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

by Tom Keller

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "You tell him," Jesse said as I looked over at her.

  "I just don't trust her," she said. "And there's something else you need to know."

  "What?" I asked, my head moving back and forth between the two of them.

  "I did a background profile on her," Jazzy replied. "Turns out there's more to her than we first believed."

  The two of them just looked at each other.

  "Are you going to tell me?" I asked. "Or do I have to guess?"

  "Don’t freak out," Jazzy said. "Not that there hasn’t been plenty to freak out about. But she's Iris' aunt."

  "Fuck me," I said, in disbelief. "You gotta be kidding!"

  "I wish I was," Jazzy said. " But it's not as bad as it sounds. I did some more digging. Turns out Iris' father left when she was about a year old. Cadish is his younger sister. As far as I can tell, other than the family ties, they're not close."

  "You talked to her?" I asked.

  "No," Jazzy replied. "I left that for you. But I did interview some of her friends. I went to those who are familiar with the EAB to make sure they'd keep their mouths shut. Most of them didn’t even know she had an aunt. You should also be aware that her mother died a few years ago. This, according to my records, makes Cadish her only living relative. I know this is going to sound weird, but it does look like just another coincidence."

  "There seem to be a lot of coincidences coming up lately," Jesse said, keeping his eyes averted. "Sorry, Jefe. I'm sure you didn't want to hear that Iris is even remotely connected."

  "No, I didn't," I replied, running my hands through my hair. "And I agree. There are already way too many coincidences where I'm concerned; but I'll deal with it. Jazzy, you said you didn't trust her. Why?"

  "Just a feeling," Jazzy replied. "The nose knows, if you know what I mean. You would think that someone that has a Witch in the family would have been able to figure out that we were really from the EAB."

  "That's not exactly a lot to go on," I said, getting up to fill my long empty coffee cup. "You know as well as I do how screwed up family can be, but I trust your instincts. Let's assume you're onto something. See what else you can find out about her. I'll talk to Iris."

  "Just be gentle" she said. "I know you already talked to her about the witchcraft angle, but she doesn’t know we interviewed Cadish, or that I've beene investigating her parents."

  "I'll do my best," I said, hoping that was possible. I turned to Jesse and handed him the Bible. "We also need to find out if I missed something in the Sister's notes.

  "No problem," Jesse replied, a grim smile forming. "I wonder what Dad's gonna say after I dump everything else we've learned on him?"

  "Good luck with that," I said, trying to imagine his reaction. "While you're doing that, I'll hit the streets and see if I can dig anything else up. I still have a source or two I haven't talked to yet. There's got to be someone out there that knows something. Call me if either of you get done early and want to hook up."

  "What?" Jazzy asked, sarcastically, then laughed. "Actually work together as team?"

  "That was the original plan," I replied.

  "Fat chance, " Jesse said as he scooped up the Bible. "I'll be working overtime as it is to get all this done. But if either if you get into anything good you'd better call. That's about the only way I'll get out of the shitstorm that's going to blow up when I tell them what we've learned."

  I'd decided to hold onto the Sister's knife, just in case. I started to give Jesse the Egyptian one, but Jazzy asked for it instead, saying she had something in mind for it. I passed it to her and we said our goodbyes. With everyone having a job to do, and not much time to figure things out, I locked up the Sister's things, threw on a button-down shirt, and hit the streets.

  Chapter 17

  Teresa Betancourt was best known as a Santera, a Priestess of Santeria, and a Bruja, a Witch. She'd opened the Botanica de Santa Barbara, Las Vegas, sometime back in the 80s, after emigrating here from Cuba. In those days, the area had suffered its share of criminal problems. My dad worked a foot beat down here back then, and she'd been a regular stop. Over the years, they'd become friends; I'd come by with him more than few times when he'd stop in to say hi.

  I pulled my new Sequoia into the alley off 13th Street, and parked behind the Botanica. Walking around the small strip mall, I made my way to the corner shop. The bell rang as I opened the door. A petite black lady in her eighties parted the back curtain.

  "How are you, Mr. Jay?" She said in a heavy Spanish accent. "I thought I might see you today." She walked past the statue of Saint Barbara that served as an altar, hugged me, and invited me into the back room. She took a seat in an oversized bamboo chair with a red cushion. "Please," she said, directing me to the small sofa across from it. "Sit."

  "It's good to see you again," I said as I sat down.

  "You as well, me hijo." she said. "Tell me. How is Mr. Robert these days?"

  "I haven’t seen him much lately," I replied honestly. "He's been rather busy."

  "Claro," she said. "He seeks the ojo de dragon, para su novia. There I cannot help him. This is a task he must do himself. But you seek darker things."

  "I do," I said. "And I could use your help."

  "This is difficult, Mr. Jay," she replied, sighing. "The Orisha seek harmony with nature. They do not intervene in the paths of those who do not worship them, or share in their beliefs."

  "I do not seek intervention, Teresa," I replied. "Just knowledge."

  "Claro," she said, nodding. "I know why you have come. You seek El Traidor, the Betrayer. But such knowledge may come at a price, and even then, the answer may not reveal the truth you seek. That is the way of such things. Questions beget questions."

  "That may be, Teresa," I said, leaning forward, clasping my hands together. "But I'm up against a wall here. Anything is better than nothing."

  "Yo comprende," she replied, reaching over and patting my hands. "But while the Gods may be silent, I do understand your plight. This El Traidor, this betrayer… he bathes himself in light, yet darkness is his true nature. No es verdad?"

  "That's probably accurate," I agreed.

  "Esta la madad… this evil. It cannot be contained," she continued. "It will cling to those that he touches. Seek them and you will find your answer."

  "That's not a lot to go on," I said, shaking my head. "Evil seems to be en vogue, these days."

  "That is verdad as well," she replied. "But remember, he bathes this evil in light. Even hidden, it will make itself known."

  "Thank you, Teresa," I replied, getting up. "I appreciate it."

  "Mr. Jay," she said, before I could leave the room.

  "Yes, " I replied, turning back.

  "No se olvide de sus amigos," she said." El Mago, la loba, these are but extensiones de tu mismo. Comprende?"

  "I think I understand," I replied, then walked back through the curtains. Not exactly earth shattering. My friends and I were a team. I already knew that. Not that I wasn't grateful for anything I could get, but that didn't seem to add much. Then again, I'd mull it over for a while. You never know when something small and insignificant could force a breakthrough. Hell, sometimes you just have to look at something long enough before you figure out what it means.

  I spent the next couple of hours hitting some sources on the street; but it was a bust. I had to stay away from my old Strip contacts, but no one said I couldn’t deal with the low-lifes. Not that it mattered. With the EAB's crackdown on certain parts of the magical community, even those contacts had dried up. It didn't take me long to realize that the few that were still around either didn’t know or didn’t give a shit what the Witches or humans were up to.

  I stopped at Flock and Fowl, a local eatery, on my way out of Downtown. The owner fixed me up with an order of chicken rice and two orders of fried chicken bao to go. I grabbed a fork, just in case Iris didn't like chopsticks, and headed up Sahara to her office. Hey, it never hurts to have a peac
e offering, especially when you're mixing business with pleasure. Besides, who can resist the best Hainanese chicken rice in the Southwest?

  I punched the speed dial as I pulled into her office complex parking lot. I found a space behind her building where I could see her office window in the mirror and waited for her to answer.

  "Hey, you," she said when the phone connected. "How's it going?"

  "Never a dull moment," I replied. "Have you eaten yet?

  "No," she said. "I'm not quite done for the day. Why? What'd you have in mind?"

  "Come out the back door," I said.

  "The back door," she replied. "What are you up to?"

  I saw her peek through the shades. I popped open the door and walked around to the back and opened the hatch.

  "Feel like a picnic?" I asked, sitting down in the back of the SUV, holding up the bag of food.

  She didn't answer, but a moment later, the door to the office opened and she walked over to me.

  "I love that place," she said, smiling, when she saw the name on the bag. "How'd you know?"

  She sat down in the back with me. I took out the containers and a couple bottles of water, placing them on the cargo area between us.

  "A lucky guess," I replied. "Hope it's not too early. But this is the first time I've had a chance to slow down. Unfortunately, I do have another work question for you. Hope you don’t mind."

  "I see," she said, taking the chopsticks I offered. She took a bite of chicken and rice and followed up with a drink of water. "Trying to butter me up then, are you?"

  "Is it working?" I asked, taking a bite myself.

  "Of course," she replied. "But ask your questions. I really do appreciate you coming by, but I still have a couple more appointments I need to deal with today."

  "I understand," I said. "Let me get through this case, and I'll try to give you better notice in the future. Anyway, remember that Demon Lord I told you about?"

  "How could I forget?" she said with a shudder. "I did talk to some of my associates about that. Very carefully, of course. They're on the same page. It seems inconceivable that any of us would be involved in that."

  "I've pretty much come to the same conclusion," I replied. "But the case has gotten more complicated. Turns out at least one person has died over this."

  "Oh no!" she exclaimed, as she put down her chopsticks. "I think I hate your job. How can I help?"

  "This is going to sound worse than it probably is," I replied. "But what can you tell me about Professor Abigail Cadish?"

  "Aunt Abby?" she asked in amazement. "Why would you be asking about her?"

  "Like I said, it sounds worse than it really is," I replied, trying to minimize the impact of the question. "But the victim was, well, you might say he was a grave robber. We think he used one of her books to scope out places he was excavating. It's mainly routine, but because of her interest in offbeat religions, it's something we have to follow up on."

  "Not much to say, really," she said, jumping off the SUV. "I don’t know her that well, other than her being my aunt. She was always off on some university project. I do hear from her now and then. She sends me postcards from some of the places she's visited. Call's about once a year, just to ask how I'm doing. Funny thing is, I did hear from her the other day. Which is why your question surprised me. She just got back from Israel and is teaching at one of the colleges. She wants to meet for coffee tomorrow morning." She paused and looked at me. "You don’t suspect her of anything, do you?"

  "No," I answered, almost truthfully. While I had no reason to suspect her of anything, I did have to reserve judgement. "Like I said, it's just routine. But now I'm curious. Does she know you're a Witch?"

  "Curious, huh," she said, with just a hint of sarcasm, then crossed her arms

  I didn't reply.

  "Whatever," she said, not sounding convinced. "I don’t know. We've never talked about it. Dad was in the Merchant Marines. He never came around after he and Mom split up. Then he died in an accident and it was too late. After that I started to hear from her. I assumed she just wanted to keep in touch with the only family she had left. Anyway, I certainly never talked to her about it. If she knew about my Mom or me she never brought it up, and as far as I know, she never talked to Mom after they got divorced." She started to pace again, then came back. "Jay, you'd tell me if there was something more to these questions, wouldn’t you?"

  "If I thought there was a danger, I wouldn’t let you meet her with her," I replied, honestly. "The cop in me makes me want to tell you to be careful. But that's because, in my line of work, everyone's a suspect until they've been cleared; and even then I have reservations."

  "I hope that's true," she said, this time with a hint of sadness. "I can handle myself, Jay. Don’t you worry about that. But I'd hate to believe this is all just to solve whatever case you're working."

  "I'm sorry if I've made you feel that way," I said, trying to decide how to answer that. "I swear to you, that's not it. This case is, I don’t know, strange. Seems like every time I turn around, there's another coincidence to deal with. But I'd like to think you and I have something special going. I hope this doesn’t ruin that."

  The phone rang before she could reply. I lifted it to my ear after noting the number.

  "What's up?" I asked.

  "Just heading back out," Jazzy replied. "Find anything?'

  "Not yet," I said. "I'm just meeting with Iris."

  "How's that going?"

  "Could be better," I admitted.

  "Give her the phone," she said.

  "What?" I replied.

  "Give her the damn phone and let me talk to her!"

  "Fine," I said, looking up at Iris. "It's Jasmine. She wants to talk to you.

  Iris took it and walked back into the parking lot out of normal earshot. Normal for a human, that is.

  I tried not to listen, but I figured things would be okay, when a few minutes later, Iris was walking back and laughing.

  "I have to get back to work," she said, handing me the phone. She curled a lock of blonde hair around her ear. "Thanks for the late lunch. I'll call you after I meet with Aunt Abby in the morning." Then she kissed me and walked back to her office, smiling."

  "What'd you say to her," I said, putting the phone to my ear.

  "Just girl talk," she replied, blowing off the question. "Now that I've saved your relationship, you'd better have some food left. I don’t care if she is your girlfriend. This Werewolf needs her Flock and Fowl."

  "I'll save it for you," I said, chuckling. I put the containers back in the bag and started the SUV. "Got some fried chicken bao, too."

  "Now you're talking my language. Where do you want to meet?"

  "Drop your car off at my sister's." I said, pulling away. "I'll meet you there. You learn anything?"

  "Nothing worth mentioning," she admitted. "Ordunez has Jesse coordinating a search for hallowed ground, but he told me to get out in the field with you. He wanted us both there, but Jesse convinced him to let us keep searching for more info. I got out of there before he changed his mind. Do you have a plan?"

  "Figured we'd hit the Fist," I replied.

  "Oooh," she cooed. "You take me to all the fun places. See you in a bit, and hurry! I'm starving."

  The Fist was the street name for the Mephistopheles, a nightclub located just off the Vegas Strip. Named after a Devil in an old Faust legend, it was the local watering hole for Demons of all types. Most of the different flavors of magical creatures had their own place. The Fae hung out at Danu's, while the Were's could usually be found at Selene's. Hell, even the Goblins had a place of their own down on Boulder Highway.

  Anyway, the thing about Demons is that they're quick to anger, and not very fond of authority. Which meant it was good that Jazzy was coming with me so we could watch each other's backs. It also meant that I'd have to drop a name to get any cooperation. I really hated to do it, but I doubted trying to muscle my way in as an EAB agent was going to work at the moment.


  Jazzy was already parked and waiting in front of Nikki's when I got there. We paused just long enough to pull her Jeep in the driveway, then headed back to the 95 toward the Strip.

  "What made you change your mind?" Jazzy asked as she got in the car, eyeing the bag of food beside me.

  "It's yours," I said, pushing it toward her. "Change my mind about what?"

  "Looking for Demons," she replied, unwrapping a fried chicken bao, and eating half the sandwich in one bite. She lifted her hand to her mouth. "Sorry. I told you I was hungry."

  "I'm not changing my mind," I replied, chuckling. "To be honest, I'm grasping at straws. I don’t expect to find someone of Beelzebub's level anywhere around there. Besides, they won’t even be open yet. I'm just hoping the owner might be willing to talk, or best case, let something slip."

  "Worth a try," she replied, taking another bite of her sandwich. "At least until we get something from Jesse to narrow it down."

  "Let me do the talking," I said as I pulled into the back of the club. Since it was still early, the front lot was blocked off. "I'm sure Antton is here, but we'll have to get past his goons first."

  "Isn't he a Shapeshifter?" Jazzy asked.

  "Not exactly," I said. "Kind of a Basque version of the Grim Reaper, or so I've been told. He can take on a lot of different appearances, although he's always looked the same when I've been around him."

  "Why don't we just badge our way in?" Jazzy asked.

  "The EAB's not very popular at the moment," I replied, pulling up to the back entrance. "I learned that this morning. Word on the street is that the darker side has been hit pretty hard by the crackdown. I had a decent relationship with him before all that started. He trusts me. Of course, if he knows anything, he'll want a favor in return. Unless he's involved. Then we're screwed. But if not, the only question will be can we afford what he wants."