Triad Soul

by Nathan Burgoine

  Huh.

  “So they’re mad.”

  “They’re pissed,” Ethan said. “But it’s not like they’re pissed it was Flint. He didn’t matter. They’re just…pissed. It’s…” He seemed to be struggling for words. “It’s hard to explain. Tyson says they’re running hot.”

  Anders grunted. It wasn’t the most helpful information, but it might be important. The last thing the city needed was angry demons running about. Maybe Curtis was right after all. Maybe it was a good idea to get a jump on whatever or whoever was behind the attack. Otherwise, pissed-off demons would be making things tough for all of them.

  “Who found him?” Anders said.

  “Kavan felt it when it happened, I guess. He led some of his pack right to where…to the body.”

  “Kavan was nearby?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Not really. He was here. Some of the women in his pack work here, and he likes to stay close when they’re working. They’re stronger than any fuckwits, but it just looks better if he tosses the unruly guys before they do. He bounces on nights he’s not performing. Like I said, he’s pretty protective.”

  Anders frowned. “Kavan felt Flint being killed? From here?”

  “Is that weird?”

  “It’s…impressive. How big is his pack?”

  “It’s the biggest. In Ottawa, anyway. I think there’s a larger pack in Gatineau, but I’m not sure.” Ethan started tapping his fingers. He got through both hands twice before he shrugged again. “About twenty, I think. Maybe more.”

  It was definitely a large pack, which would give Kavan a lot of power to work with, but still. A balance was at play. The power boost you gained was shared among the group pretty evenly. At a certain size, the gain flattened out. Or at least, that’s what he’d been told. And Kavan seemed plenty powerful himself. Still, being able to sense another pack member, so specifically? As far as he knew, it wasn’t likely.

  “Do you feel David? Or Tyson?”

  Ethan seemed to grasp what he was thinking right away. “Not like that. I mean, I can feel them, sure. Like, I know our pack exists. And I’m connected. If I need to, I can pull power from them if they’re close enough. But it’s not like I can tell where they are. Or which direction? No.”

  Anders’s bond with Curtis and Luc worked much the same way, though it was stronger. He could even tell how they felt sometimes, if he was nearby. But it wasn’t like a compass. There was no sense of “this way to Curtis” unless he was close enough to Curtis it wouldn’t have mattered.

  Louis Flint had been nowhere near Sintillation.

  So was it possible Kavan had known where the body was some other way?

  Anders met Ethan’s gaze. The younger man was looking at him. “I don’t think he’d hurt one of his own.”

  The kid was thinking the same thing. Huh. Wasn’t so fucking naive as all that, after all.

  “I don’t know why anyone would hurt one of their own,” Anders said. Of course, plenty of people did anyway. And they didn’t have to be demons. Anders knew that truth particularly well.

  Don’t think about that.

  “I’ll keep listening,” Ethan said.

  Anders forced himself back into the moment. When he saw Ethan looking at him a little strangely, he put a shit-eating grin on his face and saluted. “You do that, sailor. Mind if I stick around for the show? I’ve got a five dollar bill just waiting to see what color jock strap you’re sporting under there.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “You’re such an asshole.”

  “It’s part of my charm.”

  *

  When Anders stepped out of the small office, he saw Kavan had given up all pretense of being busy elsewhere and was leaning against the door that led back to the stage, arms crossed. Anders met him there.

  “I don’t want anyone bothering Ethan,” Kavan said.

  Anders crossed his own arms. “Neither do I.”

  Kavan regarded him. “You’re the demon with the flick and the bloodsucker.” It wasn’t a question.

  “The one and only.”

  Kavan glanced past Anders. Anders turned and saw Ethan was back at one of the mirrors. Beside him, a man in a skin-tight leather cop uniform said something to him, but Ethan’s reply was to hand him something from the table. The faux cop moved on.

  “I know why I look out for him,” Anders said, turning back to Kavan. “But why do you?”

  Kavan exhaled. “I look out for trouble, period. Trouble for any of us is trouble for all of us.”

  “Fair enough.” That wasn’t a particularly demonic point of view, but Anders couldn’t argue with the logic.

  “What did you want with him?” Kavan said.

  “You’re blunt.”

  “It cuts through the bullshit.”

  Anders was starting to like Kavan. Too bad he couldn’t trust him. “Just passing on a message from a friend.”

  “The cop? From his pack.”

  “I don’t think he’d call me a friend.”

  Kavan seemed to want to say more, but he stepped aside after a moment. Anders reached for the door handle and pulled, but just before he opened the door, he stopped. “I’m sorry about Flint,” he said.

  It wasn’t much. A widening of the eyes, a clenching of his jaw, and an almost reflexive tightening of the man’s shoulders. Kavan was too schooled to show much, but the reaction was there. And if it was genuine, then it damned well read like regret.

  “Thank you,” Kavan said. “Whoever did it will pay. If the wolves think they can tear us up whenever they want, they’ve got another think coming.” His soft voice had hardened, with a timbre bordering on using his demonic allure. Kavan had power, all right. Anders could feel the heat radiating off him.

  They’re running hot. That’s what Tyson had told Ethan. Sure seemed that way.

  “No doubt,” Anders said. “Listen, if you think of anything, make sure you talk to David. He might have a rod up his ass, but when he wants something done, it gets done.”

  “I don’t like the company he keeps. He and the Families go way back.”

  “That was then.” Anders shrugged. “He’s not under their thumb right now.”

  “Right.” Kavan didn’t sound convinced.

  This was a problem he didn’t need. If Kavan knew something and didn’t want to tell David because of the Families, Kavan was making life more difficult for himself. And, by extension, Anders. No way was he was putting up with that shit.

  “Look,” Anders said. “I’m trying to track down whoever or whatever took out your guy. If you know something…”

  “Why would you help?”

  Good question, Anders thought. This was why he didn’t go the Boy Scout route. No one ever believed him. Also, given the chance, he’d rather fuck a Scout leader than teach some little shits how to be better people.

  “Self-interest,” Anders said. Why not try the truth? Curtis seemed to think there was something to be said for telling the truth. “Families’ll figure out there’s magic involved, and they’ll start looking at me and mine even though we had nothing to do with it. They’d fucking love to pin this on us somehow. I’d rather hand them whatever did it than let them eyeball us for the blame.”

  Kavan took a moment to digest. “Magic. Because of the body.”

  Anders nodded. “Right.”

  Kavan blew out a breath. “I got a good enough look at Louis to know he was chewed up by a wolf. But you’re right. There’s magic, too. I figure we find the wolf, we make him tell us about whoever brought the magic.” Kavan’s smile was cold. “That wolf will hand over whichever Family piece of shit decided to mess with us, and they’ll pay in kind.”

  Anders didn’t doubt that for a second. He also didn’t doubt more was going on with Kavan than he was telling. This was more than a pack leader pissed someone took down one of his demons. This seemed almost personal to him. Most demons had zero love for the Families, but that was just smart. Anders empathized. Kavan, though, seemed to hate them.


  He’d love to know why.

  “Mind if I stick around for the show?” Anders said.

  “Just pay the cover. And nothing happens on the premises. You find someone, you take them somewhere else, got it?”

  “Already had some fun tonight.”

  “Enjoy, then.” Kavan turned to go.

  “Hey,” Anders said. Kavan paused, but he didn’t look back at him. “If you think of anything you didn’t tell David, you can tell me. You tell me, and my word to you it doesn’t go to the Families.”

  “Your word?” There was amusement in the voice.

  “My word,” Anders said. There was none in his.

  After a moment, Kavan nodded. Then he left, taking his palpable heat with him.

  That is one pissed-off demon. One thing was for sure: Anders wouldn’t want to be wolf in this city right now. He turned to the bar. He wondered if Kavan was the one responsible for the beer selection. Sintillation had great beer. It was probably Kavan.

  Demons knew important shit like beer.

  Four

  “Hey,” Curtis said. “Sorry if I’m late.”

  “You’re ten minutes early,” Mackenzie said, not quite hiding her amusement. “That’s practically a no-show for you.”

  “Rough day,” Curtis said.

  “Curtis, I would like to extend you an invitation to visit our home today, so long as you are willing to act as a guest and bring only trust and compassion through our door.”

  “I accept your invitation, and will act as a guest and bring only trust and compassion through your door.” The wards pressing hard against Curtis since he started up the pathway released. Mackenzie stepped aside and Curtis stepped into the Windsor Chantry.

  After untangling himself from boots, scarf, gloves, and winter jacket, Curtis paused. Mackenzie smiled at him.

  “What?” he said.

  “You have your ‘I don’t want to ask’ face on.”

  Curtis blushed. “Remind me not to play poker with you.”

  “Ask.”

  “Do you guys know any werewolves?”

  “Yes.” Mackenzie nodded slowly. “Matt does. Dare I ask why?”

  Why did it always come back to a Stirling? Curtis exhaled. “Something’s going on that might involve a werewolf. Do you think Matt would mind if I asked him some questions?”

  “Matt likes you. We all like you,” Mackenzie said, not ungently. “I’m sure he would. You can trust us, you know.”

  They regarded each other for a moment.

  “How’s everything…y’know…here?” he said.

  “As good as can be expected,” Mackenzie said. Her smile, though, turned a bit more fragile. “My mother’s out again tonight, so I got to spend some time down with… Well. Anyway. Y’know.”

  “I may have a way to help, but it might take a little longer. Luc’s on it.” He wanted to say more, but he didn’t want to feed her any false hope. He hoped Luc was successful with his plans.

  She gave him a small nod. “Thank you. Come on.” Curtis followed Mackenzie through to the library. Rebekah and Matthew had already arrived, and they were standing over what appeared to be a glass bowl of water. Matthew seemed to be directing Rebekah. The tall black woman was staring into the water, brows furrowed with concentration.

  “Dare I ask?” Curtis said.

  “Matt’s trying to teach us some basic scrying techniques,” Mackenzie said.

  “Trying?”

  Mackenzie blew out a breath. “It turns out I am the worst at divination.”

  “I may have to reassign you the position of second-worst,” Matt said. “Rebekah keeps making the water boil.”

  “You said to focus on the water.” Rebekah’s voice left little doubt to how much success she was having.

  “Focus. Not glare,” Matthew said. “You’re looking at the water like you want it to suffer.”

  “It’s not the water that needs to suffer,” Rebekah said.

  The water began to bubble in the bowl.

  Matt sighed. “You two are hopeless. Want to give it a try, Curt?”

  Curtis looked at the water. “Sure.”

  “All yours,” Rebekah said, gesturing to the bowl with both hands.

  “Have you tried scrying before?” Matthew said.

  “Not with water.”

  “What did you work with?”

  Curtis shared a brief glance with Mackenzie. She looked away. “Um. Blood.”

  Matthew’s eyes widened. “Blood?”

  “It was part of a locator spell. I was using the law of constancy,” Curtis said. “I needed to find someone, and I had some of their blood.”

  “Oh,” Matt said. He seemed mollified. “Well, scrying isn’t exactly like that. You’re not looking for a person or a place so much as a potential.”

  “The future,” Curtis said. He regarded the bowl doubtfully. “I did a memento loci spell once.”

  “No, that’s not the same either. That’s the past, not the future. Scrying is different.”

  Curtis looked at Rebekah. “It’s amazing all his students don’t feel more confident.”

  “Right?” she said.

  “Hush,” Matt said, but he blushed a little bit and nudged his glasses up. “Okay. Pick a subject—yourself is easiest—clear your mind, look into the water, and let the magic go where it wants.”

  “Let it go where it wants?” Curtis frowned. Letting the magic go where it wanted was rarely his approach with his power. Curtis kept control over what his magic did with words and tools and willpower. It wanted out. He fought to make sure it only did what he wanted it to when he let it out. What Matt was suggesting was beyond counter-intuitive.

  “It’s okay.” Matt must have sensed his worry. “The bowl is a circle, the water is contained.”

  Curtis took a moment to clear his mind of all the detritus of the day. No corpses. No clandestine meetings with a cop. No worries about their new home-to-be. No “Yes, sir! No sir!” games with Anders. It was easy enough to do. Mental discipline had been a skill he’d had to learn the moment the magic had arrived. Once cleared, his mind felt sharper.

  He tried to think of himself, not quite sure exactly how else to focus on his own future. At first, it came through the lenses of others: He knew Luc loved his legs, which were strong and lean from running; he knew Anders liked how easily he blushed. He knew David thought he was kind, and Mackenzie thought he was smart. He had power. In fact, he might be the most powerful of his odd little triad, if he was honest with himself, and he had a gift with languages as his magical gifts leaned toward the element of air.

  Magic built beneath his skin, a feathery and wild sensation he would normally try to calm and focus. Instead, he looked into the bowl. Picturing himself as best he could, he let the magic flow freely into the bowl.

  The water froze solid. A second later, there was a sharp sound and a spider web of fine cracks appeared down one side of the glass bowl.

  Curtis looked up, embarrassed.

  “Third worst,” Mackenzie said. Rebekah high-fived her.

  “Maybe we’ll just leave the scrying to me,” Matthew said.

  *

  By the time they’d cleared up the mess from Matthew’s impromptu lesson, Tracey and Dale had arrived. Of the five wizards involved in what Mackenzie called “craft night,” they were the two Curtis found the least open. They weren’t hostile, but they rarely volunteered anything of themselves when Curtis was around. Tracey was beautiful and polished, everything from the highlights in her hair to her manicured nails aligning with what Curtis had always thought about the Families. Dale, who was also Tracey’s boyfriend, didn’t seem built from the same paradigm. He was kind of bland, a big, broad, blank guy who reminded Curtis of Moose from the Archie gang. Both of them were a bit of a puzzle to him.

  “What’s on the agenda?” Tracey said, sitting down at the large round table.

  Mackenzie looked at Matthew for a second, almost as though she were asking for permission. That was unu
sual. Mackenzie was the group’s foundation and direction. She’d been the one to gather the group of wizards, one from each of the five Families, and had brought them together to experiment with their magics outside of their Family covens. He’d never seen her be anything but confident when the group was together.

  Matthew nodded.

  “Matt saw something coming,” she said.

  Curtis blinked.

  “Something? Something what, exactly? Like about our families? Do they find out?” Dale’s expression darkened. It was the most Curtis had ever heard Dale speak.

  “No.” Matt held up his hand. “No, it’s nothing like that. Though it does involve them.”

  They all waited. Curtis watched. Tracey and Dale looked very uncomfortable. Even Rebekah looked a little rattled, and she was normally a scion of composure.

  “It’s about our inheritances,” Matt said. “Basically? I’m pretty sure the next one is inbound.”

  Curtis looked around at the others, who to the last seemed some mixture of unhappy and worried.

  “Fantastic,” Dale said. The sarcasm thickened his voice.

  “I think I’m missing something,” Curtis said.

  “Right,” Mackenzie said. “Sorry. One of the reasons I gathered our group was because we’re likely the next in line for the inheritances. I don’t mean money. I mean magic.”

  Curtis shook his head. “You inherit magic? Like…more?”

  “It runs down the major Family bloodlines,” Matthew said. “It’s one of the markers of qualifying as a Family proper. In Ottawa’s case, there are five bloodlines with inheritances, so there are five Families. There are different gifts, and they move from one generation to the next. The Stirling family inherits prescience.”

  Curtis leaned back in his chair. “Seriously?”

  Matt shrugged. “I inherited earlier than my great-grandfather would have liked.”

  Rebekah snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “So you guys are all going to get these gifts?” Curtis said.

  “Maybe,” Mackenzie said. “It’s hard to say. The Windsor inheritance always goes as close to mother-to-daughter as possible, so it’s really likely I’ll get it from my mother. But it might also hold off. It’s been known to hang around with one wizard until their fifties, so maybe I’ll have married and had a daughter of my own, and it’ll skip me or something.”