by Tegan Maher
I glanced at Callum and Michael. Souls would potentially use outdated speech.
“Mary Kate and Bernie were at the same shop the day they died and both bought the same product: a moisturizer with no pigment, scent, or alcohol,” Michael said. “Do you know of any reason your daughter would have bought that? Is it usual for her?”
Mrs. Evans shook her head. “No. As a matter of fact, she uses a scented body lotion that one of her friends buys her every year for Christmas and her birthday. It’s been her go-to for a couple years now.”
Well, so much for that.
“As a matter of fact,” she added, “they spent her last day together. Or rather, her last full day.”
That was information we could use.
“Who is she? And do you know where she lives?”
Mrs. Evans gave us a genuine smile for the first time. “Of course! Kimmy Jacobs. They’ve been friends since they were five. As a matter of fact, Mary Kate recently got Kimmy a job at Bar None. The poor girl was working for a doctor, but he retired. Good jobs aren’t exactly plentiful right now.”
She grabbed a notepad off the side table and jotted the information down, then tore it off and handed it to me.
Michael pushed to his feet. “Thank you both for your time. If there’s anything else you can think of, here’s my card.”
If I was going to be in this business for long, I was going to have to get some of those. I smiled at the thought. Kira, Gatekeeper & Soul Hunter. Pesky souls or murderous demons ruining your day? Call me.
I’d seen the human movie, Ghostbusters, and that’s the visual I got. Except, of course, my logo would be much more badass.
I thanked the parents and grabbed another cookie for the road. Even though I was still full from the cheeseburger, I always had room for sweets.
“So what do you think?” I asked once we were outside. “Do you think maybe they intersected at her bar?”
“Could be,” Michael said, “but Shane said he was a regular at The Cracked Cauldron, and his apartment is right around the corner from it. I don’t suppose that precludes him from going to Bar None, though.”
“Where’s that in proximity to where the bodies were found?” Callum asked. “Is it within walking distance?”
Michael lifted one shoulder. “Everything in Abaddon’s Gate is within walking distance, but the locations aren’t exactly convenient to the bar. He’d have had to go out of his way to dump them there.”
I mulled that over in my head. “So maybe there’s another intersection somewhere that we’re missing. What else is in that area?”
Michael huffed a breath out through his nose. “A ton of places. There’s a doctor’s office, a couple salons. Attorneys, the Italian restaurant, a breakfast café. A fortune teller has a shop. I mean, it’s sorta central.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed the number Mrs. Evans had given me. It went straight to voicemail, so he left a message.
“I think we should go check out the weird new employees at the bar,” Callum said. “Maybe we’ll luck out and Kimmy will be working, too. Two birds type of deal. How far is it?”
“Only about five minutes from here if we take the back streets,” Michael replied, turning right as we came to an intersection.
As promised, we made it to Bar None in no time at all. Unlike most of the businesses in Abaddon’s Gate, it was a free-standing building with an actual parking lot. We were about to go in when my phone dinged with an incoming text. It was my Nevvie.
Nevvie: Where are you at right now?
Me: In the parking lot of a club called Bar None in Abaddon’s Gate
Nevvie: I know the place. Stay put.
I relayed the message to the guys, so we walked to the side of the building to wait in the shade. It wasn’t a full minute before my aunt appeared in front of the club, and I called to her.
“Oh, good,” she said, bustling over to us. “There you are.”
She handed me a small black device, then she handed one to Callum, too.
“What’s this?” I asked, examining it. It appeared to be some sort of scanning device, with a trigger and a little window that looked sort of like a phone screen.
“It’s a soul scanner. Your cousin Theo made it using some sort of algorithm and a bunch of other techie words I didn’t understand. Anyway, it’s linked to the index and will identify any soul you come across if they’re a prisoner.”
“Will it tell us if there’s a soul nearby?” Callum asked.
She screwed her face up in thought. “I suppose if you point it directly at it, it would identify the soul, so I guess in a roundabout way, yes. It won’t sound an alarm or anything, though. It’s just for identification purposes.”
“That’s still damned handy,” Michael said, holding out his hand. “May I see it?”
Callum gave him the scanner, and he examined it.
Nevvie nodded and gave me a soft look. “We’re doing everything we can to help you, sweetie. You gotta get those wings back.”
She gave me a quick hug and disappeared.
Michael handed it back to Callum as we moved toward the door. “It looks like we have everything we need to find out about the weirdo employees, at least. Assuming they’re here, that is. Shall we?”
I nodded and reached for the handle. “We shall.”
The inside of the bar was dim and much larger than The Cracked Cauldron. A large horseshoe-shaped bar squatted in the middle of the space, it’s black marble surface gleaming under blue fluorescent lights. A male fairy wearing a tight black tank top and jeans that he filled out to perfection stood behind the bar polishing wine glasses, and two women dressed in shorts and halter tops practiced dance moves on a pole situated on a stage at the back of the space. Twenty or so tables with candles were arranged in front of it.
Callum gave a low whistle. “So it’s a strip club.”
“Sort of,” Michael said, wobbling his hand side to side. “They keep it a little classier than that, but not by much. The girls keep most of their clothes—such that they are—on, and they only perform for part of the night. The owner does comedy nights and hosts trivia and karaoke, too. And the food is some of the best you’ll find in the city.”
I grinned and waggled my brows at him. “Sounds like you know the place well.”
He shrugged and returned my smile. “Maybe. It’s a good place to get information and keep an eye on what’s going down behind the scenes. I have several contacts here.”
“Hey, Michael,” the hot guy behind the bar said, smiling as we approached. “Business or pleasure?”
“Hey, Finn. Business, I’m afraid,” Michael replied, pushing aside a stool to belly up to the bar.
“Yeah, I figured,” Finn said, his expression faux-disappointed as he continued polishing the glasses. “With the whole Mary Kate thing, I wondered how long it would take for you to show up. It sucks; she was a good manager and a hella nice woman. That’s a rare combination in this industry. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“This is Kira and Callum,” Michael said. “They’re running their own investigation, but we’re working it together.”
I smiled and his eyes roamed over me, but not in a predatory way. It was more assessing. “If you ever decide to get out of the investigation business, you’d make a ton of money here.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to keep from rolling my eyes. My aunts would kill me in my sleep. “But I’m happy where I’m at.” Not the total truth, but good enough.
I pulled Bernie’s picture from my file and handed it to him. Not the one of him dead, but another one Adam had procured. “Does this guy ever come in here?”
He took the picture and studied it. “He may have been here once or twice, but he’s not a regular. And I never saw him with Mary Kate. Is he a suspect?”
I shook my head. “No, he’s another victim. They both visited a potions shop on the same day, but we can’t tie them to anywhere else.”
“A potions sho
p?” he asked. “That doesn’t sound too nefarious. Are you sure it wasn’t a coincidence?”
“Probably not, because they both bought the same specific item,” Callum replied.
“Do you mind if I ask what it was?” Finn asked, sliding the glass into one of the dozens of stemware slots above the bar.
I told him.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Finn said, stretching his arms out so we could see all the ink. “A tattoo. Aftercare lotion is exactly what you just described. I’ve bought a gallon of the stuff over the years. It helps it heal and hold the color.”
Michael pressed his lips together and held out his own tattooed arms. “Now that you mention it, you’re right. I’m a little irritated I didn’t think of that myself.”
I’d actually gotten a great tattoo once—an amazing thunderbird in the center of my back right above the juncture of my wings. To say Nevvie was displeased was the understatement of the century. She had an hour-long conniption when I got home, then when I went to sleep, she magicked it off. I was so pissed I left and didn’t come home for a week. But I didn’t get another one. Some battles just aren’t worth it.
“I’m not sure if they both had tats,” Michael replied, “but it’s worth checking out. Do you know if Mary Kate had gotten new ink lately?”
Finn nodded. “Yep. She and Kimmy went after work one afternoon a few days go. They got matching doves, you know, for friendship.” He sighed. “I guess Kimmy’s really gonna value that now. I hope she can see the good in it rather than the grief.”
As an angel who’d been sheltered all of my life, I’d never experienced death. I was surprised by the wave of near-debilitating pain that hit me when I thought of Brielle being jerked suddenly from my life. My heart went out to Kimmy.
‘Where did they get them? Do you know?” Callum asked.
“Yeah, they went to a place over on Meade, I think.” He turned his gaze to Michael. “The one by the psychic’s shop. One of the new guys recommended it.”
“Speaking of new employees,” I said, “We were told a couple of your recent hires are a little odd.”
Finn’s lips curled into a half-smile. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, doll. Everybody around here’s a little odd.”
I pulled in a patient breath and blew it out through my cheeks. I was getting tired of hearing that, especially when people had to know what I was talking about. “Their speech patterns are archaic and, to use Mary Kate’s word, they’re creepy.”
“Oh,” he said, understanding crossing his face. “I know who you’re talking about. Eddie and Mac. One’s a barback and one’s a dishwasher. They came in and applied together a few days ago. She’s right. They’re creepy. I haven’t spent much time with either of them, but the barback has these black, soulless eyes. And I’ve had to get onto him for hanging out around the stage when the girls are dancing when he’s supposed to be bringing me ice or clean glassware.”
“When do they work next?” Callum asked.
“Tonight, actually. They should be here any time.”
Suddenly, the tea hit me, and I felt like I’d drank a gallon rather than a glass. “Which way to the ladies’ room?”
He motioned toward the opposite side of the back of the bar. “Right down that hallway. First door on the left.”
“Thanks,” I tossed over my shoulder as I made a beeline in the direction he’d pointed.
The hallway was painted red and an exit door was at the end of it. I was just pushing into the bathroom when the door swung open and two guys dressed in jeans and grubby tee-shirts sporting the Bar None logo strolled in. They looked oddly out of place, with slicked-back hair and handlebar mustaches.
I narrowed my eyes at them, and the dagger grew warm against my leg. The one in front’s eyes grew wide when he caught sight of me, and his gaze shot to my thigh. I glanced down and was surprised to see the dagger glowing. He turned around and bolted back out, shoving his buddy with him. I guess that settled that.
I shoved through the door before it even had time to close and whipped my head in both directions to see which way they’d gone. Rookie mistake. One of them grabbed me from behind, and the other delivered a wicked kidney punch. I shoved my arms up between his forearms and my body, then twisted and shoved my arms down to break the hold, delivering a headbutt to his nose as I did.
He grasped his nose and called me a few names not fit to repeat, and his buddy made a wild swipe for me. I ducked and pulled out the dagger, then gave in a vicious slash downward. It cleaved him in half, and he turned to smoke. I yanked the cube from my belt loop and tossed it to the ground in front of the smoke, remembering the scanner at the last minute. As he materialized again, I pointed it at him, then shouted the spell to open the soul collector.
Whoever had made it hadn’t been kidding around. I’d no sooner activated the spell than it sprung open to ten times its size and sucked him in before shrinking back down, smoking a little as it rocked to a halt on the asphalt. But now I was in a bad spot. The box was full, but I still had a leftover soul to deal with and I didn’t know for sure that the soul collector would hold more than one at once. If I guessed wrong, I’d end up letting the other one back out.
The door had stuck open when I’d slammed through it on my way out, so I yelled for Callum, hoping he’d hear me before this one got away. I was distracted for just that split second, and the guy got me by the hair. That was one of Adam’s favorite tricks in training, though, and I knew a million different ways to get out of that mess.
I opted for the easiest even though I knew I’d likely lose some hair: I smashed his hand flat to my head so that his knuckles were forced to open, then bent at the waist and twisted out from underneath the hold, swiping the dagger right through his midsection as I did. Just like his buddy, he split in half, then turned to black smoke.
Callum bolted out the back door right then.
“Your box!” I exclaimed and pointed.
Thankfully, he understood and had excellent reflexes because he pulled it off his belt and tossed it toward the demon. I started the spell before it even left his hand and the soul collector exploded open as it hit the ground and sucked the wisps of smoke in before slamming shut. It shrank back to its mini self and rocked twice before stopping, smoking a bit just like the other one had.
“Wow,” I said, bending over and scooping mine up, then tossing his to him. They were warm in my hand. “That happened fast.”
He was scowling at me. “You were just going to the restroom. How did you end up in a battle with not one but two demons?”
I glared back and crossed my arms over my chest. Why was he mad? As he’d pointed out, I took down two of them on my own. It was a double win.
“They came in the backdoor right as I was going into the bathroom. Somehow they recognized me and ran. I didn’t want them to get away, so I went after them.”
“You could have yelled for me on your way out,” he growled. “Running off half-cocked is a good way to get yourself killed, and in case I need to remind you, we have a lot more souls to capture.”
Well, that was hurtful. He wasn’t worried about me; he was pissed because I was too valuable of an asset to die.
I clipped the box back on my belt and stomped past him back inside. I still had to pee, and I didn’t see any point standing around listening to him bitch at me.
“Excuse me,” I said, my lip curled as I brushed past him. “I’d hate to die of a ruptured bladder before I finish my duties.”
“Kira,” he called after me. “That’s not what I meant.”
I didn’t turn back around, though. There was no need when he’d made it abundantly clear what he’d meant. To be fair, I didn’t blame him. This whole mess was my mother’s fault, and as much as I hated to admit it, I deserved a part of the blame, too.
10
I met the guys back at the bar and climbed up on a stool, determined to make it business as usual.
“Kira—” Callum started.
I held up a hand. “Callum, don’t. Just don’t worry about it. I get it, okay?” I pulled out my scanner and checked to see if it had captured any data from the first demon. I was a little irritated that I hadn’t gotten a scan on the second one and wondered if it was possible to scan it after it was in the box.
The screen flashed, and a picture popped up. Sure enough, it was our guy.
“Edward Greyson,” I said, reading from the screen. “Shot dead by one of his victim’s brothers in 1832. Sentenced to five hundred years in The Valley for serial weenie-wagging and sexual assault.”
“He was a full-on demon, though,” Callum said. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to manifest as himself.”
“Yeah,” Michael said, nodding. “And that explains why he was always hanging out near the girls. Lust demon. It’s how he fed.”
I kept reading. “Known post-death associate of Samual ‘Mac’ McDonald, also a sexual predator, and Dennis O’Rourke, hanged and sentenced to a thousand years in The Valley for torturing and killing five women in the 1700s. There’s a picture of them both here, too. Mac was definitely Samual McDonald.”
Finn raised a brow as he set sodas in front of each of us. “Sounds like you have it, then. Mac was the dishwasher, and there’s a good shot Dennis is your killer. That’s usually the motive behind torture—they get off on the fear.”
“So we start checking tattoo parlors,” Callum said. “It can’t be that hard. In a weird way, it makes sense. People are nervous when they go to get a tattoo. Scared. It probably wouldn’t take much to push that over to fear. And we have a picture of him.”
Michael held up a hand. “Before we go too far down the rabbit hole, we need to check with the ME and see if Bernie had any new tattoos. If so, then we have a starting point. If not, then we won’t be wasting our time. It still feels weird to me that he took them so far to dump them. Those alleys are a few blocks from the tattoo parlor, and he didn’t nab them there, anyway. Or at least not that we know of.”
“Is it really that far, though?” Callum asked.