Harley Merlin 2: Harley Merlin and the Mystery Twins

by Bella Forrest

  Anna shook her head again. “No, definitely not.”

  “Do you remember anything out of the ordinary that happened in the past week?” I asked. “Anything strange? Anything at all?”

  Frank and Anna looked at each other, then back at me.

  “Last Sunday we were having dinner, and she was telling us how happy she was,” Frank said. “That’s when we both knew that Marjorie felt safe here. It was like a ‘Mission Accomplished!’ kind of moment for us.”

  “Monday was fine. Frank took her to the art supply shop. Gosh, she was beaming when they came back,” Anna added, smiling. “Frank got her pastel chalk, and she was eager to try it out. Then, Tuesday, all okay, she got home on time, had a school friend over for homework help. She was in bed by midnight.”

  “Then, Wednesday we had a Social Services visit after school,” Frank murmured.

  That rang an alarm bell in my head. “Social Services?”

  “Yes. Part of the first two years after adoption. They come by every month to check on us, make sure we’re okay, that Marjorie is fitting in. Stuff like that,” Anna explained.

  “Okay, and how did the visit go?” Wade asked.

  We were both concerned. We’d already seen a similar pattern. I looked around, noticing a marble bowl on the mantelpiece next to the framed photos. Anna’s brow furrowed as she and Frank exchanged glances once more. They were both realizing something they hadn’t noticed before.

  “The people were very nice. Two men in their late forties… Decent type, nice suits, soft voices. They gave us their card—it’s in that bowl over there,” Anna said, pointing at the marble piece I’d been eyeing already. “They were twins, which I found interesting.”

  My stomach dropped as I approached the mantelpiece and saw the business card sticking out from between several knickknacks.

  “What were their names?” Wade pressed.

  “John and Steven Ryder,” Anna said.

  I picked the card up and showed it to Wade. The Ryder twins had been here. We were both chilled to the bone over this. What was really confusing to me was their choice of first names, which seemed to vary from one family to the next, along with their age and appearance, and now, even gender. Was this deliberate, just to mess with us?

  “What did they do and say?” Wade asked. “I need you to remember very carefully, Mrs. Hamm. It’s important that we get as many details as possible.”

  “Well, they asked the usual questions. We go through this with Social Services every month, so there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary there.” Anna sighed, getting frustrated.

  Frank, on the other hand, was on to something. “Remember they wanted to talk to Marjorie in private?”

  “Yeah, but they do that every month, honey,” Anna replied.

  “Something was different this time,” Frank insisted, his brow furrowed. “After they talked, and Marjorie came back with them in the kitchen, she seemed… different. We were supposed to sit down for dinner once they were gone, but Marge said she wasn’t hungry anymore and went to her room.”

  Wade and I looked at each other. They must’ve said something to her. What if we were looking at another Kenneth Willow scenario here? My stomach shrank into an uncomfortable little ball as I thought of the implications.

  “What about the following days?” I asked.

  “Oh, God. Frank, you’re right,” Anna croaked. “She was different after that. Thursday came, and Marjorie barely ate anything for breakfast. She wasn’t too chatty in the evening, but she blamed it on a headache.”

  “Then Friday… She didn’t come back from school. No one saw her leave school, either,” Frank continued.

  “Did she go to classes?” Wade replied.

  “Yeah. All of them. Her teachers confirmed. Police checked CCTV, too. It’s like she vanished into thin air. She was last seen in the hallway with the rest of the kids as they left the school. But there was no sign of her outside,” Anna explained.

  “And you haven’t heard from her since,” Wade concluded.

  “Nothing. Her phone is off, so they can’t trace it,” Anna said, rubbing her face in frustration.

  A sense of urgency took over, my heart skipping beats like a dog at an obstacle race track.

  “Mrs. Hamm, can you describe more what the Ryders looked like, if you remember?” I asked. Wade took out a small notepad and a pen.

  “Um. You could tell they were twins. Identical features. Round faces, blue eyes, light blond hair. Both about 5’9”. Gray suits, white shirts. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? Do you think they had something to do with our Marge’s disappearance?” Anna asked.

  “No, no. Just gathering details, like I said. Everything helps at this point,” Wade answered quickly. Given their human status, I understood that there was no point in giving them any magical-related information at this point in time.

  Still surprised by the photograph’s effect on my Empathic senses, I decided to explore this new avenue. “Mrs. Hamm, I’ll be right back. I need to have a look at your daughter’s room.” I left the living room and rushed upstairs.

  Raffe was just coming down.

  “Anything?” I whispered.

  He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll brief you all outside. Don’t want the Hamms hearing this,” he said, then went downstairs and joined Wade and Marjorie’s parents.

  I found Santana in Marjorie’s room, stuffing one of the charm bags under her bed. She got up, then exhaled sharply. “I had my Orishas check the place out. Something weird happened here, Harley,” she murmured.

  “Define weird, because the Ryders were here. This time, however, they interacted with both the human parents and the magical kid on her own,” I replied.

  Santana stilled, her eyes wide. “Crap. Like with Kenneth Willow’s family.”

  I nodded. “They came on Wednesday evening. By Friday afternoon, Marjorie was missing,” I said. “Something tells me she ran away, but not to join the Ryders,” I added, showing her the picture I’d brought up with me. “The weirdest thing happened. I don’t know how else to explain it, but I can feel Marjorie’s emotions just by touching this photo.”

  Santana blinked several times. “That’s not weird. Some good Empaths do that.”

  “Oh. I didn’t remember reading that anywhere.”

  “It’s rare. It’s in some footnote, somewhere in Ickes’s manuals,” Santana replied. “So, what did you pick up?”

  “Dread, Santana. Fear like nothing I’ve sensed before. Well, except maybe the time I had gargoyles trying to eat me.”

  “You think she ran to get away from the Ryders?” Santana asked.

  I moved around the room, trying to get a feel for the place. It was oozing similar emotions to the photograph. Marjorie was afraid—not just for her life, but for the Hamms’, too.

  “I’m almost positive, but obviously I won’t know for sure until we find her and talk to her,” I said. “What did your Orishas pick up?”

  Santana smirked. “Pretty much the same as you. Some were Empaths when they were alive, and they still have the gift, I guess. Something scared Marjorie so badly that she had to get out.”

  I nodded, taking a moment to recall the differences between Santana’s and Tatyana’s abilities as I moved to the window. Santana’s Orishas were former spirits of magicals that had transcended to a higher level, maintaining their glowing, shapeless forms. She didn’t talk to them, since the exchange of information was done on a different level, well beyond our comprehension. She simply knew what they picked up, and she’d spent years forming a permanent relationship with these entities. Tatyana, on the other hand, was a mere communicator with spirits, magical or human. The more powerful ones were able to possess her, lending her their abilities. But her interactions were always passing, never as permanent or as deep as Santana’s connection to her Orishas.

  I liked them both, because they offered different insights and assistance. I stopped by the window, running my fingers over a curtain bow.

  Mo
vement in the backyard caught my eye. I froze, unsure of what I was seeing. Someone was hiding behind a sturdy palm tree, curiously watching me as I stood by the window. I narrowed my eyes and stifled a yelp when I recognized him: Jacob! The Smiths’ new foster kid.

  “You okay?” Santana asked.

  “Uh, y-yes,” I replied, giving her a quick glance. “Yeah, I just…” I shifted my focus back to the garden.

  Jacob was gone.

  “I… I thought I saw something,” I said.

  Where did he go?

  Or did I just imagine it?

  I remained staring out the window for another long moment, but when Jacob didn’t appear again, I heaved a sigh and turned away from the window.

  “Anyway, something nefarious definitely went down here,” I murmured.

  The vision of Jacob nagged me, and I decided to stop by the Smiths’ place again today. Whether I’d imagined it or not, it didn’t hurt to check in on the Smiths and see what he was up to. I could easily play the part of the concerned foster sibling—which I technically was, anyway. My instinct was telling me something… though I wasn’t sure what.

  We left the Hamms with the assurance that we’d do everything in our power to find Marjorie. Wade gave them his card, and as soon as we were outside, he called the coven.

  “Send a complete cleanup crew to the Hamms’ place. They’re human parents, and the kid has gone missing,” he said. “Yes, wipe their memories, too. It’s in their best interests at this point. I’ll send you some details about the girl. The Ryder twins are involved… Yeah, put out an APB on her. Marjorie Phillips. Aha. Cool, thank you.”

  After he hung up, we stopped by the Jeep to catch up.

  “So, remember how the djinn picks up on the energy of something that happened in a place?” Raffe asked, looking at Wade. “Any kind of tragedy or difficult, painful decision. Anything that stirred grief and suffering, in general.”

  “Uh-huh,” Wade replied, as Raffe had his full attention.

  I had no clue what they were talking about. “What djinn?” I asked.

  Raffe smiled. “I’ll explain at some point, I promise. This whole Ryder twins issue is more important and demands our full attention,” he said. I understood then that the djinn had something to do with his magical abilities, and I figured it was better not to pursue this now. He was right. We had bigger fish to fry. “Something bad happened in that house. Something made Marjorie leave.”

  “And it wasn’t an easy decision,” I replied, corroborating his and Santana’s findings. “We’re all picking up on the same thing here, albeit differently. I’m getting mine directly from a photo of her. The feelings are so dark, so intense… It’s mind-boggling.”

  “You’re reading from a picture now?” Wade asked, raising an eyebrow. He was quite impressed.

  I shrugged. “Yeah… I don’t know why it’s happening with Marjorie, but it doesn’t matter. Point is, she was scared out of her mind, Wade.”

  “The Ryders probably freaked her out,” Santana replied.

  “Another thing bothers me,” I said. “The Ryders’ description. It doesn’t match the photo we have, or what the other parents said.”

  Wade gave me an appreciative nod. “You’re right. The descriptions don’t match. The names are different from one family to another, too. These aren’t different people. These are different personas altogether.”

  “Oh, crap,” Santana gasped.

  “Shapeshifters,” Raffe concluded.

  Wade agreed. Shivers ran through me, making me tremble. I had flashbacks of Finch shifting into Clara Fairmont, the bubblegum blonde witch that Wade had briefly dated. I let out a frustrated groan.

  “Not again,” I grumbled.

  “It makes sense, if you think about it,” Wade said. “Different people, similar scenarios. I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ll bet they’re both Shapeshifters.”

  “It wasn’t in their file,” Santana replied.

  Wade shrugged. “This wouldn’t be the first or the last time that magicals would go to great lengths to conceal their Shapeshifting abilities after a Reading, and most covens accommodate that request. You know how our people tend to frown upon Shapeshifters in general. It’s a terrible stigma to have, and centuries of progress haven’t changed that mindset. People still don’t trust them.”

  “No offense, but with the likes of Finch and the Ryders, I’m not surprised.” I sighed, crossing my arms and leaning against the Jeep.

  “The Ryders are doing things a little differently, though. It’s like they’re teasing us, leaving enough room for us to connect the dots and realize they’re around here somewhere, prowling,” Santana said. “It’s like they want us to know it’s them, and that they’re Shapeshifters. At least, that’s how I see it. Either way, Shapeshifters are always such a pain.”

  “Some are difficult to detect, too,” Wade explained. “A Reading can miss the ability, if it’s carried out by a less capable physician, though that’s extremely rare. I don’t know why, exactly, but Krieger can better explain that part. Point is, Shapeshifters aren’t all that common, and most of them manage to keep their ability a secret. Some, as clearly demonstrated by Finch and the Ryders so far, do bad things. We have to find them.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’ll be a breeze to find two people who can basically turn into anyone.” I chuckled bitterly.

  Raffe grinned. “There may be something about them that would work in our favor,” he said. “Shifting is a very painful and complex process—the first time around, when there’s a new persona to… put on. If they’re shifting into personas they’ve done before, it’s not as bad. Therefore, it would make sense that they use a limited number of identities they’ve morphed into before.”

  Santana narrowed her eyes at him, as if processing the information. “So, we’d need to keep an eye on the descriptions that the parents give us, to spot a repeat identity.”

  “Exactly. Like I said, it hurts like hell to shift into someone new, but once the magical’s body memorizes that identity, it gets easier. It makes sense for them to use two, maybe three personas at most, for whatever it is they’re trying to do,” Raffe replied. “On top of their real appearance, that is.”

  “I’ll have Astrid put all the descriptions into the system and widen the search for them, then,” Wade said, swiping through his phone. “The one thing we know for sure is that they scared Marjorie into leaving, though I doubt that was their intention. I think she didn’t want to put her parents in any danger, figuring she was better off running away.”

  “That’s why you want the cleanup team to wipe the Hamms’ memories,” I mumbled, putting two and two together.

  “Yeah. If anything goes wrong with Marjorie, at least they won’t suffer over her loss. I know you might think it’s inhumane or whatever, but—”

  “No. I agree. Given the circumstances, it’s for the best,” I said to Wade. “But hold on, I get deleting the parents’ memories, but what about everybody else that Marjorie knew since the adoption?”

  Raffe chuckled. “The cleanup crew is very good at what they do, don’t worry.”

  I was officially curious.

  Santana sucked in a breath and grabbed her side, hissing from pain. It burned through me, too, but it wasn’t as bad as it was for her.

  “What’s wrong?” Wade asked.

  “Ah…” Santana struggled to stand up straight for a moment. Once she regained her composure, she gave us an alarmed look. “The Cranstons. Something set off their charms. Something happened.”

  An icy wave hit me hard as I realized the horrible truth. Our worst-case scenarios were starting to come true.

  Twenty

  Harley

  Wade drove like the devil, darting down the streets and taking sharp turns, slipping between lanes and cars, as we rushed to the Cranstons’ place. As soon as the Jeep screeched to a halt outside, I knew the worst had happened.

  The front door was open, and I wasn’t getting any emotions from inside the hou
se.

  The silence was almost unbearable.

  Little Micah…

  We jumped out of the car and raced inside. My heart stopped for a moment, dread clutching my throat. The hallway side table was knocked over. Papers and shoes were scattered across the floor. Jackets and hats, too. The wall mirror was down, broken into hundreds of shards.

  “Weren’t there supposed to be alarm charms and traps in place in here?” I whispered.

  “Yes. I don’t think they worked as intended,” Wade replied.

  His rings lit up bright orange, ready to hit in case of an attack. He moved forward, carefully stepping over the items on the floor. This was definitely a crime scene, and we needed to touch it as little as possible, for the purpose of a proper investigation.

  Wade cursed under his breath when he saw the living room. Santana, Raffe, and I reached him. We all froze.

  Horror cut my breath off. I saw Susan and Larry lying on the floor, in the middle of the living room. They were both dead, staring at the ceiling with eyes wide open—lifeless and glassy. Their throats had been slit. Blood had pooled around their heads. Their skin was paler than usual, but rigor mortis had yet to properly set in, judging by the color of their lips.

  “Oh, God,” I gasped.

  Wade went in and checked the bodies. He whispered a spell as he moved his hand over Susan and Larry. His rings lit up white as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

  “They’ve been dead for ten, fifteen minutes, tops,” he said. “They bled out.”

  “Micah!” I shouted, praying to Chaos itself to hear him or see him alive. “Micah! Can you hear me? It’s Harley! MICAH!”

  Santana squeezed my shoulder. “He’s not here, querida,” she murmured, wearing a pained look on her face. “Neither is the Orisha I left with him.”

  I broke into a cold sweat as I looked around the room. There had been a violent fight here. The coffee table was knocked over. Most of the books from the shelves were on the floor. Coffee had been spilled on the carpet, the cups smashed into pieces. The framed photographs were down, the glass broken and smoke swirling from beneath.