The Murder Prophet

by Sherry D. Ramsey

he said finally.

  I typed.

  After another pause, he typed,

  For a moment I was too stunned to do anything but stare at the screen. Finally I typed,

  he typed hastily.

  And she was probably mad because I yelled at her, I thought, so it was her way of getting back at me. I was going to have to adjust her privacy protocols.

  I typed.

  he protested.

 

  LemurCandy said.

  I wasn't quite ready to give in.

 

  I retorted.

  he said.

  I took a deep breath and counted to ten, then told him about the geographical anomaly and checked my mail through a few moments of silence while he laid out the same map.

  he said.

  I hadn't told anyone in the office this, but I did have a theory. Somehow it was easier to tell LemurCandy.

 

  I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me.

 

 

 

 

 

  I grinned, strangely amused by the thought that both Trip and Sandrine Coro shopped at the same online venue.

  Lemur continued,

 

 

  I said.

  LemurCandy said.

  Points for him. I said,

 

  I said. It hit me suddenly that I was really exhausted again. I guess being under a death threat can do that to you. My eyes were drooping even as I read the words on the screen.

  he asked, but he added a smiley face so I knew he was joking.

  I said.

  he said.

  I sighed.

  he said.

  And once I was in bed with the lights out and the covers pulled up, I let myself admit that his concern was touching. I just wondered if I'd ever be able to tell him that in real life.

  ***

  When I got to the office the next morning, I found Glaive leaning against the doorframe of my office, wearing a look as black as his clothes and waiting to bawl me out. Saga sat in one of my chairs, arms folded reproachfully across his elegant black-and-gold jacket. I listened meekly while Glaive had his rant, which included words like "reckless" and "stupid." Then I said, "Glaive, do you remember the Hattenborough case?"

  "What's that got to do with anything?" he almost shouted.

  "Remember, you took a laser shot in the leg, and went down behind my car?

  "Of course I do—"

  "And do you remember that they got the bright idea to start shooting under the car at you, and that I opened the back door, hauled your sorry ass inside, and then took out both of them with my .368 while they were still trying to get a sight on you?"

  "That was different—"

  "And Saga," I said, turning to him, "do you remember when we were under that wharf, and the Delano nutcase wanted to turn us both into Swiss cheese?"

  Saga merely nodded. He knew what was coming.

  "And you couldn't get a straight shot off because of the angle of the boards, and I banked one off that yacht mirror and took him down?"

  He nodded grudgingly.

  I pulled the .368 out of my shoulder holster and looked at it. "Well, guess what, fellas? I've still got this," I said, "and I still know how to use it. And I still know my tai-ki-do. Just because someone has possibly threatened my life, doesn't mean I can't take care of myself."

  Glaive pressed his lips together and Saga frowned, but I felt better. Maybe I'd needed to convince myself, too.

  Suddenly Glaive shrugged. "Never argue with a lady with a gun," he said.

  Saga stood up. "I know you are an independent thinker, Kitano," he said. "That's one of the things that makes you so valuable. But there is no weakness in knowing when to ask for help. That is also a strength. Just be certain you remember that."

  I smiled at them both so they'd know I wasn't really angry. "I will. I just can't feel strong if you're making me feel weak, you know?"

  They shared a glance that I read as "women!" but I let it go. It wasn't like I'd never shared one that said "men!" with Anna or Kikufaax.

  Later that day I was doing some work online, when I began to get the feeling I was being followed there, too.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A Conspiracy of Secrets

  Don't ask me how I knew—it wasn't anything overt. There was a sluggishness in my computer that I initially put down to not having cleaned up the directories lately, and a few times I thought I spotted the same avatar turning up in places I went. Not like that would tip anyone off, really. Lots of people use the same or similar avatars. It was just—like I said, I don't really know. Maybe something to do with my magic, although it had never worked that way before. It was just a feeling.

  At first I suspected LemurCandy, although I had no idea what dangers he thought might lie in wait for me online—besides more Harmonized Divination Nexes, and I didn't think they were dangerous unless I was using my magic. But when I went looking for him, he didn't seem to be online at all. A while back, though, he'd given me a cool little piece of contraband software that let me search for instances of people searching for me or my usernames. Not public searches, anyone could do that, but more intimate, private and high-level ones. It was supposed to be government and Registry use only, and I didn't ask how Lemur had gotten his hands on it. I also didn't actually think I'd ever have a use for it, but now seemed like a good time.

  What I found didn't make me feel any better. There were two distinct tracebacks working on me, one starting the day before I got the Murder Prophet message, and one that dated back longer than that—a few months.

  The more recent one didn't bother me after I'd thought about it f
or a minute. It seemed like conclusive evidence that the message was really linked to my involvement in the Murder Prophet case, and wasn't a Seer divination of something destined to happen. Someone was trying to scare me, or get me off the case. That was fine. It was nothing that hadn't happened in the past, apart from the mystical element. I could shrug it off.

  The other one caused me more concern. Who'd been interested in me for that length of time, and still was? And why? I had a moment of panic when I thought it might be something to do with...my secret. But if that was the case, why hadn't it come to anything before this? And why hadn't I picked up on it sooner? If I'd had the feeling of being followed today, it stood to reason that my inner alarms should have gone off some other time, too.

  Glaive came to my office doorway and leaned against the frame again. "Feel like taking a little trip?"

  "Back out to Alchemist's Ridge?"

  He shook his head. "Nope. We're getting nowhere with any of Coro's business contacts, so Saga wants us to try the two ex-wives."

  I frowned. "Do we know where they are?"

  "Kiku's on the trail of number one; somewhere in Europe, looks like. We know where number two is. She's on a little island off the Fijis, apparently living in the lap of luxury."

  "I hate her already," I said. "But going to visit her doesn't sound like too much of a hardship. When do we leave?"

  "Fly out at three o'clock," he said. "If you can be ready by then?"

  I gave him a look. "Pick me up in an hour," I said, and headed home to fetch my travel bag. I always keep one packed because in this job, you never know when you're going to have to catch a flight or a train on short notice. I took the bus home again, and once more I thought I could sense someone behind me once I was walking those three blocks to my house. It felt like they were getting longer. This time I didn't turn around. It was broad daylight. It's nothing. You're imagining it.

  Phoebe was annoyed with me when I told her I was going out of town. "You told me to order groceries," she scolded. "Now the perishables might go to waste."

  "Cancel the order," I told her, "And send it again when I get back."

  She sighed, or at least that's what it sounded like. "The usual away message if anyone calls?"

  I frowned. "No, maybe it'd be best not to say I'm out of town. Just say 'unavailable,' and that I'll call back."

  "You might have given me a little more notice," she grumped. "And I don't think it's a safe time for you to be travelling."

  "I only found out myself twenty minutes ago," I said, before I realized that I was arguing with an AI again. Then I realized what else she'd said.

  "What do you mean, a safe time to be travelling? Did LemurCandy say something to you?" I demanded, although it's hard to be indignant with someone when there's no face to glare at. Apart from my little freakout the night before when I ran in and slammed the door, why would my apartment AI think anything unusual was going on?

  But on that note, she went annoyingly silent, and wouldn't answer my question. "Sure," I muttered as I grabbed my toothbrush. "Now you decide to be quiet."

  I kept glancing at my computer while I changed into a black pinstriped skirt and green blouse (more suitable for travel and interviews), checked through my bag to make sure everything was there—slippers, sleepshirt, emergency reading, spare running shoes and sweats, swimsuit, change of presentable clothes—and dashed on some makeup. I knew I should message LemurCandy to let him know what was going on. But even if I didn't, he'd find out quickly enough from someone else at the office. On the one hand, I didn't want him to think I was getting too dependent on keeping in contact with him. I mean, I didn't want him to have the wrong idea in case we ever met and the chemistry just wasn't there. On the other hand, he was definitely acting worried about me lately, and I didn't want to piss him off and mess up my chances in case we ever met and the chemistry was there.

  In the end I messaged him just before I packed up my laptop to take with me. Why take a chance? I'd half-hoped he might be offline, but he messaged back right away.

  He didn't like the idea. he asked.

 

 

  Maybe I shouldn't have messaged him. He was taking this all too seriously. I said.

  he said,

  I waited, but he didn't finish the sentence. The cursor blinked cryptically. Finally I typed,

  It sprang up on the screen so quickly I knew he must have had it all typed out and was just trying to decide whether to hit the 'send' button.

  My heart thumped hard for a moment, and my throat went dry. I'll admit it, in that minute, I was more scared than I'd been when I'd seen the Murder Prophet's message in my inbox. More scared than when I'd thought someone was following me the other night. What if I didn't like him in real life? And what if he didn't like me?

  But I knew I shouldn't wait too long to send a message back, or he might jump to all sorts of conclusions. It was just for work, after all, right?

  I typed quickly.

  he said.

 

  he said, and then he was gone.

  I stared at the screen for a minute, then shut the laptop down. I was sliding it into its case when Glaive sounded the horn from outside. I grabbed my bags and headed downstairs, wondering if I'd just made a huge mistake.

  ***

  The flight to Fiji passed uneventfully, although I spent a lot of time deliberately not looking out of the window at the huge expanse of sparkling blue water below us. Magic-powered flight has been around for long enough now that it's the norm, but I always wonder how safe it can really be. All kinds of magic occasionally misfires or wears off before anyone expects it to. Ten thousand feet above the ocean would be an especially bad place for a spell to fail.

  Fiji itself was only a stopover on the way to the little island the second Mrs. Coro called home. I understood that she hadn't kept his name after the divorce, which didn't seem to have been exactly amicable, so I made a mental note not to actually call her Mrs. Coro.

  Our hotel was on the main island, Viti Levu, and as we checked in and found our rooms it was obvious what a difference a well-heeled client could make to expenses. The place wasn't extravagant, but with its perfectly matched white wicker furniture, tiki lights, sparkling tile floors and crisp room décor, it was a far cry from some of the fleabags I've had to bunk down in. Coro's expense account could stand the hit, and I didn't feel the least bit guilty as I took ten minutes to stand on the balcony and let the sea breeze ruffle my hair. I found myself thinking the Murder Prophet, whoever he or she was, would never find me here.

  When I met up with Glaive again, he'd already put in a call and found out from Clarice Valencia's housekeeper that our quarry was out for the evening and never "available" until after noon, so we made an appointment to see her the following day. We spent an hour going over our lines of questioning, and then Glaive retired to his room for a nap and I succumbed to the inviting turquoise pool set just a stone's throw from the equally inviting pale sand beach.

  We met up for dinner in the hotel restaurant, which was just as enjoyable as the rest of the hotel. Glaive had scallops in wine and I had tuna with wine, and then Glaive announced his intention to check out some of the local clubs. "Coming along?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "Don't think so, thanks. Travelling always makes me tired. I'd rather relax than socialize with strangers."

  He regarded me with narrowed eyes. "Are you sure? Because if you are going anywhere, we should go together."

  "What
do you mean?" Glaive had never shown more than a co-worker's or, at best, a brotherly interest in me. I couldn't imagine he was hitting on me now. And the look on his face was stern, not seductive.

  "I mean, you still have to take precautions and stay safe."

  I chuckled and shook my head. "You think the Murder Prophet is going to come after me here?" I looked around the restaurant, with its muted sconce lighting, crisp white tablecloths, and oases of exotic greenery. Muted conversations and laughter echoed around the room as well-heeled patrons enjoyed their meals, attended by quietly watchful wait staff. The restaurant curved around a section of the pool, now twinkling with underwater lights. "We're in a completely different part of the world! I've never felt safer."

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "You're not taking this seriously. You could still be in danger. We don't know enough about the case yet to make assumptions."

  I sipped the last of my wine and set the glass down. "Well, I'm making an assumption. I'm assuming you're crazy."

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "And you're reckless."

  "I promise I won't do anything reckless," I said, sketching a cross over my heart with deliberate exaggeration. "The most exciting thing I'm thinking about right now is a nice long sleep uninterrupted by Phoebe's early morning reveille. Give me the file on Clarice Valencia to look over if I get bored, and go have fun if you want. I won't be leaving my room once I'm in it."

  He didn't continue the argument, but he did stay in the hallway outside our rooms until I was inside and he'd heard me lock the door.

  "I locked the door," I called through it. "Go away now."

  "See you in the morning," he said, and I assumed he left then, although the carpeting in the hallway was so thick I couldn't actually hear him walk away.

  I wasn't bored, but Clarice's file did make good bedtime reading, when curled up under a magnificently puffy duvet with some soft music provided by the room AI. The AI had a soothing male voice and absolutely no desire to boss me around.

  Apparently Clarice Valencia had been a technician at MageData, Inc., during the years of its climb to ascendancy in the magic data registry field. I hadn't realized in my initial glimpse at Aleshu Coro's life, though, that she'd actually worked at the MageData subsidiary where the magic ability-identification research was going on. I'd mentally placed her at the main company, although with no good reason. That made me wonder what her own talent might be, if any. I found it on the second page of her file. She was a Seer, with a minor talent in enchantments.