Blood's Shadow: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 3

by Cecilia Dominic

  “She’s the one who mentioned it. She said the Institute was built along the same plan as Wolfsheim Castle, so she easily found her way around.”

  “Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I don’t believe that’s coincidental.” David sat on one of the formal dining room chairs and grunted. I lowered myself onto another one.

  “We can always talk to the architect. He’s one of us, and local. But first, tell me about the Order and what you think it had to do with my father’s death.”

  “Your father was no ordinary soldier, Gabriel. Simon McCord was a spy, but not for the Crown. He of course answered to the Council and was to gather information on both sides, but especially on the activities of the Order on the continent because we suspected they were involved somehow.”

  “Right, particularly with the Nazi concentration camps. It sounds like their agenda.”

  “Aye, if Wolfsheim could have found a way to do that to us, he would have.”

  “How old would he be now? You said he got started in the eighteenth century, and no one knew how old he was then.”

  “Right, and even then he appeared as an older gentleman, so one would think he had a few hundred years on him already. This conversation requires a drink. Whiskey?”

  “Please. And damn. He’d be five hundred years old by now at least. If he’s still alive, which is highly unlikely, even for us.”

  David poured drinks for us from a decanter on a sideboard. I wondered if he had one in each room of the house.

  “It’s unlikely but not impossible,” he told me and handed me a drink.

  I took the heavy cut glass tumbler from his hand and looked at the volume of liquid in it. “I hope you don’t mind a houseguest if you expect me to finish all this. My liver doesn’t have as much practice as yours.”

  “Just drink up. I have plenty of room.”

  This stuff had more peaty flavors to it than the first whiskey he’d given me, and I suspected he didn’t drink it as often as the other. It burned going down and left a smoky scent at the back of my palate and sinuses.

  “Okay, what did you need to lubricate me to tell me?” I asked once I finished half the glass and set it on the table. It burned like a fire in my belly.

  David finished his glass, and his eyes had gotten red-rimmed and teary. “Your father had no business being near the battlefield where they found him. None. He was supposed to have been in Antwerp with the Belgian resistance.”

  “Brugge isn’t that far from Antwerp,” I said. “But what was he doing there?”

  “He was either lured or tricked into going there.” David looked into the fire. “I wish he could tell us.”

  “I’ll ask him the next time he appears.”

  David snorted. “That’s the problem with ghosts. Considering he died violently and is here rather than there, he’s likely lost a lot of his memory with the transfer. I suspect if he could, he would’ve told us by now. When did he start visiting you?”

  “The day of the murders at the Institute. I swear I hadn’t seen him before.”

  “That speaks of a connection, now, doesn’t it? The demon on the battlefield and the one in our midst.”

  “But why?” I swirled the drop of amber liquid at the bottom of my glass. “I can see how they would be interested in the reversal process, but how could that be related to a trap and murder in the Second World War?”

  “If you figure that out, you may solve both mysteries.”

  Now that Selene was opening up to me, I hoped she’d tell me why the scarred Englishman had been at the murder scene and arrange for us to meet peacefully. I needed to know what he’d seen and why he was spying on us. My instincts told me he hadn’t been the murderer but might have if given the opportunity.

  Yes, Selene was in more danger than she realized if this was all connected. Luckily I didn’t mind keeping an eye on her.

  No ghosts or visions bothered me during the night, and I made it to Lycan Village in time to visit the crystal and magic store where Selene had gotten the tarot cards. Veronica Chalice’s shop smelled of herbs and incense and other fruity and earthy scents. I never claimed to be a sensitive, but whenever I walked in there, I felt tingles along my spine, at the base of my skull, and along my fingers.

  Veronica herself greeted me and caught me flexing my hands and rubbing my thumbs over my fingertips to dispel the feeling that they were waking up after I accidentally slept on and numbed them.

  “I just got some new fluorite in,” she said. “It’s itching to be picked up and held. Maybe it’s calling to you?”

  She plucked a round green and purple stone the size of a large marble off a stand and handed it to me. Its coolness dispelled the tingles.

  “It likes you,” she said, and her smile lit her entire face like she’d made a royal match. “It’s been a while, Investigator McCord. What brings you in today? Surely the fluorite didn’t call to you all the way out in Shady Acres.”

  “No,” I said and handed it back to her. She placed it on its stand among some other brightly colored stones of various shapes. “I’m here as part of a case, I think.”

  “You think?” She raised iron-gray brows the same color as her long, flowing hair. Today she wore a dress the color of storm clouds, and her hair and clothing blended together to give an impression of rain and sorrow.

  “Do you recall selling one of your local tarot decks to a young woman with red hair?” I asked. “I know it’s a lot to ask you to remember one customer considering how busy you are during the tourist season.” Indeed, it surprised me how quiet her shop was, but I imagined a lot of the tourists were sleeping off their Solstice ceilidh hangovers.

  She picked up a clear round ball. I raised my eyebrows.

  “Clear quartz. It helps me think,” she said before I could ask.

  “Oh, you don’t gaze into it and get the answers?”

  She grinned. “That’s not one of my talents, I’m afraid. Now hush if you want me to remember your redhead.”

  “It’s actually not the redhead I’m so much interested in.” I coughed when she gave me a skeptical look. “Okay, maybe I am interested in her, but the deck intrigues me the most.”

  “Oh, I remember her now. An American, right? Poor girl seemed troubled, more so than my average patron.”

  “That’s probably her, then. Big blue eyes?”

  “Yes, and a delicate face. Unique for one like you.” She didn’t say lycanthrope or werewolf out loud; most of us didn’t since few knew about us, and I appreciated her discretion.

  “Oh, we don’t tend toward ‘delicate’?” I couldn’t resist teasing her. “What are we, then?” I shook my head. Something about the shop made it hard for me to concentrate, but it was also that since Veronica knew who and what I was but didn’t have any kind of agenda with me, I could relax around her.

  “You’re sharp, clever, tough. Your bones tend to be thick and strong, your jaws square and your shoulders broad. Even the women. Lady Morena? She could stop a lorry.”

  “Why is that, do you think?”

  “I’m a psychic, not a doctor. Perhaps it’s all the running over uneven ground. It builds up your bone thickness and density. Or that your bones have to be strong the way they’re reshaped and molded. Otherwise, they’ll break.”

  “Do you think the redheaded American is in danger of breaking?”

  She looked at the quartz in her hand, and a little line appeared between her eyebrows when she pondered. “No, but she carries a great burden she’s had for a long time, and recent events have only made it worse. Coming here was a last resort for her. Her type—and by that I mean scientists—don’t seek out magical solutions.”

  “What else did you give her?” I asked. “Or sell her.”

  Veronica flashed a quick smile. “You know I’m a fair saleswoman, Inspector. I wouldn’t have sold her anything that wo
uldn’t help her.”

  “What do you know about these?” I asked and pulled out the two Major Arcana cards I’d “borrowed” from Selene the other night. She took them from me.

  “They’re from the deck I designed,” she said. “What else do you want to know?”

  “Well, what inspired you to draw these particular people?”

  She handed them back to me. “Some of my paintings come to me in dreams, some in visions. I walk through the fields a lot. Perhaps something inspired me out there.”

  “You’re lying to me, Veronica,” I said. “If you’re frightened of these two, I understand why, but it’s important for me to know who they are, or at least who they are to you.”

  She turned her back on me and grabbed a soft cloth, which she polished the round quartz with. She then placed it on a plastic holder on a brightly lit shelf and stepped back and gazed at it.

  “Veronica,” I pressed, “I’m serious. People have been killed, and the man is the one who is connected to whatever is keeping Selene’s lost object.”

  “I cannot tell you much about him,” she said, “only that he is not like me or even like you or the others you have been associating with. He is more like the Moon.” Again, I admired her ability to avoid saying names or anything else that could summon one of them.

  “So why is he the devil in the pack?”

  “He once was good, but bitterness and the desire for revenge have turned him against others. If you’ve seen him, you noticed the scar on his cheek. That was made by an iron weapon wielded by one of your kind at Culloden. His imperfection prevents him from accessing his full power or returning to his home, and so he has sworn revenge and has proven to be an eager mercenary for those who seek to harm you.”

  She turned to me, and I saw the tears in her eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said.

  “You place me and every one of your kind in danger by pursuing this line of investigation.” She shook the cloth at me. “And I fear I have made a grave mistake by using his image, even without the scar, if someone has been able to recognize him on the cards.”

  “You knew the risk when you painted him.”

  She bowed her head. “It was a compelling dream, and I had to.”

  “What of her?” I asked and pointed to the moon card. “I can’t decide if she’s harmful or not.”

  “The moon reflects the light from the sun, and while it may give clarity, it also paints with confusion because you know better than I that objects seen by moonlight do not give away all their secrets.”

  “True,” I said. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

  “I don’t have an answer, Investigator, only that while she brings confusion, she can also give enlightenment by helping you see things in a different way.”

  “That makes sense from our interactions so far, but I fear she is going to try and exact some sort of price from me.”

  “Her kind will always seek some sort of advantage. Don’t let her, if you can.”

  “And did you see her in a vision as well?”

  “No,” Veronica told me. She plucked the fluorite off its holder and held it out to me. “She commanded that I paint her and include her in my deck, and I couldn’t refuse. That you’re here tells me that she already has some power over you, so please take this in the hope it will help you keep your clarity.”

  “Thank you, but why this and not the quartz?”

  “It likes you. I suspect you’ll need more than just that before this is all over. Take this ribbon and crystal holder and keep it on you always, even when changed.”

  I didn’t relish the idea of a stone marble bouncing against my chest, but I didn’t tell her that. I pulled out my wallet to pay her, but she stopped me.

  “Consider it a gift,” she said. “One given without conditions.”

  “Is there such thing?”

  “I suppose you’ll find out.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When I exited Veronica’s shop, my phone pinged with a text from Lonna suggesting I come to her place for lunch since Abby was fussy, and she had only just been able to get her down for a nap. I texted back, offering to pick up something for us, and we arranged that I’d grab something from the cafe we were to have met at and bring it with me.

  I arrived at her house with salads and salmon quiche, and Max met me at the door before I could knock.

  “Thanks,” he said and took the bag. He looked markedly better from the last time I’d seen him, but he’d also been fighting the blood magic contamination. “I’m afraid none of us are sleeping well these days.”

  “How so?” I asked and followed him inside.

  “Abby’s having night terrors, I’m having nightmares, and Lonna’s not getting much rest between the two of us. We just got Abby down for a nap, but she probably won’t be asleep for long.”

  Indeed, Lonna’s beautiful light green eyes seemed even lighter with the dark shadows she sported under them, but she smiled when she saw me and gave me a hug.

  “Have you thought about moving out for a while?” I asked. “Maybe there’s something left in the house from the Fey’s work or the blood magic contamination.”

  Max sighed. “I’ve tried everything I know to cleanse the place and put up extra wards. No, I’m likely the cause of it.”

  Morena’s warning that the Wizard Tribunal wanted to pull Max from the Institute came to mind. “Have you heard at all from the wizard leadership? Could they be involved?”

  Max and Lonna exchanged glances.

  “Might as well tell him,” she said.

  “The Tribunal wants me to appear at the European headquarters next week. I fear the worst.”

  “Which is…?” I imagined wizard jail as a place where their wands would be locked up and their hands tied behind their backs.

  “They’re going to want to decontaminate me from the blood magic use, and their process is even worse than Reine’s because they lack her precision and power.”

  “Wait… I thought they sent her to you.”

  “No,” Lonna said. “Arnold, who’s a representative to the Tribunal did with the hope that if she came, no one would find out, and that would be that. But someone ratted us out.”

  “No wonder you’re having trouble sleeping.” I handed the take-away cartons around. “What are you going to do?”

  “I can go on the run with Lonna and Abby, but I fear that will not be a viable plan considering our daughter is already displaying magical talent,” Max said. “Someone will notice something.”

  I nodded, remembering the strange behavior of the spoon when I was watching her.

  “He could go without me and Abby,” Lonna pointed out, “but then we’d have to go into hiding separately because they might try to use us to get to him.” She reached her hand to Max, and he took it.

  “I’d never let anything happen to you,” he said. “I’d die first.”

  “I know, and that’s what frightens me.”

  I stuck my fork in the quiche so it stood straight up. “Or you could put yourself under the protection of the Lycanthrope Council and seek asylum with us. Lonna and Abby are part wolf, so it could work.”

  “And it would endanger the already tenuous peace we have been working on between wizard and werewolf kind,” Max said.

  He had a point, dammit. “What would change their mind?” I asked. “How can I defend you?”

  Lonna’s tired sigh told me it would be something huge and impossible. “We need to prove that use of blood magic, specifically Max’s use of it, is for the greater good. If we could get the Institute reopened and start our reversal process studies, they might hold off. The first test subjects are only awaiting the go-ahead before they come over.”

  “Right,” Max said. “Nothing motivates the wizards like curiosity. They consider t
hemselves to be a group of scientists above all.”

  “I wonder who reported the incident.” I took a bite of salmon quiche and thought through the possibilities. “Garou has a man following you, so it could be anyone connected to the Council. My guess would be one of the Campbells because they’re most invested in stopping our project.”

  “Right.” Lonna agreed. “Didn’t someone from their organization take credit for LeConte’s murder?”

  I nodded. “They did, but without Bartholomew and Cora’s knowledge, and I doubt it was either of them. I’ve talked to the person responsible for the letter, and I know she didn’t do it—it was just a political stunt. The Purists aren’t as cohesive as they’d like to seem.”

  “How close are you to finding the killer?” Max asked.

  Now it was my turn to sigh. “My one witness is difficult to pin down and likely isn’t even human.”

  “There was a witness?” Lonna asked. “That’s fantastic! They can identify the killer.”

  “Not so fast,” I told her. “As I said, he’s not human and has given me a compelling warning to stay away from him and his business.” I told them about Scarface’s friend bashing me on the head.

  “Oh, so that’s how you got the concussion,” Max said. “How is it doing, by the way?”

  I felt along the back of my head. “Not even a bump, and I haven’t had any symptoms since that night.”

  Lonna, who had disassembled most of her quiche after a couple of bites, toyed with a piece of fish on her plate. “That reminds me. I know you’ve been seeing Selene. Has she said anything about her brother?”

  “Not really other than that he’s a student at Stirling and she doesn’t see much of him.”

  “She told us the same. I’ll be right back.” Lonna left the room and returned with a leather satchel. She pulled out a manila envelope festooned with postage. “Iain gave up and mailed this to me when we couldn’t get the last application to transfer electronically.”

  “That tells me another energy wizard is involved,” Max noted. “I’m looking in to who it could be, but my resources are limited at the moment.”