’t speak for a moment, and then sighed. “If I say yes, then will you promise not to take any stupid risks, especially knowing what we’re up against?”
“We don’t know what we’re up against.”
“We know there’s a god of unknown power involved and we know what those three creatures can do. What they have done.”
He nodded as if she’d proven his point. Which she had, though she’d only meant to remind him of the wounds he’d taken, not her own near-death experience.
“Good. We’re on the same page. I’ll promise if you will.”
“Agreed.” Inwardly she congratulated herself. She technically hadn’t promised. She wasn’t about to let him or anybody else get hurt if she could help it. She’d do whatever she had to in order to prevent it. And keep Portland from getting destroyed.
Ray ran a finger down the side of her face and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. Kayla suppressed a shiver, knowing full well he was not flirting, and most definitely was not trying to send streaks of heat snapping all over her skin.
“Maybe we should work on your definition of what a stupid risk entails. I’ve got a feeling we’re miles apart on that,” he said.
“No time,” she said, looking past him. Logan had parked in the lot above and now came jogging down the steps to the dock, followed closely by Angie. Raven went to meet them.
Ray followed her gaze and muttered something before facing back around. Her hands still rested on his waist, and he still held her by one shoulder, the hand that had toyed with her hair cupping her neck as she started to step back.
“For the record,” he noted, “I’m well aware that you did not actually promise. Which means I didn’t either. You want to try again?”
She bit her lower lip. Dammit. What was he, a detective? And a damned good one. She sighed. “Fine. I promise. No stupid risks.” At least she got to decide what she figured stupid was. But then again, so did he. That didn’t make her feel any better.
She sighed and he grinned as if reading her mind, his thumb making little circles on the back of her neck. “Sucks when you’re stuck with the same rules as everybody else, doesn’t it?”
She twisted out of his grip before she jumped him. “Don’t be a dick.”
“But I’m so good at it.”
“Now that’s a truth we can both agree on.”
Kayla stepped around him and strode away, trying not to pay attention his rumbling laugh or the earthy-musky-masculine smell that was purely him.
Angie met her and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank God you’re okay.”
Kayla hugged her back, startled. Or rather, gobsmacked. Angie and Logan had seen her other form. Why weren’t they keeping their distance and carrying bazookas?
Angie pushed back and held Kayla at arm’s length, scanning her up and down, looking for any evidence of injuries.
“The Island witches took care of me,” Kayla said, flushing a little at the examination. “I’m fine. Ray, too,” she said to distract Angie.
It worked. The other woman’s attention jumped to him, and she went to wrap him in a hug.
“You should watch out for that Detective Dix,” she said to him. “She’s on the warpath and out for blood.”
Ray shrugged. “I’ve got a bodyguard.” He flicked a glance at Kayla. “At least, she’s not going to let anybody kill me before she gets a chance to.”
Angie snorted.
Kayla got distracted at that point by Zach, who pulled her into a hug and held her close against him.
“You know, we only just met. You could wait at least a week before you decide you can’t live without me. In fact, you can have me if it will keep you alive,” he said with a teasing grin.
“You wish.” She hugged him back, and was surprised when she went to push out of his grip and he kept holding her.
“Just sit still. This pisses Ray off,” he said in a low voice. “The idiot is jealous as hell. He’s totally got it bad for you.”
Kayla went stiff as a board. “Does not,” she choked out.
“Looks like you’re in denial, too.” He loosened his grip and brushed a fast kiss across her lips, his eyes glinting wickedly. “Consider me your fairy godfather,” he whispered and then mirrored Angie, stepping back to look her over.
“You look lovely as ever,” he declared, and she flushed.
“You’ve got a strange idea of beauty,” she said. “I look like a half-rotted corpse.”
“Nonsense. You’re beautiful, and I should know. I’m a connoisseur of beautiful women.”
“Sort of like being a connoisseur of fast-food hamburgers? I bet you think rats are pretty, too.”
“I’m sure there are very pretty rats,” he declared loftily, and then pulled her back in for a hug. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you’re okay. I would have missed you terribly.”
Uh huh. “You barely know me.”
“I know I like you.”
A movement beside them caught her attention, and a hand clamped around her upper arm and pulled her away from Zach. Ray’s expression was positively lethal.
“We’re wasting time.”
Zach darted an I-told-you-so glance at her. Kayla rolled her eyes and shook her head. Much as she’d like to think he was right about Ray, she knew that his intensity had nothing to do with anything romantic. She wasn’t even his type. He liked professional women—doctors, lawyers, real estate agents. Women who wore skirts and heels and makeup, who didn’t dribble food down their shirts, or do spit-takes when someone told a good joke. In other words, he liked purebreds, not mutts.
Kayla was most definitely a mutt, despite being a Runyon. Not that she couldn’t play in the purebred leagues. Her father had made sure she knew how to act the part of wealth and education as deemed appropriate for Runyon spawn. She knew all the right forks and how to dance without treading on toes and how to choose a wine and how to make small talk. She knew how to dress and walk in ridiculous designer heels and put her hair into elegant up-dos. At least choosing a good wine was worth knowing. She hated the rest. But that sort of woman had always been a magnet for Ray.
The fundamental commonality shared by all his girlfriends was that they were always put-together, confident, independent, and well-grounded. On the other hand, Kayla was a cut-offs and old flannel sort of girl. She had a lot of daddy issues and a lot to prove when it came to being a cop. The disaster that was her parents’ marriage had taught her to be suspicious of love and romance. Friendships were safer.
She’d made the job her entire world. Ray’d taught her that there really were good men out there. She’d been proud to be his partner, and proud of the work they’d done. Together they’d closed more cases than anybody else in the department. They worked together like a well-oiled machine. She’d made it a point to be worthy of his trust and friendship.
Whatever Zach said, whatever new feelings she seemed to have for Ray, she wasn’t going to do anything to screw this up. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment just thinking about telling him she was interested in him romantically. He’d laugh or be embarrassed or he’d pity her and try to let her down easy. Any which way she sliced it, the result would be deadly awkwardness and a massive dose of humiliation.
She’d rather have the s
ure thing of a rekindled friendship. Besides, she could find someone else to have sex with, if she needed to scratch that itch, which wasn’t likely. She’d practically been a nun before Magicfall, and after—
Well, she’d felt like such a freak, she’d pretty much kept everybody at arm’s length.
“Logan’s a tomcat,” Ray said suddenly, breaking the flow of her thoughts.
Her brows crimped. “What?”
“Logan’s a tomcat, and he swings both ways. You can’t walk down a street without bumping into someone he’s screwed or who’s screwed him. He’s put notches in so many bedposts they are practically whittled to matchsticks. You don’t want to get involved with him.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the man in question. He quirked his brows at her and winked.
Idiot.
“What makes you think I’m interested in him?”
“You had dinner with him. You looked pretty cozy together when you got to your family’s estate, and that hug looked plenty romantic.” He listed those off in the impassive way he went over crime details. “You don’t—or didn’t used to, anyhow—typically do anything with men unless you are getting romantically involved. Doesn’t take a detective to see where the wind’s blowing. Felt I should to give you all the facts.”
“I hate to tell you, but your detecting skills need work. I like Zach, but I’ve got no plans to jump his bones.”
He glanced at her and away. “All the same, you should know what he is.”
She hated it when people pretended they knew her better than she knew herself. On the other hand, Ray had hit the nail on the head. He still knew her. Didn’t make him any less of an asshole though. She smiled to herself. It felt unbelievably good to have someone watching out for her.
They gathered around Raven. Angie passed the plastic box to Kayla while Zach took a sheaf of papers out of the messenger bag he’d set down at the bottom of the steps. He jumped right in.
“We’ve got some preliminary reports. First, that white powder? Some kind of mineral, we think, but nothing we could pin down yet.”
“It’s a spell carrier,” Raven said. “When activated and combined with the venom of those creatures, it becomes particularly deadly for divine creatures.”
“And that’s why Kayla got hit so hard?” Angie asked.
Raven shook her head. “The spell on the powder wasn’t activated or else she wouldn’t have survived long enough to get help. The creatures’ venom naturally has a stronger effect on divine creatures than others. The powder ramps that up exponentially.”
Zach’s brows crimped together. “You’re saying that if that powder gets activated and one of the creatures bites her, then her chances of surviving are—?”
“Zero. Even with several of my most powerful witches working on her, we nearly couldn’t save her,” the witch said baldly. “Add the powder and she’s got no chance.”
“Okay, so we keep her locked up tight until we can hunt these beasts and put them down,” he said, looking at Ray whose expression had gone nuclear winter. “Right?”
“You and what army?” Kayla snapped. “Besides, the creatures are the least of our worries. I couldn’t sit out of this fight even if I wanted to. So, get that shit right out of your pretty little head.”
At the last, Angie gave a little snort. Ray’s mouth twitched and then flattened again, and Zach looked like he’d eaten a live snake.
“You’re a liability,” he said.
“Only if you try to protect me. Otherwise, I’m just another soldier.”
“Of course we’re going to try to protect you,” he said, the muscle in his jaw throbbing. “That’s what we do. We watch each other’s backs. Or have you been off the force so long you’ve forgotten that basic code?”
Kayla felt herself flushing, her teeth baring in a snarl as she jerked forward, poking her finger into his chest to punctuate her words.
“I’ll tell you what I remember. Cops protect people. We walk into the line of fire and we bleed and we die and we keep going no matter who falls, because this is our city and we’ve sworn to protect it. And that’s what I’m going to do. So, you can take your self-righteous crap and shove it up your ass sideways.”
“You aren’t a cop,” he reminded her. “None of that applies to you. You’re one of the civilians we”—he pointed to Ray and back to himself—”are sworn to protect.”
Kayla’s eyes narrowed to slits. A torrent of emotion spun inside her like a saw blade. Her fists had balled up, and it was taking all of her frayed control to not beat the crap out of the obnoxious technomage. She turned to Ray.
“You still backing me?”
She sounded deathly calm in that eye-of-the-storm kind of way.
“Nothing’s changed for me.”
She nodded. “Good. Then we’re done discussing it.” She glared at Zach. “Got anything useful to add? Because we don’t have time for you to keep spewing shit out your mouth.”
He started to say something. Angie cut him off. “Shut it down, Zach. You can decide for yourself, but she gets to choose what she’s going to do.”
“It’s stupid. She’ll get herself killed.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But that’s the way it is. Get over it. Now get on with what you’ve learned about the murders.”
He made a this-isn’t-finished sound in the back of his throat, but complied.
“We got a hit on some trace we picked up from the bodies. It was distilled from plants. We haven’t identified all of them, but we found ceiba pentandra, also called the Silk Cotton tree. And quararibea funebris, which is also a tree. There are some hints of cayenne, cacao, and salvia divinorum, which is a psychoactive plant.”
He looked up from the report. “All of those are native to South America. The last one is frequently used by shamans in vision quest sorts of ceremonies as well as sacred rituals.”
“Sacred,” Raven murmured. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“We also found DNA. We won’t get results back for at least a few days, and that’s pushing the limits of the lab.”
“Where did you find the plant residue?” Kayla asked. So far, the new information wasn’t helping put the pieces of the mystery together. “Had the victims ingested it?”
He shook his head. “It was on their foreheads, eyes, lips, chests, and genitals.”
“So definitely applied deliberately,” Raven said.
“As part of a ritual, is my guess,” Zach said. “The bodies were exsanguinated, but we didn’t find any signs of blood in the pool or on the wall. We’re not sure where they were killed, but not at the fountain, unless they used plastic tarps or some sort of magical trace collection.”
“Not likely, given that the powder coated everything. If they’d taken anything away, it would have left a void,” Kayla said.
“That begs the question, how did the doers get away without leaving a trail?” Angie asked.
“Maybe they flew,” Ray said. “Or went through a different dimension. We’re dealing with supernatural beings. Who knows what they can do?” Ray turned his attention back to Zach. “What else have you got?”
“Some long black hairs that we’re hoping will tell us something about what we’re dealing with. And we found this.”
He pulled a photo from the sheaf of papers. On it was what appeared to be close-up images of the front and back of an earring—a beaten gold disk attached to a thick wire hook. An image of something that looked like a gargoyle peered out from one side of the disk, with a set of symbols on the back surrounded by a cartouche. They reminded Kayla of the ritual writing at the fountain murder scene.
“Where was it?” Kayla asked.
“It got caught in one of the drains where the water cycles back up to the top of the fountain.”
“Di
d you get those addresses I asked for?” Ray asked.
Zach fished a lined piece of folded paper from his breast pocket and passed it to Ray who looked at it and nodded.
“Let’s go,” he said and trotted up the steps without another word.
Kayla dashed after him with the others close behind. Zach had driven a white SUV with a Portland city seal on the driver’s door in black. Ray climbed behind the wheel without asking permission. Kayla jumped in beside him while their three companions squeezed into the back seat. Ray quickly pulled out of the parking lot heading west.
Over the years since Magicfall, a lot of the roads had been overgrown or the ground underneath had changed and made them impassable. Less of that had happened in Portland’s downtown where there was a lot of tech.
Ray wound through streets heading north. Reed College had disappeared when the lake had formed with the underwater mountain. Determined to keep the college going, those who survived on the faculty and administration had moved into Portland’s Linnfield campus and merged with it to become the new Reed College.
Ray drove past the college and turned west again, periodically checking the navigation map on the dashboard. Eventually he pulled up outside a two-story house painted red with white trim like an old timey-barn. Neatly trimmed bushes lined either side of the front walk, and a riot of flowers bloomed in the beds along the front porch.
Ray knocked loudly on the front door. This house belonged to Natalie Lyle, an expert in dead and barely breathing languages.
After a minute Ray pounded on the door again, hammering on it hard enough to make it rattle in the jamb. Lights went on upstairs and then down, and a voice came through the door.
“Who is it? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Kayla didn’t. It had to be close to one in the morning.
“Police business,” Ray said holding his badge and I.D. up in front of the peephole.
A few seconds later the deadbolt slid back and then another one and then another one. The door swung open. A middle-aged woman stood there. Her graying brown hair hung loosely around her face in what was probably a sleek blunt cut. She had piercing blue eyes and a stubborn chin. Despite her small stature and the fuzzy green robe she’d wrapped around herself, she didn’t look remotely cowed by having the police wake her up in the middle of the night. Mostly she looked irritated.
The Witchkin Murders Page 31