Nate’s eyes went wide and he started to say something, but officers were heading my way.
“Just make sure she knows. Get Cameron to call her from the apartment, okay?”
Nate swore, but the cops were almost to the car. He dissolved into fog, leaving me to face whatever the Seattle PD had in store for me.
CHAPTER 24
JAIL
Want to know how to mind-fuck a practitioner? Put them in a room with no windows and mirrors. Trust me, the luxury of having no ghosts to talk to wears off fast. There wasn’t even a reflective metal surface in here so I could get hold of Nate and find out what the hell was going on.
Max was dead and I was in jail. I leaned my head against the white wall. “You’d think I’d have learned by now.”
I felt the telltale chill in the air. I knew who it was without opening my eyes.
“We really need to work on this whole try-not-to-get-yourself-killed situation.”
I opened my eyes. There, lounging on the bench beside me, was Gideon.
“No one wants to kill me. They just want me in jail.”
“I fail to see the difference.”
“I take it this is where you tell me I’m an idiot?”
“Oh no—I can see why Max took you on as an apprentice.” Gideon took in my cell, lingering on the bars. “You know, I’m sure there’s some sort of sentiment I should express in situations like this, but after four hundred years it escapes me.”
I shook my head. “Do I even want to ask how you got in here?”
He shrugged. “A piece of advice, Kincaid? Stop telling them you’re innocent.”
I glanced over at my sociopathic ghost. “Why? Because the evidence is stacked against me?”
He shook his head. “No—because they already know you didn’t do it.”
“They might know I’m innocent, but one thing about the living is what they know and believe tend to be two different things.”
“For the moment they’ve all conceded you probably didn’t kill anyone. Since you can’t exactly float out of here, I assumed you’d be interested in what’s been going on.”
“Aaron’s not going to let me leave, not if he can help it,” I said.
“Right now he’s claiming you know more than you’ll admit to. He has a point.”
Silence passed between us as he let that sink in.
“The world of the living revolves around reasons. Cause and effect, loyalty, why we’re on this godforsaken planet,” he said, giving me a measured stare. “The unfair nature of life makes people uncomfortable. They’d much rather push logic to the side and find someone to blame. That’s the way it was four hundred years ago, and I’ve seen nothing to convince me anything’s changed.”
“No offence, but if you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re doing an abysmal job.”
“Because this is an area where I have an unfortunate amount of experience—loyalty, friendship, love even.” Gideon shook his head. “They all play a distant second to the quest for a scapegoat. No matter a lack of evidence, no matter what they know in their hearts to be true. At this moment they doubt you’ve done any wrong, but give them time.” Gideon glanced up at me again. “They’ll persuade themselves you’re guilty, and that’s when the fun really begins.”
Silence passed between us once again, then Gideon said, “Look, I’m not very good with condolences, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Max.”
“Is he a ghost?” I asked.
Gideon shook his head. “No, Max made peace with what he was a long time ago. No need to become a ghost.”
I nodded, relieved. I didn’t think Max would appreciate being a ghost. “I’ll need those notebooks back at some point,” I said. “If I ever get out of here.”
“Stupid business, all this raising of a Jinn. There’s a reason no one’s succeeded in over five hundred years. They’re dangerous.” He looked around my cell again. “I’ve been in worse places than this.”
Yeah, right. I ran over Max’s words in my head. “Max told me the Jinn killer is someone close, someone I’d never suspect. It has to be Aaron. He’s the only one who had contact with Neon.”
“That one is hard to read,” Gideon conceded. “It is within the realm of possibilities he is behind this.”
I shook my head. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Think for a moment, Kincaid. Attempt to use that still-corporeal brain between your ears. What do you know that they don’t?”
“I know someone is trying to make a Jinn. Why and how, I don’t know—”
“If you ever bothered listening to anyone around you, you’d save yourself a mountain of grief.”
“Fine. I know that someone is trying to make a Jinn. Not Lee’s original murdering ghoul, but someone new.”
Gideon closed his eyes. “What else do you know?”
“This is pointless. Why don’t you tell me what the fuck I’m missing—”
“If I do, you won’t learn. Self-sufficiency is a virtue, Kincaid. So what else?”
“Very few people succeed and no accurate binding set exists. It’s considered incredibly dangerous by everyone, including people who are for all intents and purposes already dead.”
“Why all the dead bodies?”
“They’re experimenting, trying to get it right. They figure they’ve got the control bindings figured out. After seeing Max, I’d agree. They know their victim needs to have a high degree of affinity for Otherside—”
“I think we can assume there were two people involved, otherwise someone would have been babysitting Max. With the woman dead, there’s one left—no doubt a man. He’s confident; he thinks they’re close.” Gideon changed his line of questioning. “What is a Jinn?”
I sighed and recited what I’d read in the text and Lou’s notes. “A powerful, enslaved animated dead, one capable of great destruction and great deeds—”
“My god, have you learned nothing from the accounts of King Solomon’s Jinn? Capricious, angry, unwilling victims, tortured into an existence of servitude, hell-bent on vengeance if they could only get past those damned control bindings. The only thing all accounts agree on is that the Jinn turn on their masters as soon as the opportunity presents itself.” He gave me a pointed look. “They’re a monster to beat all undead monsters, including me. So what does that tell you about the killer?”
For the next minute all I heard was my own breath. “He’s desperate. A person smart enough to make it this far knows how dangerous Jinn are. He really thinks this is his only option.”
Gideon nodded. “Desperation. A sentiment you are all too familiar with. I would venture you know the killer better than any of these officers.”
“I’m not desperate.”
Gideon arched an eyebrow at me. “And I suppose you were just dying to crawl into the proverbial bed with me in exchange for bindings that let you see Otherside without killing yourself?” He snorted. “No, you agreed to my deal out of complete and utter desperation, which is what your killer feels. No one would attempt to create a Jinn without feeling that way.”
It slipped out before I could censor myself. “Did you ever try raising a Jinn?”
Gideon’s eyes glittered black as he regarded me, reminding me I shouldn’t misinterpret tentatively converging goals for friendship. “I didn’t live long enough to get that desperate. Then again, when I was alive, you didn’t need proof to torch someone, just a passing inclination. Nowadays? Who knows?”
He glanced up at the ceiling and we spent the next few minutes in silence, me with my own thoughts and Gideon with whatever the hell passed for his. Then I heard footsteps.
Gideon regarded me. “Remember what I said about them not caring that you’re innocent.” He vanished as I heard the far door to the cell wing open.
—
“Why don’t you stop treating me like the enemy?” Aaron said.
I slumped in the metal chair. It was uncomfortable and wasn’t helping my mood.
Neith
er was Aaron. I didn’t know what was worse, Aaron pretending he was clueless or the seemingly good cop act. I figure it was fifty-fifty.
“Kincaid, please tell me what you were doing at Max’s. I’m on your side—”
Did Aaron really think I was that stupid? Or was it for show? I turned to the one-way mirror and gave it a good long look. I knew it’d make every last one of them squirm.
“How’s Morgan doing? You know, your new practitioner? I’d have thought you would have brought her in to question me.” Okay, that was low, even for me, but I was near my breaking point.
Aaron hazarded a glance at the mirror. Subtle, but I was watching for it. Did they know she was missing? Or had someone figured out she was involved and Aaron didn’t want them to know he was connected to her? “Like I told you, she volunteered information about the case.”
“And I have a fantastic bag of magic beans for sale, if you’re interested.”
There was a rap at the door. Warning number one. Aaron was supposed to keep things professional. Let’s see how long we could go before the captain burst in.
“Maybe you can help me with a little bet I have,” I said.
Aaron sat back and crossed his arms.
“See, most people bet you dumped me to save your job. Understandable. Nate, on the other hand, figures you’re not that bad, but he wouldn’t know a normal relationship if it hit him over the head with a guitar.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Not really, but let me finish. I figure the truth is a little more complicated. I figure you just think I’m too stupid to realize when I’m being screwed.”
Aaron’s hands clenched on the table. “I’ve tried, I’ve really tried, Kincaid. I don’t deserve this.”
Knock number two…
Aaron’s eyes narrowed as he got his composure back. “There was another murder. Same MO. Two people were seen running from the scene. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I did my best to look surprised.
The door opened. I watched Aaron bristle as Sarah waved him out. He didn’t so much as shoot me a glance as he left.
To my surprise, it wasn’t Sarah who came next. It was Captain Marks, carrying a large folder.
I’d never seen the man in person. He was smaller and less intimidating than he seemed on TV. He sat down and watched me for a few moments.
“I’d like to take a look around your place, Ms. Strange,” he said at last.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Have a warrant?”
He smiled and I followed suit. “We will. What were you doing at Mr. Odu’s home this morning?”
“Max and I were meeting.”
“And why would that be?”
“Book club.”
“Can you tell me your whereabouts last night?”
Yeah, I was kidnapped by a ghoul and a poltergeist, and forced to hear another practitioner gutted. Oh yeah, and she was trying to kill me too. “Not really.”
That caught him off guard.
“An alibi?”
“Lots of them.” I glanced at the two-way mirror. “Including Detective Baal. Club 9, the artists’ hangout. Ran into him there while I was working with my client as a sober companion.”
Marks watched me, reassessing.
“Am I under arrest?”
“You’re being detained.”
“For what and how long?”
“That’s up to my discretion where known necromancers are concerned. That is what you folk call yourself, Ms. Strange? Necromancers?”
I managed to keep the distaste off my face. “ ‘Practitioner’ is the correct term, Captain. People think necromancers have something to do with sex and dead people.”
His eyes widened. “I’ll have to remember that,” he said, and turned his attention to the folder. “So can you tell me a bit about being expelled from Washington State University for cheating?”
I felt my face flush. “It was a misunderstanding. They wrote a new rule against using ghosts as a primary resource after I turned my paper in. The expulsion was revoked on appeal.” Though I’d never gone back.
“Ah.” He looked again at the papers. “And a short while afterwards you were charged with grave desecration? Is that right?”
“That had nothing to do with me. It was a will dispute. The charges were dropped.”
The captain glanced up from the file. “Ah. Another misunderstanding.” He nodded. “Funny thing, Ms. Strange. One-offs happen to everyone. Wrong place, wrong time.” He shrugged. “But when someone ends up with a file this full of misunderstandings, I start wondering what’s going on.”
I didn’t say a word.
“What about raising an unwilling zombie?”
I went cold. “Is there a point to this?”
He didn’t reply, just pulled out another set of papers. I caught the Canadian RCMP logo in the top corner. “Born in Vancouver, Canada, dual citizenship through your father. Says here you were involved in the raising of your mother’s corpse a few years back. Against your mother’s and father’s wishes.”
Where the hell had he got that?
“I quote: ‘The victim’—your mother—‘was unwilling to testify. Treated as hostile.’ ”
I glared at the mirror again, wondering whether any of them cared that this line of questioning was probably illegal. I was going to be having one hell of a phone call with the Vancouver RCMP. After my raising a few dead witnesses for them, you’d think they’d be a little more grateful. The file should have been closed. Except I’d told Aaron about it…
For once in your life, Kincaid, don’t let it get personal.
Dad was an asshole all his life, and a coward. I’d made my peace with that a long time ago, and also found out that cowards back down once they know you’ll make good on a threat. It was my mother who couldn’t be bothered to muster up a backbone and stand up to him.
“That was a domestic abuse investigation, Captain. The police suspected the victim—my mother—was thrown down a flight of stairs after being severely beaten. Canada’s laws are different when it comes to murder investigations than they are here, and they allow raising victims and witnesses, even hostile ones.” And believe me, my mother had been hostile. Thrown down a flight of stairs and from the grave she was still making excuses for him…“That file should be sealed.”
Captain Marks ignored me. “Case was dismissed, lack of evidence. Your father wasn’t very happy with you. Innocent man accused of murdering his own wife. Disowned you afterwards, for being a ‘crazy hell-bound devil worshipper.’ ” He chose that moment to look up at me. “Strong words, Ms. Strange. Suppose that’s why you changed your name and moved to Seattle. Can’t blame you. I’d be ashamed to show myself around my hometown too if I were in your shoes.”
I don’t know what the hell else the captain said after that; all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. And all I could see was my mother’s corpse lying to me, telling me it’d been an accident, he hadn’t meant to do it…and the only thing I could think about was wringing her insipid neck. Screw anger management. I launched myself at the captain across the metal table. He jumped out of his chair, managing to get himself out of my range.
I was vaguely aware of yelling and the door opening.
Sarah got hold of my waist and dragged me out of the room before I could wrap my hands around the captain’s neck. God knows I tried.
He was smiling at me as Sarah dragged me out.
Sarah had me walking towards my cell fast, cursing the entire way. “Assholes. Can’t even run an interrogation properly…”
Only when I was back behind bars did she turn her ire on me.
“I’ve seen you do a lot of stupid things, Kincaid, but that tops all of them.”
“Did you not hear any of what he said to me?”
“Yeah, and you already knew he was an asshole.”
“Sarah, they think I’m a serial killer. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you and Aaron figured me
as the perpetrator on this….”
She looked at the floor then and it dawned on me.
“How long, Sarah? How long? How long have I been your primary suspect?”
She didn’t answer and she didn’t look up at me.
“Son of a bitch, was I ever not a suspect?”
“How the hell were we not supposed to consider you a suspect? You and Max both, until he turned up dead this morning.” She shook her head. “For the record, I don’t think you did it, and not because you’re a friend, but because there isn’t any evidence.” Her expression hardened. “Not that your stunt back there helped any. Now get yourself together while I go try to—I don’t know—get them to behave like adults?”
“Sarah?”
She turned back at me.
“You never said you thought I wasn’t capable of it.”
Her face softened. “That was implied.”
I sat back down on the bench and closed my eyes.
—
“Ms. Strange?”
I lifted my head. My neck was sore, my mouth was dry, and I was damn tired. The young officer who’d retrieved me from my cell for my interrogation was outside the cell.
“Someone asking to see you.” He cleared his throat. “Your lawyer?” It should have been a statement, but it ended up sounding like a question.
I heard two distinct sets of footsteps coming my way, someone in runners and another person in heels.
“Cameron,” I said as he appeared behind the officer. Thank god, not looking worse for wear. When the second person came into view, my jaw dropped.
Lee Ling.
She’d covered her face with enough makeup to hide her scars and was dressed in an impeccable black suit. She allowed me a fraction of a smile. “Ms. Kincaid,” she said. “This lovely gentleman will be letting you out.”
The officer unlocked the door and the next thing I knew I was following Lee and Cameron towards the exit. No sign of Aaron or Sarah. I’d probably slug Aaron if I saw him. Shit, spoke too soon. I swore and earned an elbow jab from Cameron.
“Watch how you use that thing,” I said. “You realize it’s liable to fall off?”
The Voodoo Killings Page 32