by Joyce Lavene
“What would it take to kill him, hypothetically? Would I have to use a sword? Could I just shoot him?”
“Why are you asking? Do you fear him enough that you want to kill him?” The look in Lucas’s eyes didn’t bode well for the other man.
“I’m not asking you to kill Artemis.” I hoped I was clear on that. “There’s something odd about him. I’m not sure what it is, but he keeps acting like he has some secret interest in me. It makes me uncomfortable. If he gets any worse, I’d like to know what I could do to keep my distance.”
He sat beside me. “Your best bet is to ignore him. He may sense my magic about you. He may even sense your magic, untrained as it is.”
I swatted a mosquito feasting on my neck. “He must be desperate if he wants my help with something.”
“Is that what you sense about him? That he wants your help?”
“I don’t know. There’s just something about him. I can’t describe it, but it bothers me.”
“Trust your instincts, Skye. As you were able to ignore his magic, you may be able to sense other things about him”
“And you know that how, since you don’t remember being a sorcerer?”
“Call it intuition and common sense.”
The whole conversation made me more than a little uncomfortable. “I don’t like this whole belonging to other people. We outlawed slavery in this country a long time ago.”
“What do you think Abe is doing with his workers?”
“Giving them an extra twenty years of life. And he still pays us a decent wage.”
“So you’re saying you’d be all right belonging to me if I pay you?” He was angry and skeptical.
“No! That’s not what I’m saying.” I stood quickly and glanced at my watch. “I’m going to get Kate early from school. We’re going to hang out and eat ice cream. I’ll see you later.”
He nodded and started working again. I didn’t extend an invitation for him to join us. I needed some alone time for me and Kate.
She was thrilled when I picked her up. It was always exciting not riding the bus home. I got to hear all about what she did at school that day and all the latest kid gossip.
“Mary is submitting a poem to the school writing contest,” Kate confided over huge root beer floats at the ice cream parlor. We sat outside and looked at the lake across the road.
“What about you? You like to write.”
She shrugged. “I’ve been working on a short story. It’s about my life.”
That struck me like a death knell. “What are you writing about your life?”
“You know—you and daddy died—but you came back. Grandma died, but she came back. Lucas moved in with us until he can figure out what happened to his magic. That kind of thing. I think it would be interesting, don’t you? I might even win.”
“You might,” I said carefully. “But maybe you could write fiction instead. Or you could say your story about us is fiction.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure what that is.”
“Fiction is like superheroes and cartoons. Those things aren’t real. Non-fiction is writing about things that really happen.”
“Why would I write about superheroes when I could write about Grandma learning to use her magic ghost powers?”
I tried to think of a way to explain why her story, and what she told other people about us, needed to be less than truthful. “People don’t like strange things they don’t understand.”
She slurped ice cream from her spoon. “You mean like ghosts?”
“That’s what I mean. People like to think that everyone lives like they do. They don’t like the idea of little girls being raised by ghosts and mothers who are already dead.”
Kate swung her feet under her chair as she considered the matter. “I understand. It’s why I can’t have friends come to the house, right? I know you said I’d be a grownup before you really died and went away with Abe, but are you sure? You could get into another car accident or another sorcerer could come that Lucas can’t cut his head off. What then?”
How could I answer those questions? I didn’t have the answers, but I could see the trusting look in her face as she waited for me to respond.
“Lucas won’t let another sorcerer come to the house. I promise. And I can’t die until you’re a grownup.”
“Even if you turn into a ghost again?”
“You see too much.” I kissed her soft cheek. “Things happen, Kate. None of us know when they’re going to happen. We do the best we can. Some day when you’re a grown up, you can write all about your unusual childhood. It will have to be fiction because no one will believe it could be real. But maybe you’ll make a million dollars and be on all the talk shows.”
“Okay. I like that idea.” She seemed to consider the challenge. “Maybe I’ll write about Daddy instead for the contest. There’s nothing weird about him, right? He was a hero.”
“You’re right.” I swallowed hard over the lump in my throat. “Daddy was a hero. He died trying to save my life. I think that would be a great thing to write about.”
We went home, and Kate did her math and reading. She worked on her short story after that until dinner was ready. Lucas had made spaghetti. Addie made toasted garlic bread and even banana pudding. Kate and I set the table and poured sweet tea into tall glasses filled with ice.
Addie sat at the table with us, somehow holding herself in a chair. After my experience being in that shapeless form, I appreciated how difficult it was. I could see the determination written on her plain, worn face. I noticed how clearly defined her features had become. No more wavering lines or blank spaces. She was learning a lot from Lucas.
After supper, Kate and I did the dishes and then watched The Princess Bride on DVD. It was one of our favorite movies. Lucas watched too. I wondered what he thought of the humorous romantic comedy.
It was great being home at bedtime. I brushed Kate’s hair as we talked about the story she was writing. We took turns reading a book of nursery rhymes that Jacob used to read to her. I’d taped a picture of them together reading the book on the inside flap so she’d remember him.
The evening was a lovely end to a day that had been troubled and scary. I knew it wouldn’t last, but I was happy not to get a call from Abe until after Kate was asleep.
“I have an emergency pick up, Skye. Artemis says this person is going to become a ghost next. Please see to it. He’ll meet you there.”
As always, he never waited for me to answer or even acknowledge that I’d heard him. His end of the conversation was over.
“Are you going out?” Lucas asked. “Is it another ghost problem?”
“Yes and yes.” I pulled on jeans and planned to wear boots. I never knew where the pickup would take me until I was there.
“Artemis will be there?”
“Yes. That’s the way this works. “
“I could go with you.”
“I’m fine.” I stuffed my wallet into my pocket and pulled on my holster. “I can handle him.”
“Shooting him isn’t the answer.”
“And I don’t plan on doing it unless things get really bad. Don’t worry. I’ve dealt with worse things than this sorcerer.”
He stood close to me. “Careful. You know nothing about him.”
I smiled. “I knew nothing about you either when we met. Whatever it is with him, I can take care of it. See you later.”
I had to stop for gas as I was going into Nashville. The address that Abe sent as a text was back in the city again. It was a good place to stop anyway. Gas was cheaper here.
As I was pumping, Tim Rusk pulled up in his highway patrol car. He got out, carefully scanning the area around him. He didn’t put on his flat-brimmed hat as he would normally have done if he’d been working.
“Hey there,” he said with a slight smile. “Where are you off to this time of night?”
“Part of my job. It happens at all times. You know how it is.”
“Wha
t was it you said you do now, Skye?”
“I’m kind of a bounty hunter. I work for a private firm in the city.” I hoped he wouldn’t ask for more details. I could think of answers, but I didn’t want to lie to him.
“I hear you met up with Gerald Linker.” He glanced at a red pickup as it pulled into the station.
I was finished pumping and put back the hose. “That’s right. It was interesting. I guess news travels fast.”
“You could say that—especially since he was arrested a few hours ago for breaking and entering. I asked a buddy of mine who was there at the scene. He said Gerald told him he was looking for evidence to prove werewolves had killed his wife. Know anything about that?”
Chapter Twenty-two
So much for not lying to Tim.
“No. Werewolves, huh? Where did he break into? Is there a werewolf institute or museum that I don’t know about?”
Tim chuckled. “Nah. He broke into a psychic place over near the river. There was something on the sign about being able to help with supernatural events that bother people. He seemed to take the owner at her word. They had a meeting a few hours before he broke in. It seems he waited until she left and then picked the lock on the front door.”
Gerald. I sighed, hating that he’d gone overboard. I’d hoped he’d be able to handle it. I guess he was still too fragile. I could blame this breakdown on myself.
“Sorry to hear that. I wouldn’t have gone to see him if I’d known it could cause a problem for him.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. He’s not right in the head anymore, you know? Anything could’ve put him over the edge. But I wonder why werewolves?”
“Maybe it was the way his wife was killed. I’ve seen the pictures. She was ripped apart, even worse than Jacob. I couldn’t blame him for thinking something supernatural did it since no one has come up with an answer that makes sense.”
“I guess that’s true. Given his background, mental problems and all, werewolves could be something he’d think of.”
“I suppose so.” I watched the traffic moving by on the main road. “Thanks for telling me. I have to go to work. Have a good one.”
As I was turning on the engine in the van, Tim put his hand on the open window ledge next to me.
“You’re not thinking anything weird like that, are you, Skye?” His brown eyes were steady on mine.
“No. Cops don’t have that much imagination, right?” I smiled and waved.
He gave me a friendly salute and moved his hand. I took off. My brain hummed with ways to get Gerald out of jail before the system began to work on him again. I didn’t want him to go back to the hospital. I didn’t think he was crazy. He’d just leaped on the idea too soon and panicked. I might have done the same thing if I didn’t have Lucas to talk to.
But I had to meet Artemis first before I could do anything that might help sort out Gerald.
Was it me, or were the werewolf questions Tim was asking more pointed than I would’ve expected from someone in law enforcement? I couldn’t imagine having a straight-faced conversation with someone about werewolves when I was a cop.
I was still mulling that over when I found the address Abe had texted me. The houses were middle-class family styles with small driveways and no garages, which meant there were cars parked everywhere on the street.
Abe’s Lincoln wasn’t there, so he really trusted Artemis after last night. I had to keep myself out of it, at least until I had better answers or had a way to prove to Abe that Artemis was cheating him.
I scanned the block, no idea what kind of vehicle Artemis drove. He answered my question when he dramatically appeared in front of me, directly in the headlights.
“I guess I didn’t have to worry about finding you, did I?” I said as I got out of the van.
Dressed completely in black this time with a black, red-lined cape theatrically spreading out behind him, he looked more like a magician than Harold ever had. I had to admit that he was a handsome man with his aquiline features and thick blond hair.
His arms were raised, pushing the cape back from his shoulders. I caught a glimpse of a large tattoo on his arm, but I couldn’t be sure the design was.
Could it be the dragon the man at the smoke shop had talked about? How would I ever make Abe believe Artemis had killed Harold, if I found it to be true? He already trusted the sorcerer so much.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Skye. I wish the circumstances were different. Perhaps after we have mastered this problem, you and I could step out for a drink.”
“My daughter is waiting for me at home.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, Kate was at home. “Let’s get this over with.”
I wished he stop flirting with me or whatever it was. I didn’t appreciate his interest but had to tread carefully if I wanted to prove my suspicions about him.
We went up to the small house with yellow aluminum siding on the outside. There were lights on inside all the windows. I hoped one of Abe’s workers had turned them all on and we weren’t going to have to explain all of this to a loved one.
Not a chance.
A young woman, maybe in her early twenties, answered the door with frantic eyes. “Thank God you’re here. I assume Abe sent you. My brother is disappearing. Is this part of the contract he signed? Because he’s supposed to have another eight years left. If his contract was going to change, someone could’ve told us.”
Artemis passed by her as though she was a bug. “Let me through. I shall handle the problem.”
The young woman had been crying. She wiped her eyes quickly as he went by her.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “This is something like a virus. We’ll clear it up, and he’ll have his eight years.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She sagged in relief. “I didn’t know what to think. We wouldn’t have done something like this except that I was sick at the time—cancer—and he saw me through it. I don’t think I would’ve survived without him.”
Out of curiosity I asked, “What does he do for a living? Not that it matters. I’m always interested.”
“He works for the government. It’s not a big deal. We were surprised when Abe asked him to work for him.”
I heard Artemis with our zombie in the bedroom and cut the conversation short. I wanted to see how he handled the problem this time. I told the sister to wait for us in the living room and went back to see what was going on.
In the bedroom, the quickly fading man was face down on the bed. He was groaning but still able to be heard. Artemis had his tattooed foot in his hand. His eyes, and the ring on his hand, glowed red.
An instant later, so did the tattoo on the man’s foot.
As soon as the color changed, the man started looking human again. The tattoo on his foot remained red as it had on the previous LEP—at least to my eyes. I wondered if anyone else could see it this time.
I was at the doorway when the man’s sister joined us. She started crying again but this time tears of joy.
“You saved him. You were right.” She hugged me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said even though I hadn’t done anything except show up.
“Why did the tattoo change color on his foot?” the woman asked.
“You mean you could see it?”
“Yes. It was blue before. It’s been blue since that day at the hospital when we met Abe. Is that part of getting rid of the virus?”
“Absolutely.” I was secretly thrilled that I wasn’t the only one to see the tattoo change color. Why hadn’t Brandon seen it?
The woman ran to her brother. I noticed that Artemis laid his hand on both of their heads in a gesture that reminded me of what Lucas had done after he’d saved me from being a ghost. They both hugged him, and Artemis immediately left the room.
“I’ll meet you outside,” he muttered as he swept by me with a wave of his cape.
I didn’t acknowledge him. The man was up, off the bed. He and his sister were thanking me.
“I don’t know what came over me,” the zombie man said. “Does this happen often?”
“No. Not often at all.” I smiled. “You should be fine now. You’ll just have to find new matching shoes for your red tattoo.”
I was joking, of course. A little zombie humor.
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” And lifted his foot. “It’s blue, just like always.”
His sister glanced at it too. “Yes. It’s still that nice shade of blue.”
“But you just agreed with me that it was red,” I reminded her.
I took another look myself. The A on his heel was bright red and not a complete circle.
“Well, thanks for your help,” The young woman smiled and quickly led me to the front door. “We appreciate you coming out so late. You have a wonderful rest of your night.”
I felt a little kicked to the curb as I found myself on the porch. Why had the woman changed her mind about the color of the tattoo? Was it something Artemis had done to make them see it differently?
The hand on the head.
It felt crazy to even consider that he could put his hand on their heads and make them see what he wanted. But I knew it was exactly what he’d been trying to do to me at Abe’s office. He thought he could make me see and feel what he wanted.
Outside in the humid darkness, I hesitated to confront Artemis alone. Even if Brandon was there, I wouldn’t be as scared. What if he put his hand on my head and I forgot everything he wanted me to?
That hadn’t happened with Abe or Lucas. I died so there could’ve been a detail or two I’d forgotten. But not something big like that.
Nothing had happened last time Artemis had tried his magic on me, but since I didn’t know why I’d been protected, I couldn’t risk it again.
I was sure—or at least I thought I was sure—that Lucas hadn’t changed me at all besides the color of my tattoo. But what if I was wrong? He kept saying I was different. Maybe I was seeing the world now the way he wanted me to see it.