Huh. I would have been bowled over by that acknowledgment, except it benefited Conor to keep things simple and get the answers we needed.
I stared expectantly at Jason, who looked from Conor to me before reaching for his cigarettes and lighting one between his lips. My patience was starting to fray. “If you don’t want to tell us here, I’m sure Mr. Ramsey would be happy to take you into Watcher HQ.”
Jason nearly spit out his cigarette. Conor gave me a sidelong glance. Almost no one was taken to Watcher HQ for questioning and let out easily. If they dragged you in, you were likely to spend some time in the dungeon. And stories of the dungeon were pretty unpleasant.
“Marcus was my friend. But he’s too cool for me now,” Jason said, recovering.
“How so?” Conor asked.
Jason shrugged and inhaled deeply on his cigarette. “He’s running with these mages. Thinks he can be like a super witch or some shit.”
A little chill ran through my veins. That was the second time someone close to Marcus had mentioned a goal of “leveling up.” I didn’t know what it meant, but it didn’t sound good.
“What mages?” Conor asked.
“Just these guys. The Order of Black, I think they call themselves. Stupid, right?” Jason shook his head. “Marcus said I should join. Said it would help me learn how to use my witchy powers for something other than a few stupid potions. But it sounded like they weren’t exactly towing the line.” He shot a worried look at Conor, who nodded. “Anyhow, he doesn’t come around here no more. Got better things to do, I guess.” The hurt in his voice was palpable.
“He’s dead,” I said.
I could feel the heat of Conor’s glare but ignored him. Jason deserved to know. Gabriella and her snotty crew could learn later, but this guy? He’d obviously been close to Marcus. No sense in denying him the facts.
Jason leaned forward and snubbed out the cigarette. “When?”
“We can’t say,” Conor said quickly. “That information is classified right now.”
Jason’s eyebrows rose and then he leaned back against the sofa. “Guess he really got into it. Idiot.”
“Can you tell us anything else about this Order of Black?”
“Nah, man. Seems like a stupid fraternity, like humans have in college. I think they dye their hair and stuff. Like I said, it’s dumb. I might have been into it as a teenager but now…” He trailed off. “You sure he’s dead?”
“I’m sure,” I said.
“Damn. That sucks.”
I handed him my card. “If you think of anything else, give me a ring, won’t you?”
He took it, examined it, and tossed it onto the coffee table with various debris, likely never to be seen again.
“Or call the Watchers,” Conor said, his tone gruff. “Thank you for your time.”
He turned and left.
“Sorry for your loss,” I said, and did the same.
“You cannot divulge privileged information to anyone you wish,” Conor said, the moment the front door clicked shut behind me.
“He was friends with the guy.” I opened my car door. “He deserves to know.”
“Everyone will know shortly. In the meantime, we’re running against the clock to get as much information about why and how he died as possible before that happens.”
I glared at him. “I hate to tell you this, but information spreads like wildfire on a hot day in the supernatural world. I’m pretty sure anyone you’re hoping to get the drop on already knows. Might as well tell the guy’s friends so they can start mourning.”
“No one should be in a hurry to mourn,” he said, with a sharp look, as if I’d insulted him.
I shifted uneasily, at a loss for words. I certainly hadn’t meant to imply mourning was fun and games, only that people had a right to know.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a group of mages to track down.” Conor turned on his heel and marched to his car. He pulled out at a leisurely pace, but I felt the irritation radiating off of him. That was weird.
I got into my vehicle and drove back to my office. I parked underground, leaving the keys in the car like always but making sure the garage was locked. I carried my sword around the corner to my office.
I put the key in the lock and froze, hackles rising. The door wasn’t locked. My mind raced backward, trying to remember if I’d locked the door or not. I must have. I always did. Sword out, I turned the knob slowly and then pushed the door open fast.
Silas was sitting at my desk. His dark hair fell into his eyes, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He’d probably been handsome when he was alive. He still was, if you were into tall, pale, and undead, but that really wasn’t my thing.
I lowered my sword. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”
Silas smiled. In the real world, vampires didn’t need invitations. They could go wherever they pleased. Not a happy thought, particularly when said vampire had the keys to my apartment.
“What do you want? I have work to do.” I set my sword down and hung my leather coat on the single hook I’d hung by the door.
“You took my car again,” he said. “I was hoping to discuss payment.”
I blinked. “You said I could borrow it any time. You leave the keys in it for me.”
“I leave the keys in it so they don’t get lost,” he said softly, lowering his eyes. Silas had a serious hoarding problem and a side effect of having way too much crap was that his things got lost pretty easily. Maybe I didn’t need to worry about his having a key to my unit, though he’d clearly hung on to the one for my office.
“Still. You did say I could use it.”
“I did, but I did not anticipate just how often I would go to drive it only to find it gone.”
“You have like eight cars,” I said.
He leveled a gaze at me. “That is currently the only working vehicle. So if you wish to continue using it, I’m going to have to ask for a fee.”
“I can’t afford that. I’m trying to save up for a car of my own but life is expensive.”
Silas stood and politely pushed my chair back in. “So is death. Let’s say $50 per use.”
I made a pfft sound. “Let’s say forget it. I’ll find another way to get around.”
“If you insist.” He walked up to the door, pausing to regard me with his dark eyes. “Let me know if you change your mind. You can simply add it to your rent.”
“Will do. And hey, don’t let yourself in again. That’s not cool.”
He smiled widely, baring a little hint of fang. “I’m a vampire. Everything I do is cool.”
I grabbed the door, holding it open, and called after him, “You’re letting those goth kids get to your head!”
He chuckled and kept walking. Silas had discovered a local group of gamers and played a weekly roleplaying board game of some sort with them. I’d seen them once at AFK Tavern, a game-themed restaurant that also allowed you play games for long stretches. I’d been there on business and nearly died of shock when I saw Silas hanging out with a group of goths in their early twenties huddled around a board. I doubted any of them really believed Silas was a vampire, but the fact that he “pretended” seemed to impress them.
I shut the door and flopped down in my office chair. Not having a car was going to be a serious wrench in this investigation but unless I upped the charge to Savannah, there was no way to pay for it. I didn’t understand why Silas was being so greedy all of a sudden. I mean, I got that he had bills to pay and I was fine with ponying up for rent. But it was petty to charge me to drive a car he didn’t use often. Then again, he had been getting out more, something I should encourage, since the guy was in serious need of friends and a life that didn’t revolve around collecting junk.
I pulled my computer out of the desk and searched for the Order of Black. Surprise, surprise, nothing came up. Well, nothing relevant to me or mages, anyhow. So much for modern technology.
I grabbed my coat and went to find answers the old fashioned way.
>
Chapter 7
I pinned the changeling to the brick wall, my blade at his throat. He wiggled and writhed, trying to gather his faerie magic to strike back. I pressed the blade harder against his skin. “Where’s Lachlan?” I demanded.
The changeling didn’t answer. Maybe he was fiercely loyal. Or maybe he was under a spell to keep him from talking.
A moment later, heavy boots came stomping down the alley. The man in the hooded sweatshirt stopped, surveyed the scene, and pulled back his hood. Under the streetlights, the hood looked reddish brown and stiff from the blood it had been dipped in.
“I’ve asked you not to threaten my minions,” Lachlan said mildly. He had dark skin and a neatly trimmed black beard that was the same length as his short hair. His blue eyes burned into me. I swallowed uneasily. Lachlan was beautiful, as were all the fae, but he was also deadly. A trained killer with magic.
I let my sword drop. The changeling darted away, scrambling behind his master. Like Lachlan wouldn’t throw him into a wolf pit if it suited his purposes or profit margins.
“I need information,” I said.
Lachlan smiled. “Information costs.”
“Everything does,” I muttered, irritated. It came out more bitter than usual, thanks to Silas revoking my car privileges. I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it over. I was now down to eighty measly bucks from Savannah’s first payment. Definitely needed to raise my rates.
Lachlan snatched the money from my fingers and shoved it into the pocket of his dark jeans. “How may I oblige you, my lady?” He bowed slightly.
I rolled my eyes. Lachlan didn’t serve anyone except himself. He was a redcap from the Summerlands, a faerie who’d come through about fifty years ago, give or take, and learned that killing wasn’t as profitable in this world as selling things that kill. He quickly changed business strategies and became an arms dealer of sorts, serving the supernatural black market, though given the dark color of his sweatshirt, he obviously hadn’t given up killing completely. But if you needed information on gangs or other groups, the guy who sold weapons usually knew a thing or two.
“What do you know about a group of mages who call themselves The Order of Black?”
Lachlan’s expression didn’t change but something sparked in his eyes. “You play dangerous games, witch.”
“Who are they?” I demanded.
Lachlan stared at me for a long moment. Finally, he said, “They’re mortals who wish to rein in the powers of something greater than themselves. It is always a vain pursuit.”
A hot wave of fear flashed through me. I thought of the punk mages in the park, trying to get the brimstone. That was one way to increase one’s power. Of course, it also increased one’s chances of total burnout or demonic possession.
“What kind of powers?” I asked.
Lachlan watched my expression carefully and a small smile spread across his lips. “I believe you already know, Danielle Warren.”
I flinched. He was fae, which meant he could sense things witches and mundanes could not. Did that mean he could see the demon magic glowing inside me? I hoped not. The fewer people who knew my secret, the better.
“I don’t know jack about them. Enlighten me.”
Lachlan pulled up his hood. A few bits of dried blood flaked off. “I know little more than you. But you can find them at Store-It Sunday.”
I frowned. “A storage park?”
He shrugged and whistled. The changeling ran to his side and they brushed past me, disappearing around the corner.
I looked up Store-It Sunday. It was an old indoor storage unit not far off of Interstate 5 that had closed last year and was currently for sale. From the photos, it was a tall and narrow blue building with a giant bright green sign on the side. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would be hanging out there, but it was the best lead I had. Wouldn’t hurt to check it out.
Trouble was, I couldn’t get up there to check it out without a car.
I considered paying Silas, but seriously, fifty bucks? It wasn’t like I didn’t put gas in it every time. Well, almost every time. Penelope had a car but she refused to let me drive it. I could ask for a ride, but she wasn’t exactly tactful at questioning people (not that I was queen of tact myself) and I didn’t really want to bring her along to check out a place that may be crawling with powerful mages and witches armed with brimstone.
That left one option. An option I really didn’t want to take. But deep down, I knew it was the only real choice.
The Watcher’s Headquarters in Everett was a faux-stucco building in dark gray, like their uniforms, that looked like a regular, indistinct office building.
Inside, it looked more or less like a police precinct that was stuck in 1965. There were phones but few if any computers. The decor was all dark wood and an inexplicably orange tile in the entryway. The bullpen visible behind the front desk was mostly empty, save for a few folks in gray working at random desks. Hallways broke off and led to offices and interrogation rooms. Upstairs, there were more offices and who knew what else.
In the far left corner, I saw a hallway and the hint of stairs, and had to collect myself. You’d never guess there was a dungeon below this space, but it was there, dank and dark and miserable. The worst place a person could end up besides the gallows, and the place I’d be sent if Conor or anyone else in this building learned my secret.
The reception desk had glass in front of it, probably spelled to deflect any harmful magic, and was flanked by two walls. To the right was a door with a keycard reader that would admit people inside.
The woman at the front desk wore the same charcoal color as the Watchers but in blouse and skirt form. She had white blond hair cropped short and stuck up with gel.
She smiled tolerantly at me with only a fleeting glance at the sword on my belt. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Conor Ramsey,” I said.
Her plastic smile didn’t waver but her eyebrows jumped slightly. “I see. And you are?”
“Dani Warren, PI.” I handed her a card.
She gave it a cursory glance and handed it back. “He’s quite busy this evening, Miss Warren. Perhaps you should come back later.”
I scowled. Oh hell no. She was not going to brush me off that easily. I forced a smile, as plastic as hers, and said, “Please alert Mr. Ramsey I’m here. I have information pertaining to his case.”
For a moment, she didn’t move, merely stared at me and considered her options. She could call a couple of Watchers to physically remove me from the building or she could acquiesce to my request. The latter hinged on whether or not she really believed I had anything useful to offer.
Impatient, I shifted my weight. She picked up the phone and told me to have a seat. I opted to stand while I waited to see if security was going to come toss me out.
Instead, Conor appeared through the door with the keypad. He gestured for me to follow him outside.
“I did not expect you to come begging for help,” he said mildly. He had a slight upturn to his lips like he was trying hard not to smile, the smug jerk.
“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not here to beg for help,” I said stiffly. Just a ride. “I have information and in the interests of obtaining the best outcome for the victim and his family, I’ve decided to share.”
Conor lifted his brows, dubious. “I see. Well, you can tell me on the way. I have a lead.” He headed around the building to a small parking lot attached to it. The lot was gated with a Watcher stationed in the gatehouse to prevent any non-Watchers from trying to pull in.
He climbed into the same black SUV I’d seen him driving earlier. I slid into the passenger seat, setting my sword in the back only because holding a sword in a car tended to distract other drivers.
“What’s this lead?” I asked, buckling my seat belt.
“You first,” Conor said.
I didn’t roll my eyes because I needed him to drive me, but it took serious effort. “I think I know whe
re to find the Order of Black.”
“Do you?” he scratched at his dark stubble. “I’ve got a line on them hanging out in a park. Is that your lead?”
“Gonna kick me out if it is?” I asked, trying to sound like I was joking but I honestly wasn’t sure. There was no way Conor Ramsey was playing nice just for the sake of it. This was quid pro quo. He leveled his gaze at me. “I think I know the park you’re speaking about. They’ve been organizing illegal brimstone deals there. This is an abandoned storage building. It’s on the market, but no takers. I’m guessing a witch slapped a ‘Go Away’ spell over it to keep it from selling.”
Conor’s eyes widened. Whatever he’d expected me to say, that hadn’t been it. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I suppose we can check that out.”
“I think you mean, ‘Great detective work, Dani, I can see you’re a highly skilled PI.’” I winked at him.
He ignored me and started the car. I plugged the address into my phone’s GPS. Conor glared at the phone every time the computerized voice prompted us to turn but followed her directions.
“Where did you get this lead?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve been a private eye for a long time. I have my sources.”
Conor clenched his jaw. After a few minutes on the freeway, he said, “You know, the Watchers could use more witches who are tenacious and hard-working. Ever consider joining?”
Here we go, the recruitment speech. I had considered it, given that it was a steady paycheck and not a bad one, either.
But the problem was, Watchers had to go through tests of their skills and magical abilities to get in, and then endure constant scrutiny from each other once they did. It was far more likely any slips I made would be detected when I was constantly hanging around Watchers and Magic Council folk.
Instead of offering some excuse as to why I didn’t want to do that, I asked, “Why did you join the Watchers?”
Conor glanced over at me. He didn’t answer. I watched the street lights pass over his face.
Demon Fire (Brimstone Magic Book 1) Page 5