Dee nodded. “We’ll go on through.”
I followed him into the work area of the shop, past the chairs and massage-type tables where Gil inked or pierced customers, past the small tables with tattoo guns on them and drawers full of various colored inks, down a narrow hall to The Gate’s small office. The door was closed but opened on its own as we approached.
The last time I’d been in this room, the black-painted walls had writhed with runes and sigils that changed as I watched them. This time nothing showed on the walls and the windowless room was somehow brightly lit without any visible lights being on. The Gate was standing behind his scarred wooden desk, his right hand already outstretched toward Dee.
“The eagle and the fierce lamb,” The Gate boomed as we walked into the office. “Good to see you again.” His eyes glittered as he regarded me.
Dee strode over and shook The Gate’s hand, both men leaning slightly forward over the desk between them.
“Sit,” The Gate said, motioning to the two chairs in front of the desk.
The Gate, no one seemed to know his birth certificate name, was good-looking for a man in his late sixties, with silver and iron-gray hair and deep blue eyes. He wore a well-cut navy-blue suit and light gray shirt with a navy-and-dark-gray striped tie. He turned his gaze on me and smiled slowly. I gazed back, keeping my look as even and nonchalant as I could manage. I absolutely refused to let him make me sweat.
“Sir,” Dee said, handing him the photograph of Brittany, “do you know her?”
The Gate shifted his gaze from me to the photo. He gave it a long, careful look, then shook his head.
“She’s dead,” Dee said. “We found a business card for the shop in her house.”
The Gate’s eyebrows quirked up and he regarded the photo again.
“I don’t know her,” he said. “Was she in the community?”
The magical community, he meant.
“She’d recently joined a coven,” Dee said.
“Witch,” The Gate said.
“Not much of one,” Dee said, “from what Oona felt about her. Some light magic, but not an adept.”
The Gate sighed. “Any loss of life is cause for sorrow.”
Dee and I nodded, but I thought there were people and things in this world that needed to stop breathing if that was what it took to end the evil they did.
I wanted to ask The Gate again about how his empath niece built a protective shell for herself, but this clearly wasn’t the moment.
Dee stood, and I stood, too. The Gate came around from behind his desk and the two men embraced. Then The Gate turned and wrapped his arms around me, something he’d never done before.
It was only a quick hug, but in that brief touch I felt worry and resignation in the man. I stepped back and looked at him. He’d given me access to his emotions on purpose and had no intention of telling me what his purpose was.
Chapter Three
Back in the car and headed for my place I said, “The Gate is worried about something. Something he sees as inevitable and makes him sad.”
Dee’s gaze never left the road. “Why do you say that?”
“I felt it when he hugged me. He wanted me to know.” That wasn’t quite right. I corrected myself. “He wanted us to know. You more than me.”
His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “But you didn’t see what’s worrying him?”
I shook my head. “I tried to slip into his mind, but he blocked me.”
A thin smile crossed Dee’s mouth. “I’ll have to ask him how he managed that. It’d be a useful trick.”
I shot him some side eye. “If it’s any comfort, it wasn’t easy for him. I felt the will and energy it took to keep me out.”
Dee didn’t say anything. I wanted to slip in and read his thoughts, but he always knew when I did, and didn’t like it. His need for privacy was almost as strong as mine. It was easier to deal with ordins—ordinary people. They never felt me rummaging around in their minds. If I couldn’t read Dee’s thoughts, I guessed I’d have to ask outright.
“Are you worried that The Gate is worried?”
He glanced at me. “I’m worried that he wants us to know he’s worried. When The Gate is obvious about something—and hugging you so you’d feel his emotions is pretty obvious—it usually means he’s cooking up some sort of life lesson.”
I didn’t know The Gate well, but I knew him well enough to know Dee could easily be right. The man had a penchant for setting things up to teach someone what he thought they should learn. The sigils we each wore were a good example. The Gate had set it up so that I designed both the one I wore and the one on Dee’s body. They not only helped save our lives in the Brume but, Dee had said, were a way of The Gate teaching Dee to trust and rely on someone besides himself.
“He’s never going to stop being your teacher, is he?” I said.
Dee chuffed a laugh. “Not if he can help it. It’s the way he is. I’m surprised Gil has stayed with him as long as he has. Gil’s a full wizard, not a student. If it was me, I’d go crazy.”
“So, we shouldn’t worry about the worry?” I said.
“Not yet.” He pulled the car up to a meter on Hermosa Avenue and parked. “But let’s not write it off either.”
∞∞∞
“You really should bespell that door,” Dee said as I fished in my purse for my house key. “Easier to open it with a few words than a key you have to hunt for every time.”
I nodded. He’d said the same thing more than once. He was probably right, but I liked the tradition of it. The same key had been unlocking that door for fifty years now, since the last time the lock had been changed. Traditions could be very comforting. Plus, I knew he was just trying to get my thoughts off Brittany and bring me back into the ordinary world.
I muttered the spell to take down the wards protecting the house and fitted the key in the lock at the same moment that Dee’s cell phone rang. I unlocked the door and went inside, hanging my purse on a peg in the foyer as I went. He stayed on the porch talking on the phone. It was either private or he felt there was nothing lurking around the house. Usually, we came in as quickly as possible and got the wards back up right away. There were a lot of evil things in the world, human and otherwise, and more than one of them had come after us.
Dee followed me in a few minutes later, putting his phone back in his pocket and muttering under his breath, putting the wards on.
“Who was on the phone?” I asked when he joined me in the parlor.
Most people would call this the living room, but I respected the old name, from when the house was built. It was parlor then and it was parlor now.
“Jack,” he said. “He’s invited us for coffee. I assume he wants to talk about something.”
Jack Schneider was an old friend of Dee’s who I’d met a couple of times and liked. He was also a senior member of the magic police. Both Dee and I had complicated relationships with the MPs—Dee because he sometimes wound up doing magic in, and for, the ordinary world which, while not strictly illegal, was definitely frowned on. Me because as a psychic I didn’t really fall under their jurisdiction—but Dee, who wasn’t accredited as a mentor, had taught me some magic, so maybe I did. It was all iffy stuff, nothing to get hauled in and sent to court over, but not quite Kosher, either.
I shook my head. “If it’s business, I don’t think I’m ready for that right now.”
“I’d guess it is,” he said. “Jack specifically said to bring you, that it would be good to see you again—his way of saying he needs your help. I can call back, arrange to meet tomorrow.”
I thought about starting a fresh day with whatever Jack wanted from me and sighed. “I’d rather get it over with.”
We met Jack at The Bean Pot, a semi-private coffee shop on Pacific Coast Highway. Semi-private in that anyone could come in and buy a very good cup of coffee to go, but only members could enter the back room where tables and comfortable, padded chairs awaited. Membership was
only granted to members of the magic community. Of course, Jack had one. Dee didn’t, but then—except for hockey teams—he wasn’t much of a joiner. We had that in common.
We poked our heads in the back room. Dee nodded to Jack. I raised my hand in a slight but friendly wave.
Jack was an average man—average height, average build, brown hair—but I’d seen his brown eyes blaze with an intensity that should warn off anyone thinking of messing with him. Today, he wore street clothes—jeans, a dark blue polo shirt, running shoes—and not the all-white uniform of the magic police. He sat at a square wood table with two empty chairs drawn up to it. The steam from his coffee rose in a little swirl. I smelled the cinnamon he’d added to the cup. The only other people in the room were a couple of guys nuzzling at a table in the back corner.
Dee nodded to Jack with a ‘we’ll-be-right-back’ motion. We went to the counter, ordered coffee, and rejoined him at the table.
“Jesus,” Jack said when we sat down, coffees in hands. “You two look wrung out.” He fastened his gaze on me. “Especially you.”
“Oona had a hard day,” Dee said. “Work.”
A small crease formed between Jack’s eyes. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Occupational hazard,” I said, trying to make light of it all. Brittany and Mrs. Keller, and maybe a little concern for The Gate, were the last things I wanted to talk about.
Jack angled himself, so he looked at both of us. “Your day might not get any better.”
My shoulders tightened and the skin on the back of my neck prickled.
“You two get around,” he said. “Have you heard anything about unexplained deaths in the beach cities? People suddenly dropping dead for no apparent reason?”
I drew in a deep breath.
“Why?” Dee said.
Jack leaned forward the tiniest bit. “So, you have.”
Here’s the thing about knowing people well, knowing their habits—answers can be clear even when they are evaded. And, of course, Jack was a cop, trained to notice and analyze subtle clues. There was no point in holding back.
“Today, as a matter of fact,” Dee said. “A woman in Redondo Beach. Her mother is convinced the coven her daughter belonged to was responsible. She hired Danyon and Peet to prove or disprove her theory.”
Jack nodded. “Brittany Keller, I’d guess.”
“Are you investigating her death as suspicious?” Dee said.
Jack nodded again. “Along with five others in the last week.”
My stomach clenched. Dee gave a low whistle. I felt, rather than saw, the couple in the corner turn their attention to him. It didn’t last long though and they returned their thoughts solely to each other again.
Dee took out his phone. “Do you know which coven Brittany had joined?”
Jack nodded. “Frankie Ulmego’s”
Dee’s eye’s narrowed and he typed the name into his phone.
“Are all the dead in the community?” I asked, speaking for the first time.
“Not all,” Jack said. “Three of the five.”
“Coincidence?” I said. “Or subterfuge? A way to make the deaths look random, not targeted at the community?”
“Maybe coincidence.” Jack hiked his eyebrows. “Maybe not. Which is why I asked to see you both.” He focused on me. “I’d appreciate it if you’d come with me to the death sites and tell me what you pick up.”
I swallowed hard.
“Oona is pretty burned out at the moment,” Dee said. “How about she calls you in the morning.”
“Thank you,” I muttered low. Under the table, I gently squeezed his leg.
“I can do it tomorrow,” I said. “Why don’t you give me the first address and I’ll meet you there.”
Jack typed into his phone. A moment later my phone beeped with a new message. I looked at the address he’d sent.
“That’s only half a block from here.”
“One of the community,” Jack said. “Walking his dog. The dog was fine but wouldn’t leave his human’s side until the dead man’s brother came to get it.”
I pressed my palms together in front of my face, thinking, I knew Jack was trying to tug my heartstrings with the dog story. I didn’t have pets, but I grew up with dogs, cats, rabbits, mice, even squirrels as members of the family. I had a strong fondness for most animals and all the furry ones. Maybe it was how utterly transparent he was that made me relent. I was always a sucker for manipulation I could see straight through. That was contradictory, but even while knowing I was falling for it, I fell for it.
“Okay,” I said. “Since it’s close. But just the one. I need some time and some sleep before I check the others.”
Jack pushed his chair back and stood. We did the same.
There was no crime scene tape, no chalk outline like on TV on the sidewalk, but I felt the violence long before we reached the spot. When the sensation got too strong to bear, I stopped. Jack watched me thoughtfully. Dee had worry in his eyes.
“It’s like Brittany,” I whispered. “Just walking along and his heart stopped. No reason for it. No reason at all.”
Sudden cardiac death was a thing. The body’s electrical system malfunctioned for whatever reason. Without immediate treatment the person died. But this didn’t feel natural like that.
I pulled my gaze up to meet Jack’s face. “Did he have ink?”
He blinked, surprised by the question. “No. Why do you ask?”
Because we found a business card for Merlin Tattoo at Brittany’s house and I’m worried that maybe somehow The Gate and/or Gil are involved.
I shook my head. “Just curious. It’s so common these days. You can tell a lot about a person by the ink they choose to wear.”
“He was older. Seventies.”
I thought about Dee’s well-inked arms, the runes around his left ankle, my sigil on his chest. “Magical and he wasn’t inked?”
Jack shrugged. “Old school guys usually use amulets, charms, and the like. Sometimes you’ll see a single sigil or rune, something of great personal importance to them on their body. For the most part it’s the younger wizards and witches who carry their charms in ink.”
I was new enough to the magic world that I was still learning the lay of things. This was one more fact to put in my bag of puzzle pieces.
“Who was it?” Dee’s voice carried a heavy note of worry.
“Dean Belin,” Jack said.
Dee closed his eyes and sighed. “Damn.”
The magic community in the South Bay was small enough that most everyone knew, or had at least heard of, nearly everyone else. It was clear in Dee’s voice and vibe that he’d not only known the man but liked him. Dee hadn’t known Brittany, but from what her mother had said she was new into the magic world, newer even than I was.
I shifted my gaze to Jack. “Can we go now?”
“You have what you need?” Jack said. “You know the answer?”
I nodded.
“And?”
“Not natural causes,” I said. “Someone, or something, did this to him.”
∞∞∞
The morning broke bright and beautiful—much too lovely a day for the tasks ahead of me. I made coffee while Dee cooked spinach and cheese omelets and toast. I wasn’t all that hungry but made myself eat. I had no way of knowing how long the day would be.
When we finished, I texted Jack to arrange the time and place of our next meeting. He texted back almost immediately.
“West Torrance,” I said.
“I’ll drive,” Dee said.
I tapped my fingers on the tabletop. “Would you be offended if I asked to go alone?”
His surprise was written on his face. “No. But why?”
I cleared my throat, “Because I feel a bit like your appendage these days.”
“Jack asked you for help, not me,” he said. “Maybe that makes me your appendage.”
I tsked. “You know what I mean.”
He nodded. “I do. Oona Goodlight:
Independent Woman.”
I half shrugged. “It’s more that I feel I need to do this on my own. I don’t know—prove my worth to the community or something.”
“Prove your worth to yourself, you mean. Which is ridiculous.”
He regarded me a long moment. “Call me when you’re done.”
∞∞∞
I drove my yellow Subaru to the address Jack had sent—a large apartment complex fronted by palm trees on Palos Verdes Boulevard. He met me outside and led me to an apartment on the second floor.
We walked into a small, tidy space. Jack took me straight through to a kitchen with new stainless appliances, a tile floor, and granite counter tops. I ran my fingers through my hair. It didn’t take long to feel the same surprised, angry, sad vibe I’d felt at the other two sites.
My stomach cramped, and I felt a migraine coming on. Maybe because this was the first death that hadn’t occurred outdoors, but the feel of dark magic was all over the apartment in a way it hadn’t been at the other places. I also didn’t feel that the victim had been in the community.
“Ordin?” I said, and Jack nodded.
I wondered how Jack had heard about this death and how he’d gotten a key to this apartment. As far as I knew, the regular police and the magic police didn’t have any crossover. In theory, ordains were ordins, and magicals were magicals, and never the twain shall meet. There seemed to be some difference in the reality.
“Same thing though, right?” I said. “Sudden cardiac death? No history of health issues?”
Jack nodded again.
I felt around the apartment for its former occupant.
“Young,” I said. “Younger than Brittany.”
“Twenty-one, two months ago.”
I felt a sob catch in my throat. “I don’t think she had any idea what was coming. There’s a huge feeling of surprise here. And anger, because she was so young and had everything in front of her.” I looked at him. “That’s all I get.”
“So, another unnatural death?”
Vulture Moon Page 2