by Debra Dunbar
“Hey,” I asked Tremelay who was on his phone. “Did you get anything from the coroner on exactly when Bethany Scarborough died?”
He pulled the phone from his ear. “Friday night around midnight.”
If these two had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, shooting up while Bethany died, then that put their deaths at the same time—nearly two nights ago. But this was late August. I might be a layman when it came to the intricacies of decomposition, but I doubted these two had been dead that long.
One more thing to research. I just didn’t know enough about psychopomps, let alone an angelic one. If Araziel had been unable to perform his duties, had that caused the shift from assisting a soul to actually killing people? Was this a normal side effect of death magic that practitioners had to account for? If so, these mages neglected to take care of this little detail.
Chapter 13
FOR THE SECOND time in two nights Old Town Mall was lit up with blue and red lights, as well as the sound of police radios and running engines that dispelled the eerie quiet which had previously blanketed the area. My presence was being explained alternately as an unpaid consultant and a witness. Unpaid. Story of my life.
There had been no storms or lightning in the area to blame these deaths on, yet this clearly linked Ronald Stull’s death to the area of Bethany Scarborough’s murder. Everyone stared at the two dead junkies, gagging and conjecturing about the “sick fuck” who could do such a thing. And everyone was bandying around the terms Satanist and occult. This brought the death toll to four. Araziel three, death mages one.
“I’ve asked for a list of missing persons’ reports in the last two months, concentrating on any reports in the last forty-eight hours. I agree with you that there have to be bodies we haven’t found that are connected to this.”
I blinked at Tremelay’s words. Forty-eight hours meant they were doing a sacrifice each night, but I’d figured no more than once a week. Unless he didn’t mean the sacrificial victims but the angel. Did he think Araziel had become some sort of angelic spree murderer? “Which crime? Do you mean these death-by-angel murders, or the sacrifice?”
His mouth set in a grim line. “Both, but let’s look at these first. Let’s say I do believe you and there’s an angel running, or flying, around killing people. Why the guy in the park? Dude was minding his own business and wham, his chest gets ripped out. I can see these two may have stumbled upon some bad shit and got taken out, either by killers who didn’t want witnesses or a killer angel, but why the guy in the park?”
I winced, wondering how to tell him this. “I have a rather secretive source that led me to believe that Ronald Stull, the guy in the park, was involved in Bethany’s murder. That’s why he was killed. Although I don’t see why Araziel would kill these junkies.”
Tremelay glared. “Who is this source?”
Shit. “It’s all very Watergate. I don’t know him. I never actually met him. He claims to have been in the group and actually witnessed Bethany’s murder. He says Ronald Stull did it, and that he organized other murders that my source did not have direct knowledge of or exposure to. He also claims that there is an unknown person outside the magical group that facilitated and participated in the murders.”
There was a moment when I thought Tremelay’s eyeballs were going to burn holes through me. “And of course this guy has vanished to Mexico or somewhere with a new identity, never to be seen again?” I nodded. “Well if a miracle occurs and you hear from him, please let me know next time.”
I swallowed and nodded again.
Tremelay sighed. “Okay back to the angel. Why is one here? You’re my expert, so tell me your theories.”
That, I could do. “When I was thinking it was a demon, I’d assumed it was either a botched summoning where the mage didn’t banish or bind properly, or that it was a hit. It’s dangerous and could cost you your soul, but a skilled mage can summon a higher level demon as a sort of hit man.”
He shook his head. “But an angel doesn’t fit in those categories?”
“No. First off, no one summons an angel. You can’t bind or banish them, and they don’t perform services like demons. They’re way too dangerous. And they don’t do assassination jobs either.”
“So why did an angel kill your mage in the park? And why did an angel kill these two?”
“Well, Ronald Stull could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Araziel senses a death, comes to collect a soul, and can’t get in because of the smudge circle. The angel goes bonkers, and maybe kills these two by accident? Then tracks down Ronald the next morning and takes revenge?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe the angel is on a cleansing mission, killing those who practice dark arts… and addicts.”
It sounded lame. Even I didn’t believe it. But I really had no idea why Araziel was here, and why the angel had killed those he had.
“Let’s say someone is directing this angel, using it as a weapon. I know you said they weren’t assassins, but if a well-meaning mage—a vigilante of sorts—summoned Araziel, then perhaps he, or she, convinced the angel these murders would serve a greater good.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged.
“So, concentrating on the angel killings, if we think about these three victims, what ties them together beyond proximity to a place where soul magic and an occult murder occurred? What can help us predict this angel, or the angel’s puppetmaster’s, next move? And how does an angel tie in with mages sacrificing people to power their magic?”
I winced at the term puppetmaster. Angels weren’t puppets by any stretch of the imagination. Demons either. “The connection could be the mages who did the death ritual, or Ronald Stull, or even the sacrificial victim. At this point the only common thread is the death magic.”
The detective made a note in his book. “Hopefully we can winnow that down after we visit the magic shop. I need to get an in, a few names of people in this magical community that I can question. And tomorrow I’m going to see if I can get a warrant to go through Ronald Stull’s house.”
I wished I could help him with the second one. My former group, Haul Du, was DC based and I hadn’t been with them long enough to meet mages from other regions. The only practitioner I knew in Baltimore was a necromancer, and he was a solitary—unaffiliated with any organized group.
“Let’s talk about the victim,” Tremelay continued. “Bethany Scarborough. She’s not the sort of woman that a bunch of killers would grab off the street. She’s risky in terms of a potential victim. She’s a professional woman who wouldn’t easily be lured into a bad area of town by strangers.”
If Janice was right, then there might be some connection between Bethany and the mages. It could be as simple as she cut one of them off in traffic. If so, we’d never track them down through her.
“What if they grabbed her in a grocery store parking lot or car jacked her or something? I mean, she did live alone. There was plenty of opportunity.”
“But why her? There are easier victims. Was there something about her that made her ideal? Virgin sacrifice or something?”
I shivered at the notion. Not all single, middle-aged cat ladies were virgins. Heck most men and women nowadays weren’t virgins. If the killers needed a virgin sacrifice, they were better off snatching a child. “I didn’t think of that. There are some magics that require a virgin. Most of them are sex magic, but a few involve death magic.”
I didn’t have the stomach to tell them most of those rituals involved sacrifice to summon a demigod. Really, really scary stuff. I didn’t know anyone who would be stupid enough to mess with that sort of thing. But then again, someone was responsible for Araziel’s presence here. An angel wasn’t that much different than a demigod.
Tremelay scratched his chin. “How would they have known whether or not she was a virgin, though? She was fifty-five. Even if she hadn’t had sex in ages, she still might have had that one hook-up in high school.”
“That’s what I was thinking. It�
�s not the sort of thing you discuss in casual conversation with people. Can you see walking up to a stranger, or your insurance adjuster and asking if she’s a virgin? Plus what if she lied?”
“They had to have known her, either in person or over the internet. And there’s something about her, some reason that they chose her instead of an easier victim.”
I agreed. But in addition to finding out who these mages were, I needed to track down and put an angel back on his leash. There were some books in my personal library I could refer to, but when it came to all things holy, I’d need to go to the source—the Librarian Knights of the Temple. My Dad was one, and as much as two trips home to Middleburg in one month might pain me, it was just what I was going to have to do.
The Knights Templar didn’t take requests for information via phone or the internet. These things needed to be done in person. My choice was my Dad, or crazy Uncle Beo up in the Hamptons. Beo was a whole lot of fun at a party, but when it came to knowledge of the supernatural and spiritual world, I was going to go to Dad. I’d just have to figure out when I could squeeze in a visit between my job and other activities. I would need to work fast given that people seemed to be dying left and right around here.
Fingering the crucifix keychain in my pocket, I looked up at Tremelay. “So what do we do now?”
His shoulders straightened, a look of anger on his face as he once again glanced toward the dead. “I’ll be up all night working this and going through missing persons’ reports. Do you think the magic shop can wait until morning?”
Actually that was perfect. It was now after dark, and I really wanted to see if I could find Dario before I dove into my own research. “Sure. I don’t work tomorrow, so we can go as early as you like.”
We. I tried to hide the excitement that didn’t seem suitable given the gruesome scene around us. We. That meant I was still in the game. And that’s where I intended to stay.
Chapter 14
IT TOOK ME a couple of hours to find Dario. He wasn’t at any of his usual pick-up spots, and when I finally tracked him down at a little gastropub off Calvert Street I saw why. His companion tonight was the same dark-haired beauty he’d been with last night.
The realization hit me like a fist in my stomach. I adjusted the skintight tanktop over my push-up bra, feeling ridiculously sleazy. I wanted to leave. I wanted to turn right around and leave. But Dario needed to know what was going on. I owed it to him to tell him. And the significance of him being with the same woman two nights in a row shouldn’t stop me.
I’d turned him down. Repeatedly. He’d moved on, and clearly found someone else to fill the role of blood slave. I don’t know how I could have thought he would keep on picking up random women each night, denying himself of a meaningful relationship with someone when he’d gone without a blood slave for over a century. I’d gone out on a date with Zac, had seriously contemplated sleeping with him. I was moving on, and so had Dario.
I walked up to the table. The vampire didn’t seem particularly surprised to see me. He smiled warmly. His companion scowled.
“Sorry to interrupt. There are a few things going on that I wanted to make you aware of. Can I have a minute? And then I’ll be out of your hair.” The last part was addressed to the woman with what I hoped was an apologetic smile. Her glare never faltered, so I turned my gaze back to Dario.
Our eyes connected. He didn’t seem angry or bitter. The look on his face was one of… concern.
“Of course. Giselle, do you mind?”
Giselle looked very much like she minded. Her hand clenched in her lap, just out of Dario’s line of vision, and I was pretty sure she was wishing she could shank me right now. “Can I stay? Please?”
Oh gag. Saccharine smile, purring voice. Blech. The woman flipped her hair over her shoulder and I saw the faint fang marks. He’d marked her. Of course he’d marked her. Two nights in a row. Blood slave. She was bound to have those marks. And she was pretty darned obvious about making sure I saw them.
Dario’s eyes flickered to her face. “Yes. You can stay if you wish.”
Well, that pretty much removed any doubt I might have. I wasn’t about to stand at the end of their table like a waiter and deliver my news, so I pulled a chair over, flipped it around, and straddled it.
“There are a group of mages who performed a sacrificial death magic ritual in Old Town Mall which involved using the victim’s soul. A source informs me that this isn’t the only time they’ve done this sort of ritual. To complicate things further, the magic was used in a spell to contain and protect against something or someone which the magical community seems to feel is horrific enough to warrant killing people to protect against. It’s got to be pretty darned scary if they’re needing that much energy.”
The vampire didn’t even blink. “Go on.”
Go on? I guess the Balaj didn’t give a rat’s ass about mages killing humans, or whatever big-bad they were trying to guard the city against.
“The mage who organized and performed these death magic rituals was killed yesterday afternoon by an angel. Two others have also been killed by the same angel.”
That got a reaction, minimal though it was. “Should we be concerned?”
Oh no. Just go on about your business. No worries here. Sheesh. Vampires. Any doubt I’d had a few minutes ago over my choices was gone now.
“Death magic? Well, if you’re concerned that they’re poaching on your food source, yes. If you think whatever they’re guarding against might be a threat to you, yes. If you’re worried that they’re powerful enough to decide to rid the city of vampires, yes.”
“That’s not our concern,” he interrupted. “We have dealings with the local magical community. They do not take our marked humans. They limit their activities. We stay out of their way and leave them alone. I’m more interested in whether the angel is a concern or not.”
It took me a few moments to wrap my head around this. The vampires knew mages were performing human sacrifice and had given it the thumbs-up. Dario had given it the thumbs-up. All of this was making me revisit my view of them.
“The angel is Araziel. He’s a psychopomp.” At Dario’s blank look I continued. “He separates the soul from the body at the time of death. Vampires are technically dead. We saw what happened last week when a necromancer yanked the souls out of vampires. Araziel can do the same, only with a more dramatic flair. And he’s not as easy to stop as a bunch of specters.”
“But that’s humans,” Dario mused. “He’s an angel, so he’d be concerned with humans. Heaven’s messengers are not interested in harvesting our souls.”
No, I guessed not. “In the normal course of things, you’d probably be right, but Araziel is an angel off of his heavenly leash. He isn’t just harvesting the souls of the dead, he’s killing them, and there are two dead junkies to back that theory up. I’ve got no idea what his criteria are in who he graces with his services, but I thought you might want to know.”
Dario nodded. “I appreciate the head’s up. Is there anything we can do to remain out of his sights? And how long do you expect this angel to be prowling the city?”
“I don’t know the answers to either of those questions. I’ve got some research to do tonight, and more tomorrow. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
I stood, and Dario did also.
“I think we should meet regularly to exchange this sort of information,” he said. “On both sides. I want to ensure you know what’s going on with the Balaj and any issues at our end, too.”
Huh? I just stared at him.
“You’re a Templar, and you’ve clearly taken it upon yourself to police supernatural activities in the city. We’re the largest paranormal community here. If we’re to coexist, then we need to have regular meetings.”
“Liaisons.” What a weird idea. Actually, what a good idea, despite the fact that my stomach churned over the thought of seeing Dario regularly. Would Giselle be at these meetings, like a living accessory? How involved
were blood slaves in their vampire’s night-to-night business dealings?
“Yes.” He picked up a napkin and wrote a number on it, handing it to me. “This is my cell number. Call me tomorrow night and brief me. We should probably think about setting up a weekly schedule. Or maybe meet each evening, say at Sesarios.”
I pocketed the number, feeling like a deer in headlights. Sesarios. Would we have dinner there every night? Cannoli? It was kind of our place and the idea of having what would become an emotionless business meeting there bothered me.
Would Giselle be there, too? Awkward.
“I’ll give you my number.” I scrambled in my purse for a pen, but Dario waved me away.
“No need. I have your number. Call me tomorrow.”
He remained standing until after I’d left the building, Giselle stiff-faced across the table from him. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten home that I realized he’d never introduced me, that he’d never included her in our conversation. And that the woman’s trembling hand had reached up to touch the fang marks as we spoke.
It was petty of me, but that made me feel pretty damned good.
Chapter 15
DETECTIVE TREMELAY WAS waiting outside my apartment as soon as I got home.
“Thank God you’re here. I tried your number twice. Why didn’t you pick up?”
I glanced down at my phone, seeing the missed messages. “I was in a meeting and forgot to turn the ringer back on. What’s up?”
Another death magic ritual? More angel deaths? Whatever I expected, it wasn’t what came out of the detective’s mouth.
“Two dead in DC. I’ve got a friend there in homicide, and we chat about cases. He called me right away with something he called a satanic ritual gone wrong. I’m on my way, but I really wanted to take my expert along.”
Oh, hell yeah. Not that I was thrilled to hear of two people dead in DC, but I was excited that I was now the detective’s go-to on these sort of things. It gave me an odd thrill to be his expert. Almost as much of a thrill as I got from being the newly appointed liaison to the vampires. Although appointed probably wasn’t the right term.