“Why do you ask?” Jason continued doodling on his pad.
“Well, judging by the hickey on your neck …”
Jason hitched up his shirt collar. “Since you asked, it was great. And what’s bugging you? Isn’t the handsome Xander behaving himself?”
“That’s none of your damned business.” She spoke louder than she intended, then stared at the brown envelope.
JB cleared his throat. “If everyone’s finished exchanging morning pleasantries, let’s start the meeting.”
“Please excuse my rude sister, she’s having personal problems.” Jason raised his hands and made air quotes with his finger as he said ‘personal’.
“Is everything all right, Gemma?” JB asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“I think she means you should mind your own business,” Zhanna observed.
If looks could kill, Zhanna would have died by group glaring, but faeries are nothing if not outspoken and thick-skinned, so the animosity bounced right off her, and she carried on flicking her wand at her keyboard.
“Right. Nikki, any info on the owner of last night’s car?”
“I’m waiting for Pete to call.” Pete was her contact in the local DMV office. She turned her laptop around and displayed an enlargement of the photo she’d taken the night before. Nothing much showed other than a dark shape hunched over the driving wheel. “And, yep, he’s human.” She brought up a second photo displaying the plate number.
Zhanna had been busy tapping with her wand the second she saw the number. Faeries possessed an intuitive understanding of computers and made the best programmers—and hackers. The downside was they were prone to electromagnetic radiation addiction, and could often be found slumped, unconscious, and drooling on their keyboards after extensive computer sessions. “Oh, it says here Mr. Slipovatch of 94 East Avenue reported the vehicle stolen a week ago.”
Nikki growled. “Thank you so much for your unasked for help.” She turned to JB. “How much longer do we have to put up with that thing?” Imps and faeries had a natural aversion to each other and as Zhanna’s computer expertise was greater than Nikki’s, it meant she’d taken over many of the latter’s tasks—another factor that hadn’t helped the pair bond. “Isn’t her sentence nearly finished?”
“Another thirty days.” Jason’s lips lifted in a lazy smile, and he winked at the tiny creature.
“Oh, Jason!” Zhanna batted her eyelashes at him. “You’re keeping count. How sweet.” She blew him a kiss.
“Okay, that’s enough.”
The warning in JB’s voice had everyone directing their attention to their laptops and notepads.
“Zhanna, after the meeting, see if you can find out anything about this Slipovatch. Jason, Gemma, an update on your case.”
The twins simultaneously opened the flaps of their brown envelopes and pulling out a dozen photos they slid them up to the others. When the twins had first joined the agency at the beginning of April, the way they’d often done things simultaneously had spooked the others, but now they were used to what they called the ‘twin thing’.
Gemma spoke first. “Plenty of evidence from both parties, if they’re looking to file for divorce. Barbie, sorry I mean Ellie, Ellie Sanderson is cheating on her husband, Bob, with a wizard named …,” she flicked through her notebook, “Magister Merlin from Avalon Homes, a new housing development over on the north side. He makes the trip into town, twice a week, and as the photos show, they’ve never been to the same hotel twice. They’re not seen together in public, and always book separate, but adjoining rooms. They were both careful, and I wasn’t able to take any shots of him entering her room, or vice versa, so the time stamp on the photos showing their arrivals and departures could be viewed as coincidence—though that’s an awful lot of coincidences. But Lady Luck was on my side as our Ellie isn’t shy, and doesn’t close the curtains, so four hotels provided enough opportunity to obtain the necessary pics.”
JB flipped through the photos. “Good work, Gem.”
Gemma shot him a satisfied smile.
“Jason?”
“Mr. Sanderson isn’t so careful. He owns a small first-floor condo in Tayville and whenever he goes there, which is at least twice a week, one of Aphrodite’s girls turns up. And it’s a different girl each time.”
“Aphrodite’s girls?” Zhanna interrupted.
“Sirens,” Gemma told her. “Once they get their hooks into a guy,” she made a cutting motion across her throat, “they’ll be customers for life. Sorry, Jason, keep going.”
“They must both be exhibitionists as he also likes the curtains open. And someone planted way too many prickly shrubs outside his bedroom window.”
Sly grins appeared on everyone’s face, though they tried hard to hide their amusement at the image of the handsome urbane Jason squatting in the bushes, peeking through the window and taking shots of the action inside the room.
Jason looked offended. “What?”
“Well done, both of you. Nikki set up meetings with both clients ASAP. I don’t have to mention how tight money is.”
“How are we going to manage those meetings?” Nikki asked.
At first, they refused Mrs. Sanderson because of a conflict of interest, as they had taken on the job from Mr. Sanderson. JB claimed the agency had too many cases on their books to spare an investigator for her. Regrettably, for JB, Ellie Sanderson’s father was Jack Dremen, an eminent wealthy businessman with fingers in every pie in Tropolis. Her not so veiled threats that JB would be sorry if he didn’t take the case had persuaded him to change his mind.
“If you meet them at the same time, but in different locations, neither will have an advantage,” Gemma said.
“That should work,” said Nikki. “If JB meets her here, I could meet him somewhere else, Mellie’s is too close, but say the restaurant at the Winston Hotel. It’s quiet there in the mornings.”
“Okay, good plan. Set up those meetings, and have you anything to report on the hit-and-run vehicle?”
Nikki was following up possible leads on the car that hit JB’s father. “Yes, I got a tip this morning. One of the cars picked up by the bank’s security camera, and not yet discounted, has been seen in Carlton. I have an address and I’ll be heading over there the minute we finish here.”
“Okay. Once you’ve located that car, Nikki, Zhanna will run background checks on both owners.” He grabbed a pink post-it pad and pushed it over to Zhanna. “That means you have two jobs—and take a nap before you start. That’s an order.”
Zhanna nodded, a frown creasing her forehead. She waved her wand over the post-it note, and a large red number two glowed on the pink page. She stared at it and added a question mark, before using her wand to float the little pink square through the air and attach it to the top of her screen. Faeries’ concentration spans were less than that of a mosquito, and the team had soon discovered the need for visual reminders for more than Zhanna’s immediate task. To help her concentrate, she was banned from social media, except for an hour a day, and wouldn’t even be allowed that much if she went anywhere near eBay.
“Jason and Gemma, type up your reports. And some good news, we might have a new case. I’m off for a meeting with Hekate, who is the leader of the Lielit coven. They have a special chalice used for predictions, and it’s gone missing. If I reassure this Hekate that I’m as capable of doing the job as well as my father, we’ll be in business. And solving this will do wonders for our reputation.” His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the text message. “Okay, the meeting is finished.”
Chairs scraped noisily across the floor as everyone stood up and gravitated toward the coffee machine.
JB touched Nikki’s arm. “How are things at home? Juan… your mother…?”
“Don’t ask. I’m sure it’ll get better, ‘cos I don’t think it could be much worse.”
“If I hear of anywhere suitable, I’ll let you know. But I’d better be going–I got a text from Maya–Hekate is waiting
.”
Chapter Three: Tuesday, 10am
The Lielit coven’s headquarters was in a leafy tree-lined suburb, and the sunlight sparkled on green leaves washed by last night’s rain. The large detached houses spoke of money in a subdued, but instantly recognizable manner.
JB would have known the house even if Maya hadn’t been standing outside waving at him as soon as she saw his car.
Every other property was modern ranch or American colonial, but this one practically shouted ‘prestigious supernatural organization’, and was the only building with steep sided roofs, small casement leaded glass windows, and an excess of ornamentation of the gargoyle variety, topped with a massive central chimney. The plethora of weird and wonderfully carved pumpkins left over from Halloween was another unmissable indicator.
JB, his fake ID hanging from a lanyard and the office digital camera in hand, followed Maya around the side of the house. They entered a large kitchen diner, where despite the gothic exterior, everything was ultramodern, and no expense had been spared in providing every kitchen gadget available on the market. Several women stood chopping vegetables on a blue-veined white marble topped central island, while others stirred pots bubbling on the range.
The aroma of bread baking made JB’s stomach rumble, and the fragrant smell of herbs from the cooking reminded him that other people ate food that grew out of the earth and didn’t survive on caffeine, donuts, and Chinese, Japanese, Thai, or Italian takeout meals.
“Where’s my aunt?” Maya asked no one in particular.
“She’s upstairs in her office,” a pretty blonde replied, eyeing JB up and down as if he was a piece of candy on a plate and her sugar addiction had kicked in. She stopped stirring the pot on the stove and sashayed over. “I’m Nadia, and you are?” She lifted JB’s ID, and her eyes flicked between his face and the photo on the card. “Hallo there, Mason Bridges from the Evestown Gazette. And how may I help you?”
His nose twitched as he breathed in the heavy sweet scent of jasmine, but he didn’t blink as the woman batted her baby blues in an open invitation. “I’m doing a story on famous covens. All aspects of the supernatural fascinate our readers.” JB said feeling a sudden sympathy for the male wolf spider.
An older woman, her long gray dreadlocks tied up in a colorful scarf kneading dough with powerfully muscled arms, looked over picking up on his predicament. “Maya, your aunt’s expecting you and your friend. You’d better not keep her waiting. Nadia, leave the poor boy alone.”
“Later, sweet cheeks,” Nadia held his ID card for a moment longer than necessary and gave him an appreciative smile as she released it.
He nodded at the woman who’d rescued him, acknowledging his thanks with a wink, as he hurried out the door after Maya.
The instant he entered Hekate’s office, JB’s skin prickled. His daemon alert–a benefit of his daemonic ancestry–went off, but before he could reflect on the source, the woman at the mahogany desk by the bay window rose to greet him.
Hekate was a small slim woman with the same pale blonde hair as her niece but styled in an elaborate French braid. She resembled a television news anchor rather than the leader of the most powerful coven in the state with her gray pinstriped pantsuit, and white silk shirt. Her brown eyes were bright with intelligence, and her red lipsticked mouth broke into an easy smile. “Thank you, Maya. You can go help in the kitchen.”
Maya nodded and scooted off.
Hekate walked toward JB, holding out her hand. “I can tell you’re Jean-Baptiste and Izzy’s son,” she said. “you’ve got those bright emerald eyes of hers.”
“You knew my mother?” JB took her small smooth hand and shook it.
“Don’t look so surprised. The supernatural community in Tropolis is large, but sooner or later you get to meet everyone. And there are precious few half-elves, and only one I knew of who fell in love with and had the audacity to marry a half-daemon. You must have quite the mixture of abilities, I imagine, but that’s a conversation for a more pleasant occasion. I apologize, I’ve been rather busy lately and hadn’t realized your father was in the hospital. I’m sorry to hear of his accident. How is he?”
“Still in a coma. There’s not been any change. The doctors are doing their best and they tell me, that as long as he’s alive, there’s hope.”
“If I can help in any way, don’t hesitate to ask. I owe him in a big way. Now, what do you require to get started?”
JB’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. Hekate had confirmed the case was his. “Okay.” He pulled out his notepad, “Could you show me where you keep the chalice.”
“Don’t you mean kept? In here.” Hekate took a heavy bunch of keys from a drawer in her desk and led the way into a second smaller room.
As he walked through the doorway, JB’s daemon alert pinged again. Solid iron bars safeguarded the windows, there was only the one door, and except for an elegant display case in the center, the room was empty. A golden chalice on a red velvet stand gleamed in the pale sunlight, its surface adorned with amber, semi-precious stones, and covered in ornate filigree spiral patterns in silver and gold,
“That’s an identical copy,” Hekate said, “We sell them in our store and online. It’s absolutely vital word doesn’t get out the real chalice is missing.”
JB studied the room, noting the security cameras, and walked around the display stand, studying the intricate scrollwork and runes running across the chalice’s surface. He didn’t pick up any more indications of a daemon presence.
“I found the chalice gone when I came into the office yesterday morning. The whole house is warded, and we have powerful defensive spells in place around this room. And the latest in security devices—the camera’s HD, has night vision, motion-activated recording, air quality sensors, you name it, we’ve got it. I also added my own layers of protection, and I can assure you, I’m no novice. I’ve done a few checks of my own, but even my scrying has found nothing to tell me where it is now. It’s as if it’s invisible. I need to have it returned by Saturday at the latest because I have my monthly meeting with the Mayor this Sunday.”
“I’ll require a copy of your security camera footage,” JB told her, keeping his voice and attitude neutral. She was now the employer and he the employee.
“Sure, but I reviewed it carefully, and it shows nothing.”
“Which might indicate an inside job, as whoever took it did so without triggering any of your protective devices. In addition, I want a list of coven members and their details.”
Hekate hesitated.
“If a private detective agency disclosed confidential information, they’d soon be out of business. How much do you trust everyone in your coven?”
“Most a hundred percent …”
“But not everyone,” JB finished for her.
“No. Sad to say, not everyone. The current Mayor is grateful to us as the chalice’s predictions have played a vital role in his rise to power. But if I’m unable to give him correct forecasts, he’ll replace me with someone else from another coven. Someone who isn’t so honest. And our reputation will vanish overnight. I’m sure you’re aware a witch’s reputation is her livelihood, and I’ve spent my life building mine.”
“I give you my word, your data is safe with us, but that list is essential if only to rule out your coven members.” JB understood her reluctance but the witches were the logical starting point. “Is there anyone who stands out as particularly ruthless and ambitious?”
Hekate gave a small bitter laugh. “I can think of a few, but none with the ability to take me on by themselves. If the mastermind behind this is a coven member, they’d have to have had outside help.”
“Or whoever wanted your chalice used blackmail to subvert someone.”
Chapter Four: Tuesday, 11pm
A small crowd of languid couples shuffled against each other on the dance floor of the Sweet Blood vamp bar under a muted ruby light, while the vampires gave the humans, and other supernaturals brave enough to enter t
heir territory, the once over with a predatory eye.
JB sat on a stool by the bar. He sipped his whiskey on the rocks, loosened his tie, and smoothed his jacket lapels—he’d sacrificed the comfort of his leather jacket for a barely worn smart gray suit to gain entrance to the club, and ran a hand over his slicked back hair. He watched Gemma out of the corner of his eye as she checked out the early night crowd, assessing and rating them according to some inner criteria.
Normally she wore her untidy mane tied back off her face in one careless style or another, but tonight she’d tamed her wild Titian locks, and her hair fell in soft shiny curls around her shoulders and down her back. The little black dress she wore with a pair of strappy heels revealed a whole new Gemma he hadn’t known existed.
“You like what you see?” She spoke without turning. “I may only be a hedgewitch with a number of extra perks, but I can tell when someone focuses on me. And you’re hard to ignore, dressed up in those fancy clothes with that intense fire-devil glow simmering under your skin.”
JB threw back his whiskey and signaled the barkeeper for another. He’d intended to have only the one, but there was something about Gemma that unbalanced him.
“So how come I get the honor of accompanying you tonight?” Gemma’s smile was smug as she eyed him, her green eyes giving him the same keen inspection she’d given every other male, human and otherwise, within sight.
His control back in place, he met her gaze with equal scrutiny. “Nikki and I worked on Hekate’s files till two am this morning, and apart from being there for her mother, Juan would have given her hell if she’d come here tonight.”
The barkeeper put the second glass of whiskey in front of JB.
“What’s the plan if everyone in the files shows up clean?”
“That’s why we’re here tonight. An old friend owns this place. He might have picked up something.”
A loud cheer from a group of human males in a darkened booth drew their attention. The vampires seated in the adjoining cubicle revealed their fangs and hissed. The young men’s chins dropped, and for a second, the only sound in the room was the soft jazz track. After a minute or two, the low murmur of conversation resumed its previous level.
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