Bad Omen: Morrighan House Witches Book Two

by Amir Lane

  “Y— Yes, I’m using my scarf.”

  Selima sniffled and hiccupped.

  “Perfect. I need you to apply as much pressure as possible. Can you do that for me?”

  “I ca-an’t. It’s hurting him.”

  “I know, but it’s going to hurt him a lot less in the long run. Just trust me on this one.”

  She could hear the wail of sirens growing louder and louder in the background. According to the map on her screen, they were only down the street. Yasir was going to be okay, she was sure of it. She had to be sure of it. There was no room here for doubt. If she let herself start to question that, then she wouldn’t be able to get through the rest of the day.

  “The paramedics won’t let me go with him,” Selima said, her voice high and anxious. “Why won’t they let me go with him?”

  “That’s normal, honey. Yasir’s probably lost a lot of blood. They’re going to need space to work on him.”

  “He’s going to be okay, yes?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Of course he is. He’s going to be fine.” Probably. “I’m going to come by the hospital when I get off. Okay?”

  “Yes, okay. I— I need to call Dieter. He doesn’t know.”

  “Okay, give me a call. I get off in a few hours. Just take a few breaths. I’ll see you soon.”

  Selima hung up, and Lindy took the opportunity to push her bangs back a few times. Her eyes caught the notepad by her right hand. Yasir’s name was scribbled across it in uppercase chicken scratch. Oh, sure. Now she noticed it.

  Lindy didn’t waste any time rushing to the hospital. The eye drops and gas could wait. Right now, Selima and Dieter needed her.

  She kept eying the cab’s speedometer, watching it edge over the speed limit at her frantic insistence. God knew how many calls she’d picked up from crashes, either from panicked bystanders or from even more panicked victims. That was so not the way she wanted to go. Not that she really had a preference. But she had bigger priorities here.

  The hospital that Yasir had been taken to was pretty out of Lindy’s way. And of course, the roads were backed up, bringing her to a complete stand-still. This road always was this time of day. She swore loudly and slammed her fist against the door. Taking the long way probably would have been quicker, but it was too late to turn around now. She bit her nail until her mouth was full of nail polish. She’d started painting her nails to break her of the habit, but all it did was get her used to spitting nail polish out. Which was probably not sanitary but right now was not the time for her to worry about it.

  “Come on, come on! Somebody move!”

  Lindy had never been the type to get road rage, especially if she wasn’t even driving. It wouldn’t do anything, though, and she was trained to work under pressure. She could handle this. All she had to do was breathe.

  But dammit, this was taking forever!

  There was nothing she could do, though. Whether she was here or there, there was nothing she could do besides sit and wait with Selima and Dieter. Sitting and supporting always made her feel useless. And this, fuck, this was Yasir, he was practically family. She liked Yasir. Despite being older than Dieter, both he and Selima were good to him. They offered stability and support and the kind of approval Dieter had always craved, always sought out with just about anyone who would look twice in his direction. They weren’t like that. They were two of the only lawyers Lindy didn’t mind, and not only because they didn’t treat her like an idiot for only being a lowly phone operator. They were good, honest people despite being lawyers.

  The minutes ticked by and Lindy grew more and more agitated by the second. Twenty minutes and she’d barely gotten halfway to the hospital. God, this was a nightmare. She should have taken the bus. Even that would have taken less time than this route.

  She finally got to the hospital, more than three-quarters of an hour later. The cabbie dropped her at the end of the road, and she ran into the hospital, silently thanking whatever had made her decide to wear flats today. A receptionist directed her to the waiting room without looking up from her computer screen. The chains on her boots were obnoxiously loud against the floor, but she didn’t care enough to slow her steps. Nobody seemed to mind, too caught up in their own business.

  Selima spotted her before Dieter did. She stood up, and Lindy saw that her clothes were still covered in blood. It almost made her hesitate, but she pulled Selima into a tight hug. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten someone else’s blood on her, but definitely under these circumstances. Selima stepped aside and Dieter took her place. Lindy gave him a tight squeeze and kissed his cheek.

  “How is he?” she asked, looking between them.

  Both of their faces were red and splotchy, and there was a tissue crumpled up in her hand. Lindy was far from blaming her. She felt her own eyes watering without her permission.

  “He’s still in surgery,” Dieter said softly. Lindy suspected that it was to keep his voice from wavering. “It’s been hours. Shouldn’t he be out by now?”

  “Some people spend a lot of time in surgery, especially if it’s something like the chest,” Lindy assured him.

  “Do you know if he’s going to be okay? You— You know, right? You always know this stuff, you have to know.”

  Dieter’s tear-stained face sent a sharp stab of rage through her gut. Nobody had any right to make her twin brother cry. God, she almost hoped this was A so she could break his fucking nose when she and Dick got their hands on him. She was going to wring his goddamn neck.

  “Yeah,” she said, “he’s going to be fine.”

  Okay, so she still hadn’t actually been able to see if he was going to make it or not. As a general rule, she never gave false hope, never said anything she couldn’t be sure about. It wasn’t for lack of trying in this case. She’d tried in the cab, but she kept getting stuck. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to have to be the one to tell her brother and pretty-much-sister that their partner was going to die. That was so not her job.

  “Do you have any idea who did this? Did you see anything?”

  Lindy knew that the first responders to the scene would have grilled Selima thoroughly, but she was going to get that question a lot more than just once or twice. Selima shook her head, her curls bouncing around.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see. Maybe a man, I think, I don’t know.”

  “It’s okay. Lindy’ll find them.”

  Lindy gave the most reassuring smile she could manage, but came out weak and tight and she knew it. Until evidence arose that A was involved, it wasn’t hers and Dick’s case. So far, nothing had come in. No calls, no nothing. But it had been a busy day at work, maybe he couldn’t get through. She didn’t know, she didn’t care. Whether it was her case or not, she was going to look into it.

  “I’ll do everything I can,” she promised.

  Selima sniffed and leaned in to kiss her cheek. While Lindy was usually picky about letting people into her space, about letting people touch her, she didn’t mind it from Selima.

  Lindy’s thoughts doubled back to A, to the calls she’d received at work today, and she couldn’t help noticing something.

  “Selima,” she said slowly, “you called me on my work line.”

  “Yes. You said you were working phones today.”

  “So you called me on purpose? It wasn’t just a coincidence?”

  Selima nodded and blew her nose. Dieter frowned.

  “What are you getting at?” he asked.

  “Nothing, I just need to know how you got my line specifically.”

  “A spell. I maybe should have asked first, but I had a spell in case— in case of something like this happening.”

  Her voice broke near the end, and she covered her mouth with one hand.

  Holy shit, this was huge. Lindy didn’t care that Selima had used it at all. It would have been hours before she would have gotten the message if they had called her cell phone, and the odds of Selima getting her wo
rk line the regular way was slim to none. If this was something that could be bought, it opened up a whole new set of angles.

  “Was it one of yours or did you get it from somewhere?”

  She tried to keep her voice calm and even, in her operator voice, but it wasn’t easy. Some of her excitement might have slipped through.

  “I got it from one of the vendors. You understand I can’t tell you who, but it’s a trustworthy witch.”

  This was the best news she’d received in pretty much ever. She stood on her toes and took Selima’s face in her hands before pulling her down into a kiss. When she pulled back, it was hard to tell who was more startled, Selima or Dieter. Lindy held her hands up.

  “I am so sorry. That was way out of bounds, and it won’t happen again. Especially not here. I just— You’re amazing. I hope you know that.”

  “Uh… Okay?”

  “Look, I have to go. You just gave me a huge break. I swear to God, I’ll be back. I just have to make a call.”

  Selima nodded, clearly unsure of what to say.

  Lindy gave Dieter another hug before she turned on her heels and sprinted down the hall, pulling her cell phone from her back pocket as she ran. There were a few missed messages from Cari and other witches, but nothing that couldn’t wait a little bit longer. This was way more important. She scrolled through her contacts until she found Dick’s name. The phone rang twice before a woman’s voice greeted her. That sister he’d mentioned, maybe.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is Dick there?”

  There was a brief pause.

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Lindy Lindemann, I’m a 9-1-1 operator helping him on a case. I really need to talk to him.”

  “He’s sleeping. Can I take a message?”

  Lindy tapped her index against her teeth and glanced back over her shoulder.

  “Yeah. Tell him I got something big.”

  17

  “Okay,” Dick said, “walk me through how this works one more time? I’m completely lost.”

  Yasir was going to be okay. The shooter, who could have been pretty much anyone, had clearly been in a hurry. Nothing major had been hit, nothing the team of surgeons working on him and a few litres of blood couldn’t fix. Lindy had stopped by more than one blood donor clinic over the past few days. Even though none of it would be going to Yasir — they weren’t the same blood type — it was something she could do. It made her feel less useless.

  She leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs.

  “Okay, it’s like this: Magic comes in a bunch of forms. A lot of it is really abstract and intangible.”

  “Like modern art.”

  “Like modern art, exactly. Sure. Some of it is more… practical. You can actually do something with it. It has more of a physical aspect to it. Things like curses and hexes.”

  Now was not the time to get into the magic that fell in between the spectrum. Fortunately, that mostly dealt with things like crystals, which had nothing to do with what they were working on. She didn’t have to bring it up now.

  “Great, so those are real too,” Dick said dryly.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying. Sometimes, you can buy hexes and curses. There’s not a whole lot of people in the area who sell them. One is in Kitchener-Waterloo, one’s in Guelph, and there are a few in Toronto.”

  “So what does any of this have to do with the case?”

  Lindy pushed her sunglasses back up to the bridge of her nose. They were slightly too big, and it was driving her crazy, but the flickering of the fluorescent lights of the precinct was worse.

  “When Yasir Alzubaidi got shot, Selima—” Lindy began.

  “His girlfriend and partner,” Dick interrupted.

  “Exactly. Selima called me on my work line using a spell she’d bought. She couldn’t tell me who she got it off, but it’s a huge break.”

  Dick nodded, the ever-present squint deepening.

  “So, did A kill Alz—”

  “Hey, no. He isn’t dead. He’s fine. Critical condition for a while, but he’s going to make a full recovery.”

  He held his hands up defensively and leaned back in his chair away from her.

  “All right, sorry. Did A shoot Alzubaidi? Or is the ballistics report not in yet?”

  “I’m not sure who yet, but it’s not A.”

  “Wait, if the report isn’t in—”

  “Dude, we’ve been over this. I’m a Seer. I see shit.”

  Okay, shit that didn’t involve Sensitives, Necromancers, or A. But none of those were her fault.

  Dick rubbed a hand over his face with a muffled but audibly frustrated groan.

  “If we find out that this guy bought a spell, then does that make him a witch? Or can, uh… Normals use them?”

  “Under certain circumstances. A’ll probably need to buy more than one spell to make it work. But that’d be expensive as hell. Spells aren’t cheap, especially for Normals.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine. So we start with the one in K-W. It’s closest. Any idea where we can find them?”

  “The guy in K-W is also a tech witch. Owns a computer shop. I’ll see if I can find the name.”

  It looked like he was going to say something, but he paused and leaned forward, squinting at her.

  “Hey, are your eyes okay? I wasn’t going to say anything, but that doesn’t look right.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line and lowered her glasses. The last thing she needed or wanted was Dick Hobard pointing it out and involuntarily reminding her that she couldn’t read or drive. Even her weekly kickboxing classes were feeling like less of a stress release and more of an exercise in using her Second Sight. Which, by the way, was not as much fun as it sounded.

  “I didn’t. It’s a condition called mind-your-own-business.”

  “No, seriously. That doesn’t look normal. Do you need to go to a doctor?”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s temporary.”

  It was not temporary. Lindy knew that, but Dick didn’t need to. It wasn’t any of his business.

  “If you say so. Can you see properly?” Dick asked.

  “Look, I’m visually impaired on a good day. Can we move this along?”

  “Jeez, forgive me for expressing concern for my temporary partner.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  Dick gave her something between a grimace and a sneer. She returned her most polite and innocent smile, the one that would satisfy even her father. It seemed to satisfy Dick, who rolled his eyes and stood up, stretching.

  “Great. Let’s get going, then. Sooner we find this guy, the better for everyone.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  Traffic was low, and the drive to Kitchener–Waterloo was only just over half an hour long. It was quiet, save for the occasional chatter over the police radio. Lindy knew some of the voices, both officers and dispatchers. Neither she nor Dick said anything to each other.

  Harper Computer Repairs was a small, tucked away shop at a forgotten edge of downtown. It was the kind of place that somebody would only venture into if they knew where they were going. Lucky for them, Lindy did know.

  "You should probably let me do most of the talking," Lindy said.

  Dick snorted.

  "Right,” he said. "Like hell I will."

  "Listen, Hex Witch is going to know that you're not a witch. There's no way he's going to say anything to you. But even if you're there, as long as you keep quiet, he still might talk to me."

  Dick grunted, but he didn't argue.

  “If this is a guy, shouldn’t it be Hex Warlock or Hex Sorcerer or Hex… Wizard?”

  “Actually, no. Witch is a gender-neutral term. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling you something. Plus, Hex Witch is a title. Most of us pick names based on our magic, but some are titles. Plus, warlock is an old Druid term, if I’m not mistaken, for ‘colossal jackass.’ You’d better pretty damn impressive to call yourself a sorcerer, and do you re
ally want to be the moron calling yourself a wizard?”

  Dick tipped his head in agreement and cut the engine.

  “Fair enough. Let’s go talk to Hex Witch, then.”

  The shop was empty aside from the man behind the counter, sitting on a stool and working on a laptop. Auburn hair tied up into a loose bun contrasted with copper skin. There was a joke somewhere about red hair and witches. He glanced up, uninterested, and went back to his work, only holding up a finger when Dick cleared his throat. The Windows start-up sound chimed, and he clapped his hands together with a grin. He looked up again, still grinning, and leaned his elbows on the counter.

  "Arright, what's up?"

  "Are you the Hex Witch?" she asked.

  He glanced over at Dick.

  "Who are you?" he drawled, resting his cheek on his palm.

  Lindy didn't give Dick a chance to answer.

  "I'm Bad Omen."

  Hex Witch straightened up, bored pretense fading immediately.

  "No shit? Christ, you’re a legend. I guess if buddy’s here with you. What you need?"

  "Information, actually,” she said.

  She hoped her embarrassment didn’t show. She knew she was one of the stronger Seers in Lorelle, but she didn’t know that her reputation had extended out of the city.

  His eyes flickered back to Dick.

  "Uh-huh."

  "You sold a spell that'll let someone call me to one of the Wali out of Lorelle."

  Awliya was plural, Wali was singular. Arabic was a hell of a language.

  Hex Witch nodded.

  "I don't sell much of those. If someone doesn't want anyone finding or calling them, I ain’t gonna’ make it easy." He popped a piece of gum into his mouth. "Too many dickbags out there for it."

  "So why the exception?" Dick asked.

  "I owed her a favour. She's good people. I trust Awliya. Don’t know a whole lot of them, but they surprisingly give a shit. You," he pointed at Dick, "I don't know."

  "Did you sell my number to anyone else?" Lindy asked.