Murder by Magic

by Catherine Vale

  Euros drummed his fingers on the table, bristling. “Stop with the insinuations as to my sanity, or training. We don’t have time for this, Mixt.”

  Mixt’s expression went cold. “It’s from the grimoire that was used to seal the portals. Is that clear enough for you?”

  Everything inside Euros came to a standstill. It felt as if his heart had stopped in mid-beat, as if his lungs refused to fill. As if his blood had frozen. He swallowed hard.

  “But that can’t be. That grimoire was destroyed. How can this be? The Elders…”

  “Euros, you should know something as powerful as that grimoire could never be destroyed. It would not allow itself to be. Once the book was assembled, and the spells cast, it became almost a sentient being. But…it could, and was, dissembled. Reluctantly.”

  “And what happened to the pieces?”

  “They were thrown into the mortal world, where the Elders thought no one with the knowledge to understand it would ever find it. The pieces--the Materia Magica torn out, the body of the book, the binding and closure--all flung to the far corners of the mortal world, a world without magic. What good is it there? It’s useless.”

  “Unless someone knew our history, and found the pieces.”

  “Yes... and is reassembling the grimoire.”

  With a rush of adrenaline, Euros rose. “I need to find Jessica. I need to know…”

  “You need to control your emotions. You are becoming mortal.”

  The chiding tone of Mixt’s voice grated on his nerves, but there were more important issues than reminding Mixt of who Euros was in this world.

  “Sit back down for a moment, and tell me what else you discovered. There may be things I can do here, while you’re off chasing…”

  With impatience, Euros sat back down in the chair. As hard as it was to admit, he needed to be logical and methodical with this, to examine what he knew, to use Mixt to help him put these few pieces together. Time was on his side; and he knew that when he was in his world, Jessica was suspended in time. He could go back to her whenever he wanted. Forcing himself to take a breath, he nodded at Mixt.

  “Fine. You’re right.” That drew another raised eyebrow from Mixt, but Euros ignored that. “You know Jessica said there was fox fur found at the scene. I saw the footprint in the backyard. It wasn’t a dog track. The magic was very strong in that area, and the trail led out the back, the tracks and magic matching perfectly.” That was accurate, or as close as he was going to admit to Mixt.

  “So we have part of the grimoire, a possible fox at the scene. What else?”

  Euros was relieved to see Mixt was less interested now in Euros’ perceived failings as a Gatekeeper, and more in the case.

  “Jessica said there were some unusual findings with Lansing’s body during the autopsy. There was blood missing from the cavity.”

  “Fascinating…missing blood…”

  Euros didn’t think it was fascinating at all. The thought that someone was using magic to drain the lifeblood from their victims, horrified him.

  “Mixt, it’s clear someone is trying to reconstruct the grimoire. But who would have the power to use it? It can’t be a mortal. They would have no idea what it was, much less how to use it. It was hung in a frame on a wall. The Lansing’s thought it was just pretty artwork. They would never have known what it was.”

  “No. It’s clearly a magical being who understands the power of reassembling the grimoire. But not just any magical being… someone who desperately wants to cross through the portals. But only Gatekeepers, like us, have that ability. Unless…”

  “Unless we have a rogue Gatekeeper?”

  Mixt’s eyes went wide. “I hardly believe that would be possible. There aren’t that many of us, and I trust them all. The ramifications would be immense, if that were true. We would have known that, felt it…wouldn’t we? And besides, if it is a Gatekeeper, they could enter the portal without the grimoire, but you said you didn’t feel the dark magic cross through, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m certain whoever is responsible for this hasn’t gotten through the portal. At least not yet. I don’t know, Mixt. I really don’t know.”

  “Well, we better find out.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jessica hung up the phone. She’d worked her way through the first half of the page of names that Fisher had given her. Most were employees, a few friends of the family, and a handful of relatives. It was split evenly, she thought, between employees who were almost overjoyed that Parnell was dead, and friends and family who were devastated. It made her wonder the difference between how the man treated his friends and family, compared to how he treated his employees.

  So far she’d learned more about the man than she ever wanted to know. His housekeeper was ready to tell all about Parnell’s love life, his strange habits in the bedroom, the things she’d had to wash out of his sheets. But she hadn’t been in the penthouse that day, or that night.

  One person who seemed genuinely devastated at the loss, was the man who looked after the book room. Jessica pictured him as the stereotypical librarian: receding hairline, wire-rim glasses perched on the end of a long thin nose, pursed lips making that disapproving shushing sound that only librarians can make. Maybe they were trained to be that way, or a genetic disposition.

  At any rate, the man was clearly upset, not so much over the fact Parnell was dead; he seemed rather distanced from emotion, but that the absence of Parnell meant the latest shipment of books bought at auction was in limbo. Was he supposed to unpack the shipment? Would he still be required to curate the exhibit? Some of the pieces were very rare. Jessica told him she’d get back to him, and hung up the phone. Making a note of one more in a million notes, she pushed away from her desk, and then dropped her head into her hands.

  “Making any progress?”

  Tension gripped her muscles, before she realized it was Derek. She looked up as he set a cup of coffee on the corner of her desk, then dropped into the chair beside her.

  “You eat any lunch? It’s after two, you know?” He took a sip of coffee, and grimaced. From the look on his face, and from the acrid smell from her cup, she knew she’d be drinking the stuff at her own risk. But she took a swallow anyway. And she was right; she’d be better off without it.

  “Fisher’s been on my ass all day. I’ve managed a bathroom break, and even then, I think he followed me to make sure I was only in there the appropriate amount of time. I’m not sure how he’s getting any work done for all the time he spends shadowing me.”

  “He’s got Adams and Roach doing most of the leg work. He sent them to the autopsy. Didn’t bother to go himself.”

  That caught her attention. “Really? Did you hear anything about that? Were there any similarities to Lansing?”

  “Yeah. I heard Dr. Greene was freaked out, which I’d have paid good money to see. It’s not easy to rattle that man. I wish you would have been there, too. This is a raw deal. And I know you think so, even if you’re not going to say it out loud.”

  “The walls have ears, Derek. I’m pretty sure they bugged my pen holder.”

  Derek coughed, spitting coffee on his lap. For the first time that day, Jessica felt something like a smile tug at her lips. She reached for a tissue, offering it to Derek. Between making ineffectual swipes at his lap, he took the tissue, dabbing at the stain.

  “These just came back from the cleaners. Rachel’s going to kill me.”

  “Serves you right for wearing clothes you can’t wash.” She leaned back, some of the tension leaving her. She’d missed this, the joking, the camaraderie, just shooting the shit with Derek. She could have had that, could go back to that, if she could survive this case.

  “I dress for success, Jessica. Always have.” He dropped his coffee cup into her trash can, and stood up. “Can’t be showing up like you, in yesterday’s clothes.”

  He gave her a not-so gently punch to her shoulder, and walked away. If anyone else had said that, she’d have gotten piss
ed off, wanted to challenge them. Derek could get away with that.

  Her cell phone chirped. Fishing it out of her pocket, she blinked in surprise at the display. With a glance at her pen holder, she slowly raised the phone to her ear.

  “I told you not to call me here.” It was harder to whisper without looking like she was trying to hide something. Across the room, she saw Fisher standing by the white board, his back to her. But she could almost see his ears turning toward her, that somehow he could hear her over the chatter in the room.

  “I had no choice, Jess. I need information.”

  “Euros, I can’t…not here. And you can’t come here. You know that.”

  “I need to know what was taken from Parnell’s home. If there was magic there…and if anything was stolen.”

  “Why would you think anything was stolen? No one said…”

  “Because of what was taken from Lansing’s house. I know what it was, and I think I know what’s behind the murders, but I need to know what was taken from Parnell’s.”

  “Listen…” To her horror, Fisher turned, as if drawn to the sound of her voice.

  “I have to go.”

  “No. Jessica…please. This involves more than just murders. It involves the safety of the portals between the worlds.”

  “But how does that concern me?” Fisher was making his lumbering way across the room toward her. “That’s not my problem.” With Fisher bearing down on her, she took the phone away from her ear.

  “There will be another murder, Jessica.”

  Her hand froze, her eyes on Fisher, as he docked himself at her desk. “Sharpe…”

  “Jessica…” Euros’ voice sounded much closer than it should have, as if he were in her head, right there with her. “Please.”

  She looked from Fisher to the phone in her hand, back to Fisher, then raised the phone.

  “Euros, I’ll be in the parking lot in five minutes. Meet me there.”

  Flipping the phone shut, she stood. Fisher glared at her, already sputtering. “I gotta go, Fisher. I’m sorry. I’ll be back…”

  “Don’t bother coming back. I gave you a job to do, and you’re leaving. Ross is going to hear about this.” Fisher shook his head, turning to the guys standing by the white board, waving one pudgy hand. “You hear this? She’s gotta leave in the middle of all of this.”

  Jessica was already shrugging into her jacket, shoving the cell phone into her pocket, taking out her keys. And without knowing why, she grabbed the call list from her desk, jamming it into her pocket. “I’d try to explain, but I don’t think you’d be interested in listening. So, you know…”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Derek staring at her, frowning, every question he was thinking, clear in his eyes. She shrugged, and shook her head.

  Yeah, I know, throwing away my career.

  But Euros knew what was happening, and there was no way in hell she could explain any of this to Fisher, or Derek. Not even he would understand magic, or random meaningless stolen pictures. Euros understood, and it was clear to her what she needed to do.

  “I have to do this, Derek.”

  Euros better be right about this, or heaven help him. And me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Euros closed his eyes, and chanted the spell he had used more times than he could remember. It took only a moment to send himself through space, to the parking lot behind the precinct. He appeared next to Jessica’s car, just as she clicked the fob to unlock the car door. She jumped, free hand going for the butt of her gun. For a split second, he wondered if he could dodge bullets, but then she relaxed, and to his relief, took her hand away from her gun.

  “Jesus, Euros. You scared the shit out of me. How do you do that?”

  She unlocked the car, and he waited until he heard the click of lock on his side. Opening the door, he slid inside.

  “Practice.” His heart was still beating at a rapid-fire pace, and he took a deep breath. “Sorry for scaring you. That wasn’t my intention.”

  She started the car, then turned to him. “Wait. We’re driving? No magic? Do you even ride in cars?”

  “I’m not Amish. Of course, I ride in cars.”

  She pulled out of the parking lot, signaling. “Do you even know how to drive?”

  “No. You know that.”

  She grinned at him, as she pulled into traffic. “I didn’t know for sure. Just thought you liked being driven around. Are we going to Parnell’s penthouse?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So there was something stolen from Parnell’s? Does it have something to do with the art that was taken from Lansing’s?”

  He hung on to the dashboard, as Jessica took a corner at what felt like warp speed. He’d forgotten she drove like a maniac when she was stressed. Maybe good old-fashioned magic would have been a better idea.

  “I talked to Mixt about what was taken from Lansing’s home. It’s what’s called a Materia Magica. Basically, a list of materials to do magic.”

  “Are you saying the Lansing’s were into magic?” She turned to look at him and he cringed, almost willing her to watch the traffic flowing around them. “Would that be why you sensed magic, and I felt something weird?”

  To his relief, she looked back to the road, braking hard, then swinging around a slower moving car.

  “No. I don’t think they knew what they had. I’d guess they found the page somewhere, thought it was interesting, and put it in a frame. The language was Latin-based, but an ancient form used primarily by those in my world.”

  “So no one would have been able to really understand what was on the list? But how did they find it? Why was something from your world just lying around here on Earth? I would think you guys would be careful about that kind of thing.”

  “For the most part, we are. But this page came from what’s called a grimoire, a book of spells. It was the original Prima Magica, the original book of magic. It was the spell book used to seal the portals many centuries ago.”

  “Oh, fuck.” She braked for a red light, and turned to him. “So what the hell is that doing here, in this world?” Someone behind them honked their horn. Jessica hit the gas, and they flew through the intersection. The next turn landed them on Michigan Avenue. Traffic was heavier here, and Jessica was forced to slow down.

  “That magic thing would have been helpful here, Euros. Really.”

  “There’s danger in having you appear and disappear too often. Someone would get suspicious if you leave one place, and suddenly appear somewhere else, don’t you think?”

  “Thanks for thinking of me.”

  I’m always thinking of you. Banishing that rogue thought, he pulled his mind back to the issues at hand.

  “After the portals were sealed, the Elders wanted to get rid of the grimoire, but they discovered that in using the book, in casting the spell, the grimoire took on a life of its own. It became imbued with magic, and they found it refused to be destroyed. The most they could do was remove the binding, tear out the page stolen from the Lansing’s, and then throw the pieces into the mortal world. They thought no mortal would be able to understand what they had, especially if the pieces weren’t found together.”

  “But someone knows about the power of the grimoire, and is planning to reassemble it so that…”

  “They can can cross into my world through the portals, whenever they choose. Yes, at least that’s what it appears to be.” This was what he loved most about Jessica, the way her mind worked. He regretted that he hadn’t told her about his magic sooner, back when they were together. That he hadn’t shown her the amazing, beautiful things in his world.

  “We can’t be sure of anything just yet, Jessica, but I know whoever is responsible for this, they aren’t human. The dark magic at the scene… I’ve never felt that before. Not in your world, or in mine. And it’s female.”

  “How do you…”

  “I can sense it.”

  “Really? Female? Okay, let me think. So, we’re looking for somethi
ng taken from Parnell’s…”

  “Right. A part of the grimoire. Likely the body, or the silver buckle that sealed it.”

  “Silver buckle?”

  “Yeah. It has a binding, a leather strap that went around the book, and was held closed with a silver buckle that was bound by an Elder Fae. Many spells rely on silver, and having a piece as part of the book would have enhanced its magical properties.”

  “Okay. Great. So now all we have to do is figure out where in Chicago to find someone with a silver buckle.” Her disappointment was almost palpable. “That’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.” She made a face. “And the body of the grimoire? Did I pronounce that right?”

  “Yeah, you did. Just think of it rhyming with armoire, and you’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. So, a buckle, or a book…oh, my God. The curator…he’s very concerned over the latest shipment of books Parnell bought at auction. He’s a book collector.”

  Euros was flung against his door, as Jessica changed lanes. To his relief, the Marchland building loomed in the near distance.

  “Is the book shipment at the penthouse?”

  “Yeah, the curator said it was. Shit…” The car lurched to a stop at the curb in a No Parking spot. Jessica set the flashing light on the dash. She glanced out the window. “There’s still CSI on the scene. Fisher’s back at the precinct.” She turned to Euros.

  “I’m putting my job on the line here, Euros. I’m done, if I’m caught here.” She shrugged, a disarming gesture he found endearing. “I’m done anyway, you know. I left without permission from Fisher. Ross will hear…probably already knows. I’m sure Fisher ran to his office. So, you know…”

  He reached out, put his hand over hers where it rested on the steering wheel. “I know this is hard for you, on so many levels. I can’t tell you…”

  “Then don’t. Not now. Okay?” She didn’t pull her hand away, but he felt the tension in her fingers. “This isn’t the time, or the place. Maybe later…”

  She slid her hand out from beneath his, then opened the door, and stepped out. She was right; this wasn’t the time for anything other than finding out what the hell was going on.