The Murder Prophet

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  The prime suspect, not necessarily for the message but for the murder, had initially been her husband, Brad Fingard, but he had an alibi that held water with the police, and he invoked his right not to be questioned about a crime with a lie-detecting Psych present. I still think that's a ridiculous law, but civil liberties won that one. Anyway, I guess Saga wondered if that water-tight alibi might start to drip if someone poked at it, and in that case, if the murderer knew anything about the Murder Prophet. There had been no other leads apart from the husband, so the case was still open on the books.

  A message popped up on my Chatterz®, from LemurCandy. I felt an instant disappointment that he hadn't phoned so I could hear his voice again.

  I said.

  he said simply, and my computer beeped to signal a file transfer in progress.

  These were supposed to be secure files. I couldn't believe, even with his Netz talents, that Lemur could get his hands on them.

  he said.

  I typed quickly.

  he said, and was gone.

  I called Kikufaax right away, but her line was occupied. I sent her a text to drop what she was doing and come back to the office. I tried Anna next and got her.

  "I'm in the Vehicles office, finally," she said in a low voice, so I concluded that she wasn't alone. "A tech is running the trace for me now. Keep trying Kiku, or get Glaive. I'll call you for the details when I'm done here."

  I shook my head in frustration. If I didn't get one of the others soon, I was going to take the information LemurCandy had unlocked and head over to the address myself. I half-stood up to do just that, but sat down to try Glaive. I'd catch double hell for going off on my own when one of us had already gotten into trouble that way.

  Glaive's phone rang and rang. No one picked up. This was starting to feel scary. I texted him and waited a full minute, watching the seconds tick off on my watch. No reply.

  Then the office phone rang, startling me. I grabbed it and breathed "Hello?"

  I did not expect to hear Nana Nina's voice, troubled and low. "Oh, Kit, I'm glad it's you. This might sound strange, but is someone you work with in trouble?"

  I blinked. Huh? "Ye—yes," I stammered. "Saga's gone missing. How did you know?"

  She took a deep breath, loud enough that I heard it over the line. "I...I can't go into that now, Kit, but you need to find him fast. He's going to end up dead if you don't."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Losings, Findings, and Revelations

  "It's urgent that you find him," Nana said.

  "We're trying, but we only have a few leads. I just got an address that might be connected."

  "You'd better hurry. You might not have much time."

  How could she know this? "We're going to talk about this later," I told her, checking my .368 as I said it. I punched in the access codes that LemurCandy had sent me and got the address for the suspect in the case.

  "I know," she said with a sigh. "Be careful, Kit."

  "I will, Nana," I said. "I have to go find him now."

  "Kit? One more thing—"

  "What?"

  "Don't be afraid to...to just do whatever is necessary to stay safe, okay?"

  "Okay, Nana. Thanks for calling."

  "Whatever is necessary, Kit," she repeated. She didn't say goodbye, just hung up.

  What did she mean by that? But I didn't have time to ponder it. "Trip!" I yelled.

  The goose scuttled out of the back room and dropped into his guard stance. "What? What is it?"

  I sighed. "No one's attacking us, don't worry. I might know where Saga is and I'm going after him. He's in danger."

  "You're not going alone?"

  "I have to. I can't reach anyone else and I can't wait around trying." I threw my jacket over my shoulders.

  "I'll come with you."

  I shook my head. "No, you stay here in case anyone calls in. Keep trying to get Glaive or Kiku. If you get them, tell them this address." I pointed to it on the screen.

  "We can call them from your mobile," he protested, stretching his neck up and flapping his wings in agitation. "You shouldn't go alone!"

  "I don't have time to call them. You have to do it. And I'll be fine." I couldn't count how many times I'd said that to people over the last few days.

  "Kit—" he began, but I opened the door. Rain and wind lashed in.

  "Just keep trying them," I ordered, and left. The rain sheeted down, the wind whipping and snapping the awnings outside the businesses that lined the street, so I sprinted for the nearest magicab box. I'd charge the ride to the company. I didn't think Saga or Anna would mind.

  When I got there, of course there was a lineup. I stood fuming and dripping, wishing for the thousandth time that I'd gone ahead and spent the money on a car last year. In the end I'd decided that it was easy enough to get around the city between walking, magicabs, and the bus, and enough of my friends had their own cars, too. Now I wanted to be under my own power. When time was of the essence, these other methods fell woefully short.

  Finally it was my turn. As I stepped into the box, I had that being-watched feeling again, for a fleeting second. I glanced down the street and didn't see anyone suspicious-looking, just people running to get out of the weather, so I shrugged it off. No one could follow me through a magicab anyway.

  The familiar fuzzy-headedness fogged my brain as I stepped out of the magicab on the other end, but the howling wind and rain brought me back to earth quickly. The street was all but deserted. The cab had deposited me about four blocks from the address LemurCandy had sent. I didn't want to run and attract attention, but I figured no one would think anything of someone walking fast in this weather. I turned up my collar and headed down the street.

  I must have developed some kind of sixth sense. Despite the weather, when I was about halfway there I knew someone was tailing me.

  "Phash," I muttered. I don't swear often, but the last thing I needed on a rescue mission was someone else mucking things up for me. I kept walking, hoping I was wrong. Then I heard a splash, just a faint one. It removed any doubt from my mind.

  Blame it on the stress, blame it on the fact that I was sick of this game. I forgot that I was trying not to attract attention. I stopped, turned, and hauled the .368 out of my shoulder holster, pointing it down the street and steadying it in both hands.

  "Show yourself," I yelled over the noise of the wind. "I've had it with this! Come out or I'm coming to find you!"

  For a minute nothing happened. A door had opened across the street, but it quietly closed again, as if someone had been coming out and then thought better of it. Considering what I must have looked like, I can hardly blame them.

  "Last chance!" I yelled again. "Then I'm coming looking for you!"

  Trip stepped out of an alleyway, looking as dejected as a cold, wet, feather-flattened goose can look.

  My grip on the gun faltered. "Trip? What the—?"

  He waddled up to me. "I'm sorry," he said miserably. "I've just been worried about you."

  It took a second for me to realize what he was saying. "You're the one who's been following me?"

  He nodded, water beading and running slickly down his feathers. "I was just keeping an eye on you. In case you ran into trouble."

  "You know you had me scared half to death?"

  He fidgeted, scraping a webbed orange foot along the sidewalk and wringing his hands. "I'm sorry. That's where I was when you got to the office this morning. LemurCandy called to say you were on your way in, so I went to watch out for you."

  I glared at him. "Did LemurCandy put you up to this? Or Glaive? Or Saga?"

  "No. It was my idea. Nobody else even knew."

  "But you've all been keeping tabs on
me."

  He hesitated, then nodded, not meeting my eyes.

  A thought occurred to me. "How did you get here so fast? I took a magicab."

  "I know, I watched you get in. I flew."

  I stared at him. "I thought domesticated geese couldn't fly?"

  He shrugged. "I was really scared for you, and I had a tail wind. I can do it, in short bursts. It's just not easy."

  "How'd you know where to go?"

  He smiled, a little. "You showed me the address on the computer screen."

  I just stared at him. I couldn't spot a big white goose following me? Some detective I was.

  "Anyway," he said, "that's not important now. We have to get Saga."

  I frowned. Much as he annoyed me sometimes, I didn't want him waddling into danger behind me. "I'm going to get Saga. You're either going home or waiting here."

  Surprisingly, he lifted his chin. Er...bill. "No, I'm coming with you, because I can help."

  "Look, I know your moves are good—"

  "It's not that. Kit, I'm a Finder. Just a little, it's weak. But if I'm in the same building..."

  I just stared at him for a moment. A Finder? That meant he had a magical talent for, well, finding things. Things, or people. "How does it work?"

  He hunched his back, which qualifies as shrugging when you don't really have anything to call 'shoulders.' "I don't really know…I mean, if it's someone I know, I just concentrate on them, and I get a feeling for where they are—as long as they're pretty close by. Lost items have a sort of—I don't know, an aura of lost-ness. I can feel it if I get close enough to them, or touch them. Like your puzzle book!"

  "Wow. And Kiku's earring." I'd never known a Finder, but this sounded like the real thing. "Anything else?"

  "Yeah," he said, sounding kind of excited now to talk about it. "I can sense magic sometimes, if it's strong enough."

  I stared at him. "You mean you can tell if someone has magic?" No-one could do that, as far as I knew. If the government found out he could do that—

  "No, not like that," he said quickly. "I mean, if someone is using it, I can tell, sometimes. Not what kind of magic or what they're doing with it. Just that it's there."

  "Wow," I said again, but it suddenly made sense. No wonder it was always Trip who found all the lost items around the office. It wasn't just because he was close to the ground and had a different perspective. It was magic. I couldn't believe we'd never put two and two together. "Why'd you never say anything?"

  He looked at the ground and shuffled one orange foot. "I don't know of many animals who got sentience and magic," he said. "And I already stand out with these." He waggled his fingers at me. "I don't want people to think I'm a freak."

  I stifled a smile, but I could understand where he was coming from. "Okay, you really think you can sense Saga if we get close enough?"

  Solemnly he nodded and crossed his white-feathered breast with his index finger. It was one of the weirdest things I've ever seen. "I really do. I want to help, Kit."

  "Come on, then," I said, and together we hurried down the street.

  The address wasn't much to look at, when we arrived. A battered duplex, with horribly mismatched paint jobs on the two sides, and a ragged postage-stamp yard outside. I was not in any mood to be subtle. I marched up to the side where the murder had taken place and pounded on the door.

  No answer.

  I knelt down beside Trip, who had climbed up the three rickety steps behind me. "Is he in there?"

  Trip closed his eyes, concentrating. He swayed back and forth just slightly. I didn't know if using the magic made him sick, or if it was just the wind. Actually, I didn't know if animals with magic were subject to the same side effects as humans, or not. Trip was right, they were rare, so I'd never thought about it.

  Finally he opened his eyes and looked at me. "I think so," he said. "It's hard to tell, with this weather and not being inside, but...I think so."

  "Good enough for me," I said, and kicked the door in.

  I do not go around indiscriminately kicking in doors. In all honesty, this was probably only the second door to which I'd ever administered such treatment—okay, maybe the third. But I was stressed, I was worried, I'd already had to pull my gun once today. I just wasn't Taking Any More.

  No one screamed or ran or yelled or anything else when the door burst open. I had my .368 out, but I was really hoping that I wouldn't have to use it. Trip leaped through the door past me, and landed with a quiet slap of wet webbed feet on linoleum. He bobbed slightly in place, hands up to guard as he scoped the place out. If the situation hadn't been so serious I would have laughed.

  "Is he here?" I asked again, now that we were inside.

  Trip didn't close his eyes this time, just narrowed them in concentration. After a few seconds he nodded. "Downstairs."

  First we had to find the way to get downstairs, which necessitated a quick but careful search of the main floor. The furniture was thrift-store, and not the chic variety. Stained wallpaper hugged the walls, not so tightly in some places. The whole thing smelled of cabbage with a faint underlying note of old urine. Not at all a pleasant place to hang out. We made a good team, I have to admit, taking turns on point and watching each other's backs. Not that I know what Trip would have done if we'd been attacked or ambushed. Tried those killer moves, I guess. In any case, it was strangely comforting that he was there with me.

  The door to the basement, when we found it, was locked. We still hadn't seen anyone else inside the house. I got ready to kick it open, (which would have been a record, two in one day) but Trip motioned to a little nail in the doorframe and the key that hung from it. It was probably his finder magic that let him see it, I told myself as I took it down. I mean, surely I hadn't just missed it.

  The key turned easily in the lock, tumblers falling into place with a soft click. I opened the door. It creaked like a rotted floorboard in a haunted house. Luckily, there didn't seem to be anyone around to hear it. The steps leading down looked rickety, the stairwell dark. Since the door had been locked from this side, presumably no one lay in wait for us down there, but it pays to take precautions. I didn't step on the first step until I'd found the switch and flooded the basement with light.

  Okay, not so much a flood. What actually happened was that a single, faint bulb switched on, throwing just enough illumination for me to see to walk down the stairs. Which I did, cautiously, the .368 held out in front of me and steadied with both hands. Trip followed me, hopping quietly from step to step.

  Saga sat at the far side of the cluttered basement, bound to a wobbly chair and gagged with a strip of incongruously colorful red duct tape. Judging by the fire in his eyes, he was certainly all right. My heart leapt with relief. I swept a look around the basement to be certain we were alone, then knelt in front of him and set the .368 down so I could carefully peel the tape from his mouth. He grimaced as it pulled away from his skin, but then he smiled.

  "I hoped someone would come looking for me before too long," he said. That was Saga, king of the understatement.

  "You can thank Trip, and LemurCandy," I said, moving quickly to work on the knotted, dirty ropes that bound his arms and legs. "LemurCandy found the house for us, and then Trip found you."

  "Thank you both," Saga said gravely. "I will have to send LemurCandy a message as soon as—"

  The shadow that loomed suddenly on the stairs took us all by surprise. I couldn't believe a man that big could move so soundlessly. The floor above hadn't creaked at all, which didn't seem at all fair. The gun he had trained on us looked equally gigantic.

  My eyes went immediately to the .368 lying on the floor beside Saga's feet, but the man said in a gravelly voice, "Nope."

  Then, unbelievably, I saw his finger start to tighten on the trigger. He wasn't going to talk about this at all. He was just going to shoot us. Me first, it looked like.

  Trip must have seen the same thing, because he screamed "Hiii-yahhhhhh!" and launched himself at the ma
n, wings and hands and feet flying in the complex dance of his "killer moves."

  The man hesitated just a fraction of a second, presumably torn between shooting me, or taking out the crazed goose first. I took that fraction of a second, and did the only thing I could. I couldn't worry about secrets, repercussions, or not having taken my Maginox®.

  I used my long-denied other magic ability and transmuted the man into another goose.

  The huge frame shrank and twisted, smoothing out as white feathers took the place of clothing. His face elongated, ears and hair disappearing, a beak stretching out from what used to be chin and nose. It took about a second, far less time than it takes to describe it.

  This goose had no hands, naturally, so the gun dropped to the floor with a heavy clunk. So did Trip, come to think of it, when his intended target suddenly disappeared from his trajectory, and he sailed over the man-turned-goose's head.

  The nausea hit me so hard and fast that I barely had time to turn my head to the side before I retched horribly and threw up. When I turned back, both Saga and Trip stared at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. A second wave of nausea hit and the ill-lit basement blurred and disappeared behind a shower of stars sparking in my darkened vision. My legs went wobbly under me and started to buckle. I managed to catch myself as I fell, so I eased down to the hard-packed dirt floor instead of hitting it face-first.

  Just before I passed out I heard Trip say in an awe-struck whisper, "Oh. Wow. Killer."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Keeping It In The Family

  It seemed like Trip didn't stop talking for a long time after I came to. If I could have stayed unconscious longer, I would have missed most of it, but Saga said I was only out for thirty seconds or so. Trip paced around the basement waving his wings menacingly, ostensibly keeping an eye on the other goose. Who seemed to be too stunned to do anything but sit on the floor, staring straight ahead dazedly, so he didn't need much watching anyway.

  "Kit's a Transmute, Saga! Did you see that? I can't believe she's a Transmute and she never told us! Zap! Just like that! Kit, I can't believe you're a Transmute and you never told us! Why'd you turn him into a goose, anyway, Kit?"