by Ким Харрисон
It was Sara Jane, and she whipped her car into the spot directly behind us. Glenn took notice, saying nothing as we got out and angled our paths to meet her.
"Hi," she said, her heart-shaped face showing her worry in the light from the street lamp. "I hope you weren't waiting long," she added, her voice carrying the professional air of the office.
"Not at all, ma'am," Glenn said.
I tugged my leather coat closer against the cold as she jingled her keys, fumbling for one that still carried a shiny, new-cut veneer and opened the door. My pulse increased, and I glanced at my amulet with thoughts of Trent going through me. I had my splat gun, but I wasn't a brave person. I ran away from big-bad-uglies. It increased my life span dramatically.
Glenn followed Sara Jane in as she flipped on the lights, illuminating the porch and apartment both. Nervous, I crossed the threshold, wavering between closing the door to keep anyone from following me in and leaving it open to keep my escape route available. I opted to leave it cracked.
"You got a problem?" Glenn whispered as Sara Jane made her confident way to the kitchen, and I shook my head. The town house had an open floor plan with almost the entire downstairs visible from the doorway. Stairs ran a straight, unimaginative pathway to the second floor. Knowing my amulet would warn me if anyone new showed up, I relaxed. There was no one here but us three and the cat yowling on the second-floor balcony.
"I'll go up and let Sarcophagus in," Sara Jane said as she headed for the stairs.
My eyebrows rose. "That's the cat, right?"
"I'll come with you, ma'am," Glenn offered, and he thumped upstairs after her.
I did a quick reconnaissance of the downstairs while they were gone, knowing we'd find nothing. Trent was too good to leave anything behind; I just wanted to see what kind of a guy Sara Jane liked. The kitchen sink was dry, the garbage can was stinky, the computer monitor was dusty, and the cat box was full. Clearly Dan hadn't been home in a while.
The floorboards above me creaked as Glenn walked through the upstairs. Perched on the TV was the same picture of Dan and Sara Jane aboard the steamer. I picked it up and studied their faces, setting the framed photo back on the TV as Glenn clumped downstairs. The man's shoulders took up almost the entirety of the narrow stairway. Sara Jane was silent behind him, looking small and walking sideways in her heels.
"Upstairs looks fine," Glenn said as he rifled through the stack of mail on the kitchen counter. Sara Jane opened the pantry. Like everything else, it was well-organized. After a moment of hesitation, she pulled out a pouch of moist cat food.
"Mind if I check his e-mails?" I asked, and Sara Jane nodded, her eyes sad. I jiggled the mouse to find that Dan had a dedicated, always-on line just like Ivy. Strictly speaking, I shouldn't have been doing this, but as long as no one said anything… From the corner of my eye I watched Glenn run his eyes over Sara Jane's smartly cut business dress as she tore the bag of cat food open, and then down my outfit as I bent over the keyboard. I could tell by his look that he thought my clothes were unprofessional, and I fought back a grimace.
Dan had a slew of unopened messages, two from Sara Jane and one with a university address. The rest were from a hard-rock chat room of some sort. Even I knew better than to open any of them, tampering with evidence should he turn up dead.
Glenn ran a hand across his short hair, seemingly disappointed that he had found nothing unusual. I was guessing it wasn't because Dan was missing but that he was a witch, and as such should have dead monkey heads hanging from the ceiling. Dan appeared to be an average, on his own young man. He was perhaps tidier than most, but Sara Jane wouldn't date a slob.
Sara Jane set a bowl of food on the placement next to a water bowl. A black cat slunk downstairs at the clink of porcelain. It hissed at Sara Jane, not coming to eat until she left the kitchen. "Sarcophagus doesn't like me," she said needlessly. "He's a one-person familiar."
A good familiar was like that. The best chose their owners, not the other way around. The cat finished the food in a surprisingly short amount of time, then jumped onto the back of the couch. I scratched the upholstery and he came close to investigate. He stretched out his neck and touched my finger with his nose. It was how cats greeted each other, and I smiled. I'd love to have a cat, but Jenks would pix me every night for a year if I brought one home.
Remembering my stint as a mink, I shuffled through my purse. Trying to be discreet, I invoked an amulet to do a spell check on the cat. Nothing. Not satisfied, I dug deeper for a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Ignoring Glenn's questioning look, I popped open the hard case and carefully put the so-ugly-they-could-work-as-birth-control glasses on. I had bought them last month, spending three times my rent with the excuse that they were tax deductible. The ones that didn't make me look like a nerd reject would've cost me twice that.
Ley line magic could be bound in silver just as earth magic could be kept in wood, and the wire frames were spelled to let me see through disguises invoked by ley line magic. I felt kind of cheesy using them, thinking that it dumped me back into the realm of warlocks in that I was using a charm that I couldn't make. But as I scratched Sarcophagus's chin, sure now by the lack of any change that he wasn't Dan trapped in a cat's form, I decided I didn't care.
Glenn turned to the phone. "Would you mind if I listened to his messages?" he asked.
Sara Jane's laugh was bitter. "Go ahead. They're from me."
The snap of the hard case was loud as I put my glasses away. Glenn punched the button, and I winced as Sara Jane's recorded voice came into the silent apartment. "Hey, Dan. I waited an hour. It was Carew Tower, right?" There was a hesitation, then a distant, "Well, give me a call. And you'd better get some chocolate." Her voice turned playful. "You've got some serious groveling to do, farm boy."
The second was even more uncomfortable. "Hi, Dan. If you're there, pick up." Again a pause. "Um, I was just kidding about the chocolate. I'll see you tomorrow. Love you. 'Bye."
Sara Jane stood in the living room, her face frozen. "He wasn't here when I came over, and I haven't seen him since," she said softly.
"Well," Glenn said as the machine clicked off, "we haven't found his car yet, and his toothbrush and razor are still here. Wherever he is, he hadn't planned on staying. It looks like something has happened."
She bit her lip and turned away. Amazed at his lack of tact, I gave Glenn a murderous look. "You have the sensitivity of a dog in heat, you know that?" I whispered.
Glenn glanced at Sara Jane's hunched shoulders. "Sorry, ma'am."
She turned, a miserable smile on her. "Maybe I should take Sarcophagus home…."
"No," I quickly assured her. "Not yet." I touched her shoulder in sympathy, and the smell of her lilac perfume pulled from me the chalky taste-memory of drugged carrots. I glanced at Glenn, knowing he wouldn't leave so I could talk to her alone. "Sara Jane," I asked hesitantly. "I have to ask you this, and I apologize. Do you know if anyone has threatened Dan?"
"No," she said, her hand rising to her collar and her face going still. "No one."
"How about you?" I asked. "Have you been threatened any way? Any way at all?"
"No. No of course not," she said quickly, her eyes dropping and her pale features going even whiter. I didn't need an amulet to know she was lying, and the silence grew uncomfortable as I gave her a moment to change her mind and tell me. But she didn't.
"A-Are we done?" she stammered, and nodding, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. Sara Jane headed to the door, her steps quick and stilted. Glenn and I followed her out onto the cement landing. It was too cold for bugs, but a broken spiderweb stretched by the porch light.
"Thank you for letting us look at his apartment," I said as she checked the door with trembling fingers. "I'll be talking with his classmates tomorrow. Perhaps one of them will know something. Whatever it is, I can help," I said, trying to put more meaning into my voice.
"Yes. Thank you." Her eyes went everywhere but to mine, and she had fallen into her profess
ional office tone again. "I appreciate you coming over. I wish I could be more help."
"Ma'am," Glenn said in parting. Sara Jane's heels clicked smartly on the pavement as she walked away. I followed Glenn to his car, glancing back to see Sarcophagus sitting in an upstairs window watching us.
Sara Jane's car gave a happy chirp before she set her purse inside, got in, and drove away. I stood in the dark beside my open door and watched her taillights vanish around a corner. Glenn was facing me, standing at the driver side with his arms resting on the roof of the car. His brown eyes were featureless in the buzz of the street lamp.
"Kalamack must pay his secretaries very well for the car she has," he said softly.
I stiffened. "I know for a fact he does," I said hotly, not liking what he was implying. "She's very good at her job. And she still has enough money to send home for her family to live like veritable kings compared to the rest of the farm's employees."
He grunted and opened his door. I got in, sighing as I fastened my belt and settled into the leather seats. I stared out the window at the dark lot, growing more depressed. Sara Jane didn't trust me. But from her point of view, why should she?
"Taking this kind of personal, aren't you?" Glenn asked as he started the car.
"You think because she's a warlock she doesn't deserve help?" I said sharply.
"Slow down. That's not what I meant." Glenn shot me a quick look as he backed the car into motion. He flipped the heater on full before he shifted into drive, and a strand of hair tickled my face. "I'm just saying you're acting like you have a stake in the outcome."
I ran a hand over my eyes. "Sorry."
"It's okay," he said, sounding as if he understood. "So…" He hesitated. "What gives?"
He pulled into traffic, and in the light of a street lamp I glanced at him, wondering if I wanted to be that open with him. "I know Sara Jane," I said slowly.
"You mean you know her type," Glenn said.
"No. I know her."
The FIB detective frowned. "She doesn't know you."
"Yeah." I rolled the window all the way down to get rid of the smell of my perfume. I couldn't stand it anymore. My thoughts kept returning to Ivy's eyes, black and frightened. "That's what makes it hard."
The brakes made a slow squeak as we stopped at a light. Glenn's brow was furrowed, and his beard and mustache made deep shadows on him. "Would you talk human, please?"
I gave him a quick mirthless smile. "Did your dad tell you about how we nearly brought Trent Kalamack in as a dealer and manufacture of genetic drugs?"
"Yeah. That was before I transferred to his department. He said the only witness was an I.S. runner who died in a car bombing." The light changed, and we moved forward.
I nodded. Edden had told him the basics. "Let me tell you about Trent Kalamack," I said as the wind pushed against my hand. "When he caught me rifling through his office looking for a way to bring him into the courts, he didn't turn me in to the I.S., he offered me a job. Anything I wanted." Cold, I angled the vent toward me. "He'd pay off my I.S. death threat, set me up as an independent runner, give me a small staff, everything—if I worked for him. He wanted me to run the same system I had spent my entire professional life fighting. He offered me what looked like freedom. I wanted it so badly, I might have said yes."
Glenn was silent, wisely not saying anything. There wasn't a cop alive who hadn't been tempted, and I was proud that I had passed that test. "When I turned him down, his offer became a threat. I was spelled into a mink at the time, and he was going to torture me mentally and physically until I would do anything to get it to stop. If he couldn't have me willingly, he'd be satisfied with a warped shadow eager to please him. I was helpless. Just like Sara Jane is."
I hesitated to gather my resolve. I had never admitted that aloud before—that I had been helpless. "She thought I was a mink, but she gave me more dignity as an animal than Trent gave me as a person. I have to get her away from him. Before it's too late. Unless we can find Dan and get him safe, she doesn't have a chance."
"Mr. Kalamack is just a man," Glenn said.
"Really!" I said with a bark of sarcastic laughter. "Tell me, Mr. FIB Detective, is he human or Inderlander? His family has been quietly running a good slice of Cincinnati for two generations, and no one knows what he is. Jenks can't tell what he smells like, and neither can the fairies. He destroys people by giving them exactly what they want—and he enjoys it." I watched the passing buildings without seeing them.
Glenn's continued silence pulled my eyes up. "You really think Dan's disappearance has nothing to do with the witch hunter murders?" he asked.
"Yeah." I resettled myself, not comfortable with having told him so much. "I only took this run to help Sara Jane and pull Trent down. You going to run tattling to your dad now?"
The lights from oncoming traffic illuminated him. He took a breath and let it out. "You do anything in your little vendetta to jeopardize me proving Dr. Anders is the murderer, and I'll tie you to a bonfire in Fountain Square," he said softly in threat. "You will go to the university tomorrow, and you will tell me everything you learn." His shoulders eased. "Just be careful."
I eyed him, the passing lights illuminating him in flashes that seemed to mirror my uncertainty. It sounded as if he understood. Imagine that. "Fair enough," I said, settling back. My head turned as we turned left instead of right. I glanced at him with a feeling of déjà vu. "Where are we going? My office is the other way."
"Pizza Piscary's," he said. "There's no reason to wait until tomorrow."
I eyed him, not wanting to admit I'd promised Ivy I wouldn't go out there without her. "Piscary's doesn't open until midnight," I lied. "They cater to Inderlanders. I mean, how often does a human order a pizza?" Glenn's face went still in understanding, and I picked at my nail polish. "It will be at least two before they slow down enough to be able to talk to us."
"That's two in the morning, right?" he asked.
Well, duh, I thought. That was when most Inderlanders were hitting their stride, especially the dead ones. "Why don't you go home, sleep in, and we'll all go out tomorrow?"
He shook his head. "You'll go tonight without me."
A puff of affront escaped me. "I don't work like that, Glenn. Besides, if I do, you'll go out there alone, and I promised your dad I'd try to keep you alive. I'll wait. Witches' honor."
Lie, yes. Betray the trust of a partner—even unwelcome ones—no.
He gave me a quick, suspicious glance. "All right. Witches' honor."
Seven
"Rache," Jenks said from my earring. "Take a squint at that guy. Is he trolling or what?"
I tugged my bag up higher onto my shoulder and peered through the unseasonably warm September afternoon at the kid in question as I walked through the informal lounge. Music tickled my subconscious, the volume of his radio set too low to hear well. My first thought was that he must be hot. His hair was black, his clothes were black, his sunglasses were black, and his black duster was made of leather. He was leaning against a vending machine trying to look suave as he talked to a woman in a gothic black lace dress. But he was blowing it. No one looks sophisticated with a foam cup in his hand, no matter how sexy his two-day stubble is. And no one wore goth but out-of-control teen living vamps and pathetically sad vamp wannabes.
I snickered, feeling vastly better. The big campus and the conglomeration of youth had me on edge. I had gone to school at a small community college, taking the standard two-year program followed by a four-year internship with the I.S. My mother would have never been able to afford tuition at the University of Cincinnati on my dad's pension, extra death benefit aside.
I glanced at the faded yellow receipt Edden had given me. It had the time and days my class met, and right down at the lower right-hand corner was the cost of it all—tax, lab fees, and tuition all totaled up into one appalling sum. Just this one class was nearly as much as a semester at my alma mater. Nervous, I shoved the paper in my bag as I noticed a Were in
the corner watching me. I looked out of place enough without wandering around with a class schedule in my grip. I might as well have hung a card around my neck saying, "Continuing Adult Education Student." God help me, but I felt old. They weren't much younger than I was, but their every move screamed innocence.
"This is stupid," I muttered to Jenks as I left the informal commissary. I didn't even know why the pixy was with me. Must be Edden had sicked him on me to make sure I went to class. My vamp-made boots clicked smartly as I strode through the windowed, elevated walkway connecting the Business Arts building with Kantack Hall. A jolt went through me as I realized my feet were hitting the rhythm of Takata's "Shattered Sight," and though I still couldn't really hear the music, the lyrics settled themselves deep into my head to drive me nuts. Sift the clues from the dust, from my lives, of my will./ I loved you then. I love you still.
"I should be with Glenn, interviewing Dan's neighbors," I complained. "I don't need to take the freaking class, just talk to Dan's classmates."
My earring swung like a tire swing, and Jenks's wings tickled my neck. "Edden doesn't want to give Dr. Anders any warning that she's a suspect. I think it's a good idea."
I frowned, my steps growing muffled as I found the carpeted hallway and began watching the numbers on the doors count up. "You think it's a good idea, do you?"
"Yeah. But there's one thing he forgot." He snickered. "Or maybe he didn't."
I slowed as I saw a group standing outside a door. It was probably mine. "What's that?"
"Well," he drawled, "now that you're taking the class, you fit the profile."
Adrenaline zinged through me and vanished. "How about that?" I murmured. Damn Edden anyway.
Jenks's laughter was like wind chimes. I shifted my heavy book to my other hip, scanning the small gathering for the person most likely to spill the best gossip. A young woman looked up at me, or Jenks rather, smiling briefly before turning away. She was dressed in jeans like me, with an expensive-looking suede coat over her T-shirt. Casual yet sophisticated. Nice combination. Dropping my bag to the carpet tile, I leaned back against the wall like everyone else, a noncommittal four feet away.