The protection amulet bounced against his chest, humming and stinging his skin. Ignoring the minor inconvenience for a just a little longer, Jordan noticed large evergreens coming into view. The last time he had seen the teleportation spot was when they brought him to Tartarus. This was significantly better.
Almost there. His smile grew wider, his gait quickened, and freedom felt so much closer.
Annie grasped his wrist, her expression a reminder that he still wasn’t safe. Heeding her silent warning, Jordan slowed his stride, the giants gathering closer to them. Before they entered the clearing, Annie pulled him off to the side, behind the large evergreens, out of the view of the path but not yet in the teleportation area.
Cham entered alone and scanned the tall grasses. Thin strands of beige and brown blades waved gently in the small breezes that blew from the lake surrounding the island; the sound of whistling entered the clearing. Cham held up his hand, a signal for them to remain hidden. His eyes traveled from the grasses to the purple and white flowers that surrounded a clump of trees to the east. The branches waved and crinkled in the hot sun and wind. Bees and flies buzzed nearby.
From her hiding spot, Annie’s eyes darted across the open space, looking for movement that didn’t belong here. Whether it was overly cautious mattered not at all; it gave Jordan opportunity to doubt his decision to leave.
“What are we waiting for?” Jordan whispered.
“Shhh.” Her arm protectively covered his shoulders as she kept him covered by the large evergreen branches. They scratched his face and tickled the inside of his ears.
Sure it was safe, Cham motioned for them to enter, she guided Jordan into the teleportation area. Tightening her grip on Jordan she asked, “Ready?”
He nodded, but suddenly his head jerked backward as a loud bang reverberated in the deserted space.
*
“Jordan? Jordan!” Blood spattered on Annie’s face and hair. The shot still echoed on the wind. Jordan lay crumpled in her arms.
“Oh, shit. Annie!” Cham raced over as she fell with Jordan’s lifeless body, landing on her knees. Cham felt for a pulse, lowered his head, and closed Jordan’s eyes. “He’s dead.”
Cham scanned the landscape for the shooter, through the grasses and the trees. The island appeared to be empty except for the bird that circled above them. Undeterred by the death of their charge, the giants stomped into the weedy tall grass combing the open field.
Annie lay Jordan in the grass and sat beside him. Blood covered her hands and blouse, and she felt it on her face and in her hair. Her hands shook. “Whoever did this couldn’t shoot him from down here.”
“We didn’t prepare for this. Magic. Not guns. How did we not think of this?”
Annie found it difficult to form the words. They came from her mouth childlike and afraid. “Cham, what did we miss? No one knew.”
“I don’t know.” Cham phoned Gibbs’s and soon the air popped with wizard guards as they displaced the air, materializing in the clearing.
“What the hell happened?” Milo shouted, jogging toward Jordan’s lifeless body. He knelt down beside Annie and touched her shoulder for comfort.
“Just as we were about to leave, a shot rang out. It was clean and quick,” Annie said.
I screwed up.
She shuddered and sighed while replaying the last minutes of Jordan’s life for Milo: where they stood, what she heard.
Leaving her in peace after a few minutes, Milo stood and examined the teleportation area. The grasses and trees looked no different than they usually did.
“The shooter was most likely at the trees. What did you see?” he asked Cham.
“I didn’t see any one standing here,” Cham insisted.
He heard something, Annie thought as they waited for Milo to give the all clear. She looked to the trees twenty yards away and pulled herself up. Still shaky, Annie headed to the three trees, a haphazard row that had grown quite by accident and, in the past, had been used as protection from prying eyes. Her stomach churned.
“Here.” She pointed.
Gibbs, Spencer, Milo, and Cham joined Annie at the trees and followed her pointed finger to the branches.
Behind the trunk of the middle tree, a set of footprints remained; the impressions, a men’s hard-soled shoe.
“Teleported and climbed,” Gibbs assessed.
Physical labor would help numb her pain and guilt, so Annie grabbed the branch above her and pulled herself up, sitting on the lowest branch.
“We can see you there,” Milo said. Her feet dangled below the leaves, leaving her exposed.
“I bet the bullet entered at a steeper angle,” Spencer remarked and headed toward Jordan’s location.
She swung herself up to the next branch, sliding her legs around the thick wood. The view to Jordan was excellent.
Can they see me?
“I can see your feet hanging. I’m too close. Spencer, Cham, what do you see?” Milo asked.
“I’ve looked several times and still see nothing. Maybe I saw movement—or thought I did. But nothing. I can’t see her,” Cham said.
“Nothing,” Spencer concurred.
A bird squawked and a bee buzzed, reminding them that the island teemed with wild life. Sometimes they forgot, since this was the place where life oftentimes ended. Even if it was just a demon or vampire.
Annie held her hand at arm’s length, pointed her finger in the shape of a gun, and aimed it at Cham, who stood where Jordan died. The angle was good. Annie could already tell that an autopsy, if performed, would confirm it.
“I think it was here,” she said.
Old, knotted branches surrounded her. The one just above her head had split from the trunk, its splinters dry and brittle at her touch. Pieces crumbled at her touch.
This just happened.
Beneath her seat, chunks of bark were missing, and below her the missing branch lay on the ground at the base of the tree. Annie summoned her crystal and held it over the location, expecting to find magic. The crystal lit up with a small trace, new and strong.
“Did anyone find more footsteps leading away from the tree?” she called out to Gibbs, who was just returning from combing the open field.
“Just these two,” Gibbs replied. He took out his cell phone and shot several pictures.
“There’s magic up here. Not much, but enough. I think he sent a magical to kill Jordan with nonmagical means.” Annie tossed the crystal to Milo. “I need to call Jack.”
“That’s pretty ballsy,” Gibbs grunted.
Annie dropped down from the branches and headed away from the others. For now, she wanted to be alone. Jack wasn’t the call she’d expected to make, and in anticipation a headache formed at the back of her neck, rising slowly to her temples.
The phone rang, a slow-motion cacophonie her brain couldn’t comprehend, as if it wanted to shut down and take a break. The buzz sounded disjointed in her ears. She held her breath. Finally, he answered.
“Jack… ” He listened without interruption on the other end of the phone as Annie explained how Jordan Wellington was murdered, her timid voice barely audible in the silent clearing.
“How in the hell did this happen, Annie?” Jack asked.
Annie watched as Spencer and Gibbs prepared Jordan’s body for transport to the morgue by unfurling a body bag beside the victim. Cham and Milo took notes and pictures. Her head pounded as she continued farther into the grasses, close enough to the water that she could see seagulls flying and diving to catch their food.
“Don’t yell at me!” She rubbed her temples and watched the seagulls fight for a tasty fish. “We protected him from magic, not bullets. No one knew we were transferring him today. I don’t know how it happened!”
Annie felt the need to throttle someone. The silence was heavy, even over the phone. Jack closed a drawer or a door with a loud slam.
“Someone knew and told. There’s a mole in your department,” Jack said. Annie clenched her fists, he
r knuckles white and tight. She took a deep breath. The thought had already crossed her mind.
“Jack, enough. We’ll handle this.” She closed her eyes. She heard scattered footsteps and an angry discussion breaking out amongst the group; their voices floated in the wind. Annie walked closer to the edge of the lake.
“You’ve done a great job so far.” His voice was acrid.
I should hang up and teleport away. Instead, she sat down, found a rock, and chucked it into the water. The waves spread themselves out and lapped against the edge.
“Bite me, Jack.” Her anger matched his. It was, after all, her fault that Jordan lay in the plastic body bag.
“Annie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It just… this looks really bad.”
“I know that. I’m not stupid!”
A mosquito landed on the back of her hand. Annie watched it and felt the prick of its mouth as it bit into her skin. As it engorged on blood, Annie squashed it. She felt no better.
“We need you to get ready to receive him,” she said.
“Sometimes I wish I knew nothing about magic.” He sighed.
“I’m sorry we’re such a burden to you.” Annie felt a loss of control she’d never experienced before and found herself taking it out on Jack. It wasn’t his fault—although he called her and dragged her into this—but this was a magical mess. She sighed.
Jack remained quiet for a long time as if lost in his thoughts. The silence made Annie uncomfortable. “Are you still there?”
“I need to get to the morgue. Give me an hour, okay?”
“Whatever. We’ll bring him in then.” Annie longed to slam the phone in his ear, if only for the satisfaction of expressing her anger in some way. Instead, she simply touched the off button.
“What did he say?” Cham asked when she returned to the group.
“We bring him in an hour.”
Chapter 20
Loud music reverberated against the walls as the crowd of twenty something magicals danced at the center of what should have been a front living room. But the owner, adventurer Douglass Rand, wanting to keep in touch with the youngsters of the wizard community, had turned his home into the Witches Brew bar, where young wizards spent evenings out in relative security.
Tonight patrons filled every sofa, chair and table. Drinks and stories flowed from Douglass Rand as he regaled them with his latest trek through the lost library of Alexandria and his encounter with the sphinx that guarded the entrance. Under normal circumstances, Annie would trade stories or ask questions, but tonight the melancholy Wizard Guard reluctantly joined her friends only after Cham persuaded her to come. She sat at a corner table, far from the lively ground; her hands caressed the plastic cup filled with wizard beer. The brew tasted bitter.
“Hey, sweetie. You okay?”
Janie Parker, her best friend since they were three years old, gave Annie a familiar warm hug and offered her a smile. The girls had formed their friendship long before Janie knew she was a witch, only finding out after a magical mishap at the age of five. Jason Pearce had explained the incident after cleaning up the magical mess. Though Annie currently felt like crap, she was glad to see her friend and offered her as much of a smile as possible. It lay across her face like a limp noodle.
“Not so much. I’m sorry I’m not much fun tonight. I probably should’ve stayed home.”
Janie’s lovely mocha hand reached for Annie’s and held it tight. Annie squeezed back as if Janie were her life support holding her up and steady.
“I’m glad you didn’t. I know you lost Jordan, but you deserve some time away from the case and that FBI guy.”
The tense phone conversation with Jack still held Annie hostage; she hadn’t been able to release her feelings, and it weighed on her, filling her with dread and guilt from the huge failure.
Douglass Rand caught Annie’s eye. He offered her a large grin on his sunbaked face and a hearty wave. Annie held her hand up in return. He nodded once and went back to the drinks, pouring something exotic into a glass shaped like a skull.
“Jack’s not bad,” Annie offered to Janie. “This isn’t his fault. It’s ours.”
“So what? The FBI agent shouldn’t treat you this way. You were doing him a favor. He’s an ass.”
Her mind wandered as she took another sip.
We didn’t protect Jordan. Someone knew about his release and killed him with bullets. Someone on the inside.
Her mind raced through the entire department, but whether from naiveté or because she knew everyone so well, Annie couldn’t believe one of her fellow guards was a mole.
But the athame is missing. It was most likely removed by someone close to Wizard Hall. Not a coincidence.
Her hands shook thinking of the plan to overthrow the government, to take out Ryan—so planned, so purposeful. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cham come closer.
“Annie?” Janie asked.
“Huh? Sorry.” She took another sip of beer to give her hands something to do and to not have to speak. The boys, Cham and Randy—Janie’s boyfriend—sat beside them. Randy wrapped his arms around Janie and kissed her neck.
“Hey, Annie,” he said. “Long time no see. How ya doing, kid?”
“Long week.”
Randy offered her a hug and a quick squeeze on the shoulder before convincing Janie to dance. Holding their arms around each other, they walked to the crowded dance floor, whispering romantic secrets to each other. Annie couldn’t help but gaze at them. While happy for Janie for finding a love, a twinge of jealousy hit her; there was no one to share her pain.
“Hey,” Cham said, pulling on her arm. “Come with me.”
She shook her head. “Not in the mood.”
But her partner and best friend also had a certain power over her, so she grudgingly followed him to the dance floor. The unfamiliar song was soft and slow, sexy and smoky, and Annie fell into his arms. Cham wrapped her close, and they swayed to the music, unaware of those around them.
“It never should have happened,” he said.
She laid her head against his chest. His arms protected her, shielding her from the outside, and for the time being Annie felt safe and at peace.
“I let him down.”
“No, you didn’t. There’s something else going on.”
She nodded. “There’s someone close to this who we can’t trust, and I’d bet they had something to do with the athame. It’s not a coincidence.”
“No, it’s not.”
Her head fit at the middle of his chest, and she kept it there as another song played. Her hips swayed gently against him as she breathed in the scent of Cham’s deodorant, spicy and masculine, warm and familiar.
Her mind wandered from Cham to Jordan, replaying his last moments on earth, the moment his lifeless body fell into her arms. Rathbone’s sneer replaced Jordan’s lifeless eyes, turning her sadness to anger, which burned to rage. Her reason for giving up the lead was because of Rathbone, and though she hadn’t shared her plans, one began to formulate. Annie aimed to take him down.
When the song ended, she and Cham didn’t part, still swaying to the silence.
“It ended,” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
The DJ started another record. A dance mix played over the speakers, and bodies flooded the floor, squishing them closer together. With no room left, Annie pirouetted once, releasing her hand from his before walking back to their table. He followed, stopping behind her.
“Sorry, I thought this would help.”
“It was a nice idea, but the guilt is killing me. I think I want to go home.”
“I’ll teleport you. And don’t say no.”
“Can we walk instead? I need to clear my head.”
*
Heels clacked against the sidewalk behind Annie and Cham as they neared Annie’s house. Annie turned and saw the familiar face of Rebekah Stoner, that television reporter from Channel Five News. The journalist had inquired about the dead bodies at the bar t
wo weeks ago. Annie’s already sour stomach flittered.
“Anne Pearce, I’m Rebekah Stoner.” The girl held her hand out for Annie to take.
Alarmed the journalist knew her name, albeit her given name and not the name used by close friends and family, Annie shook the hand with some caution.
“I’d like to ask you some questions.”
Annie exchanged glances with Cham. “What could Channel Five News possibly want from me?”
“I want to know about your involvement with Princess Amelie and Jordan Wellington’s murders.”
How did she know about Jordan so soon?
Avoiding eye contact with Cham, Annie examined the journalist as if the woman was a clue to solve a crime. Older than Annie but not by much, Rebekah’s shiny blonde hair was well coiffed and pulled back in a barrette. Her business suit cut close to her petite frame, and her kitten heels were sexy and smart.
How does she do that every time?
Annie judged that the put-together journalist had money and connections based on her clothing, hair, and nails. Her nature must be curious—she holds on when there’s a lead to follow and doesn’t let go. The woman must know or suspect something, but what?
“Listen Rebekah,” she said finally. “I’m not in charge of the cases. I’m a consultant. Jordan’s death hasn’t even been released to the public yet. His parents don’t even know. How did you find out?” Annie wondered if the journalist had illegally obtained the information. But how? An IT tech somewhere?
“Police scanner. Can you tell me what these cases have in common that a CPD consultant would be called in?” Rebekah Stoner remained cool and unwavering. Her voice never faltered, her hands remained sturdy, and she kept her head up and shoulders back. The journalist wasn’t giving anything up.
“I can’t release any information on the cases. You know that. Harassing me at my home won’t change that. I don’t know what you think you’re aiming for, but there’s nothing here. It’s late, and I’m tired.”
The Day of First Sun (Annie Loves Cham Book 1) Page 21