He’s dying.
Fabien rushed to his boss, who bled from two puncture wounds in his neck. As with the other victims, he had been sucked of much of his blood, with the rest left to pool beneath him. The stain stretched under his six-foot-long frame and covered most of the king size bed.
“His pulse is thready and weak,” Fabien said after checking his wrist. He summoned a pillow to place under Armand’s head and glanced at Annie. A tear rolled down Armand’s cheek.
He knows he’s dying.
She reached for Armand’s hand, no longer angry, only deeply saddened by his last moments on earth.
“Was it Marielle?” Fabien asked as he examined the marks on Armand’s neck.
“Vampire,” Armand could barely speak above a rough, raw whisper. Speaking took energy he couldn’t spare; he closed his eyes and shuddered, then pointed to the back wall.
To tie a loose end.
As she texted, Annie’s hands were so shaky she could barely type the words. It took little time before she heard the sound of feet shuffle up the stairs and stop just outside the bedroom door, where Spencer and Gibbs waited respectfully as the French Wizard Council member died slowly.
“It was”—he coughed from the strain of speaking— “Marielle,” Armand admitted.
She must have promised a lot of money or property for him to do this.
Annie refrained from speaking out against the man as he took his final breaths. He had bled out for some time, and there was nothing any of them could do for him.
Annie rested her hand inside the pocket of her pants and felt the cool, smooth glass vial that sat at the bottom of the long pocket. It contained the potion Graham Lightner had given her to assist in this situation.
“We can’t do anything for him,” Annie whispered to Fabien. His face grew paler, and his jaw clenched. He wiped away a tear and nodded.
“I need you to…” Armand took a difficult breath.
“We know what you did. You don’t have to say anything else,” Annie said.
His hand shook violently in hers. “Sorry,” he said and closed his eyes. “So cold. I’m cold.” Shaking and shivering, he reached out for someone, any human touch. She gently squeezed his hand; it slipped from her fingers and fell to the bed with a thud.
She pulled out the vial filled with the untraceable potion.
“I can help,” she whispered and uncorked the stopper, dropping only two drops onto Armand’s lips. “Lick your lips, Armand,” she whispered. “This will help.” He did as she ordered and licked the poison from his dry lips with an equally dry tongue.
His body jerked once before he went still; his chest stopped rising with breath.
A soft cry escaped Annie’s lips. She reached for Fabien, “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“She fooled us all,” Fabien admitted. “This must be dealt with. We will need evidence for this as well. Can this be done?” He stood erect, his jaw square and tight.
“Yes,” Annie said. She expected she would have to text Graham with an update, but turned and saw he had joined Spencer and Gibbs and was waiting patiently at the door.
“I was just going to call…” Annie said, weary and tired.
“Gibbs,” he said and glanced down at Marielle Beauchamp’s last victim with a heavy heart. He offered Annie a wan smile as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Did you use the potion I gave you?” Graham asked.
Annie handed him the vial with only two drops missing. “I don’t…”
“None of us like this, but looking at the amount of blood, he didn’t have much time anyway. You just ended it quicker for him.” To be certain, Graham dropped holy water on Armand’s exposed arm and watched as it rolled to the bed. The man hadn’t been turned. Annie breathed a sigh of relief.
“I have this, Annie. You go home. Rest,” Graham said.
Annie backed from the room, directing Fabien, who was temporarily scattered as he left the home of Armand Lefebvre for the last time.
Chapter 38
Ten boxes of real and manufactured evidence for ten different cases sat in the back seat of the car. Unfamiliar with the streets of Paris, Annie sat on the passenger side and rested her head against the window, looking out at the tourists who flooded the streets, shops, and cafes.
Maybe one day I can come back.
She sighed and glanced at Special Agent Jack Ramsey, her contact at the FBI, as he drove through the busy midday traffic in their rented car.
“You okay?” he asked as he pulled the car into the parking structure beside the DST, The Département de la Sûreté/Sécurité Territoriale, otherwise known as the Department of Territorial Safety/Security in France. He found a spot near the elevator, guided the car in between the lines, and shut it off.
“I’ll be fine. It’s just…” Annie didn’t have the words to express what she was feeling. Jack knew; he had seen the crime scene photos and heard Annie’s side. It would be enough for him.
“You know; some cases stay with you long after you solve them. Give it time. You will be able to move on from this.”
She appreciated his effort and offered a wan smile. “I know. It’s just, this. It’s different this time. The people who died, the attack. It’s just…”
“Different. I get it.” He squeezed her hand and opened his door, stepping into the warm, gas-tinged air.
“Thanks for arranging this meeting. I appreciate the help,” Annie said as she exited the car and waited for Jack to pop the trunk.
“Annie, this case affected the entire world. Amelie…” He opened the trunk where ten boxes of evidence were stored. “Not to mention, I’m glad you and your team are safe. Anything to help put criminals behind bars.”
A large dolly waited for them near the elevator. Jack grabbed it, and together he and Annie loaded the boxes for the trip inside.
*
“Yes. That’s correct. We’ve been following Marielle Beauchamp for months. She’s been importing stolen artifacts into the U.S., and in the course of our investigation, we became aware that she was connected to several murders. We think that’s where these stolen goods came from. Kill the owner, take their items. These will help you prosecute her.” Annie slid the first box to Fergus Bergeron, agent with the DST. It contained all of the case files.
“I thank you for your assistance in bringing this to us. Sad, unsolved cases,” Fergus said through an accent so thick, Annie had to pay careful attention to each word. He smiled, and Annie returned with one of her own. “And you will not prosecute in the U.S.?” he asked.
“No. We feel the murders are far more important. The owners are grateful the perpetrator was caught,” Annie said. “I just hope the evidence is enough for you. It’s horrible what this woman was able to do.”
“Thank you, Jack Ramsey,” Fergus said. “And should we have questions, I can refer to you, Ms. Pearce?”
“Anything you need, please let me know.”
“I will follow up with you in a few days to extradite her back to France. The paperwork will be ready?”
“Yes, Fergus. We’re preparing everything for you as we speak.”
*
It was a shorter meeting than Annie had expected. She knew this had something to do with Jack and his ability to handle any situation she dragged him into. He had deftly contacted Fergus, explained the situation, and was straight and to the point during their meeting. When they had concluded business and handed off all of the evidence, they had shaken hands and left.
Jack led Annie on a stroll through Paris, ending their trek along the Seine River. Annie was grateful. She wasn’t so keen on leaving just yet.
“This was one hell of case for you,” he commented. He caught sight of a tour boat as it was guided down a bend in the river. Annie followed his glance and watched the boat slash through the water.
“A lot of entities had a hand in this. I’m just very glad it’s over.” Annie found a dry spot in the grass and sat herself down. The tour boat was getting closer, and she watched wi
th interest.
I’ll have to remember to do that when I come back.
Jack joined Annie in the grass.
“What’s the condition of your relationship with the French Wizard Guard?” he asked.
“For now it’s shaky. Their Wizard Council is horrified at what their Wizard Guard had been doing. With Marielle in prison and Armand dead, they’ve offered their sincerest apologies. Which is fine. They had nothing to do with the attack. It’s the memory modification… that’s serious.”
Annie plucked a blade of grass and wrapped it around her finger. As the tour boat passed, several passengers waved to the tourists along the banks. Annie absently waved back.
“And?” Jack asked.
“And we distrust them. Their Wizard Hall is in turmoil. Employees are disillusioned, unsatisfied, and pissed off that their memories were tampered with.” Annie continued to watch the boat as it slid easily along the water toward Notre Dame Cathedral.
“And Fabien?”
Annie had given Jack the detailed story from the beginning. He was well familiar with all of the players, places, and events.
And he remembers everything.
“Fabien was let go because he approved the memory modification program. The pins were all melted and destroyed, and the rod they used to disperse the spells was taken down and destroyed.”
“I bet it’s a mess,” Jack commented.
“It’ll take some time for everyone there to trust that department again. I get it. We are often allowed to step on the line and almost cross it.”
“Really? You?” Jack joked, as he attempted to elicit a smile from Annie.
She offered him a halfhearted one. She really didn’t feel like laughing.
“You wouldn’t really modify the memories of your people unless it was of the upmost importance. Would you?” Jack asked.
There’s still something’s he doesn’t understand about magic.
“I did it to the French Wizard Hall on their insistence to buy some time. I debated the entire night before we performed the spell. It never felt right to me and, honestly, I regretted it immediately. But in some cases, with the queen’s death, I was okay with it. Better off safe than open to exposure,” Annie admitted.
“You take time to think about it before you do it, though,” Jack defended her.
“Yes. We need special approval. They made it into a regular program.” She pulled her knees up and rested her head on them.
The sun was hot against her hair. She pulled it into a thick ponytail. “You about ready to go home?”
“Do we need to do anything else for anyone else?”
“All done.” Annie smiled.
“Then let’s do this.”
*
It had been a week since Annie had been home. If it hadn’t been for Amelie turning up as a vampire, Annie would have spent the week deliriously resting from her recent injuries, watching television, baking, or doing something else mindless to take her mind off of the loss of the Black Market and the recent brush with her father’s eight-year-old murder case.
Exhausted, she moved the heating pad to a new location and snuggled in to the corner of her sectional sofa. She wrapped herself in a thick, warm blanket and settled in for a long overdue nap. It didn’t take her long to find sleep, which overtook her for most of the afternoon.
When she woke, she was enveloped in Cham’s arms. He was sound asleep.
Of course, and I’m not anymore.
She slid out of his embrace and left him sleeping in the corner.
Entering the kitchen, she immediately noticed the dusty box that had been sitting on her kitchen table since before she left for France. She had found it hidden in the crawl space in the basement and had placed it there moments before receiving the newspaper from Sturtagaard. As Annie stared at the box, still sturdy only dusty, the pull of curiosity was more than she could stand.
Cham lay sleeping, his chest rising and falling peacefully. Sure he was comfortable, Annie lifted the lid and peered inside.
The missing file!
From the dusty box, Annie pulled out the fourth file, the missing file she had searched for in Records Hall when she was investigating the Fraternitatem of Solomon. She pulled it from its tomb and placed it on the table.
With a tentative sigh, Annie opened the folder.
“What the hell?” she asked no one as she unclipped a note attached to the folder. It was addressed to her.
My dearest Annie,
If you are reading this, I am dead. And as I write this, that realization hits me hard with the things I will miss or have already missed. For that, my angel, I am so very sorry.
But sometimes as a wizard guard, there are cases so challenging that you are forced to do things that you otherwise would not do. Sometimes the rules can no longer apply. There is too much at stake to risk our way of life and the lives of our family.
I have to make a choice. I have to choose being with you and Samantha for as long as I can, or I can save the world from ourselves. It’s a choice that I deeply regret that I have to make. Sometimes our choices lead us to this very place and time.
I came across Wolfgange Rathbone in the course of this case. The Chintamani Stones that once belonged to King Solomon have been stolen and are sold in the Black Market. They are a danger to our people, and to the nonmagicals that we share this world with.
So sorry my love, but they asked me to stop. They asked me to hand over the stones that I was able to retrieve. They belonged to the Wizard Guard, to the Wizard Council but I did as they requested because they threatened my child. They threatened you, Annie.
My dear, sweet Annie. It wasn’t the first time that your very existence has been threatened. I regret that I will not physically be there for you at any time to protect you. But there is a reason why I so diligently trained you, my dear. Because there will be a time in your future when you need to know what to do, how to keep yourself alive. I gave you all that I could in the short time that I had with you.
I promise you, Annie, that I gave them back all of the stones I had in my possession. But when you deal with secret societies such as the Fraternitatem of Solomon, which hide themselves away and don’t participate in the world as it is, you find that you can’t trust them. They are paranoid, distrustful, and have many secrets I wish I could have shared with you.
They had Rathbone in their employ, and it’s him I fear the most. Not because I can’t defend myself against his weaknesses, but because I have you in my head, and your safety blinds me. I will die before I let them get to you. Because there is a prophecy my love. You are at the center, and I will do whatever I can in life and death to ensure that the prophecy doesn’t come true.
This might seem to be the ramblings of a man who knows his death is eminent, but I assure you this is real. If I am dead, it was at the hands of Rathbone on the orders of the Fraternitatem of Solomon. They will still be after the stones that I promise I no longer have.
Please believe me that I will do everything in my power to keep myself safe, to keep my friends and my children away from this difficult case. I do this for all of you because it was I who dug myself into this mess.
You deserved so much better than what I gave you. I wish that I could have raised you more like I did Samantha, but I couldn’t. I had to protect you.
Rathbone knows this prophecy, and he is using it against me to get what he wants. Be wary of him.
I didn’t die in vain. I died to protect you and the powers you will someday have.
You are so very special, my love, so strong, so beautiful. I wish you happiness, security, and safety. May you remember all that I taught you. Be safe, my darling. I love you always.
Dad
Shaking, Annie placed the folder inside her blood-lock cabinet and slammed the door shut. As she reread the letter from her father, she slid herself to the floor, lowered her head, and cried.
The End
About the Author
As a self-procl
aimed television junkie and an avid reader, Sheryl Steines writes what she loves. From the character/relationship story from one of her writing inspirations (Judy Blume), to the fantastical world of magic and mayhem in another inspiration (J.K. Rowling), to the strong female character of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Sheryl uses the world of magic and mystery, mashed with a bit of detective work, to weave a story of women who face challenges, overcoming them with dignity and honesty, using her own challenges as inspiration.
Sheryl has written two books in her Wizard Hall Chronicles series (The Day of First Sun, Black Market and Wizard War) and working on a new series, The Empaths (Gracie Madison Feels the World). Both series introduce the reader to young women battling demons of the supernatural kind and the personal kind, each fighting to find their way.
Sheryl Steines has been writing since she was seven years old, since she picked up her first Nancy Drew novel and hasn’t stopped. When she’s not reading or writing, she can be found tooling around in her convertible, supporting causes and raising her kids, dealing with extra ordinary challenges.
For more about Sheryl Steines, her books and her life check out her website: www.Sherylsteines.com, Twitter: @SherylSteines, FB: Sheryl Steines Author, Goodreads: Sheryl Steines and Instagram at Wizardhall.
Wizard War Page 37