by Tess Adair
Logan laughed quietly. “Are you wondering if the beast has lived here the whole time and you only just noticed?”
“Yes! Is that true?”
“Of course not,” Logan assured her. “Someone summoned it. They summoned it to kill Violet Buchanan.”
Understanding broke like the dawn over Judith Li’s face.
“Oh. I see.” She nodded, her face contemplative, like she was mulling it over. “So…so you came here because Violet died.”
“Yes,” Logan answered, pleased at how easy it would be to sidestep any mention of the Key. “Violet was killed by the beast, and I came to find out who summoned it. And to stop the beast from killing anyone else.”
“Like Amy,” said Judith, nodding. “And you’ve been…you’ve been interviewing everyone so you could find out who it was.”
“Yes.”
Judith’s brow furrowed momentarily, then released. She grinned.
“You thought it was me, didn’t you?”
“I did. Sorry about that.”
“No, I get it. I hated Violet. I’m a good suspect. Hell, I’m the best suspect. I would have thought it was me, too.” Suddenly her expression darkened, and she locked eyes with Logan again. “But if you thought it was me, then…then who’s your main suspect now?”
Logan clicked her tongue again. “I no longer have one.”
“Oh. Shit.”
So they had reached the crux of the situation. Logan glanced up at the clock and realized she had probably missed her chance to grab Mrs. Wendell and schedule her desired follow-up sessions. What should she do now? She glanced at Judith again, pondering her options. Well, I’ve told her so much already…
“Judith,” she started, “apart from yourself, who do you think wanted to kill Violet? Or, better yet—do you know anyone who might have wanted to kill Amy?”
“God,” Judith sighed, collapsing her shoulders inward. “I honestly can’t think of a single person who would want to kill Amy. I mean, I’m probably biased, but—Amy isn’t like Violet at all. Violet was cruel, and she pissed off a lot of people. But Amy? Amy doesn’t even get mad at people when she should. She’s probably the nicest girl in our whole school.”
There are other reasons to want someone dead. “Did she date anyone before you?”
“No, she didn’t. Or, at least, not that I know about. Do you have, like, a list of people? I don’t know, maybe I could look at it or something.”
“Sure,” Logan answered, reaching into her back pocket to pull out the paper, folded into fourths. She slid it across the table, and Judith picked it up.
“Derek James?” Judith asked, a little nonplussed. “He always seemed cool to me. We had Chem together, and he actually talked to me. I mean, he talked to me like I was a person and not a troll or something.”
“He’s the boyfriend,” Logan shrugged. “I don’t think it’s him, but it would be stupid not to consider it.”
“Missy makes sense. And Jason. They’re both so stupid though, I don’t know if they’re capable of it.” She scanned the rest of the list, shrugging slightly. “Oh. Huh. Kurt Redmond? That weird kid who dresses like a forty-year-old?”
“Yes. I don’t have too much reason to suspect him, though he did seem…a little off. For a teenager, anyway.”
“Yeah, he’s kind of a weirdo.”
An image of him swam into her mind—his duck-footed walk, his ill-fitting clothes.
“He had only positive things to say about Violet. He, uh, seemed to regard her as a kind of role model for other students.” She decided not to mention his incredibly poor opinion of Judith Li, since that would be neither relevant nor helpful.
“Really? Huh. Honestly, that doesn’t really sound like him. I mean, not that I think he had a problem with Violet or anything.”
“If he didn’t have a problem with Violet, then why do you think it doesn’t sound like him?”
“Well, it’s not Violet so much as, like, all girls, you know? I mean, he’s kinda bitter, I guess. I think that’s why, anyway.” Her expression was puzzled.
“Why do you think he’s bitter?” asked Logan.
“Oh, I had English with him last year, and for one of the essays we did, part of the assignment was to read it out loud to the rest of the class. The one he read was…well, it was kind of unsettling.”
“What was it about?”
“Well, it was about…girls. He started by talking about how girls have power over men because of how they look, and then he said that most of them don’t appreciate their power, so they devalue it by being huge sluts. Oh, but they’re only huge sluts for all the wrong kinds of guys, which is why the wrong men are always in power. And then he ended by describing the perfect woman who could save the world, and it was basically a description of a ’50s housewife, only mute. It was so creepy. I could kind of tell that most of the girls in the class felt really uncomfortable. Oh, you know, I think Violet was in that class with us, actually. And I remember thinking that she looked pretty wigged out after Kurt read his little manifesto. I think the teacher had him stay afterward to talk to him about it, not that it matters. I kinda doubt he would listen to a female teacher’s opinion about it.”
An uncomfortable recognition settled over Logan as she took this in. She’d thought the kid was weird and possibly manipulative, though she hadn’t detected an angry misogynist vibe. But perhaps the manipulation itself was a clue: even during a counseling session, he had attempted a power grab. And from the sound of Judith’s story, power appeared to be a core issue for Kurt Redmond.
“But you know,” said Judith, “I could see him having a better opinion of Violet, I guess.”
The comment pulled Logan from her contemplation. “You could?”
“Yeah,” Judith nodded slowly. “I mean, you know, guys always liked Violet because of how she looked. And, I mean, Kurt can write an essay about how shallow girls are, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t shallow, too. I mean, a dude writing an essay about shallow girls is practically the best proof there is that he’s actually really shallow himself. And he might have liked Violet for more than that, too. She was really nice to him once.”
She couldn’t say why, but Logan felt a spike of cold dread at the thought of Violet’s sudden kindness to this particular boy.
“Do you remember what she did?”
“Oh, yeah. She stood up for him to another boy.” Judith glanced down at the list, then pointed at one of the first few names. “I’m pretty sure it was Jason Reed, actually. He was, uh, picking on Kurt one time in the front hall, and Violet came over and yelled at him and told him that Kurt was way better than him, or something like that.”
Based on her conversation with Jason Reed, as well as Violet’s complaint against him, it seemed to Logan that Violet’s outburst had had far more to do with her hatred of Reed than any affection she might have had for Kurt. Although perhaps that was selling her short—perhaps she had intervened in the moment because she thought it was the right thing to do, or because she felt plagued by the guilt of what she herself had done to Judith and Suzanne.
Logan was still considering this line of thought when Judith spoke again, quietly and ponderously, and primarily to herself.
“I wonder if that’s why he left that note in her locker that one time.”
That spike of dread shot through Logan’s system once more. Her neck straightened as her gaze narrowed on Judith once more.
“He did what?”
“Yeah, weird, right? Man, that was so weird. Uh, this one time, I came back into the girls’ locker room in the middle of soccer practice, and he was in there. He was just standing there, staring at some dumb shorts that Violet had left on the bench. I mean, I think she left them there, because that’s where her locker was, but I guess they could have been anyone’s. Anyway, when he saw me, he put this note on the door of her locker and ran away. Weird, right?”
Kurt left the note. Kurt was Violet’s stalker. Kurt was an ineffective, bullied boy with a thirst for powe
r and a nasty, vindictive view of women. What were the odds that he had only put the note on her door, and not also called her only to breathe into the phone and hang up, or lurk in the shadows outside her house?
Kurt was her new best suspect. Without conscious thought, Logan rose to her feet and swung her jacket around herself, sliding it back on over her arms.
“Judith,” said Logan calmly, “I need to ask you a question, but first, I need you to promise me that you are going to remain cool and calm and do exactly as I say for at least the next thirty minutes. Can you promise me that?”
Judith, apparently lost to the gravity of the situation, chuckled.
“Well, like, I definitely can’t promise you I’m gonna be cool, because I’ve literally never been cool.” She smiled sheepishly up at Logan, and as she met her eyes, her grin crumpled. “Oh, shit, you’re being serious, aren’t you? Uh—yeah! Yeah, I promise I’ll do whatever you say for the next thirty minutes.”
“Good.” Logan kept her gaze level. “Now, tell me—did Kurt have any reason to like Amy?”
At first, Judith looked surprised and confused by the question, but after a moment, her features darkened with comprehension.
“Yeah, a little—she did a project with him one time. I think he asked her out—but she told him that her parents wouldn’t let her date anyone.” Judith shrugged in begrudging acceptance. “It’s not like she could tell him she had a girlfriend. Anyway, she—she told me he took it really well, like he didn’t seem mad at all.”
Logan allowed a humorless smile to spread over her mouth. “I don’t think Kurt has a very direct style of conflict resolution. But on the plus side, I have a feeling Amy is safe, at least for a little while. Kurt has to know by now that his attack on her didn’t work, and there must be a reason why. I’m not sure how much he can communicate with the rekal, but if he can, then he might know that someone used magic to protect Amy, which should give him some pause before going after her again. Of course, the only reason to keep a rekal alive is if you aren’t done with it, so he must have at least one more target in mind.” She chuckled darkly, briefly imagining the vile inner workings of a young misogynist’s brain. “One more girl he wants to punish for her lack of interest in him.”
Judith stared at her blankly, as if she were overwhelmed.
“Uh…what’s a rekal?”
“Kind of demon,” Logan answered automatically. “We need to get going. Are you ready?”
Judith stood up and gave a half-salute. “I’m ready to do exactly what you tell me. And, uh, I’m calm and stuff.”
“Good. Let’s get started.”
“Yes, sir!”
Logan walked over to the door to open it, Judith right at her heels.
“Hey,” said Judith hesitatingly, “what—what exactly are we gonna do?”
Logan shrugged as she tugged the door open. “I’m not sure yet. Either find Kurt or miraculously find his target. Whatever happens, I have to stop him.”
“Or he’ll hurt another girl.”
“Yeah.”
Logan nodded and didn’t elaborate any further. Yes, if he hurt another girl, it would be tragic. But by now her worries were larger than that—by now she worried about his inevitable loss of control over the beast. And once that happened, she worried how many might die. And how quickly.
Chapter 8: Invisible Forces
The damn thing escaped and scampered down the hallway and out of sight. As I tore after it at top speed, a half-formed thought ran through my mind: the best laid plans…
At least it was only a shadow ghost. The harm it could do was innately limited. I rounded the corner into the next wall so fast I almost crashed into the far wall, but I managed to look up just in time to see its translucent silver form slip out through an open window. If I’d had the time, I might have had a word with Henrik about that—I’d been very clear when I told him that all windows and doors to the house needed to be shut before we began. But I didn’t have time—I had to launch myself out of that window before the creature got too far for me to track it effectively.
We were two floors up, so when I sprang from my crouch on the windowsill, I braced hard for the impact. Even so, as I landed, I felt an ominous pop in the vicinity of my right ankle. But there was no time to stop and check for injuries. I could see a streak of silver disappearing into the trees ahead of me, so I broke into a flat run once more.
When Henrik had called, he’d told me off the bat that he was only contacting me because he was too afraid to contact the Order. Afraid they’d sanction him, he said. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this kind of magic, and for precisely this reason—he wasn’t experienced enough to ward off the potential havoc that experimental magic could wreak. Like the accidental summoning of a shadow ghost. A shadow ghost he’d trapped in his study—a ghost he couldn’t take care of on his own.
If I hadn’t been so desperate for work, I might have said no. I was barely 18, and I still worked irregularly enough that going one more night without a job would leave me no choice but to shoplift snacks from the nearest convenience store. When I could get work, my primary income was crime-for-hire, but by now I’d taken on one or two paranormal jobs as well. Henrik was one of those. He told me he’d gotten my name from a fence he knew who specialized in ancient artifacts, and he’d made the leap that I could handle a casting-gone-wrong based on my name alone. It took a little pushing to coax out my memory of him, but eventually I recalled that I’d met him as a child, tagging along on one of my father’s jobs. I’d hesitated at the connection to my father, but his desire to avoid the Order endeared him to me, and he’d implied that he wished to avoid my father as well, though he kept his reason to himself. Henrik was a sweet old man, and if memory served, he had a penchant for tipping big. So I’d said yes.
And now here I was, bounding my way through the underbrush.
Fortunately for me, shadow ghosts had little ability to fight back, and they weren’t very clever. Their only advantage was speed, which was precisely why I’d wanted to keep it trapped in the house. But it was a bit late for that now.
The trees thinned out quickly, and suddenly I was chasing the ghost through a wide open field. Deciding to press the change to my advantage, I unleashed my full powers and burst into top speed. I was on top of the thing in seconds.
This particular shadow ghost was about the size of a small dog. I might have almost felt bad about what I was about to do, were it not for the fact that I knew full well that the shadow ghost wasn’t truly alive in the fullest sense. It had movement, yes. It could certainly inflict some damage on the world if it was left to its own devices. But at its core, it was little more than magical residue.
So I didn’t hesitate when I caught up to it. I tightened my grip around my knife and hurled myself down at it, driving the knife right through its center—where its heart would be if it had one.
The ghost gave out a shrill shriek as my steel made contact. Then it glowed brightly and swelled almost imperceptibly in size—and popped right out of existence. My body thudded to the ground in its absence.
Relieved and excited by such an easy kill, I returned to the house. An overjoyed Henrik paid me in cash, and his tipping did not disappoint. He insisted I stick around for dinner as well, so that evening, we sat in his enormous, ornate dining room and dined on expertly broiled black cod, roasted asparagus, and garlicky mashed potatoes. He brought out chocolate cake adorned with strawberries for desert. It was the heartiest, most filling meal I’d even seen in months. By the time I left for the evening and began my hike back into town to get to the bus terminal, I felt giddy and light-headed, and more than a little pleased with myself. That cake sure was something, I thought, indulging in a mini twirl as I took a bend in the road.
A part of me recognized how fleeting this victory was, but I did my best to ignore that part. Sure, this kill only provided me security until that short stack of cash ran out, but it was still the fattest one I’d received on a job yet. And, hey
, I’d gotten a full stomach out of the deal, to boot. I gripped the small to-go Tupperware that Henrik had pressed into my hands as I’d walked out the door, and I decided that once the bus deposited me back in Portland, I was getting myself a hotel. Maybe I’d even spring for something mid-level. Might be a two-hour trip, but at least I know there’s a real mattress waiting for me on the other side.
The journey back to town was long, but I ran it when the road was empty. In half an hour, I was back in town, and 10 minutes after that, I purchased my ticket at the terminal before loading myself into the bus and settling in toward the back. Only a week ago, I’d been camping in a field, staring up at the stars and wondering if every single decision I’d ever made had been a mistake. Would I ever get myself together? Do something important? Would I ever be stable? Of course I hadn’t actually gotten an answer to any of those questions. But with such a full belly, it was a little harder to care.
By the time the bus pulled in to a stop on a well-lit street in Portland, it was nearly midnight. I’d been sitting in the same position so long, I’d gotten a cramp, but that wasn’t enough to dampen my spirits. I walked a little closer to the center of town, until I saw a hotel chain I figured would fit my price range. The man at the front desk didn’t disappoint, and soon I found myself ensconced in one of the nicest, cleanest rooms I’d ever seen. Sure, I’d want to find something cheaper after tonight. But I didn’t mind. I’d sleep until check-out time, and I’d love every minute of it.
But after I put my leftovers in the tiny fridge, unpacked a few things from my bag, and changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt, I found I couldn’t quite drift off to sleep just yet. I lay on the nice, plush bed, staring through the open curtains of my fourth-story window, out at the stars and the blinking city lights, and my mind would not quiet. Maybe it was adrenaline that caused my blood to rush. Or maybe it was the thought of that stack of cash and the feeling that, for the first time in a long while, I had options.
I stood up again. I needed to move my body and still my mind. I grabbed the room key, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes and slipped them into the pocket of my sweatpants, then pulled on my boots and walked out the door.