Into the Twilight: a Between the Worlds Novel

by Morgan Daimler

  She tried to keep her face politely blank, but her hackles were up. Although she understood his explanation this felt a lot more like an interrogation now than just the quick talk Riordan had agreed to on the phone. She moved into the room cautiously, but like the entryway lobby it was a bland empty room with no personality. It contained nothing but a wooden desk and several chairs. Smythe gestured towards the chairs and Allie sat down facing the door, perching on the edge of the seat. The detective sat as well, choosing the seat directly opposite Allie. She couldn’t help picking up his emotions and somewhat to her relief she didn’t feel any tension or concern from him.

  “So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Smythe said, “how long have you lived in Ashwood?”

  “I don’t mind,” Allie said, understanding the detective’s desire to make small talk while they waited. “I moved here when I was thirteen. I had been living with my father and he died in a car accident, so I came here to live with my grandmother. That was about twenty-four years ago”

  Smythe’s expression was sympathetic, “That must have been tough.”

  Allie shrugged, “It was hard at first, but life goes on, you know?”

  Smythe opened his mouth to say something else when the door opened, interrupting him. Allie stood reflexively as detective Riordan walked in accompanied by a stranger. The man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties; his light brown hair was just beginning to grey at the temples, his goatee streaked with silver. He was dressed all in black, from his slacks to his round-collared dress shirt, and carried a cane even though he walked easily and without any apparent limp. The cane was of course actually a magical tool, wooden with a silver handle crafted in the shape of a dragon’s head; unless Allie missed her guess the dragon’s eyes were real rubies. He wore an aura of magical power like a cloak, totally unabashed at what seemed to Allie an excessive display of strength. She was familiar enough with ceremonial magicians though that she recognized the energy and extravagance immediately. Interesting Allie thought this must be the department’s magical specialist. Suddenly many things about this meeting were making a lot more sense and she had a sinking feeling this wasn’t going to be a quick chat about her car.

  “Good morning Ms. McCarthy,” Riordan said, looking and sounding genuinely happy to see her. “This is Sam Kensington; Sam this is Allie McCarthy. Sam’s the department’s resident mage. He helps us with any blatantly magical cases.”

  Allie shook Sam’s hand not surprised when he took advantage of the moment to test her shielding and power levels. Typical mage, more concerned with measuring her potential and assuring himself he was stronger than with politeness. Letting a small smile slip Allie pushed back flexing the energetic barriers that protected her from other people’s magic – grateful that for the moment at least they were up and at full power – and put just enough energy behind it to make his protections trigger, knowing that he was stronger but wanting him to know she wasn’t intimidated. His face split into a wide grin, his blue eyes twinkling in a way that made Allie think he must be a handful to work with, mundanely or magically.

  “Well you aren’t at all what I expected,” Sam said, still grinning as they all sat down.

  Allie’s eyebrows went up, as Riordan cut in. “Jesus, Kensington, can’t you even pretend to have manners for five minutes?”

  “Call me Sam, Jim, I keep telling you – that goes for you too Allie – the world would be so much friendlier if we all just used first names,” Sam replied cheerfully, unfazed. Riordan looked pained and Allie tried not to giggle.

  “So what were you expecting?” she couldn’t resist asking. Riordan and Smythe both looked nervously at the mage for his response.

  He flexed his hands together, cracking the knuckles loudly, then leaned back in his chair as if he were completely comfortable. “Well since you’re the occult ritual expert they called in to replace me when I couldn’t make heads or tails of the first murder I thought you’d be seventy at least.”

  “That isn’t exactly how…” Riordan tried to cut in again, obviously embarrassed.

  Sam ignored him and kept talking, gesturing expansively. “And you own a book store so you should be stooped over and bespectacled, dressed in homemade sweaters and smelling of a dozen cats…”

  Smythe snorted loudly, his hand covering his mouth. Riordan looked appalled. Sam winked at Allie, who had the distinct impression that he was playing to his audience. Trying not to giggle at the image he was creating – it was hard to deny that the man had a way with words – Allie nodded seriously. “Well, I hate to disappoint you.”

  “Oh hardly my dear!” Sam enthused, propping his feet up on the table. Absently Allie noted his designer shoes, simple black leather whose label meant they probably cost more than her store earned in a month. “You are quite delightful. Far more pleasant to look at than the rest of my co-workers, and I like your spunk. Now pleasantries aside, let’s get down to business…”

  “Sam,” Smythe’s voice held a clear warning, which the mage ignored.

  “How can you be sure this new killer is continuing the ritual series and not just mimicking them?” Sam finished, still smiling.

  Allie blinked. “Well, you certainly get right to the point.”

  “Only when you don’t want him to,” Riordan said, sounding resigned. “If you need him to be direct he’ll talk circles around the subject until you want to scream.”

  Allie struggled not to look as amused as she felt. However since she knew the joint task force hadn’t been reformed because the two police forces were arguing over just that issue she wasn’t unhappy that Sam seemed eager to discuss the topic. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. Getting down to business then, I know that the ritual itself is being done because there is more energy there and I can feel the same person at the ritual site and around the bodies. Surely you can sense the added energy at the site?”

  “I sense something…odd. Unusual. But all the energy there is odd and unusual and uncanny in a way that makes one’s skin crawl. I find it impossible to read,” he said pursing his lips as if it pained him to admit that much. “I do find it fascinating that you seem to sense something different. I wish you could explain how that works.”

  And by explain Allie thought you mean tell you how I do it so you can do it too…Allie sighed, and tried to choose her words carefully, not wanting to reveal that some of her knowledge came from firsthand experience. The last thing she needed was for it to get out that she had used a modified version of the same spell herself, in her case to amplify a psychic bond with Jess. “I am familiar with the energy that the ritual raises, so I suppose that that’s why I have some sensitivity to it.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully, “What magical system do you practice?”

  “Mostly witchcraft – low magic – but I also have some very basic knowledge of elven magic,” she replied.

  “The advantage of having a foot in both worlds. I would dearly love to learn some elven magic, but alas, my ears are the wrong shape…”

  “Damn it Kensington!” Riordan barked, frowning. He glanced at Allie, obviously trying to guess whether or not she’d been offended by the comment. He never seemed sure if Allie should be treated with the extreme caution the elves merited or not since finding out about her position in the Guard.

  “What?” the mage asked innocently. “Just an observation.”

  “One of these days your mouth is going to get you killed.”

  Sam rolled his eyes and waved both hands in the air. “You worry too much Jim. Allie’s a good sport. Aren’t you?”

  “Ahhhh,” Allie floundered. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “And honest too!” he smiled at Allie. “I like that. So do you think your knowledge of elven magic is what gives you the inside track with this?”

  “No,” Allie said truthfully, starting to wonder if they were intentionally using the brash mage to ask her blunt questions that common courtesy would otherwise make it difficult or impos
sible to get to. “The elves themselves also have difficulty with this.”

  “Okay, so what’s so special about you then? Is it because you have a family connection to this, sort of karmic blood on your hands, or is it some freaky half-elven thing?” he asked, his voice never wavering from polite curiosity.

  “Jesus Christ Sam, that’s enough!” Riordan raised his voice this time, his face red. Allie could feel the waves of anger and embarrassment rolling off of him, which at least reassured her that this wasn’t a set up. Smythe was staring at the mage in open mouthed disbelief. Allie fought back another nervous giggle, hating her tendency to laugh in these situations.

  She held up her hand towards Riordan in a calming gesture. Her eyes fixed on Sam, trying to decide if he were assuming a persona intentionally to be able to get away with this behavior or if this were his true personality. “It’s okay detective. Sam I’m guessing you don’t deal with elves or the other Fey very often, do you?”

  Sam’s eyes glinted, leaving her with no doubt that he could behave perfectly if he wanted to, “Oh a bit here and there. They don’t seem to like me very much though.”

  “Mmmmm,” Allie murmured noncommittally. “I’m an empath and my empathy is rather…intense sometimes. The combination of that gift with my other magic sensing abilities seem to let me connect to the ritual site and the person committing the crimes on some level. That’s where the insight comes from.”

  “Gift or a curse…” Sam muttered under his breath, then louder, “Intense, huh? Shielding isn’t your forte?”

  Allie struggled to keep her face carefully blank, not wanting to give away her shock. Perhaps she was underestimating how perceptive the mage really was. Or how skilled he was at getting people to let information slip with his particular obtuse approach. “I don’t think shielding as an empath is the same as shielding for other things.”

  “Oh indeed it isn’t,” Sam said archly, looking at her intently. “I’d say it’s even more important though. If you aren’t sure of the best methods I could help direct you to some solid training.”

  “I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” Allie said, her voice even. “Getting back to the ritual though, I can sense – somehow – that there is more energy there, something that the Elven Guard captain has confirmed. I can also sense that the guy, er, suspect who kidnapped Jenny and killed the other three girls was the one who was doing the ritual. He’s doing it at the right times and in the exact correct way, which means he knows how to do it and so logically it seems safe to assume he is doing it to continue the series of rituals.”

  “In the footsteps of the last killer you mean?” Sam asked, his voice slightly more serious.

  “Something like that,” Allie agreed as the two detectives looked on. “The original ritual plan called for a full year of dark moon sacrifices, thirteen altogether. Walters did eight. This new guy…”

  “Jerimiah Standish,” Smythe offered.

  “Okay. Right, well, Standish has done another two, on the dark moons since Walters died. That only leaves three more and the cycle will be complete,” Allie said, realizing with sudden insight that the real reason she was here was to convince the police to re-form the joint task force. They had stalled in their dealings with the Guard when both sides dug in and stopped listening to the other, too caught up in arguing over jurisdiction. Riordan could get nowhere with the Guard directly but if he was willing to listen to Allie, and Allie suspected more importantly if she could convince Sam, then perhaps the two groups could agree to move forward together. She felt a sudden surge of hope at the thought. “But the only way that he – Standish – could know what to do and when is if he understood the ritual itself.”

  “But what about the differences in the injuries and methods?” Riordan asked. “And the victim that wasn’t killed as part of the ritual?”

  Allie bit her lip, wishing she could give him the solid answers he wanted so desperately. “I don’t know for sure. I mean the bleach, well that was probably Walters police training helping him destroy evidence that might get him caught. Maybe he never explained that to Standish, or maybe Standish just doesn’t care. And the injuries…well, what Walters did was methodical. This new guy is all about emotion. He likes hurting these girls, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t just do what the ritual calls for.”

  “So you believe they knew each other?” Riordan asked, his voice subdued as he spoke about his former partner, a man he’d been forced to kill.

  “Obviously I don’t know, but I can’t see how Standish could do what he’s doing without the sort of inside information about the ritual itself that Walters had,” Allie said, trying not to wince when she said it and remembered she had that same inside information. Then deciding it was time to ask a question of her own. “What have you found out about the person who shot me?”

  “You really think that’s connected to all of this too?” Smythe asked. “I know the elves are big on this idea of synchronicity, but in my experience sometimes random things are just that – random.”

  “I can’t be sure, but doesn’t it seem odd to you that we find Jenny – the missing girl – and identify the suspect then suddenly someone’s taking a shot at me?” Allie said.

  Riordan grimaced. “You were being stalked, and we had tried to warn you that the situation might get violent.”

  “I know,” Allie said, struggling to put into words the nebulous feeling that made her sure it was all connected. “But I’ve been thinking about this a lot the past couple days and I think that there’s more going on here than any of us realize, and I don’t pretend that I know what that is. This all started up again when Jenny got kidnapped. It was right after that that the first dead animal showed up on my doorstep. Isn’t that just too much of a coincidence? And then I help find her and the killer is on the run and the next thing that happens is I get shot. If I have a totally separate stalker then why the correlation? But if there’s something deeper here, something connecting these things, then maybe there seems to be a connection because there actually is one.”

  “You mean that someone was trying to throw you off their track by distracting you or scaring you?” Riordan asked slowly.

  “There is a beautiful logic to it,” Sam said thoughtfully. “If Allie is right and she is the only one – so far anyway, I don’t underestimate my own ability to eventually understand this ritual energy – but I digress, if Allie is right and she is the only one now who can see the way the energy connects between these things, then whoever is behind this would be highly motivated to keep her off her game.”

  “Then why not just kill her?” Smythe said.

  “Well we could certainly interpret the bullet that hit her arm and went through her friend as an attempt in that direction,” Sam said wryly.

  Both detectives looked annoyed at that. Allie nodded, “Yes, there is that. And getting back to that – have you learned anything about the shooter?”

  “A little,” Riordan said slowly.

  “Oh relax Jim,” Sam cut in, waving his hand indolently in the air. Riordan gave him a warning look, obviously not wanting him to say anything else but the mage ignored him. “The woman who shot you was named Amy Blackstone. Been a resident here for her entire life. Receptionist at a dentist office out in Berville, spent several years in the military after high school – which is where she learned how to shoot so well. And here’s the interesting bit…”

  “Sam, don’t…” Riordan started.

  “…She used to date the late and unlamented detective Walters.” Sam finished.

  Riordan pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s confidential and could be vital to our case.”

  “So they knew each other.” Allie pressed.

  “Yes, but that could also give her a motive to want to hurt you, if she blamed you for his death,” Smythe said.

  Allie sighed but nodded. “Yeah I guess that’s true. But is she connected to Standish in any way?”

  Both detectives looked at her wide eyed. She t
ilted her head in surprise, “You did check that didn’t you?”

  “We’re working on that” Riordan said, sounding tired. “But we’re also working on the arson cases and another murder that came in this morning. The department’s spread pretty thin with the amount of crime going on right now and tourist season about to start. We haven’t finished following all the possible leads yet.”

  “And if it turns out she knew Standish?” Allie said, trying to stay focused, earning a laugh from Sam.

  “Excellent question,” he agreed. “Maybe we can let that be the deciding factor? Let’s see if our new friend Jerry-the-lady-killer had any connection to Amy-the-shooter. Who we already know is connected to Rick Walters.”

  Riordan was frowning and nodding; Smythe looked thoughtful. When Riordan finally spoke his voice was as perfectly neutral as any elf’s. “Alright. If there isn’t then I hope you’ll be willing to consider listening to our ideas about Standish just being a copycat killer.”

  “That’s fair, detective. And if there is a connection?” Allie said.

  “If there is, then I’ll acknowledge you may be right about a wider conspiracy,” Riordan said, smiling slightly. “And we’ll investigate them as connected crimes and not separate ones.”

  “Okay,” Allie agreed. He hadn’t said it out loud but she could see no way the police could refuse to reform the joint task force if their own investigation proved the cases – old and new – were linked. She had complete confidence in the detectives’ ability to find any connections that were there, so now it was just a matter of letting them do their jobs. “Is there any chance I’ll get my car back any time soon?”

  Riordan looked startled and then sheepish. “Yes, I’m sorry it’s taken so long. It’s in the impound lot now actually. I can get you the paperwork to get it out.”

  “I’ll have to get a truck to take it to the garage to get new tires,” Allie said, already thinking of how soon she could get that done.