Fae:Generations (Heirs of the Vegas Fae Book 1)

by Tom Keller

  "How well did you know him?" I asked.

  "Like I said," Lucky replied. "We met at the park. He comes in now and then, mostly to just talk about places he's been. Religious sites, that kind of thing. He's shown me a few artifacts he's found. Crosses, statues, nothing worth buying."

  "When's the last time you saw him?"

  "When he bought the book," Steve answered. "I haven’t seen him since then."

  "That's about right," Lucky said. "Why are you asking about Harris, Agent Hoskins? What does he have to do with a Demon Lord?"

  "Maybe nothing," I said. "But you should know that he's dead."

  "Dead?" Lucky asked. "What happened?"

  "Officially, it was a heart attack," I said, leaning toward him. "Unofficially, he was killed with magic. Someone hit him with a burst strong enough to stop his heart."

  "Magic!" Lucky exclaimed. "But why?"

  "I don't know, Lucky," I replied. "I was hoping you might have an idea?"

  "Of who killed him?" he asked. "No. No. It doesn’t make any sense. Okay. Sure. He was thief. I know he made money from what he found at different sites. But it's all old news. There's nothing out there worth killing him for."

  "Obviously, someone disagreed," I said.

  "You need to be looking at the others, then," he said, scratching his head. "A rogue Fae, maybe a Demon. They're the only ones that that use dark magic like that."

  "They're not the only ones, Lucky," I replied. "What if I told you a Witch did it."

  "A Witch!" he replied, now appearing nervous. "I don’t know… Killing spells are heavy black magic. They'd have to sell more than just their soul to gain power like that."

  "Who else has that kind of power?" I asked, not that I didn't already know the answer. But I wanted to hear what he had to say.

  "I don’t know," he replied, shaking his head. "Maybe a Necromancer? Black Mages, or Wizards, I guess? But I swear. I stay away from that world. You know that."

  "Maybe he found something he shouldn't have," Steve said. "That book had pretty much every religious site in the state listed. I now you can find that information in other places, but he was a grave robber, after all."

  "Geez…" Lucky replied. "I hope not. I'd hate to think we sold him something that got him killed." He looked back at me. "Do you think that's what did it?"

  "I don’t know, Lucky, " I replied, standing up. "But I'd like to find out. I need you to keep your ears open. Anything unusual pops up, I want to hear about it. You've got my direct line."

  "Of course," he replied. "Anything you need."

  "All right then," I said. I said my goodbyes and left. Trusting that Lucky was smart enough to realize that if the book was involved, it could lead whoever did it back to him. He might have his own agenda, but he'd call me if anything came up, or at least I hoped he would. If nothing else, I was betting that self-preservation would keep him in line.

  I knew that Northern Nevada Press was the publishing arm of one of the universities in Reno. I put in a call to Slater to see if he could drum up a copy, and then, figuring what the heck, I pointed my car in the direction of Harris' house. Five minutes later, I was turning off 17th, and onto his street.

  ****

  I could see that the coroner's seals were still on the door. It had only been a couple of days, and if a next of kin couldn’t be found, the property would be turned over to the state. That wasn't my problem, though.

  Slipping on my blue DHS jacket, I walked up, cut the seals, and went inside. With the obvious exception of the missing body, the place looked the same. I stepped over some junk on the floor and began rifling through what was left of his book case.

  It looked like Harris had been a modest collector of books in his field. There were plenty of texts about Nevada, as well as the rest of the Southwest. Many were guides to trails and backroads places, and others focused on local history. A few books on archeology and paleontology also littered the floor. I'd seen the trashed bookcase the last time. We'd scanned through them looking for any loose items or hidden compartments, but I hadn't paid that much attention to the titles.

  The book I was looking for wasn’t here, and none of the other books stood out, either. But what had I expected? Hell, beyond being just another guide, I wasn't even sure if it was relevant to the case. I did find one thing odd. For a guy that seemed interested in Lucky and his pals, there were no books about magic or witchcraft at all. I decided to do a more thorough search. I went through everything. Electrical covers, vents, the works. I even searched the garage. Still nothing. I brushed off the couch and sat down.

  My father used to tell a story about this homicide detective he worked with. The guy was one of the best. He said that he'd hang out at the scene and meditate. That sometimes the dead would speak to him. Telling him their story so he could seek justice. I guess if this had been 1500 years ago, and Harris had been Greek or Roman, I could have asked my father to take me to Hades and interview him in person. Not gonna happen these days. I doubted that Harris was going to contact me from the great beyond, but it did give me a moment to think.

  What did I really know? Someone wanted a Grimoire. Bad enough to summon a Demon Lord from Hell and kill for it. That's not a lot to go on. And where did Harris fit in? Sure, he had found it. But had he done so by himself, or had someone told him where to look? He had a packed suitcase. So, either he was going to run or what? Maybe he always had a suitcase packed and ready to go. This was not getting me very far.

  Okay, what about the Witch that summoned Syrach? Trained or not, she wanted it bad enough to cut a deal with the Demon. Not to mention killing to obtain it. Worse still, according to our dead burglar, she already has it. So now what? Were we just waiting for the hammer to drop?

  Then we had the Holy Order of Missionary Sisters of Alexander. Where did they fit in? Obviously, they were protecting the book. But why? Their four churches were gone now. If Slater's information was correct, the last one was closed around 1967. But what had caused them to abandon everything and leave such deadly treasures behind?

  We did have threads that led to Beelzebub and the Fallen. If it wasn't for Rael's having mentioned visiting one, and Samson' s interest, I'd have said they were tenuous at best. I wasn't exactly sure what all that meant; but it was something. So, I had what? Two leads? Their order and an out of print history book that could have been purchased for any number of reasons. It was better than nothing, but not by much. Hopefully, we'd find something else we could run with. But at the moment, my head hurt, and without a lead to follow, I needed a break.

  Chapter 12

  "You're with Department of Homeland Security?" the receptionist asked, after looking at my badge. "What does the DHS want with us?"

  "I'm not at liberty to say," I replied, handing her my card. "However, if you'll let Ms. Whitney know I'm here, I'll be happy to wait until she's finished with her call."

  After leaving Harris' place, I'd come up to Summerlin to visit Iris. I knew she owned a business off Charleston Boulevard, but I hadn’t realized she was an accountant. Somehow, I had difficulty reconciling the free-spirited Witch I'd met in the desert with the prim and proper accountant image. But then again, my mother was the CFO of a big technology company in LA and she didn’t exactly fit that mold either.

  "Don’t let him scare you, Christine. He's really a big pussycat" Iris said, coming out of an office and waving at me to come back.

  "Thank you, Christine," I said as I stepped past her desk and walked toward her.

  "Give me a minute," Iris said, beckoning me inside. She was wearing a tan business dress, with a white shirt and a two-button suit jacket. Her long blonde hair was braided in the back. She pointed to a leather couch and took off down the hallway.

  I took a moment to look around the room while I waited. The office was personalized and well decorated, with its own bathroom. Oversize leather chairs and sofa, with a big wooden desk that dominated the room. A high-end computer and two large monitors sat to the side. The
walls were decorated with awards and pictures; several of which included Las Vegas movers and shakers. I was reading a plaque where the City had proclaimed an Iris Whitney Day, when I heard the door open.

  "That and a dollar will get you a cup of coffee," she said, as I turned to greet her. She closed the door and leaned against it. "As long as you have another five in your wallet, that is."

  "I'm sure it can't be that much," I said with a laugh. "I should probably apologize for dropping in unexpectedly, but I wanted to see you."

  "Oh, you wanted to see me," she replied, stepping away from the doorway. "How interesting. Why was that?"

  "Well," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I actually did want to run something work related by you. But to be honest, I could have done that with a phone call. Truth is, I didn’t want to waste another opportunity."

  "Waste an opportunity?" she said, with a chuckle. "What kind of opportunity would that be?"

  "One like this," I replied, moving closer to her. I bent forward, hesitating just long enough to make sure she felt the same. She pulled me closer and I had my answer; so I kissed her.

  "I was wondering when I was going to hear from you, Jay," she said, pulling away and leading me to the sofa.

  "I probably should have called," I said, as we sat down. "But yesterday got away from me."

  "I know how that goes," she replied, pointing to her desk. "I've still got a few things to finish up before I can call it a day."

  "Been there," I said. "But I really do have something I need to ask you about. I'd prefer not to mix business with my personal life, but you're the only High Priestess I know. I hope that's okay."

  "Of course it is," she replied. "I'm an accountant. I sit on several boards and organizations with cops and feds. Just because we're acquaintances doesn’t mean they haven't brought me subpoenas now and then, or asked for advice. You working for the EAB isn't any different. What can I help you with?"

  "Last week the EAB encountered a Demon Lord in downtown Las Vegas," I said, trying to balance what I knew with what I could say. "The best they can determine, he was summoned by a Witch."

  "A Demon Lord!' she said, a look of surprise on her face. "That's pretty serious, Jay. What was he after, and why do they think a Witch is involved?"

  "What he was after is still being investigated," I replied. "Don’t ask me how they know, but that's what they said. What I'm trying to figure out is who would have the power and the motivation to summon a Demon like that."

  "I see," she said, waiting a few moments before replying. "Forget power, motivation is the issue."

  "What do you mean," I asked.

  "Look, Jay," she said. "It's not just about magical power, it's a question of what you're willing to give up. It helps if you know magic, but with the right spell, anyone could do it. That's where it gets complicated. If someone's willing to go that route, losing their soul is the least of their worries. Spells like that are intricate. I can think of several people, including me, that could probably do it without killing themselves in the process. But none of us would even consider it, and I'd know if we had. There's no way we could hide that kind of dark magic from each other."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  "Oh, trust me," she replied. "I'd know. My friends are white Witches, Jay. You can't form a circle without sharing a bit of yourself. That kind of evil would seep out, and we'd feel it. I can’t say that for everybody, but my friends aren't your problem."

  "Then what is?"

  "What's a Witch, Jay?" she asked.

  I didn't have an answer for that.

  "You don’t know, do you? That's because humans aren’t like you. You're a Fae, Jay. Oh, you hide it well. You'd have to, to be able to do what you do. But you were born into it. Yes, I know a little bit about your story, but your bloodline still defines you. But what's a Witch? Maybe some are born into it, but they don’t have to be." She stood up and walked over to her desk, pulling open a drawer. She picked up a notebook and tossed it at me.

  "What’s this?" I asked.

  "I take that home with me every day," she replied. "Open it and see."

  I opened the book to see pages of what I had to assume were parts of spells, in between doodles and drawings.

  "When I get bored, or need a break, I write things down," she said. "Words have power, Jay. Sometimes, I think of spells, or ways to make them better, more efficient, so I keep notes. That's just one example of a spell book. An incomplete one, but a spell book none the less. It's weak. But I still protect it, because in the wrong hands, it could hurt somebody." She came back and stood in front of me.

  "So, what is a Witch? We live in a world where almost anyone can practice some kind of magic. That's where the problem is. Give that book to someone who doesn’t know what they're doing and they can walk their way down the wrong path without even realizing it, or because they just don’t care about the consequences. I doubt they'd be summoning a Demon like the one you're chasing any time soon, but the possibility is there."

  "I think my list of suspects just grew exponentially," I said jokingly.

  "All I'm saying is that I know most of the covens in town," she replied. "I don’t think you're going to find your answer there, but I'll make a few inquiries if you want me to."

  "If you can do that without causing yourself any grief, that would be appreciated," I said, starting to get up.

  "Don’t go yet," Iris said, pushing me back down. She sat down on my lap, her knees astride me, then placed her arms around my neck. "I know what you are, Jay. I know you're a Fae Lord and Protector. That's all fine and dandy in the Fae worlds. But this is the human world. You can't forget that. I may be a Witch, Jay, but I know this world. You can’t be a High Priestess and not know that things like that exist. Believe me, there are humans out there that could give the Devil a run for his money when it comes to being evil. Someone like that… Someone that deals with a Demon like that… They scare me, Jay. I need you to be careful out there." She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me.

  "Iris," I said, more than touched by her concern. "Look. You don’t have to worry about me. You need to trust me on this. I was chasing monsters before I even knew magic existed. But I promise you. I'll be careful. I've got a good team and we plan on coming home every night in one piece."

  "You'd better," she whispered. "Because there'll be a lot more than just kisses wasted if you don’t." Then she pressed her lips to mine.

  Chapter 13

  "Jim!" I said, opening the door. "I didn’t expect you to be here."

  Jesse and Jazzy had agreed to meet me at Nikki's at 10:00 a.m. Nikki had already left for work and this was as good a place as any to hold a strategy meeting. She must have relaxed the wards she had protecting the place, or he'd never made it to the front door.

  "What?" he replied. "Did you think I live at the office? I told Jesse I'd be here. I've got a few things I want to go over with your team. Besides, Ordunez wants me to go over what we've discovered. Saves you a trip to the office."

  "Makes sense," I agreed.

  "Good. Now, point me to the coffee," he replied.

  I grabbed the pot and we sat down at the table. Then he dropped a bombshell on me. His investigation had turned up some interesting history. To be honest, I was a little bit overwhelmed by what he said, but he left it up to me to share it with the others.

  Jazzy didn't have any further follow up. No one from the pack had recalled any contact with anyone at the Mission during the times they were out there. As to our only suspect, even if she is a Witch, this is Vegas. Tall blondes are about as numerous as grains of sand around here. That lead, by itself, would get us nowhere. We all had feelers out, hopefully they'd bring in some information. In the meantime, we discussed what we did have to work with.

  "All we know for sure is that whoever crafted them was an expert," Jesse said. He'd learned a lot about the spells protecting the hidden room, but again, the information wasn't enough to generate any solid leads. "The quality
and sophistication of the spells and incantations used is mind boggling. Even my father was impressed. It just doesn’t make sense that they would have abandoned it."

  "I can’t help you there," Slater replied. "But I may know someone who can."

  "It's your show," I said.

  "I think you'll find this interesting," he said, as he took a book out of his briefcase. "This is going to take bit of explaining, so bear with me." He placed the book on the table and flipped it over. There was a picture of the author on the back. A tall, well-dressed woman in her twenties. She was standing in front of the Temple on East Bonanza. "This is a copy of that book you asked about. A History Of Religious Beliefs In Nevada, by one Abigail Cadish.

  "Ms. Cadish wrote this about 20 years ago, right after she received her PhD from Washoe University. She's a Nevada history professor now. She just returned from a sabbatical and is teaching over at Clark County College. According to her bio, she also studied theology and archeology. The book is an offshoot of her master's thesis. It's exactly what it says it is; a history book identifying the numerous religions that have existed here, going as far back as the Anasazi. It discusses the various cultures and the church and religious sites within the state; then continues with a brief overview of the impact they had on the region."

  "Do you think this is how Harris found out about the Mission?" Jazzy asked.

  "It's possible. If he was looking for places to dig through, it would be a good book to have on hand. It has a comprehensive list of religious sites in Nevada, including detailed maps and pictures of most of the locations," he replied. "Unfortunately, there's not much about this order in the book. Just that they existed and served the religious needs of travelers passing through the area during the mining boom."

  "That's not a lot to go on," I said.