by E G Bateman
“Oh yes, I see the bloody footprints.” She nodded and he continued. “Then the legs and wings—or in this case, arms—are spread to allow fast, even cooking.”
Lexi frowned. “How big is the oven here? And what do you think the white stuff is?” She inspected the smears of white over the boy’s skin.
“It’s not mixed with the blood, so I’d say that’s an oil-based theatrical paint. He’s clearly an amateur or he’d use flour if he was going to use anything.” He looked at the floor and poked at a pair of short shorts and a spaghetti string top with the toe of his shoe. “Is there any sign of the girl?”
She shook her head. “Amy? No, but I only just got here.”
He looked at the ID and confirmed the girl’s name with a nod.
A cop called from outside the room. “Detective Broullard, one coming in.”
Lexi felt Scott’s presence. The cop turned to him. “Who are you?”
“Scott. I’m—”
“He’s with me,” she explained, then diverted his attention before he asked exactly who she was. “There seem to be a few ritual pieces here.”
“I’m happy to leave that to you if I can. Of course, it’ll have to be bagged and tagged but I’ll leave it for you to work your mojo.” Broullard moved across the room to get a closer look at the spine, which gave Scott a full view of the corpse.
“Oh! Oh!” He lurched out the door.
The man’s gaze followed his rapid retreat. “What’s with him?”
“I’m training him.” Lexi studied the grisly scene, taking in the bowls, cups, beads, and bones scattered about the floor.
Broullard gestured toward the corpse. “So, is this one of yours or one of ours?”
Yours or ours. She had assumed, by this point, that he was directly connected to Kindred in some way. It seemed the police there had a working relationship with Kindred she’d not experienced elsewhere. Many of her ex-employer’s organization were police officers but their Kindred affiliation was certainly not in the open and they never trusted non-Kindred officers.
“Well?” She glanced toward the door.
“Ours,” Scott’s muffled voice said from the hallway.
“Okay, I’ll wait outside. You have about a half-hour until the uniforms get here. I’ll let you do your thing.” Broullard headed to the door.
“Be careful you don’t step in the vomit,” she called,
The cop looked around the floor. “What vomit?”
A moment later, they heard the sound of Scott throwing up in the hallway.
He tilted his head toward the door. “First day on the job?”
“Something like that.” Lexi rolled her eyes and refocused on the corpse.
She waited for the cops to retreat, then stuck her head out the door. “Are you ready?”
Scott nodded. He still looked miserably green but followed her into the apartment.
The sorcerer looked around the room and his gaze traced the blood spatter trails up the walls and drapes, clearly trying to avoid the body. “Strange, there are no mirrors in this room. I don’t see anything shiny enough to get a playback.” He waved his hands experimentally. “And not much dust.” He lowered his hands and sighed. “They don’t make this easy. All right, then.”
He held his arm out with his palm up and muttered a few words, and a ball of light grew in his hand. It elevated and spun above the body.
“What’s it doing?” The light moved so fast, Lexi couldn’t maintain her focus on it.
“It’s following the path of anything magical in the room.”
They watched as it bounced across the room from Jamal, over to the spine, back to the victim, through the couch and finally, it rocketed out the side of the couch, significantly smaller, and into a large cupboard at the bottom of a wooden shelving unit. It didn’t come out.
She turned to her friend. “What does that mean?”
Scott put his finger to his lips and pointed at the cupboard.
Her eyes widened and she hurried to the apartment door. “Broullard?” She dug her hand into her dimensional pocket and drew the katana.
The cop entered and raised his eyebrows at the blade. He opened his mouth to speak but when she signaled silently to the cupboard, he nodded and drew his gun.
She motioned for Scott to stay back and she and the officer crept forward.
Broullard yanked the door open and she brought the katana to within an inch of the girl’s face. Her eyes were wide but there was no reaction.
“Amy, I presume.” She withdrew the sword.
“Is she dead?” Scott leaned around her.
“No, catatonic.” She felt the girl’s neck and found a pulse but couldn’t see any injuries. Amy was curled in her underwear and covered in blood, but none of it seemed to be hers. Lexi looked at Scott. “Can you bring her out of it?”
“I’m not sure this is the best place for that.” He indicated the mangled corpse without looking at it. “If she sees that, her mind will probably close up again.”
“Okay, let’s see if we can get her out of this cupboard first.” She took the girl’s right arm and Broullard leaned forward to take her left one but jumped back and struck his head on the top of the cupboard.
“Shit!” He gestured to Amy’s other side as he rubbed his head.
When she leaned into the cupboard, she saw why he had jumped. The young woman’s hand was clenched tightly around a gore-covered machete.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lexi finished describing the scene. She’d left many of the details out in front of Betsy, who was still clearly horrified.
“That’s simply awful. What happens to her now?” The older woman shuddered. She stood from her seat at the table on the balcony overlooking the street and took her coffee cup inside.
Scott put his feet onto the chair she had vacated. “They were able to walk her out of the apartment but she wasn’t there mentally. She’s in the hospital now, cuffed to the bed until the scene gets processed.”
Betsy turned. “But I thought the detective said she wouldn’t have been strong enough to do that.”
He nodded. “He thinks she’s a victim but with no other suspects, they have to be careful. Personally, I think it was her. There was magic all over the scene but no indication of it entering or leaving the room. The trail faded and stopped around Amy.”
Dick was seated against the wall in the room and remained out of sight until the sun went down. “What will you do? I’m sure Kindred won’t be gone for much longer.”
Lexi slapped her friend’s arm. “Feet!” He put them down hastily. “It’s a murder so I can’t not investigate it. If it wasn’t Amy who did it, there’s a psycho on the loose.”
Betsy washed her cup and put it on the sink. “But isn’t that the job for the police? If they have the girl and the body, surely they’ll investigate it.”
Scott turned in his chair to look at her. “Incredibly strong magic was present in that room. It’s not a job for the regular police to investigate alone. I guess that’s why this Broullard guy is on it.”
The vampire spoke from behind the wall. “So, what’s next?”
“I came here for a reason. Dolores has sent us the name of her contact, so I’ll see her before I do anything else.”
At an unexpected knock, they all looked toward the door.
“That was my door.” Dick stood and moved to the peephole.
Lexi walked across to join him. She mouthed, “Who is it?”
He looked at her, shrugged, and moved aside to allow her to look. All she could see was the back of the man’s head and a key in his hand. She waited until he had it in the lock before she opened her door quickly.
“Can I help you?” she snapped.
The man jumped and turned with shock on his face. “I’m… I clean these apartments.”
She studied him suspiciously. “What’s your name?”
The guy looked into the corner and said “Erm…Mike.”
It was clear h
e was lying, and not very well. She looked into the hallway to check for anyone else, then stepped out. “Well, Erm-Mike, that apartment is occupied by someone who likes to sleep late.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I’ll come back later.” He turned to walk away.
“Erm-Mike?” Lexi leaned against the wall with her arms folded.
He paused and looked over his shoulder.
She smiled sweetly. “Don’t you want to clean this apartment?”
“Oh, well…”
“And where’s your mop and bucket?”
The guy ran.
Lexi touched the scar briefly and a second later, Erm-Mike sprawled on his face. As she stepped toward him, she felt a breeze when Dick moved rapidly behind her before his apartment door clicked shut. Damn, that vamp’s fast.
She held the guy by his shirt collar and sat him against the wall. Her grin widened as she glanced at his feet.
The old shoelace trick.
The handsome young man was clearly petrified and looked down, baffled by the fact that his laces were inexplicably tied together.
Scott stepped into the hallway. “He doesn’t seem to have the disposition of a cat burglar, does he?”
“I’m not a thief.” He blushed. “I’m a fan.”
Lexi’s eyebrows raised.
“I was in the bar when he arrived last night. I’m a donor there. I’ve heard of Mr. Levine and came to offer my services.”
Dick shouted through his apartment door. “Who’s out there at what-the-fuck-o’clock?”
“See, you woke him.” She shook her head. “Come back at a decent time.”
“Midnight,” the vampire shouted quickly.
She released the man’s shirt, returned her apartment, and closed the door.
Dick returned after his visitor had left. “What will you do next about the case?”
Lexi shrugged. “Broullard seemed to think we would know what the voodoo paraphernalia was for. I suppose it’s the kind of thing the local Kindred see all the time, but I couldn’t tell you what they were trying to do.”
He frowned as he poured himself a drink. “Do you know what ingredients they used?”
When she shook her head, he added. “I’ll come and take a look. I might see something helpful. If I can’t help, I know a guy.”
Deep in thought, he held the glass against his bottom lip before he finally took a sip.
She shook her head. “If my legacy senses were better, I could have given you ingredients and quantities.”
Betsy glanced at her watch. “I must get ready. I’m going for a walk to soak up the atmosphere.” The woman stepped to the mirror on the wall and began to brush her dark, shiny hair. She glanced at Lexi through the reflection a few times before she finally asked, “What exactly is a legacy?”
Her gaze darted around to avoid direct contact. “It’s kind of a diplomat.”
Dick spat his bourbon across the room and made choking sounds.
The older woman patted his back and turned to her. “I’m not naïve, dear. I know you killed people for Kindred. What I’m asking is how you become legacies and mages.”
Lexi smiled. “For the record, I also once rescued a kitten. The job involved more than running around poking people with pointy things.”
“Not much more,” the vampire muttered.
She gave him a hard stare, then turned to Betsy.
“Kindred also has the ability to send people to The Hollows. It’s a prison in its own dimension so they don’t always kill transgressors. To answer your question, sorcerers are born. You can’t acquire the ability to be one like you can with other magic. Once a sorcerer has been trained to a certain level within Kindred, they are given the title of mage. There are a couple of ways to make a legacy. We can be born directly of the bloodline from a legacy parent, or the legacy blood is introduced to our DNA in a ritual and gives us… Well, it’s supposed to give us properties of the supernatural creatures who offered their blood for use in the ritual.”
“So that’s vampires and shifters and fae?” Betsy put the hairbrush down and picked up a pair of earrings.
Lexi smiled. “Yes, and dozens more that you’ve probably never heard of.”
Scott held a finger up. “And one drop of blood from a sorcerer who disguised himself as a witch after being told sorcerers couldn’t participate in the ritual because we’re too awesome.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not a single drop of sorcerer blood because legacies are already blood-bound to sorcerers. It was decided that would upset the balance.”
“Okay, yes,” he conceded, “that part might be a myth—”
“That sorcerers tell other sorcerers. Not one legacy has ever shown sorcerer tendencies.” She shook her head at him.
“But if a legacy and a mage have a child, won’t the child have sorcerer blood?” the woman asked.
“The offspring of a blood-bonded couple will either be a sorcerer or a legacy or possibly merely a regular human child—” She stopped speaking when she realized Betsy’s expression had changed to one of sadness. “What?”
The woman turned to the mirror and once again looked at Lexi’s reflection as she put the earrings in. “Maybe that’s what happened to you. You could be the child of a mage and a legacy who was born human.”
“If that were true, where are my real parents?” She sighed. “But it’s not true, the part about being born fully human. I do have slightly enhanced abilities.”
Betsy nodded. “So, the alternative is that the ritual didn’t work as well with you. Do you know why that could have been?”
“I’ve never heard of it ever going wrong with anyone else. They told me I was a runaway who elected to go through the legacy ritual, but they lie so I don’t know if that’s even true. I’ve met a few other legacies. Some are so connected to the legacy blood in their veins that they can almost shift or move like vamps or sing like sirens.”
The older woman turned away from the mirror and faced her, tilting her head. “Do you think the man in the photograph might be your father?”
She shrugged and turned away. Betsy was too perceptive.
The sun had finally made an appearance later in the afternoon, and Lexi fidgeted with her leather vest again as she strode along the sidewalk with Scott. “How far to this place?”
“It’s on the next street, I think.” Scott took his cell out, opened the maps app, and flicked the little blue cursor. It careened off the screen and hovered ahead of them with its little arrow pointing right.
“Nifty trick.” She smiled. He hated it when she used the word “trick” to describe his magic.
He rolled his eyes.
They entered Thought and Memory, a dark little magic and witchcraft store. He immediately began to poke around in baskets and on shelves. A young man with a long, bushy beard shoved a box of sage sticks onto a shelf and approached them. “Can I help you?”
“Could I speak to Anne Bird, please? Tell her it’s—”
“I know who she is. Back to work, James.” The woman entered from the back of the store. She had long blonde hair and moved confidently toward them. James continued to stack the shelves, while Anne turned to the door she’d walked through. “Sam?”
A voice responded from the room beyond. “Yes, Mom?”
“Where’s that box?”
“What bo—” A young woman stuck her head out and took one look at Lexi. Her face darkened. “Oh, that box. It’s on the shelf behind you under the divining rods.” She disappeared into the room again.
Anne went to a shelf behind the checkout and picked up a box about the size of a ream of paper. “Here it is. If you don’t mind leaving, I don’t want people to see you in here. You’re bad for business.” She glanced at Scott, her eyes narrowed. He replaced the crystals he’d intended to buy and stepped out of the store.
“Well, thanks.” Lexi shrugged, turned away, and followed him.
“Honestly, I feel like I have a big sign on my back saying Kindred scum.” Lexi gl
anced over her shoulder to where the proprietor stared at her through the window. “Let’s get back to the others.”
When they reached the third floor, Lexi darted back onto the staircase, pulling Scott with her, and mouthed, “The apartment door’s open.”
He whispered a reply. “I gave Betsy a key.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need it and she likes the balcony.” He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes and continued carefully. Sure enough, the woman was on the balcony with a glass of lemonade. She’d removed the enchanted necklace and was an eighty-year-old again who gazed onto the street.
Scott stepped outside. “Hi, Betsy. How are you?”
“I’m very well. It’s a little hot out here but the flowers are lovely.” She touched a tendril of blooms that trailed from the basket above. “Help me in, dear.”
He offered her his arm and she rose slowly, making pained noises.
She sat on a dining chair indoors and fanned herself. “I expect you’re wondering why I’m fifty years older again.”
As he replied, he closed the balcony door so the air-con could regulate. “I assumed you didn’t want to let yourself get lost in the magic and forget who you are.”
“Clever boy.” Betsy smiled.
“Clever girl,” he countered. “I gave it to you because I believe you are wise enough not to be taken over by the magic. The enchantment is for others, not yourself. Of course, there’s the benefit of losing the aches and pains but don’t overdo it.”
Lexi smiled at the two of them. She plucked the shuriken from her vest and sliced through the tape on the box.
The older woman looked at the sharp, intricately designed object. “I do like your little murder brooch. It’s very pretty.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I think we’ll have to watch you.”
With a grin, she put the shuriken onto the counter and flipped the box lid open.
“I don’t understand.” Utterly baffled, she lifted a dark-red fabric vest out and held it up.
“That’s pretty, dear.” Betsy stretched to feel the fabric. “Linen, I think. It looks more comfortable than the leather one.”