I met his gaze. “Do you have any idea who’s behind this?”
Sorren hesitated. “Maybe. But if I’m right, he’s someone who should be dead.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Death isn’t permanent for everyone.”
He nodded. “For some more than others. And in this case, I was certain that we had been able to destroy him.”
“Destroy who?” Teag asked.
“He goes by the name of Corban Moran,” Sorren replied. “You might think of him as an arms dealer, only he deals in dangerous magical objects, not guns and bombs. He’s rogue, so he’s not really part of any group, but more often than not, his ventures align with whatever the Family is up to.”
The Alliance tried to get malicious supernatural objects off the market. The Family did their best to get their hands on dark magic artifacts and use them to further their own purposes. Both groups recruited immortals and mortals in a worldwide network that was off the grid of conventional security agencies. It was like a paranormal arms race, with the world up for grabs.
Teag had grabbed his laptop, and he was already delving deep into the Darke Web to see what he could find.
“You thought Moran was dead,” I said. “Why?”
Sorren leaned back in his chair. “Because I killed him, or at least I thought I did.”
He ran a hand back through his hair. “It’s probably easier to show you than to tell you,” he said, and withdrew an envelope from his pocket. Inside was a photograph of a man and a woman.
The man was tall and thin, with a build that could well be the man I’d glimpsed following us. If so, then time had not been kind to him. The picture looked to be about ten years old, but the man’s face was very different from the wrinkled, withered skin of our stalker. Moran had an intelligent look to him, though his features were not striking, except for the utter coldness of his dark eyes. I glanced at the woman who stood next to him. I didn’t think I’d want to meet her. She had the same cold look to her as Moran, but there was something in her expression that made me think she enjoyed her work a little too much.
From the same envelope, Sorren withdrew a charred button that looked like it came from a man’s coat. “Take it,” he said.
Drawing a deep breath to steady myself, I let Sorren drop the button into my outstretched hand. The vision took hold immediately.
I was in the mechanical room of an old building, and from the signs in English and French, my bet was somewhere in Canada. Large boilers, dark with age, filled the space amid brick pillars and twisting pipes.
The whole place stank of dark magic, and the air crackled with power. I spotted Sorren in the dim light.
He was dressed in a dark sweater and jeans, blending into the darkness.
“The building is warded. You can’t get out,” Sorren shouted into the shadows.
“You’re assuming I need to leave the way I came in.” Corban Moran stepped out from behind one of the brick pillars. In his right hand was a box made of human bones, decorated with yellowed teeth. In his left hand was a wizard’s staff of twisted and gnarled willow.
Sorren lunged for him, but Moran was faster. He leveled his staff at Sorren and an invisible force sent the vampire sprawling. In the same instant, Moran spoke a word of power and fire erupted from the box in his right hand, splintering the bone box and shooting up toward the old wooden beams in the ceiling.
Sorren climbed to his feet, and Moran’s staff blasted one of the boilers, sending scalding water flying and shaking the foundations of the building. Sorren rushed at him, and two more boilers exploded. The
beams in the ceiling were beginning to catch fire and the blasts had jarred the brick columns enough that some had begun to collapse.
Moran was chanting a guttural litany, and as Sorren ran at him once more, the flames surrounded Moran without burning him. As I watched, a figure appeared in the flames, and while it was not exactly like the monster I had glimpsed in the vision with the pocket watch, I had no doubt that this creature was some kind of demon.
Sorren threw an object that looked like a crystal orb into the heart of the fire. There was a blinding flare of light and a burst of energy from within the flames, sending out a halo of fire and splintered glass.
Inside the column of fire, Moran began to writhe.
With a deafening, thunderous roar, Moran disappeared and the ceiling came crashing down.
“Moran can summon demons,” I said, coming back to myself.
Sorren nodded. “He’s a nephilmancer. He can call on outcast spirits, like demons. But it takes a great deal of power, and demons always want something in exchange.”
“You were in that boiler room when the roof collapsed,” I said, meeting Sorren’s gaze.
He nodded. “Yes. It’s difficult to kill a vampire, but not impossible. That came closer than I would have liked.” He paused. “Recovery was… unpleasant.”
“And for Moran?”
“The glass ball I threw into the demon fire was spelled,” Sorren replied. “It should have drained Moran of his life and magic, leaving him a withered, dead husk.”
“But it didn’t?”
“Apparently not. Although from what you’ve reported, the incident took its toll.” He shook his head.
“If Moran’s here, then there’s something he wants very badly. But what is it, and why does he want it?” “What happened to the woman in the picture?” I asked.
Sorren looked away. “She was a powerful witch. For a while, she was Moran’s partner in crime. Then he killed her. Sacrificed her, to gain the power of the demon he called.”
Teag looked up. “That’s all very interesting, but I think I’ve got something.”
We looked over to see him grinning in triumph. “You never know what you’re going to find on the Darke Web,” he said. “It’s a wretched hive of scum and villainy.”
I wrinkled my nose at the Star Wars quote. “Get on with it.”
“There’s always the usual: traders in black magic services, banned dark magic potions, poisoners for hire,” he said. “Most of the sites have all the usual onion routing plus ensorcelled encryption.” He cracked his knuckles. “Makes it fun to hack.”
“And?” I prodded.
“Someone’s been looking for a cryptomancer,” Teag said. “They want to hire someone who’s magically gifted with codes and secret writing.”
“Is that like being a Weaver?”
Teag shrugged. “Related, but not the same. I can weave data bits together to find information, Cryptomancers excel at hiding information, or breaking into hidden data. We probably all fall under arithmancy, which is magical math.”
“What makes you think the posting is related to our problem?” Sorren asked.
Teag smirked. “I hacked the encryption on some of the Darke Web exit nodes, just enough to set a flag if any of the traffic can be linked to Charleston.”
“I thought the Darke Web masked the origin of users,” I said.
“It does. I can’t get user information, but I can tease out a little location info if the person posting isn’t careful – or savvy. The cryptomancer posting definitely came from the Charleston area, and it’s fresh – just two weeks old.” “Can you tell if whoever did the posting found someone?” Sorren asked.
Teag shrugged. “I would guess so. The posting is closed to new submissions and the contact information has been scrubbed.”
I really didn’t know what to say to that, so I changed the subject. “Did you find anything out about the murders?”
“I can ask Anthony to find out what his friends in the police department discovered for the official scoop,” Teag said. “He’s got pretty good connections.” He grinned. “And I can hack into the police database.” We waited while he tapped a few instructions into his computer.
“I think our boys in blue have been covering up,” Teag said quietly. “This doesn’t look good.” He bit his lip. “There’ve been at least five murders in the past year that are unsolved. All homeless
men, all found ripped to shreds.” He grimaced.
“They started off looking for a wild animal, and finally decided they have a serial killer,” he said, shaking his head. “But from the autopsy reports, I’d say it’s magic-related. Skin flayed and stripped, bones shattered from the inside out, fingers and toes missing.” He let out a long breath. “There’s a very sick bastard running around out there.”
“That could be Moran,” Sorren said.
“The police withheld news of two deaths from the public,” Teag said, scanning down his illicit search results, “probably trying to avoid a panic.” He paused.
“Now that’s interesting.” He looked up at me. “An entire salvage team went missing six months ago off the South Carolina coast.”
I inched my chair back to see what he was reading. A picture of five smiling young men on a boat took up much of the screen. “‘The five-member crew of the Privateer were reported missing and presumed lost at sea when they failed to return from a salvage mission’,” he read. “‘The wreck was said to be somewhere between Charleston and Bermuda, and the team was keeping details a secret, but they had told friends they were searching for a pirate ship that sank with a treasure from Barbados.’”
“Barbados,” I said. “Rebecca said that the man who built Gardenia Landing was lost at sea under very mysterious circumstances, right after he had returned from Barbados, bringing with him some salvaged pirate treasure.”
“Barbados is home to quite a lot of dark magic,” Sorren said quietly. “It might interest someone who can call to demons.”
“When did the first unsolved murders begin?” I asked.
Teag checked his computer. “Six months ago.”
“Any pattern to where the bodies were found?” Sorren asked.
Teag shook his head. “All over the city.”
“See what you can find out about the dive team,” Sorren directed. “I have a feeling they’re connected somehow.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m hoping it’s not what I think it is. Let me see what our contacts in the Alliance can turn up. I’ll also ask if we have anyone who has abilities or powers for dealing with demons, but there’s no guarantee they can get here in time.” He shrugged. “We will have to make sure we are prepared… either way.”
He leveled a look at Teag and me. “This mysterious man watching you is not to be discounted,” he said. “And if it is Moran, he’s throwing down a gauntlet for me by threatening you.” The same ruthlessness I had seen in the vision flashed in Sorren’s eyes. “I don’t take such a challenge lightly.”
He paused. “I don’t like this,” Sorren said. “Either there’s someone with powerful – and dark – magic playing a dangerous game, or something is upsetting natural limits on supernatural power – or both. It’s just the kind of thing Moran would be hip deep in. It’s a bad business.”
“What can we do?” I asked.
Sorren gave me a stern look. “Until I know more about this, you’re to do nothing except follow up on the phone calls you’ve made, and wait for me to gather more information. Whatever’s going on is dangerous, and I have no desire to see either of you get hurt.”
“How can we make sure that the pieces we’re selling don’t suddenly go wacko?” Teag asked. “I mean, the items Debra bought for Gardenia Landing were perfectly ordinary when we sold them. What’s to stop whatever-it-is from doing that to other pieces?”
It was a good point, and it made me cringe to think about it. If we had to stop selling items until the problem was resolved, it wouldn’t be good for the bottom line.
Sorren considered the question for a moment. “The spikes in supernatural energy are fairly recent,” he said. “As far as we can tell, they began about six months ago. And from what Teag’s found, so did the deaths.”
“But we haven’t had pieces we’ve sold go crazy for six months,” I countered. “In fact, we’ve only begun hearing about problems in the past few days.”
Sorren nodded. “Bear with me. If something was altering the energy six months ago, perhaps the changes affected people near the area first, then built up its effect in inanimate objects,” he mused. “It’s only a theory – we’ll need to do some investigating – but for now, it’s my best guess.”
“How does that affect our inventory?” I asked. “I’m guessing that we need to quarantine all our sparklers until this is over, and expect our spookies to be more disruptive – maybe even dangerous. But what about pieces that don’t seem to have any supernatural energy at all?”
“I don’t have a good answer for you yet,” Sorren said. “But I will. I just need to poke around a little more.” He grinned, exposing the tips of his long eye teeth. “And if Moran’s behind everything that’s happened, I assure you, we’ll know.”
“Where do we start?” I asked.
“I’m waiting to hear from several of my contacts,” Sorren replied. “That may shed some light on things.” He looked concerned, and that gave me pause. What worries a vampire?
“You know I can’t compel you to stay safely on the sidelines until we know what we’re up against,”
Sorren said, looking at me with an expression that mingled fondness and mild exasperation. “But this is dangerous business. Please, don’t go off on your own investigating until we have a better sense of the problem.”
It was odd having someone who looked my own age show fatherly concern for my welfare, but I nodded. “I promise not to go poking around abandoned buildings without you, if that’s what you’re fishing for,” I replied with a grin. “But there shouldn’t be any harm in Teag and me putting out feelers for information to our networks, or doing some Internet sleuthing.”
“How long before you hear back from your people?” Teag asked.
“Soon, I hope,” Sorren said. “One problem with immortality is that it discourages urgency. There always seems to be enough time. I shall, however, push for answers with a mortal’s definition of ‘quick’.”
“In the meantime, we’ll pull the sparklers out of the front of the shop and keep looking for that common thread,” I said, resigned. “Sooner or later, we’ll get a break.”
Sorren glanced over to Teag. “Getting used to your magic?” he asked.
Teag sighed. “Trying to. It’s all a bit much to take in. I’m taking it slow. Just the basic knots and some weaving for now – nothing dangerous, I promise.”
Teag had discovered his own latent magic fairly recently. But Teag’s gift went beyond yarn and fabric.
Teag’s magic included ‘data weaving’, which accounted for Teag’s amazing research skills. Teag was still trying to wrap his head around both parts of his gift.
“I need to get the two of you home,” Sorren said.
“Anthony’s probably waiting outside,” Teag said. “He insisted on coming around to drive me home.” That was unusual. Teag normally enjoyed biking or walking to work, even after dark, and the constant foot traffic in the Historic District made such trips safe even late in the evening. He glanced at me. “We can drop you off at Gardenia Landing and then pick you up in the morning.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to escort Cassidy back to the inn,” Sorren said. “I may be able to glean some information just from walking the grounds.” He smiled, showing just the tips of his long eye teeth.
“I promise to be discreet.”
I had the feeling that, at least for tonight, Sorren’s investigation might involve an all-night vigil to assure my safety. Many people might not feel protected by a vampire on watch, but I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I said. “Maybe you’ll be able to figure out what caused the damage to the garden. My money is on a ghost from the Harrison family, but since getting rid of the Foo dog seemed to get rid of the haunting, we never made it out there.”
“Tomorrow, expect a visit from Lucinda, a Voudon friend of mine,” Sorren said. “She’ll refresh the wardings on the office and on the safe room in the basement, and I’ll al
so have her stop by and renew the wardings on your houses.”
“You had wardings put on our houses?” Teag asked. A smile spread across his features. “Cool!”
Sorren chuckled. “Lucinda is quite good at the Craft,” he said. “Her protections will repel most negative energy, as well as ill intent.”
“Most?” I asked. “What doesn’t it cover?” Sorren’s smile slipped away. “The unknown,” he said. “That’s always the most dangerous part.”
Chapter Eleven
FORTUNATELY, THE NIGHT was quiet and restful and the next day, I resolved to leave the problem of the haunted objects behind and keep the day as normal as possible. Sorren had not yet contacted me with news, and I took that as an indication that he was exploring information from his own channels. I really needed a break, and decided to give myself an easy day.
I went to the martial arts studio in the morning and worked up a good sweat. Uncle Evan had surprised me ten years ago with an offer to pay for my classes, and I enthusiastically took him up on it.
Now, I knew why. Being able to defend myself had come in handy with some of our prior cases, and I was afraid it might be useful once again. I wasn’t as good as Teag – he’d won mixed martial arts championships in Brazilian and Filipino-style fighting – but I could hold my own. It was a great way to work out some of my frustrations, and I left the training hall feeling pretty chipper.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, and spent the morning on chores that had nothing to do with haunted objects. I caught up on doing the bookwork, and then I rearranged the front window display, something that always feels more like play than work. Then to cap it off, I added some new really nice pieces to the Trifles and Folly web site.
By lunchtime I was feeling pretty good about things, so I didn’t protest when Teag offered to watch the store while I grabbed lunch and ran a few errands. It was a beautiful day, and even though it was hot and muggy, the air seemed to carry the scent of flowers wherever I went. For a while, I managed to put strange ghosts, unsolved murders and old tragedies completely out of my mind as I went for a walk down King Street.
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