Hekate's Chalice

by Teagan Kearney

  JB’s request galvanized Gemma, Jason, and Zhanna into movement. The three of them had sat mesmerized watching as the carefully laid plan to avoid this particular situation evaporated.

  “Wow, this case is turning out be far more interesting than I thought.” Jason snickered.

  Gemma stomped over to the coffee machine and pressed a few buttons. She handed Nikki Mr. Sanderson’s drink, and as she picked up the second steaming coffee, Zhanna landed on her shoulder. Gemma almost dropped the cup in surprise. “Hey! Didn’t I warn you not to do that stuff?”

  “Watch.” Zhanna waved her wand and whispered a few words. A second later, there was a flash, and a fine cloud of lime green powder floated down onto the coffee’s surface, before vanishing.

  “What are you doing?” Gemma hissed.

  “She’s a spoilt bitch and deserves this.”

  “What’ll happen to her?”

  “Give it a few hours, then... viola... projectile diarrhea.”

  Gemma giggled. “Oh, you are a very bad faerie! I think I’m beginning to like you.”

  Nikki walked ahead of Gemma back to the private offices, Bob Sanderson’s coffee trembling slightly in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she paused outside the door. “I have a bad feeling this isn’t going to work. He’s in such a hurry.”

  “You can only try,” Gemma said and entered JB’s office.

  JB had laid out the photographs, and Mrs. Sanderson was picking through them.

  “Your special coffee,” Gemma said as she placed the drink in front of the woman, and winked at JB as she left.

  Ellie sipped her coffee, her little finger raised in salute and displaying a glossed golden fingernail. “Excellent coffee, your girl is good.”

  JB winced at her choice of words and banished the fleeting thought of Gemma as his girl. “We followed your brief to the letter, Mrs. Sanderson, and this is what we observed.”

  She continued to study the evidence in the photographs. “What’s your conclusion? Was I right to have him followed?”

  “Our job isn’t to make judgments. All we do is collect evidence. Although in this case, the evidence is pretty conclusive.”

  Ellie Sanderson replaced the photographs in the envelope one at a time without saying a word. She looked at JB, her eyes cold, and her mouth a thin line. “A check okay?”

  “Yes, a check is fine.” JB clenched his hands together to stop himself from some impatient drumming on the table top while Ellie wrote out the check. The instant she handed it to him, he was up and ushering her out into the corridor.

  “Ellie?”

  Mrs. Sanderson spun around and gawped at her erstwhile spouse standing in the corridor.

  Both simultaneously noted the brown envelope under the other’s arm and registered its meaning.

  “You two timing bastard!” she screamed and rushed toward him.

  JB was quicker and caught her arm, half guiding and half pulling her along the corridor and away from her soon-to-be ex-husband as she continued to yell insults.

  At that moment Nikki returned from the bathroom and joined Jason, Gemma, and Zhanna, who were gawping at the live entertainment.

  “Your check is on the desk,” Bob announced to no one in particular as he rushed past his wife to the exit.

  Ellie Sanderson wrenched her arm free of JB’s grip and dashed after her husband.

  In the silence that followed their exit, the exchange of insults and responses could be clearly heard until they faded as the couple descended the stairs. The second the front door banged, everyone rushed over to the window and craned over each other to watch what happened next. Ellie Sanderson’s mouth was still working overtime as she climbed into her chauffeur-driven limo and vented her ire. Bob Sanderson’s face looked pale under his bed carrot-hued tanning-bed complexion, and he made several rude gestures at his future ex-wife’s car as she drove off, before leaving in the opposite direction.

  “On the upside, they’re so angry with each other, they didn’t have time to question how it was we were following both,” Nikki commented.

  “Maybe we should go into the marriage counseling business?” Jason said.

  “You? A marriage guidance counselor? That’s something I’d pay to see.”

  Jason looked miffed at his sister’s comment, till Zhanna settled on his shoulder. “I’ll always love you. You’re wonderful, and I’m yours anytime.” She stroked his earlobe.

  Jason grinned, “Mmm,” he said, “you know you’re my favorite faerie, right?”

  “Okay I hate to break up the party, but we have a job waiting,” said JB. “Jason, Nikki, you’re on Perry White. Zhanna, you’re in charge of the office, take a nap when we leave.” He looked at his phone. “And I got a text from Hekate reminding me there are only two more days before she meets the mayor. Gemma, you’re with me–we’ll take my car–but first I need to deposit these checks before either of them decide to cancel them.”

  Chapter Eight: Thursday, Midday

  The sky was clear, and the air held a late autumn crispness. After stopping off at the bank, JB took a short detour to the hospital. “It’s not that far out of our way, and I need to make a quick visit,” he explained to Gemma.

  He swung into the one empty parking space ahead of a large black SUV, whose driver glared daggers at him. Since he’d taken over the agency at the start of the year, between his caseload and JB Sr.’s dedication to his followers, he and his father hadn’t seen much of each other. Meeting his grandfather the other night had created even more anxiety. “I won’t be a sec.”

  “Can you get me a coffee? There must be a machine in there.”

  JB was true to his word, and it wasn’t long before he returned.

  “Must be hard seeing your father like that?” Gemma said as they drove out of the hospital. She sipped her large coffee and held a second cup for JB in her other hand.

  “You think?”

  Gemma bristled at his sarcasm. “Jason and I never knew our father. Or our mother. We only had other people’s parents, and most of them, even the kindest ones didn’t love us the way they did their own, no matter how hard they tried. Consider yourself lucky to have at least been brought up by your own parents.”

  JB said nothing for a minute. Sometimes, he reflected, your own miseries make you forget you’re not the only one suffering. “Sorry, Gem. Sometimes my foot insists on shoving itself in my mouth.”

  Gemma went to answer, but his phone rang, and he held a finger up to silence her while he put the phone on speaker.

  “JB, Perry is on the move. And we’re following. Will keep you posted.” They heard Nikki start the engine, and the call ended.

  Ten minutes later, JB and Gemma parked down the road from Bathsheba’s building, in a spot where they had a clear view of everyone coming in or out. They’d barely finished their coffees when a black Ford sedan arrived.

  A young man got out, pulled his baseball cap further down over his face, and hurried into the apartment building.

  “I’ll bet you a month’s salary, that’s Perry White,” JB said.

  Gemma snorted.

  A minute later, Nikki and Jason arrived and parked further along the block on the other side of the street.

  “I guess you’re right,” Gemma muttered as she unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it in her mouth.

  JB’s phone rang. “Yes?” He put the phone on speaker.

  “We all going to sit here?” Jason asked.

  “Yes, Jason we are.” He and Gemma exchanged looks. She rolled her eyes. “Stay on the phone.”

  At that moment, Perry appeared. Bathsheba, wearing a bright purple jacket and short matching skirt, tottered after him in a pair of stiletto heels, carrying a bulky backpack over her shoulder.

  “Oh, good,” Jason exclaimed. “They’re off again, and she’s carrying a suspiciously large bag.”

  “Gemma and I will follow them, you two stay here,” JB told the other couple. “We need to know if anyone else from the coven visits and c
all me if that daemon appears.”

  “But we–”

  “Got it, JB. Stay in touch.” Nikki cut off Jason’s objections.

  Perry drove into the center of the city. He gave no sign he knew he was being tailed.

  Traffic was heavy, and they almost lost sight of the black Ford when a stoplight turned red, and they didn’t make it across the intersection. JB’s fingers drummed a rhythm on the steering wheel till the lights changed. Fortunately, they spotted the vehicle, about half a dozen cars ahead stuck behind a large truck.

  “This isn’t the way back to his place,” Gemma said.

  “And I’m sure Jason’s right—the chalice is in that backpack.”

  “I wonder why the daemon didn’t take it yesterday.”

  “Good question, but one we’ll never know the answer to. Maybe he had a hot daemon date?”

  Gemma giggled at the joke. “That isn’t funny.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” Putting my foot in my mouth, making stupid jokes, yeah, JB told himself, you’re sure going to impress her today.

  Perry left the busy city center and entered a rather exclusive residential neighborhood. Modern glass-walled apartment blocks set in well-cultivated grounds, separated by large townhouses close to the central shopping and financial districts spoke of wealth.

  “Hey, I can see tennis courts at the back of this one,” Gemma exclaimed.

  “Are you familiar this part of town?” JB asked.

  “I went to a party once somewhere around here. Another disastrous relationship.”

  “Why another? Aren’t you and what’s his name ...?”

  “That’s old news.”

  Judging by her tone, JB felt discretion was the better course to take. He didn’t want to intrude and their relationship didn’t extend to asking intimate personal questions about each other’s life outside work—yet. If Gemma wanted to share any details concerning her ex-boyfriend, he’d offer a sympathetic ear. He tried to feel sorry for her, but only experienced a lightening of his own mood. Perhaps when this case was done, he could ask her for a date. Nothing too intense—invite her out for a casual dinner or the movies.

  “He’s parking.” Gemma’s voice brought him out of his daydream and back to the present. “Park there.” She pointed at a space on the opposite side.

  “Yes, ma’am,” JB smiled. He liked a woman who concentrated on the job and didn’t get distracted.

  Bathsheba, still clutching the bulky backpack and followed by her brother, walked along the neat shrub-edged path, glancing around before she entered the building. After five minutes, Perry reappeared. He made it to his vehicle in record time, the wheels screeching as he pulled out and drove off as if the hounds of hell were chasing him.

  “That doesn’t look good. You stay here, I’ll find out which apartment she’s gone to.”

  “Hey–”

  JB cut her short. “We had this conversation the other night. And I need you to watch out and inform me if anyone else you recognize from the bar arrives. Okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Go on. I got it covered.” Gemma watched JB walk toward the building. He was too bossy, but she admired the way he carried himself, his tall, wiry frame, and the ease with which he moved. He focused on his work, but every now and then, she caught a soft look on his face, and the sense of something hidden, something dark and dangerous that surrounded him intrigued her.

  JB nodded at the uniformed security guard standing in the lobby, and ignoring the man’s suspicious scrutiny, he marched over to the reception desk with brisk efficiency. An apartment block with a guard and a receptionist—guess you get what you pay for, he thought. “Excuse me.”

  The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with dyed blonde hair swept up in a sleek chignon, glanced up from her computer screen, taking in the well-worn leather jacket and untidy hair falling into his eyes. “Yes, how can I help?” Her tone implied she would do as little as possible.

  Injecting a tad of glamour into his voice, he leaned forward. “My friend arrived here within the last few minutes. She’s small, has short dark hair, and was wearing a purple suit. I was supposed to meet her, but I’m late. I need to know which apartment she went to.”

  The woman blinked, a look of confusion flickering in her eyes for a moment. Then she gave JB a bright smile. “Why, yes, of course, young man. She went to Mr. Gelon’s apartment, that’s 201 on the second floor. Elevators are over to your right. Take either of them.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Everything’s fine, Bill,” she called out to the guard.

  JB entered the waiting elevator and pressed the button. As the doors closed, he heard the soft ping of the second elevator door opening. After a minute in one of the most silent elevators he’d ever used, he stepped out into a long corridor with four polished redwood doors. The apartment he wanted was furthest from the elevator. He padded along the corridor, his senses prickling. Something was wrong. The door to 201 was open. He stopped short and gazed down at Bathsheba’s body sprawled on the floor.

  She must have fought hard, he observed, noticing the red high-heeled shoe still gripped in her hand. She lay on her back, her smart suit was ripped, and her neck was twisted at an impossible angle. Deep red burns marked where the daemon’s hands had squeezed her throat, and taken her life. He could smell her flowery perfume underneath the panic and terror that spilled out from the room.

  Pulling out his phone, he punched in 911 and waited. “Police? There’s been a murder.” As soon as he finished giving the dispatcher the address, his phone buzzed. “Gemma, there–”

  “Hey, Bathsheba’s pet daemon is getting into a car right now. And he’s got the backpack with him. He’s pulling out. If we lose him, we lose the chalice. I’m sending you a pic of the number, and I’m following him.”

  “Gem! No!” His phone went dead.

  Chapter Nine: Thursday, 4pm

  “You damn pig-headed fool woman!” JB shouted at the phone as he dialed the office. “Listen, Zhanna, the daemon’s name is Gelon, and he’s murdered Bathsheba. Gemma’s gone after him on her own, while I’m stuck here waiting for the police. Stay in contact with her and get her location.” When he got his hands on Gemma, he’d wring her neck. And he couldn’t even go after her, not because she’d taken his car, but leaving before the police arrived would be viewed as suspicious, and might even put him in the frame for murder. His pupils turned red, and the little flames that appeared when he was angry danced in the center. The last thing he needed was to draw unwelcome attention to himself. He breathed deeply for a few minutes and unclenched his fists.

  An hour later Homicide Detective Barclay had taken his statement while two local police crime scene investigators took photos and gathered evidence. Fortunately, the detective had been more interested in the absent daemon, Gelon, and accepted JB’s explanation for his presence—that he’d been following the deceased, as he believed she had information about a valuable item stolen from a client. He gave them Hekate’s number if they needed confirmation, and Barclay hadn’t inquired too deeply into the details of the missing object, for which he was grateful. Hekate wouldn’t be happy with him if that information emerged into the public domain.

  Restless and keen to leave, he paced up and down the corridor, out of sight of Bathsheba’s body. His calls to Gemma had gone straight to voicemail. He churned the same questions over and over in his mind. What if something happened to her? Why wasn’t she answering her calls? She’d gone after a daemon powerful enough to stay on earth for days at a time, who almost certainly had the chalice, and seemed to be busy getting rid of anyone who could lead a trail back to him. He clenched his jaw so hard he felt his teeth grind.

  “Okay, that’s it Mr. Lucerne,” the detective told him at last. “Thanks for your cooperation. We’ll be calling in the super squad, and they’ll contact you if they have any more questions.”

  JB turned up the collar of his leather jacket as he exited the apartment block. The wi
nd had picked up, and autumn was undeniably saying good-bye as winter edged in the door. He set off toward the center of town where he could pick up a taxi. He called Zhanna. “Any news from Gemma?”

  “Yes, she rang a short while ago. So did Hekate.” The faerie placed a notable stress on the first syllable. “She sounded hysterical. Don’t you check your messages? We have two more days to solve the case.” Her voice squeaked, the way it did when something disturbed her.

  “Calm down, Zhanna. I want to know where Gemma is.”

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  JB growled, scrolling through his messages. “Zhanna …?”

  “Okay, okay. The daemon went to an address—didn’t you get my message? It’s over in Clover–that sounds like a lovely place to live–”

  “Zhanna, get to the point.”

  “As I was saying, I also sent you the name of the person who lives there, but Gemma said the daemon didn’t stay long. Her last call said she’d keep following him.”

  JB found Zhanna’s message. “Thanks, I’ll be in touch.” He cut off and stared at the name. Lazlo Westermore. He knew that name and rolled it around his head for a minute. Then he remembered. His father had had dealings with the minor wizard not so long ago and hadn’t spoken favorably about the man, but if Gelon had visited, he might know where the demon was headed. He called Nikki. “Get a cab and meet me at Buttercup Lane, in Clover. Jason can wait at Perry’s place for him. He can handle him alone. Be quick.”

  JB spent a half hour of impatient thumb twiddling, leaving more messages, and inhaling enough oxygen for a team of Olympic swimmers in an effort to calm himself before Nikki stepped out of a taxi, and he paid the driver. He didn’t want to consider how much these rides were taking out of Sanderson’s check. If they broke this case, they’d be fine, but until then every cent was as precious as gold dust. He tried not to worry about Gemma. Zhanna was in contact with her. He’d have to trust them both, and they were making progress on the case.

  JB and Nikki headed down the small lane on the outskirts of Tropolis. A row of single and two-storied ranch-style houses lined one side of the road, facing a picturesque view of open fields and woodlands on the other. The fresh breeze carried autumn smells of damp earth and leaves whirled and danced as they fell from branches.