“What is that?” Grizela demanded in a piercing voice more befitting a hag.
I looked at the orb in my hand. “It’s called an emo ball. It was a gift from my mother.”
The purest expression of love, an emo ball was foreign to vile creatures like the hag sisters—and painful. It hadn’t even emitted a force. The wreckage was the result of the sisters trying to flee its intense benevolence. Still, I should never have used it in anger. It felt like a desecration of my mother’s memory.
“Well, get it away from us!” Minna cried, shaking stained-glass shards from her hair.
Elspeth snarled in agreement as she crawled from under a toppled china cabinet.
I started to pocket the ball before realizing it offered a negotiating advantage. “I’ll mute it completely in exchange for the info I came for.”
The sisters scowled and attempted a few warding spells, but my protection broke the foul energies apart. Before long, the sisters were stooped and panting. Grizela, the oldest, waved a bone-thin arm.
“Fine,” she spat.
I waited for her sisters to consent before drawing the power all the way down. “I’m looking for someone,” I said, placing the ball carefully back into a coat pocket. “The person who purchased red tanzanite from here recently.”
“Well, that’s easy,” Grizela said.
“His name was…” Elspeth took up.
“…no one,” Minna finished.
Still fatigued, the hags could only celebrate my disappointment with rotten-toothed grins. I studied the eyes buried deep inside their shriveled sockets for any signs of deception.
“Are you sure? Who else sells red tanzanite?”
“We’re the lone dealer in the Northeast,” Minna, the youngest, boasted before Grizela could shush her.
I considered that information. Given the gem’s storage requirements, it seemed unlikely Sven would have gotten it from hundreds of miles away. But if he could translocate locally, even into protected spaces, there was another explanation.
“Is any missing?” I asked.
Minna started to answer, but Grizela quieted her this time. “That wasn’t the barter,” she said. “If you want more, it’s going to require more from you.”
“How about I won’t leave your business a one-star review?” I snapped.
“You’ll leave us a five-star review,” Grizela said, “and the praise will be lavish.”
“Four stars,” I countered. “And the praise will be modest.”
The sisters fussed and scowled before nodding that the terms were acceptable.
“I just finished checking our precious stores when you arrived,” Grizela said. “And everything was all there. You lose again.”
“You haven’t distributed to any other sellers recently?” I asked, needing to cover all bases.
“No.” Grizela said. “And that one was free, but oh so worth it for the look on your stupid face.”
Sensing they’d clawed back the upper hand, the sisters broke into a gleeful bout of giggling that shook their ragged robes. I sighed. If there was a silver lining, it was that I’d gotten the info I’d come for with very little skin off my back. Though I wasn’t relishing having to write them a review.
“Well, thanks,” I said, turning.
“We also offer readings,” Grizela called.
I was prepared to ignore her, but I paused. Swamp hags possessed powers of seeing, made more potent by their sisterhood. Though they most often used that information to torment, it could also be useful. Especially in a case like mine, where I had no leads on a conjurer who could enter my home at will.
“Oh, yeah?” I said casually. “What kind of reading?”
Shadows gathered over Grizela’s face, and her voice turned ominous. “A reading to tell you what you face…”
“…what you fear…” Elspeth took up.
“…what is coming…” Minna said.
“…and how to protect the ones you love,” Grizela finished.
They might have been weaker than I’d remembered, but that was a hell of a sales pitch. Worse, they could sense my interest.
“Your price?” I asked.
“A year of your youth,” Grizela said.
“Oh, that’s all? What a bargain,” I said dryly.
Though every instinct of self-preservation in me recoiled, I wanted to test how low they were willing to go. The sisters held firm to one year. I then checked for loopholes. Though not as cunning as pure fae, hags were still plenty cunning.
“Not a year for each of you,” I said. “One year total, correct?”
“Of course,” Grizela replied, but I could sense her disappointment.
“And you mean the vitality of one year, not all of the memories and acquired experiences that go with it.”
“Yes,” Grizela agreed irritably, “the vitality of a single year.”
How much was my family’s safety worth? I consulted my magic. It shifted around aimlessly for several moments before seeming to issue a subtle nod. But was I just reading into it what I wanted?
“All right,” I agreed.
Grizela broke into a crooked smile as the bargain took hold. “This way, then.”
She and her sisters shuffled toward the door they’d entered through. They waved their hands en route, sending out smoky green tendrils that circled the shop. Bree-yark barked in surprise as the mess began to straighten up, everything returning to its place and in apparently collectible condition once more.
“Want me to come too?” he whispered. “I brought my iron blade.”
“I’ll be fine.” I fished into a pocket for some change and nodded at the vintage vending machine. “Why don’t you get that Diet Coke for Doug?”
“You sure about this reading, Everson?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I need info, and the sooner, the better.”
His eyes remained on mine, the skin around them lined with worry. The flash of anger I’d felt toward him earlier was now a stone of guilt. I squeezed his shoulder. “I really appreciate your concern, Bree-yark, but I can handle this.”
“All right, buddy. Just remember who you’re dealing with.”
I followed his distrustful gaze back toward the hags. Grizela, who was holding the door open, beckoned me with a wicked finger.
“How can I not?”
A short time later, I was perched on a wobbly stool, a foul-smelling sack over my head. Grizela claimed that the spell recipe was a family secret, hence the need for the sack. But above the sound of fire crackling in the hags’ crowded back kitchen, they were arguing openly over the spell’s ingredients.
“No, no, no, it’s cry of newt,” Grizela insisted. “Not eye of newt.”
And then a few minutes later, “You idiot—you mixed them up! Toe of frog and tongue of dog!”
Splashes sounded, as if something were being ladled out of the large iron pot and replaced. A rancid smell filled the kitchen.
“Yes, yes,” Grizela purred. “Now to color it with a bit of baboon’s blood.”
If my wife could see me now, I thought dryly. Blindfolded before a hags’ cauldron.
Other than the sack, I was unbound, cane in hand and pockets heavy with spell items. Even so, I hoped this wasn’t a mistake. If the sisters could tell me who I was up against and how to protect my family, the year of youth would be well spent in my mind. Just couldn’t make these kinds of bargains on a regular basis.
A greedy hand yanked my hair.
“Hey!” I shouted as the rip of a dull blade released it.
The sisters giggled. “Relax, Everson. We just need a wee bit for the spell.”
“That felt like a lot more than a ‘wee bit,’” I said, patting the small crater atop my head.
“There we are,” Grizela purred. I pictured my hair being scattered into the brew. “Just needs to simmer for another minute now.”
The humidity in the kitchen thickened along with the rancid smell, and I started to feel woozy. The sisters took up
a cackling chant, which didn’t help. I pictured the three huddled around the steaming cauldron. As it became harder to breathe, I began to feel steam-like myself, hovering above their brew.
“Speak!” Grizela shrieked.
The sisters’ chant fell lower and then combined into a single voice that sounded like none of theirs. An ancestral spirit known as a Doideag was talking through them. And she didn’t seem pleased with the summoning.
“Wretched hags,” she muttered. “Curse of my blood. Why have you called me?”
“The young man desires a reading,” Grizela said. “What he faces…”
“…what he fears…” Elspeth took up.
“…and what is coming,” Minna finished.
They’d left out the most important part, how to protect my loved ones. But when I tried to point that out, I couldn’t speak.
“What price?” the Doideag spat.
This time, the sisters fell silent.
“Oh, I see. You get his life blood while offering me poison hemlock and filthy wool of bat. Well done, wenches.” A flush of pride seemed to enter her scornful voice. “Let’s get this done, then. Villages need plaguing.”
My steam-like form shifted, as if someone were stirring it with a long fingernail.
When the Doideag spoke again, it was in halting verse:
The cauldron speaks with foreign tongue
Of ancient wars and songs unsung.
Can a children’s love restore lost time?
Can the fleet of foot avert the crime?
Beware the shadow of many faces,
But fear the master of many places.
If ye should fail and war should come,
If seas should boil and lands should run,
Allies gather, eleven and one,
And be not afraid of thine own blood.
There was a finality in the last verse, but she’d yet to address the question that was most important to me.
“How do I protect the ones I love?” I managed.
The Doideag snarled, but then as if compelled by the bargain, she wailed:
Wage, young mage, till your final breath,
And come night’s fall, accept your death.
17
The Doideag’s voice broke apart into cackling nonsense, and the stool hardened beneath me. The steam in the room thinned, replaced by thick smoke. Coughing, I tugged the sack from my head. The fire had gone out under the cauldron, and the sisters remained huddled in the gushing smoke, their arms linked, humped backs swaying back and forth. I scribbled down the Doideag’s words in my notepad before they could escape me.
After another moment, the sisters hacked and came to. They shook their bony arms free from one another.
“What happened?” Minna asked.
Elspeth looked from the cauldron to me and back. “Is it done?”
They had been so entranced, they didn’t remember the Doideag speaking through them, much less the reading.
“I trust we fulfilled our end?” Grizela said.
“You did.” I waved at the smoke with my notepad before replacing it in my coat pocket. “Now, how do we get my year of youth … into you three?” I was picturing a very unpleasant ritual, but the sisters laughed.
“It’s already done, stupid,” Elspeth said.
“Yeah, stupid,” Minna cackled, returning with three stone bowls.
“Your hair did a little extra work in here,” Grizela said, plunging a ladle into the cauldron.
She filled the bowls, and the three sisters drank greedily, the brew’s lumpy brownness running down the sides of their faces. The sight was almost as horrible as the smell. It was time to go. As I stood, I noticed my legs were less robust than when I’d entered the kitchen: my spent year of youth.
“I’ll, ah, show myself out,” I said.
As if competing to claim more than their four-month share, the sisters ignored me and continued to guzzle noisily. Leaving the kitchen, I backtracked along the crooked corridor toward the main room.
“Don’t forget to leave a review!” Grizela called.
“How’d it go?” Bree-yark asked as I returned to the lot.
“About as well as can be expected, I think. Scored some info, but it was in hag speak. Just a matter of making sense of it.”
He’d been standing behind the open trunk door with his AK-47. Seeing I wasn’t in danger, he returned the weapon to its safe. “Hag speak,” he echoed, shaking his head. “Back to the city?”
“Yeah, we’re done here.”
As he pulled from the lot, I turned on my phone and found a message from Trevor of the Sup Squad.
“Hey, Everson. Just wanted to give an update on the search. Campus security backtracked Sven across a few cameras, but he disappeared in the cafeteria. We’ve been canvassing the college, but no actionable info yet. Did manage to lift a couple prints from his desk and we’re running them through the databases. We’ll also do a facial recognition search on his photo, see what turns up. The news stations will start broadcasting it this afternoon. That’s everything from here. I’ll keep you posted.”
I looked over my notes on the reading, trying to decipher what part of it pertained to Sven. But my gaze kept bouncing to the end. I sat back and massaged my closed eyes.
“Hey, uh, the hags said some things in there,” Bree-yark ventured.
“Oh, you mean about my failed relationships?” I gave a dismal laugh. “All true, sadly.”
“I mean the part about your wife and daughter. You know, about being worried you couldn’t protect them? Afraid you might hurt them? You’re always letting me get stuff off my chest. Can I return the favor?”
“I think they’re concerns any expecting father has.”
“And what was that thing about living up to your parents’ example?”
Once again, the horrors of my parents’ final moments jagged through me. My mother succumbing to the Death Mage’s fire. My father plunging into the abyss. Both acts had been sacrifices meant in part to protect me.
Wage, young mage, till your final breath,
And come night’s fall, accept your death.
“Hag speak,” I repeated.
“Everson, you gave me a look back there…”
“Yeah,” I sighed, revisiting the blistering flash when he’d seized my arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me, but you’re probably right. The hags dragged out some pretty raw stuff.”
“Well, if you ever want to talk, the offer stands.”
“I know, man.” I clapped his thick upper arm. “And I appreciate it.”
“What’s the wifey gonna say about your bargain back there?”
“Only one way to find out.” I opened my phone and called her.
“Hey,” she answered. “How’s the hunt going?”
“Not great, I’m afraid.” I took a few minutes telling her about our visit to Mr. Han’s and then the hag sisters’. “And don’t get mad, but I kind of, sort of bargained away a year of my youth in exchange for a reading.”
“A year of your what?”
I winced. “It wasn’t a bad deal, actually, and I think I got some good stuff.”
“We’ll talk more about that later,” she said sternly. “I was just about to call you. There’s some case info Hoffman wanted me to share. First, the lawyer has moved to the top of the suspect list. Vince Cole.”
“No kidding?”
“The electronic warrant turned up a history of exchanges with Goldburn’s wife—arrangements to meet, that sort of thing. Possibly an affair. Given that the victim was last seen alive with Cole, it’s pretty damning.”
“Is he talking?”
“He admits to meeting with Mrs. Goldburn, but he says they weren’t romantic. He was friends with her before the separation, and he claims they were discussing Bear’s welfare. He wouldn’t get more specific. He also says he picked up Bear that night. They went to the Brooklyn bar you saw in your spell.”
I’d been wrong about the body shop, but
one for two as far as locations wasn’t terrible. And it lined up with my theory that the disabling drink Bear had taken down also contained a hallucinogenic component. That was the dividing line between what Bear actually experienced and what he thought he experienced.
“But Goldburn wasn’t sacked as CEO,” she said.
“What? Are you sure? Maybe Ramsa Inc. just didn’t want that info getting out.”
“Cole knew nothing about it, and the board members deny it to the last. There wasn’t even a meeting that afternoon.”
I revisited Bear’s memories. He’d been drunk while replaying the emergency meeting, but I could see it clearly. The accusations and his shouted counteraccusations; the stoic faces of the board members; his fury and betrayal and pain. As far as he knew, he had been sacked. What in the hell was going on?
“Anyway, Cole claims to have dropped him back at the apartment at one a.m. He said Goldburn had a key to a personnel entrance off the alleyway. He’d use it when he’d come home blitzed and didn’t want to be observed, given his high profile and everything.”
I refocused. “And the entrance checked out?”
“It leads to a service elevator. Goldburn could have made the entire trip back to his penthouse without being seen. Earlier footage shows a similar pattern—him leaving at night and not reappearing on the security cams until he left again the next day. Cole denies accompanying him up to the penthouse, says he went straight home. Cell tower data will establish that one way or the other.”
There seemed to go my translocation theory, which didn’t make me feel better or worse. Just more confused. Had Vince Cole or a lookalike done the deed in his apartment?
“Is he in custody?” I asked.
“No, nothing connects him to the actual murder. Hoffman made an appointment for you to check out the stomach contents.”
“What time?”
“Can you be at the medical examiner’s in thirty? Hoffman’s freaking out. He needs something to stick on Cole.”
“Sure, just one more thing.” Confessing my bargain with the hag sisters wasn’t the only reason I’d called. My thoughts turned now to what Gretchen had told me about the breach in my lab, or lack thereof. “I was thinking it might be safest if you and Tony stay at your brother’s, at least for tonight.”
Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9) Page 10