“Admittedly, she wasn’t the nicest back then, but her mother’s death a few years ago changed her,” Levi said. “She needs help.”
“That’s why you came over, wasn’t it?” I said churlishly. “The camp stuff was bullshit to butter me up for this.”
“I was worried about you. It isn’t an either/or situation.”
“Save your breath. If Mayan came to you with some damsel in distress routine, find someone else to handle it. I can’t play nice with her.”
“Let me remind you that you now work for me,” Levi said, coolly. “Exclusively. You can’t turn this case down.”
“Oh boy,” Priya muttered.
I shot him the finger. “Challenge accepted.”
Priya grabbed the leash. “Want to go for a walksie?”
Mrs. Hudson toddled over to her, her paws clicking against the wood floor. Priya clipped the leash to her collar and the two of them left, the front door closing with a snick behind them a moment later.
Levi dropped all facades of humor in favor of a strained expression that Mayan, did not, in my opinion, deserve. He sank into a chair. “You’re the only one with the investigative skills who also knows Mayan enough to determine if her behavior recently is…” He paused. “Uncharacteristic.”
I’d trusted Levi with my entire career, and after everything we’d gone through, everything that I believed we’d come to mean to each other, my skills not only weren’t valued, they were reluctantly engaged.
“Delighted you feel you have literally no other option,” I said. “Besides, this can’t be all that urgent if Mayan came to see you two weeks ago and you’re just dealing with it now.” A thought hit me like a linebacker rushing the winning team’s quarterback at the five-yard line with six seconds left in the Super Bowl. “When specifically?”
Levi’s brilliant blue eyes met mine. “The night of Omar’s attack.”
I laughed bitterly, dumping the rest of the bottle into my glass. “Your alibi.”
“I didn’t sleep with Mayan,” he said. “We ended up talking late into the night and she’d had wine so she slept in the guest room.”
Levi and I weren’t exclusive. I could have slept with a dozen people since we’d first hooked up and Levi was certainly free to do as he chose. We had an understanding: we were friends who enjoyed each other’s bodies. That was all I had time for, not small talk and visions of how comfortably he fit into my living room.
“Why do you feel the need to enlighten me about who is and is not in your bed?” I said.
“It’s relevant to this case,” he said.
I took a large slug of wine, choking it down past my tight throat.
“I’m not asking because Mayan and I are involved,” Levi said. “She called me, very upset and insisting that we meet because she required help. But when she came over, the entire visit played out like two people catching up. No urgency, just reminiscing and her telling me about her life these days. The visit was pointless. I asked her what she’d been so upset about, but she acted like she didn’t have the faintest idea what I was referring to.”
“You think someone got to her?” Intrigued despite myself, I sat up so fast that my ice pack slid to the ground. “If she’s really in danger, like in an abusive relationship, you should go to the Mundane police.”
“I did,” he said in a tight voice. “Even though she said she was currently single, I reached out discreetly to someone I trust on that force to look into it. The officer came back with nothing. According to friends, Mayan hadn’t mentioned seeing anyone in some time now. She hasn’t distanced herself; there haven’t been any odd bruises. Nor have there been strange withdrawals from her bank account. The officer conclusively ruled out domestic abuse or blackmail.” He rubbed a hand over the dark scruff on his jaw. “I thought Mayan reached out to me because I was her ex, but what if she needed me as House Head to protect her from something?”
It was a fair assumption. A lot of people came to Levi. He’d recently told me about a Nefesh woman whom he’d helped get a refugee visa for, in order to get her mother out of a country known for its persecution of people with magic. Levi was the Godfather of his community, minus leaving horse heads in beds. As far as I knew.
“What could you, as House Head, protect her from?” I said. “She’s a socialite Mundane. I’d be surprised if she knows anyone shadier than some dude with a line to designer purses that fell off the back of a truck.”
“This morning I’d have bet that Tatiana wasn’t mixed up with Chariot either.”
I set my glass down. This conversation was killing my buzz. “Mayan isn’t Tatiana and unless Chariot is in serious need of fundraising, she has nothing to offer them. She’s never struck me as caring about magic one way or the other, so what would she get out of teaming up with them? She’s not part of that organization.”
“I don’t think she is,” he said with exaggerated patience. “But she was scared and she came to me over something. Now she may be missing.”
“Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“Because I don’t know for sure,” he snapped. He exhaled slowly. “Sorry. I haven’t been able to get hold of her for a couple days and she hasn’t been in to work. She did leave her boss a voicemail saying she was taking some time off, but it was very last-minute and she didn’t give a reason. That’s not like her, but on the other hand, she didn’t simply disappear without any notice so is there actually cause for alarm? Who knows? But that initial call of hers is bothering me.”
“Did you think I’d refuse? I don’t like her, but I don’t wish her active harm.” From anyone who wasn’t me.
“Fuck, Ash, would I rather that the woman I’m currently sleeping with not investigate my ex? Funny, that.” He pulled his sweater on, but I got the impression it was more so he didn’t have to meet my eyes as he spoke than because he was cold. “I felt weird about how concerned I am when it might be nothing.”
If Levi’s feelings for Mayan had resurfaced then we wouldn’t be anything for much longer. I folded the cuffs of my sleeves over my hand. I missed being the Ash who thought Levi had only come over to cheer me on, not the one ensnared into unfinished business with his ex.
“I’m a professional,” I said. “I’m not going to swoon hysterically because you have a past. That’s not what we are.”
“Then you have more of a handle of what we are than I do,” he said. “Tell me things aren’t insanely blurred between us.”
“We’re friends.”
“Mmm. Do most of your friends know how you sound when you moan their name because they’re inside you? Have you shared your scars with them? Or—”
“Fine,” I said through a clenched jaw. “Things are somewhat blurred.”
“I’m not here because you’re my only option. I’m here because you’re the only one I trust,” he said softly.
All I’d ever wanted was to fulfill my dreams of being a private investigator with a lifetime of fascinating cases, but even getting a toehold in this industry had been a struggle. I’d been the only female P.I. in Vancouver, and the boys’ club of the other agencies wasn’t exactly welcoming. But even though I’d started my firm as a Mundane, and thus not as employable as the Nefesh P.I.s, I’d scraped my way up to an office with a small clientele and good word of mouth.
About a month ago, my world was blown open when it turned out I had magic. Not just any magic either: undocumented blood magic, bestowed on descendants of the actual Jezebel from the Old Testament by the goddess Asherah to stop Chariot. Its original members had been the men representing each of the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel who’d first released magic into the world.
Jezebels and our blood magic were the only ones who could undermine their plans for immortality and to become gods on Earth. The same way that Jezebel in the Old Testament undermined the Jewish patriarchy with her continued insistence on the worship of the goddess Asherah—Yahweh’s bride and the person I’d been named after.
Shocking as this magi
c acquisition was, there was a definite upside. I’d gone from dealing with unfaithful spouses and minor insurance fraud to rogue smudges, kidnappings, and murders. This Mayan case might be equally as challenging.
I had two choices. Refuse Levi and deal with the fallout, or get over feeling like he was picking Mayan over me, just like he’d done every time he’d laughed along with her taunts back at camp. I hadn’t cared then, because Levi was still a dick in my estimation at the time, but he was right. Things between us were blurred now.
Levi sat there stiffly, his eyes imploring as he waited for my answer. Note to self: no more looking directly at puppies or Levi. Both resulted in complications.
Even though I meant what I said about not refusing if Mayan was in trouble, I really didn’t want to be the bigger person. I was a Jezebel, not a saint, and to put aside my revenge fantasies and help Mayan—at Levi’s behest? I swear, demon horns sprouted from my forehead.
I pressed my fingertips to my temples. No horns, just the remnant of a headache. “Like you said, I work exclusively for you, boss. I’ll find Mayan and determine why she contacted you.”
“Ash—”
The fight drained out of me, leaving me sagged against the cushions. “If you really care, Levi, then go home. I’ve hit my limit for tonight.”
He nodded. There was a second where he hesitated on his way out, like he was going to kiss the top of my head, but he didn’t, and the front door closed softly behind him.
Chapter 5
I wasn’t up to diving in to Mayan’s case tonight, but I was too restless to go to sleep. My thoughts kept circling back to my dad. Every attempt I’d made to locate him in the past had failed. Did A Study in Scarlet finally give me a lead?
“He took off a couple months before my magic showed up, and we know he paid me a visit in the hospital. So Adam was still in town at that point.” My hands tightened on the book. I pressed it to my chest and not to my nose like I foolishly wanted to, checking if any trace of Old Spice and lemon candies still clung to the pages.
“If this isn’t some ploy by Chariot, then it makes a difference if Adam gave Gavriella the book before or after he had the Van Gogh ward up your magic,” Priya said. She’d returned from her walk shortly after Levi had left. “If it happened afterward, the manifestation of your magic might be what prompted him to make contact. He might have been protecting you.”
“Maybe. I can’t indulge in wishful thinking.” Cold hard facts with their irrefutable logic and sharp clean edges would be my guides.
I checked on Mrs. Hudson, exhausted from her marathon around the block and now snoring softly on a blanket.
“Rafael is my best bet.” He was due to return to Vancouver in a couple of days and meet with our newly assembled team, but this couldn’t wait. I pulled a chain out from under my shirt with a wooden ring threaded on it, which had belonged to Rafael’s father, Gavriella’s Attendant. “I’m going to the library. Can you watch Mrs. Hudson? It shouldn’t take too long.”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
“If you make me keep repeating myself on the dog’s temporary status, I’ll tell your mom that you’re single again.”
Priya shuddered. “And subject me to her matchmaking? Some friend you are. Just remember, it takes a village to raise a puppy.”
“One-track mind, much? We can have our custody battle over a dog I’m not keeping when I return.”
“Uh-huh.” Priya held up the Android. “What do you want me to do with this? It’s a dead end.”
“Not surprising, given how under-the-radar Gavriella lived. I’ll put it in the office safe with the photos tomorrow.” I grabbed A Study in Scarlet. “Wish me luck.”
Putting the ring on my finger, I vanished, reappearing seconds later in a large, round windowless room. This was only the second time I’d been here—wherever in the world this was—but nothing had changed. The center section was taken up by five square smooth pillars, each about waist-height. Three of them glowed softly, one was actively dark, and the final column had no particular lighting effect.
One section of the curved walls was covered with custom-built shelving. The top shelves held a jumble of scrolls, the center section was lined with chunky leather volumes, and the lower ones contained more modern Moleskines and journals. The furnishings were a mishmash of periods: an antique desk with a hole for an ink pot, a modern rectangular cherrywood table with two chairs pushed up against it, and two vintage high-back chairs with tufted sage green upholstery.
Rafael appeared less than a minute after I did, alerted to my presence somehow. Pale and always wearing an article of argyle, tweed, and/or a bowtie, Rafael gave off a very mild-mannered librarian impression on first glance. Deliberately so. There was nothing soft or beta about him.
“Greetings and salutations,” I said. “Love the bowtie. Who knew they came in plaid?”
“I had so hoped to be free of you before our scheduled joyous reunion.” His posh British accent grated.
I slammed the book down on the table. “Why didn’t you mention this?”
Rafael blinked owlishly behind his round glasses. “Sir Conan Doyle? I assumed he was known throughout the Commonwealth. There was a popular television adaptation of his works for those of you who you are illiterate.”
Stuff like this was exactly why I’d nicknamed him Evil Wanker.
I flipped the book open to the interior title page and tapped the printing. “This.”
Rafael elbowed me out of the way, frowning as he read it. “Did you take this from Gavriella’s apartment?”
“No. Some of her possessions were found at the home of a Weaver who was shot dead. As was her brother at a different location. He worked for Chariot and was likely the one who kidnapped Gavriella. I found this book in a stolen lockbox at the Weaver’s house, along with photos of a younger Gavriella, and her phone. No laptop though.”
“Her last one died about six months ago and she never got around to buying a new one. I think she recycled the old one,” he murmured, examining the book.
“What does the message mean?” I said, impatiently.
“You have no inkling what this means, and yet you’re so agitated about it.” He handed the book back to me. “Why?”
“This copy was my dad’s.”
Rafael did a double take. “You’re positive?”
I gave a bitter laugh and showed him the sunflower drawing. “Seeing as I drew this? Yeah.”
“Do you recall me mentioning a longer conversation about the Jezebel history in your future? I believe it’s time for us to have it.” He grasped my elbow and tugged me into the space in the middle of the five pillars.
“Ouch. Watch it,” I said, limping.
“Sorry. Do I want to know how you injured yourself?”
“Probably not.”
The way he positioned me so precisely felt like I was being prepared for a sacrifice, perhaps by death rays that would shoot out of the columns.
Rafael pushed his glasses up his nose and walked clockwise around the pillars, touching his palm to the top of the three that were illuminated. The pillars lowered into the ground in a twisting motion, leaving three brittle scrolls on yellowed papyrus hovering where the columns had been. Each one was small but thick and bathed in golden light.
I sucked in a breath at the scent of a hot sandstorm from an ancient magic that flooded my senses. My mouth watered and I reached for the closest one, stopping short and pressing my fist into my stomach. Raw flayed pain twisted through my muscles at the strain of denying myself a taste.
“It’s the same magic as the angel feather.” I knocked Rafael to the ground.
“What in good heavens are you doing?”
We tussled, but I was stronger and I pinned him down. The magic that rolled off these items was weaker than that on the feather had been, but my body still throbbed in yearning, the pain in my ankle relegated to a very distant second.
“Saving you, asshole,” I said. “So you don�
�t become compelled.” The angel feather’s magic was so powerful that one person had died because of it and others had been brought close to ruin.
Comprehension dawned on Rafael’s face. “Ah. You refer to the feather. No, Ashira, while these scrolls are angel-made, they are not of an angel themselves. I’m unable to sense their magic. Their pieces hold no allure, though their contents are the reason you Jezebels exist.”
He was wrong. I was affected. The siren song urging me to dive into that magic was a rushing in my ears that almost drowned out his words.
I got up, drawn to the scrolls like a moth to the flame.
But my will won out and I hobbled away from the pillars, straddling a chair backwards. I gripped the top like a shield. A crack appeared in the wood and I loosened my hold a fraction. “What are they?”
“Three-fifths of the Sefer Raziel HaMalakh. A mystic text written by the archangel Raziel with all kinds of secret wisdom.” He paused. “Including how to bring angel magic into our world.”
Hysterical laughter got stuck in my throat. My organs were being knotted in spasmic longing over a how-to guide? “That’s how the original ten men of Chariot did it? They followed some instruction manual?”
“Essentially. Merkavah, the Hebrew name for Chariot as you know them, determined the Sefer was their ticket to holiness.”
I blotted the sweat beading on the back of my neck with my sleeve. “We’ve been taught that they were trying to achieve Yechida, the fifth and highest level of the soul in Kabbalah. The one that allowed them to commune with the divine, but that wasn’t it. They wanted angel magic to achieve immortality. Become gods on Earth, right? How’d they fuck it up?”
Rafael shot me a concerned look because I was holding myself upright solely by the death grip I had on the chair. “Are you ill?”
I waved at him to continue while I still had the presence of mind to focus. The taste of the hot gritty sandstorm clogged my throat and dusted my lips. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth but it brought no relief.
Shadows & Surrender: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 3) Page 5