Vulture Moon

by Alexes Razevich

  “Good,” I said.

  Silence set in then. I talked to my mom on the phone at least once a week, so there wasn’t a lot of catching up to do, at least not of the things I was willing to tell her, but she was usually pretty chatty. A frisson of nerves wiggled through me. My mother only got quiet this way when she was working up to saying something she was pretty sure the other person didn’t want to hear.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” she said. Which meant she absolutely meant to pry. “But I’ve been told by several sources that you’ve become quite close to the wizard, Diego Adair.”

  I’d purposely not told my parents I was dating anyone. They tended to get overly involved, checking the poor guy out, making sure he’s a good candidate for their only child. I sometimes wondered how much that influenced the long periods I tended to go between boyfriends.

  I also hadn’t told them what kind of work I was doing. My parents were great, but they knew my empathic and psychic abilities made me vulnerable to strong emotions and that I needed a lot of time to myself to stay sane. They certainly wouldn’t want me out chasing beasts from the Brume or dark-magic killers. I’d seen it as a kindness not to tell them. Why make them worry?

  “We’ve been seeing each other for a while,” I said.

  Mom’s mouth drew into a line.

  “You know he has a reputation,” she said.

  I knew, but I was going to let her tell me anyway. For one thing, I couldn’t stop her. For another, she needed to get all her worries out into the open air.

  Mom held up her left index finger and touched it with the first finger of her right hand. “One: he’s not known as a man who stays long with one woman.” A second finger went up on her left hand. “Two: he’s run afoul of the magic police more than once for sidestepping the laws.” Another finger joined the group. “Three: he has a dangerous occupation.” And yet another finger. “Four—”

  I held up my hand, signaling her to stop with the litany.

  “Mom, I get it. You don’t think he’s suitable for me.” I paused, unsure what to say next.

  Her tone softened. “I worry about you. You’re my baby. I don’t want you hurt. Your father worries about you, too.”

  “I’m twenty-eight. Hardly a baby.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said, and I did. I’d always be her baby. I could be fifty and I’d be her baby.

  “Plus,” my mother said, “I hear you’re working for the same agency he does. Please tell me you’re not putting yourself in danger.”

  “It’s consulting,” I said. “I sell them the benefit of my abilities, that’s all.”

  I’d just lied to my mother—something I never did. Guilt wiggled its way through me, making my cheeks hot

  She fastened her gaze hard on my face. “None of this is a good idea. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I think you should meet Diego,” I said. “It’s not fair to condemn a man based on gossip and rumor. It’s not like you to do that.” I shrugged. “Chas likes him.”

  “Chas,” my mother said, “dated a deranged woman with violent friends. I don’t think I’d use his judgment as a character reference.”

  She had a point.

  “I like him.” We both knew I meant Dee, not Chas. “I’d like for you to know him and for him to know you and Dad. He grew up in some sort of magical commune up north and I think he’d enjoy spending time with a normal family.”

  Her eyes widened ever so slightly. “The Grass Valley commune?”

  I shook my head. “No. It was somewhere in Palo Alto.”

  My mother rolled her eyes heavenward. “It wasn’t called Grass Valley because of the location.”

  Okay. Drugs. Yes, some in the magical communities seemed to have substance abuse problems. Dee had introduced me to more than one person who drank too much or really, really liked marijuana—which was perfectly legal in California. I supposed they needed some way to quell all that magic roiling around inside them. Other than the Norco I sometimes took for psychically induced migraines, I didn’t use drugs or drink anything strong than the occasional beer or an even more occasional whiskey. Beer seemed to be the beginning and end of Dee’s mind-altering substances use as well.

  I shrugged. “You know how they say kids raised in strict households go wild the first chance they get? It must be the opposite for kids raised in loose households because Diego is one of the straightest, most self-disciplined people I’ve ever known.”

  Except lately. Except ever since The Gate disappeared. Now he was all over the place and it was affecting his magic.

  Mom gave me one of her ‘I find myself believing you but still have my doubts’ looks.

  “Diego has worries of his own right now,” I said. “His mentor and his brother are missing. But later, after they’re found, have us over to dinner. I think you’ll change your mind once you get to know him.”

  She considered a moment before speaking. “All right. We’ll meet him, but I’m not guaranteeing either your father or I will like him.”

  She said that, but her tone was lighter and more open now. Another thing I liked about my mother—she was willing to change her mind as new facts emerged. My parents were protective, but neither of them was rigid.

  I smiled, pleased. “I think you will. He’s rather charming, actually.”

  As if on cue, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and then at my mother. “I need to take this. I’m going to step outside.”

  Out in the front yard, I thumbed the phone to accept the call.

  “Hey, Dee,” I said. “Any news on The Gate and Gil? What did Jack want?”

  His voice rumbled in my ear. “No news. What Jack wanted was to whisk me off to an MP station where I had a nice grilling from his boss regarding what I knew about the disappearances, and why hadn’t I come to them immediately? They also wanted to know all about what you and I knew about the dead man at Alpine Village.”

  “Did you tell them nothing more than what we told the council and what we told Jack, which is exactly what we do know?”

  “Yeah, I did. Jack’s boss, Macintosh or McKinney or something Irish-sounding, didn’t seem inclined to believe that or leave things there. He wants to talk to you.”

  I nodded and then realized, of course, Dee couldn’t see that. “That’s fine, but again, we already told the council. Jack and two of his colleagues were there at the time. Jack and that other man were at Alpine Village. There’s nothing new to say.” I sighed. “When?”

  “Tomorrow.” He paused. “How’s Chas?”

  “As good as he can be, given that some bikers beat him up. Mom did her healer thing and patched him up. Mom’s patients tend to heal remarkably quickly. She gave him a sedative tea. He’s upstairs in one of the guest rooms, sleeping.”

  “Can you come home?” Dee said. “I’m feeling stuck. I need your brains.” He paused. “And I miss you.”

  I chuckled low. “We’ve only been apart a few hours.”

  “Oh yeah. Right. Hanging out with the magic police makes time drag. I could have sworn it had been days.”

  I smiled to myself. “There’s no reason for me to stay here. I can Lyft home.”

  “I’ll come get you,” he said.

  I considered it, but Mom and I had agreed on a proper dinner at the house as the time and place for them to meet. I didn’t think having him drive up and whisk me away would win any points with her.

  “It’s faster if I get a ride. I’ll meet you at your house.” I had a thought. “What about Maurice? Could his troops help look for The Gate and Gil? Don’t they have a network of sorts?”

  “Great minds,” Dee said. “I’d been thinking the same thing.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maurice the rat lived in a patch of greenery by the tennis courts behind the Hermosa Beach Community Center. Dee had gone out before I arrived and purchased a dozen brownies to take as an offering. One never arrived empty-handed to ask Maurice for help, and sweets were his preferred method of payment.<
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  Growing up, my mother had shape shifters as patients, but Maurice was the first and only magical talking rat I’d met. He was also an expert on metals and a font of general magical knowledge. If you needed some strange magical beast from this world, or another, named, Maurice was your guy. If you found yourself in trouble, Maurice and his crew might mysteriously show up to help. He could be direct to the point of rudeness, but I’d grown fond of him.

  We pulled into the parking lot, drove down to the back and parked. I’d been holding the tray of brownies on my lap but handed them off to Dee. Maurice was already waiting on the asphalt by the time we’d exited the car.

  “Oh,” he said, eyeing us. “An entire tray. You must have a pretty big question to ask or be in need of a huge favor.”

  “Both.” Dee sank down over his ankles and undid the packaging.

  Maurice whistled, and half a dozen young rats ran from the greenery. Maurice chattered in rat-talk. One rat eased a brownie from the package and dropped it in front of Maurice. Then that rat and the others worked together to drag the tin back to their home.

  Maurice bent down and nibbled at the brownie. He looked up at us. “Not bad, but her homemade are better.”

  “Sorry,” Dee said. “There wasn’t time.”

  The rat twitched his whiskers. “Frankly, Diego, I’m surprised it took you this long to come to me. Everyone in town knows The Gate and your brother are missing.”

  Dee flinched at the words. I saw it. Maurice saw it.

  Before her death, Sudie Wakanabe’s bookshop on Pier Avenue had been a hub for community news. Since then, Maurice seemed to have fallen into the role of information central, at least in the South Bay.

  The rat nibbled on another crumb of brownie before speaking again. “You’ve already been to Merlin Tattoo, I assume. And presumably upstairs to the apartments.”

  Dee nodded.

  “Did you give whatever you took from The Gate’s house to Oona to examine?” Maurice asked.

  Dee shook his head, not at all surprised Maurice would assume he’d pocketed something.

  The rat’s ears flicked, and his whiskers twitched. “Oh, for all the gods’ sakes, Diego. She’s a psychic. Let her give it a feel, see what she picks up.”

  “I’m not very good with objects,” I said.

  But Dee had already dug in his pocket and pulled free, not only the ring from the apartment, but The Gate’s necklace that we’d found outside the warehouse. He held them out to me.

  “The ring probably won’t give you anything,” Dee said. “It’s tied to The Gate as much as your tattoo is bound to you. It’s useless to anyone else. The necklace isn’t as tightly bound.”

  I took both objects gingerly.

  The ring felt like any other ring in my hand, but power radiated from the silver star. It grew warm against my skin. In my head, I heard The Gate muttering Diego’s name, calling the younger wizard to him. In the background someone screamed.

  Pictures flitted through my mind. The tattoo shop. Men in black with balaclavas hiding their faces. The warehouse on Alaska Avenue. A dark room I couldn’t identify. A full moon with clouds scudding across its face. The Gate removing the necklace and leaving it outside the warehouse in a flash moment when no one else was looking.

  The visions and sounds faded. I handed the ring and the necklace back and told Dee and Maurice what I’d seen and heard.

  “It isn’t necessarily Gil screaming,” I said quickly when Dee’s face grew tight and his hands curled into fists. “The images that don’t mean something specific could be anything. A dark room could be a real place or could mean we feel in the dark about finding the men. Not everything is literal in a vision. The screams could mean our frustration just as easily as they could mean someone’s in trouble or pain.”

  Dee let out a shaky breath. His hands stayed clenched.

  Maurice had stayed quiet, which wasn’t like him. The rat usually had something to say about everything.

  “There’s a rumor going around,” Maurice said finally, his tail twitching. “A sacrifice is planned for the Vulture Moon.”

  Dee’s gaze snapped to the rat.

  “What’s the Vulture Moon?” I asked.

  “Folklore.” Dee’s voice was harsh and cold. Not his usual tone at all.

  “The Vulture Moon,” Maurice said matter-of-factly, “is the full moon before the autumn equinox. In the old days, practitioners of the black arts made sacrifices and offerings under the Vulture Moon to grow their power.”

  Dee shook his head. “That’s just stories. Like witches flying on broomsticks.” He glared at Maurice. “When is the last time you heard of a sacrifice actually being made under the Vulture Moon?”

  The rat scratched at his ear. “A human sacrifice? Not in my lifetime, but in the scheme of things, that isn’t very long. Even if there haven’t been sacrifices in your lifetime, Diego, or in The Gate’s lifetime, that’s nothing over the stretch that magic has been in the world.”

  My nerves jangled. “Human sacrifices?”

  “We’re not talking flowers and fruits on an altar,” Maurice said. “It’s said that if you sacrifice a wizard under the Vulture Moon, you get his power added to your own. Evil wants all the power and doesn’t care how it’s gathered.”

  I raked my fingers through my hair. No wonder Dee wanted to discount the rumors. The Gate was a powerful wizard. If someone wanted that power for himself—

  Maurice twitched his tail and said, “Tell me about these deaths going around, magicals and ordins falling over dead for no reason. How close is anyone at figuring it out and stopping it?”

  “Not close at all,” Dee said.

  Maurice’s whiskers twitched nervously.

  “That’s not good,” the rat said. “That’s not good at all. The ordins are saying it’s an unknown virus. They’re calling it a plague, which is overdoing it for only five dead, don’t you think? We rats always get blamed for carrying viruses and spreading plagues. Humans always want someone to blame.” He trained his gaze on us. “You need to sort this out before the ordins come after us with poisons. You know they will. Your species panics so easily.”

  “There’s something else strange about these deaths,” Dee said, letting the insult to humanity go by, “beyond that there doesn’t seem to be any reason for them. Oona feels the dead aren’t moving on. That the ghosts are stuck here, like they’re caught on magical flypaper. Not only can’t they move on, they can’t move at all. Each one seems bound to the place where he or she died.”

  “Ghosts hang around where they died often enough,” Maurice said.

  “Oona says it’s not their choice.”

  I hardly listened to what they were saying. Two words rang repeatedly in my mind: human sacrifice

  ∞∞∞

  Our next stop was The Bean Pot, to meet Jack and share any updates we might have. He’d again taken a table in the back as far away from other patrons as he could.

  “You hungry” Dee said.

  I shook my head. How could I eat with Maurice’s news running ragged in my head? Dee ordered a coffee for me and a coffee and muffin for himself. He was very calm for a man who’d just been told that someone he loved as a second father and his own brother might be human sacrifices. Sometimes Dee’s self-control and ability to compartmentalize gave me the willies, but right now I was happy to see him regain some of it. Maybe he’d realized what I had—his rushing around like a headless chicken was affecting his ability to do magic. Whatever the reason, I was glad for it. I’d held The Gate’s power objects in my hands. I knew The Gate believed himself to be in great danger. I’d checked my phone while Dee had ordered our drinks and food. The next full moon, the Vulture Moon, was three days from now.

  “Anything?” Jack said without so much as a hello when we sat at his table.

  Dee took the lid off his coffee to let it cool. “One small, maybe unrelated thing. Have you heard any rumors tied to the upcoming Vulture Moon?”

  My gaze f
lickered to him. So, maybe Dee did think there was something in the rumor.

  Jack shrugged. “This time of year, there’s always some rumor floating around about what terrible things will happen the night of the Vulture Moon. Nothing ever comes of it.”

  “What are the rumors this year?” I asked. “Are they the usual ones, or something different?”

  Jack shot me an appraising look. “What have you heard?”

  He’d evaded my question and thrown it back on me. Which probably meant he’d heard something that bothered him but didn’t want to speak first.

  I glanced at Dee, unsure if he wanted me to repeat what the rat had said. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Maurice says there are rumors of a human sacrifice planned for the full moon,” I said as calmly as I could manage. I waited for Jack to respond.

  I waited a long moment. The policeman didn’t so much as blink, much less speak.

  I knew this trick—stay quiet, wait it out until the other person spills more information just to fill the silence. Jack, I realized, was wearing his MP hat, so to speak. He was here more as a cop than as Dee’s friend.

  “Your turn,” I said.

  Jack picked up a spoon and stirred his coffee.

  “The sacrifice rumor is going around.” He looked at Dee. “I can’t avoid putting that together with The Gate and Gil disappearing.”

  Dee stiffened. “Putting the two things together, how?”

  Jack’s gaze on Dee’s face was steady. “A couple of possibilities. One, The Gate is planning to make the sacrifice, possibly of Gil. He’s a vain man. If he felt his power slipping—” Jack shrugged. “Two, someone else is going to do it with The Gate and/or Gil as his offering.”

  The tension and worry pouring off Dee made my stomach churn. He kept his voice even. “Which do you think is more likely?”

  “I don’t have a favorite theory. Both seem equally possible to me.”

  The burst of anger blowing off Dee was enough to make me physically move my chair back to avoid it, but he only nodded, as if considering the two things equally himself.