by Erin Hayes
“I…it’s…” How could he tell her what it was like? “It’s like swimming in oil, and trying to wash it off your skin.” That was as good as it was going to get, considering it had gotten beyond his skin and into his very core. There was no way in hell he was going to tell her he’d considered, even briefly, causing her harm. “It gets…into me.”
“I’m sorry, Euros.”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
She didn’t look convinced, but he wanted to be rid of this feeling as soon as possible. He might have his passions, but violence wasn’t among them. He turned away, feigning interest in a picture on the wall, just for something to look at, or think about, to distract himself. It hung askew, and he straightened it, idly glancing at the four people in the photo. Something caught his attention, and he looked closer.
“Do you know any of these people?”
Jessica stepped up beside him. “Well, Lansing and his wife. The other two…” She leaned closer. “Not sure. I think it’s that basketball player and his wife, or girlfriend. I’m not really into sports, as you know, but I think I’ve seen him on TV.” She peered closer. “Oh, it’s autographed. David Hudson. I recognize the name. Yeah, that’s the ball player.
Euros moved to the next photo. In it was Lansing, without his wife, and another couple. The next photos were repeats: the mayor, smiling, with either an individual or a couple, some holding small plaques or awards, others smiling at the camera with easy familiarity.
“It seems the mayor enjoyed having his photo taken. I would imagine most of the people in these photos voted for him.”
Jessica followed him down the hall, as they methodically examined each photo. It was clear they were all taken in the same location in the house. The background was the same, the space between two tall windows, their curtains creating a bracket for the subjects, a series of tastefully framed works, on the otherwise plain wall behind them.
“Euros, what are you thinking?”
He was thinking many things, but none of them were anything he was ready to share with Jessica. “Nothing really, still gathering impressions. Show me where you found the body.”
They walked down the hall, and into what was clearly Lansing’s office. In the vast pool of dried blood, a square of carpet was missing, along with a section of the floorboards beneath. He assumed those were somewhere in the depths of the forensics lab. For a moment, he stood, breathing shallowly, the miasma around him choking in his lungs.
“He was found here, on his back, a through-and-through stab wound, that went into the floorboards.”
He looked to where she pointed, to the missing piece of flooring, the ripped carpet, and the blood-soaked area remaining. The violence to the floor seemed as intense as the violence in the magic he’d experienced, that magic that still swirled around him now. He tried to put up a shield, or blocking spell, but it was harder than he thought it should be. As if once he’d opened himself up to it, there was no going back, no closing that door. He was tainted, and he didn’t like that at all.
“I would guess he bled out. What did the autopsy show?”
“Yeah. The aorta was severed, probably the same with Parnell. Dr. Greene…the medical examiner…said there wasn’t enough blood in the body, that there should have been some blood pooling in the body cavity.” She glanced up at him. “This isn’t going to freak you out, is it?”
“I’ve seen worse.”
A fleeting frown crossed her face, and he knew without even trying to read her mind, that there were a dozen questions behind those eyes. Thankfully, she seemed to be willing to let them go for now.
“Okay. Well, Dr. Greene said that the lack of blood was very unusual. He said he’d never seen anything like it before, and he’s one of those been-there-seen-everything kind of guys. For him to be surprised was, well, a surprise.”
A barrage of memories, and images, and impressions collided in Euros’s mind. Things came together, formed patterns and sparked ideas, and the more those ideas solidified, the worse things seemed. And the more he realized this was going downhill fast, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to share this with Jessica. At least not until he got back to Mixt, and talked to the Gatekeeper.
And with that realization, he felt guilty for making her bring him here, for telling her he was going to help her solve these crimes. And he felt guiltier than he already felt, for driving her away, and for almost ruining her career.
But now…now the priority was these bizarre murders, and who had committed them. He just needed more information, more help from Jessica, and that excellent mind of hers, the ability she had for making sense of evidence.
“Was there any reason for the murder? Revenge, robbery, any motive?”
Jessica was looking at the mantle, frowning at a small crystal figurine resting on the polished surface. “Not yet. Mrs. Lansing was here for a short time, but she was too distraught to come down here, and look for anything. She said there was nothing missing from her room, or her husband’s.” She turned to Euros, one eyebrow raised. “You learn a lot about people when you have to pry into their lives.”
“I’m sure you do. So, we can rule out robbery?”
“At least the obvious. No money or jewels…obviously, no fur coats. As far as we can tell, all the paintings, and other valuables are still in place. I guess that leaves revenge. Lansing certainly had enemies.”
Euros looked up from studying the floor. “He did. Many. When his predecessor stepped down unexpectedly…” It was impossible for him not to notice the tightening between Jessica’s shoulders, the stiffening of the muscles in her neck, her jaw. Better not dwell on that.
“Lansing came into this office with baggage.”
Jessica nodded, some of the tension leaving her body. He got the sense she was trying hard to push down a whole lot of emotions, a whole lot of things she wanted to say to him. But her professional persona was in full force. It frustrated him, because more than anything he wanted to take her somewhere quiet, and work all that out. But he had to admire her professionalism, her dedication to her job. He’d known for a long time that he’d been wrong about her, and now that reminder was like a slap in the face all over again.
“He wasn’t the first choice in that election. There were claims he had his fingers into too many deals, that there were mob connections, and the usual rumors. But some of them were true.” She turned to him with a piercing gaze. “You must have uncovered enough of that during your digging into his past. I remember reading an article you wrote about him. After the one you wrote about me.”
A look of pain and anguish washed across his face at her words. “Yeah. I discovered quite a few reasons why he shouldn’t have even been on the ballot. But no one wanted to hear anything about that. He had a campaign manager that spun everything to perfection, and what he couldn’t spin, he buried. They tore apart the only candidate to come close. It was a blood bath.”
Euros remembered the articles he’d written about Lansing, after Jessica had left, sitting at his desk late into the night, obsessively digging through archives, throwing himself into his work, in the effort to forget what he’d done. Or to somehow redeem himself by discrediting Lansing. But that hadn’t done any good, in either situation.
“These photos though…there’s something wrong here.”
Euros pulled himself out of his thoughts. Jessica was standing between the two windows, behind Lansing’s desk. He could see now they weren’t windows, but a set of patio doors that opened onto the backyard. Through the glass of one, he could see the garden, the view, one of a pleasant suburban backyard. But when he looked at the wall between the windows, he saw instantly what she meant.
“Go get one of the photos from the hall.”
She disappeared through the door, and he moved around the desk. Among the framed images on the wall—none photographs, but all pieces of art, very tastefully arranged—there was a space, an empty spot that threw off the symmetry. There was also an empty picture hanger
, and a slightly lighter spot where that missing piece should have been. When Jessica came back with one of the photos, the one he’d straightened, he saw one piece of art was missing.
“Here. This. Something’s gone.” Euros pointed to the photo, and then to the wall, to the empty hook. “There’s something that’s always been in these photos that’s not here now.”
“Did it get knocked to the floor?”
Automatically, they both looked down, He saw it first—a sliver of glass embedded in the carpet, easily overlooked. Jessica kneeled, pulling latex gloves from her pocket. Gently, she prodded the glass. She looked up at Euros.
“Makes sense. If someone wanted the art, why bother taking the whole picture, frame, and all? I remember seeing photos of this side of the room, of the windows, but they must have missed this. I should bag this…” Her forehead creased with a frown. “Except I’m not supposed to be here.” Snapping off her gloves, she stood up.
“The killer could have come in without being seen…oh, wait. The guard was in the back when he said he fell asleep. He would have seen someone, right?”
“Not necessarily…”
“A spell. The guard was under a spell, maybe? Did I tell you about the guard? I told you about him. The killer did that, like you did magic…stuff today. Right? Am I right?”
She was practically thrumming with excitement, and he remembered how she would get, still as a patrol officer, following cases, sneaking peeks at evidence, trying to think like a detective before she was one.
“Probably. A simple spell, sleep or something like it. Retrograde amnesia, so even if he saw something, he wouldn’t be able to remember it.”
“Like Versed, that drug they give you before surgery. You’re high as a kite, but you don’t remember it when you wake up. It’s supposed to keep you from remembering how much it hurts.”
“Never had surgery, so I’ll take your word for it.”
“Appendix when I was a kid. I do remember the high as a kite feeling, but I didn’t understand what it was. I was loopy afterwards, though.”
An image flashed through his mind, as clear as if it happened that morning. Jessica on his bed, a small scar visible low on the right side of her stomach, an imperfection on all that beautiful soft skin. This isn’t the time… But thinking about Jessica in his bed helped keep the rising tide of panic down, and kept the lingering effects of that dark magic at bay.
“I can’t make out what this is? Can you? Do you have super magic vision to make out what’s in this picture?”
“Super magic vision? Is that what you think…”
She touched his arm. “I’m kidding, Euros. Have you lost your sense of humor? I know you have one…or did have one.”
So many things came to his mind to say to her, but he pushed them down. “I’m tired. And this is more than I thought it would be, the magic is so much more intense. But yes, I have enhanced vision, and I can tell you what’s in the missing picture.”
He took the framed photo from her, focusing on the image behind Lansing’s right shoulder. That image was totally different than the other pieces on the wall. The rest of the group were small paintings of flowers, one of a pastoral landscape, all along the same theme. Harmonious. This one was different. He focused on the image, saw it wasn’t a painting. It looked like text.
Peering closer, concentrating, blocking out everything else, he let his mind flow into the picture. The image grew larger, the designs becoming clearer. It was writing, script in lines, handwritten, but so precise it could have been created on a computer. But it wasn’t, it was written by hand, tiny imperfections showing the humanity in the work.
Then he saw the theme in this piece, the images that tied it to the rest of the art on the wall. Along the margins, were drawings of flowers. But they looked less like embellishments, than illustrations. Illuminated illustrations…monks…manuscripts.
And then one word caught his eye, almost leapt out at him. Bladona. Latin, for Belladonna…beautiful lady. And deadly.
Instantly, he knew what this was, what the missing framed piece held. It was Materia Magica. Simply put: magical material. Material with which to do magic. One last look, and he was certain—the left edge of the document was ragged, as if a page had been torn from a book.
He let the framed photo fall to his side, and stared out the window. The sun was up now, casting long shadows through the leafless trees, making the world a vision of yellow and green. He let his mind go calm, like the surface of a pond, let the pieces below the surface float and drift, fitting themselves together, slowly…making a whole…until he knew what everything meant.
“I have to go.”
Abruptly, he turned to Jessica. “So, do I. Here.” He thrust the photo into her hands, and she fumbled with it for a moment. He strode out of the room, and down the hall, everything suddenly clear, his need to see Mixt, almost overwhelming. It wasn’t until he reached the front door with his hand on the handle, that she caught up to him.
“Wait. I need to get to the precinct. No, I need to get back to my car. You said…wait…how does this work? How do I get my car back? You can’t teleport a Toyota, can you?”
“No. But I don’t need to. I said you’d be at your desk before anyone noticed you were not there. And you will be. And you’ll drive yourself.”
“Does this involve another spell?”
“Yes. Listen…” He pulled her close, and she stiffened in his arms. “I need to see Mixt. And then I’ll be in touch with you.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her closer and kissed her. And before she could protest, he cast the spell, sending them spiraling through space and time, putting them back in the alley behind Parnell’s building.
Jessica clung to him for a moment, her head against his chest. Then she looked up at him, lips parted. He waited, breath held, heart beating wildly.
“Don’t ever do that again, okay? Don’t trade on my willingness to trust you on this case, and think there’s something more to it. What happened between us, that was the end. Okay?”
She let go of him and turned away, walking down the alley. He watched her emerge from the shadows into the early morning sun. Then she was gone, walking around the corner.
His heart was still beating wildly, and it wasn’t from the excitement of the kiss. It was in embarrassment and guilt. He’d overstepped every boundary with her, pushed her emotionally, took for granted that she’d feel there was still a chance for them. All of that was in his mind. He stood, indecisive, unsure if he should walk, or use magic, where he should go. For the first time in his life, he was unmoored, lost.
“You’re an idiot, a fucking idiot.” Something rustled in the garbage at his feet. He glanced down, watching as a black cat slunk out, glared at him with green eyes, hissed dramatically, and then melted into the shadows. He watched the spot where the cat had been, then turned toward the sidewalk, and the light. Mixt…I need to see Mixt was the overwhelming thought in his mind.
“Even you think I’m an idiot. And why the hell am I walking?”
Not caring if someone saw him, he said the spell, the words coming out in an angry stream. Instantly, he was gone, and for the second that it took him to appear at the portal by the park, he wondered how he could have been so dense.
But then he was there, down the block from the entrance to the park. A jogger almost ran him down, cursing at Euros, before stumbling over the curb, and into the street. But Euros ignored the man, as he made his way to the portal.
Impatiently, he stepped through, and was gone from the mortal world, and into his own.
Chapter Ten
Jessica sat at her desk, trying to make sense of everything that had happened that morning, and not making any progress. For one thing, she wasn’t late. In fact, she’d arrived at the precinct before Fisher and Derek were even back from the Marchland Building.
For another, she felt odd, just as if she’d been disassembled like a Lego set, and put back together with a few missing p
ieces. She had a headache, not a migraine, but not like any she’d had before. The pain was like something floating around in her head, or like pieces of her brain were trying to find their way back home.
“Sharpe. Nice to see you following orders for once.”
She glanced up at Fisher. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand, and dropped them on her desk. “Here. Call these…” With a finger, he tapped the pages. “In order. Get their whereabouts from yesterday to this morning. I want to know every place they’ve been, every person they’ve talked to, everything. Think you can do that?”
He walked away so she didn’t bother to answer. The list was long and not all the connections to Parnell were identified. It was on the sloppy side, as far as she was concerned. The list she’d given Fisher had…
“Hey, how you doing?”
She glanced up. Derek perched on the edge of her desk, a concerned look on his face. It was a look she despised, a look that had pity written all over it.
“I’m fine. Great. Ross made the right decision. These cases need someone with far more experience.” That was bullshit. But with Fisher lurking somewhere close by, there was no way in hell she was going to complain to Derek.
“If you say so. We can talk about this later. Maybe over a beer.” He patted her shoulder, something else she hated, and then walked away. She put her head down, scanned the list, and then reached for the phone. It was going to be one hell of a long day.
Her hand rested on the receiver, the pages in front of her, forgotten. She wondered where Euros was, if he’d gone back to see Mixt, as he had mentioned.
Mixt. What the hell kind of name was that?
He was a strange man, that was for sure. And arrogant. There was something about him that Jessica didn’t like, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly that was. Regardless, Euros seemed to think he would be helpful, and being a magical being and all, he certainly had an edge.
Magical being.
A chill ran down her spine. The shock of all that Euros had said buzzed in her head. It seemed so crazy and impossible, and she knew that she wasn’t processing it all right yet. She felt numb to the idea that the man she once loved wasn’t entirely human. That he was a magical being from another world. How the hell could this be possible?