Nava Katz Box Set 2

by Deborah Wilde

  “God,” Ro boomed out.

  I mimed gagging.

  “Ohhh.” Gary’s eyes bugged out. He also drooled a bit.

  “Gary Randall, you must cooperate,” Ro said in that same stupid voice.

  Much as I wish Ro’s egomania had spectacularly backfired, it did the trick because Gary nodded at me eagerly. As eager as possible given he was moving slower than molasses. “I’ll help you smite them, angel. What’s your name?”

  “Angelika,” I said at the same time that Ro said, “Charlie.”

  “Hi, Charlie.”

  “You’re not helping,” I hissed at my dumb boyfriend, who was silently snickering and holding up two fingers. Great. “Hi, Gary. Who was the woman? What was her name?”

  Even if we got an alias, it might be traceable.

  “Tia. She was so excited for me.” His head lolled back.

  We were losing him to the drugs. I slapped his cheek. “Stay with me, dude. Can you describe Tia? How’d you meet her?”

  “Met that night. Headed to different bars so texted later to meet up.”

  “One minute,” Ro murmured.

  “Do you still have the texts? Or a photo?”

  His eyes fluttered shut.

  “Thirty seconds,” Ro said.

  Gary grabbed my arms and I jumped. “Angel, make me better. Miracle me to play again.” There was such sorrow in his voice.

  I’d been so focused on what a douche he’d been in his hockey career that it hadn’t hit me that his dreams were dead. And as awful as that was, I couldn’t lie and pretend I could fix this. It would be too cruel when he realized that nothing had changed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said gently. “I can’t.”

  The alarm beeped, but Lumberjack Nurse Erik didn’t stir.

  Gary sighed, his shoulders slumping. Then he perked up. “S’okay. Once I get through rehab, I’m gonna act. I’m hot.”

  My sympathy leeched away.

  “Good for you, buddy,” Rohan pronounced.

  I grabbed Gary’s phone off the nightstand. “Give me your password.”

  Erik rustled at Ro’s feet.

  Ro crouched down, ready to administer a carotid sleeping hold to buy us a few extra seconds if necessary. “Hurry.”

  Four times I asked for and was given a wrong numeric code for Gary’s phone. Apparently, he changed it a lot. It wasn’t his birthday, wasn’t his home address, wasn’t some part of his phone number.

  Two more tries before the phone was disabled. “Focus, Gary.”

  His reply? A loud snore.

  What could it be? What did I know about him? He was arrogant and the code was six digits. “What day was he signed to Tampa?” I said. “Do you remember?” Luckily, Rohan did. I typed the day, month, and year in. “Fuck.”

  “Your Canadian is showing,” Ro said. “Gary’s American. Month then day.”

  I typed it in and was rewarded with his home screen. No photos but there was a text chain. I fired off a quick text wanting to chat. It was delivered, proving the number was still in play.

  Erik snorted back into consciousness, slowly blinking up at us. “Who are you?”

  “God,” Ro boomed, shining the light in the nurse’s eyes. “We are the glory you are not fit to gaze upon.”

  I rolled my eyes and portalled us out of there.

  Seated in the Shelby once more, I emailed Pierre the phone number I’d texted, asking if he could track the phone’s location since no one had responded to my text.

  We drove back to Casa Mitra in silence. I rolled the Shelby’s windows down, drinking in the city at night. I preferred L.A. this way with all her lit-up signs competing for attention and telling her story.

  Back at the bungalow, we made a fresh pot of coffee and rolled up our metaphoric sleeves. Rohan propped a pillow under his head and stretched out on the couch with a laptop balanced on his chest.

  Curled up in the comfy plush chair I’d pulled up beside him, I yawned, taking a swig of my lukewarm java. “Look at that.” I yawned again. “Sorry. It’s Hybris’ Roman name.”

  “Petulantia. Tia. Nicely done, witch girl.”

  “Imagine how amazing I’d be with sleep.”

  Pierre texted that Tia’s phone had been located in a dumpster in Burbank. Dead end.

  Rohan paged through Gary’s file. “Let’s check his friends’ social media accounts. Maybe one of them got a photo of her.”

  Gary had been with two buddies that night, also players from his Junior hockey team. One of them had no social media presence other than a pretty sparse Twitter account with some game results, but the other one’s Instagram was a shrine to his own shirtlessness combined with snaps of himself with every girl he’d ever wanted to bang. Or, in many cases, given the follow-up pix of them in bed, had.

  “A douche, but a predicable douche, which works for us.” Rohan showed me the photo he’d found. Captioned #wingman, it was a photo of this friend, Gary, and Tia, recognizable in the same clothes as from the video footage.

  Tia was about five-foot-ten, willowy, with long, black hair.

  “Celebration selfie,” I said, smushing my cheek up to Rohan’s.

  Right as I snapped it, he kissed me. The phone tumbled from my hand and hit the carpet with a gentle thump. My arms snaked around his neck and my world fell away under the taste of him, like every bad thing had been erased, like it was just us, forever.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Hello?” Baruch called out.

  Ro mimed shooting himself in the head. “To be continued. Coming, man.”

  Ro let Baruch in while I posted some more smug bullshit. Come and get me, Tia.

  “Greetings and salutations, Tree Trunk. Whoa. You look terrible.” I’d never seen him with bags under his eyes, a stoop to his shoulders, and smelling a bit rank in clothes he’d obviously slept in. At least they weren’t the same ones he’d fought Ethan in.

  “This is the first time I’ve left the chapter since the attack,” he said.

  Ro arranged for a late supper, which Baruch gratefully accepted. He unwrapped the foil from the plate Billie had brought him, thanking her for the steak and potatoes and picked up his knife, sawing away at the slab of meat.

  “Witches. Tell me everything you know about them.”

  “We use elimination and infusion magic but Rasha only got the bit pertinent to killing demons.”

  “Elimination magic is negative?” Baruch said.

  “Not at all. There’s no value judgment either way.” I squirted ketchup onto the French fries that Ro had thoughtfully procured for me. “Portalling is elimination magic. So is healing if it’s killing disease. A lot of witches work in medical research.” I explained about how there was one magic pile and the more Rasha drew from it, the weaker the witches were. That was why they couldn’t just magically cure AIDS or cancer, but they could look for magic-infused chemical cures.

  “Sienna was a nurse,” he said.

  “Could that be relevant to her agenda?” Rohan said.

  “Which one?” Baruch said. “Attacking Rasha or binding demons?”

  “Sienna being a nurse is relevant because by all accounts, she was dedicated and great at her job. Everyone at the hospital adored her.” I munched a fry. “It’s hard to reconcile that person with someone who would unleash demons.”

  Baruch swallowed the half a steak that passed for a bite in his reality. “Table it until her motives are clearer. Infusion magic. Examples?”

  “Witches infuse the earth. Heal toxic land, repair blighted crops. A lot of us work in agriculture, medicine, engineering, geology, all types of sciences geared toward keeping the earth and her inhabitants as healthy as possible.” I dragged a fry through the ketchup. “I keep circling back to Tessa. That whatever the reason Sienna did this, it’s tied to Tessa.”

  “Sienna used dark magic to kill three people,” Rohan said. “She’s out for revenge.”

  “I’m not excusing that, but it was three specifically targeted p
eople who are probably guilty of something. DSI was full of employees–if she wasn’t being careful, she could have easily taken out a dozen people. She didn’t. Nor did she hurt the witches that went looking for her in Jerusalem. She’s incredibly dangerous, but not bloodthirsty.”

  Baruch snorted. “That remains to be seen.”

  “Binding demons is dark magic, but it’s still elimination magic,” Rohan said, snagging a couple of fries. “Taking away free will. That’s what Sienna did to Ethan with this attack, which means we’re all vulnerable. It would be a point in favor of telling Mandelbaum what we know, except it’s countered by the hell-no negative that he’ll then do whatever it takes to find her.”

  “Could you contain a witch with dark magic?” Baruch said. “I couldn’t. From the sounds of it, I would have trouble taking down a regular witch.”

  I threw a couple air punches at him. He swallowed both my fists with one of his and pushed my hands down.

  “A witch in full possession of her powers,” Baruch said. “The rabbi will fail.”

  “The good rabbi is hardly going to be that logical about it,” Ro said dryly.

  “How’s your moral flexibility, Tree Trunk?”

  He pushed his empty plate away. “Is this a trick question?”

  “Sadly, no,” Rohan said. I elbowed him and he threw up his hands.

  “What if you told Mandelbutt the wards had been tampered with and you’ve determined that Ethan was compelled by a demon? We’ll pick a plausible type. It’s not far off the truth and he still comes out as another victim in all this. Then you could issue a warning for all Rasha. Put everyone on high alert and let them know you suspect this isn’t an isolated attack.”

  Baruch placed his left palm face up. “We tell Mandelbaum about Sienna, it doesn’t stop the attacks, he knows there is another witch capable of carrying out his plans, and perhaps more Rasha die attempting to find her.” He placed his right one up. “Don’t tell him? Rasha die because they don’t know the real danger to watch for.”

  “Doesn’t matter if they know about her. They won’t see her coming,” I said. “But at least we could get them on their guard without handing Sienna to Mandelbaum.”

  “Moral flexibility wins,” Rohan said.

  I pressed my hands against my heart. “The words I’ve longed to hear you say.”

  Rohan shook his head. “Really need to think before I speak around you.”

  “Don’t forget that the witches are actively looking for Sienna as well,” I said.

  Baruch stood and cracked his neck. “I have to sleep on all this.” He wished us goodnight and left.

  Ro stretched out on the couch. “It occurs to me that there’s another point to be made about infusion and elimination.”

  “Yeah? What?” I cleared the dishes. Not a big hardship since all I had to do was put everything back on the cart it had been wheeled in on and place it outside the bungalow like room service.

  “You and Mandelbaum.”

  Leaning against the doorframe, I breathed in the night-blooming jasmine scattering its heady, fragrant scent. It was after midnight and still warm. Crickets chirped away in a call and answer song and a beetle buried into the cool earth at my feet. I stared up at the hazy light pollution in the night sky. “Meaning?”

  “The rabbi could very well destroy us, but you? You’ve infused new life into the Brotherhood. For better or for worse,” he added with a cheeky grin that I caught over my shoulder. “Forcing a new balance between Rasha and witches.”

  “I’m the new hope.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said.

  “I’m basically Princess Leia and Han rolled into one.” I shrieked as Ro grabbed me around the waist, swinging me around.

  “Not anywhere in the galaxy.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him, then stopped and slid to the ground. “Ro? Did we speed the clock? The prophecy?”

  As prophecies went, it was frustratingly short and vague. Tick tock goes the clock, blood to rule the might. Tick tock, speed the clock, the lovers reunite.

  “We reunited and Sienna launched that attack,” I said. “Are we responsible?”

  I wanted so badly for Rohan to laugh and tell me I was crazy, but from the troubled look on his face, he was wondering the same thing.

  13

  The make-up I put on Friday morning was less cosmetic enhancement, more war paint. My eyeliner was black and heavy, my mascara spiky, my lips blood red. I wore all black, every inch the kickass warrior.

  If only my twisted-up insides had matched my outward appearance, because I hadn’t been able to eat breakfast. Ro kept offering to find a drive-thru as we sped toward Demon Club, but I shook my head every time, not even wanting coffee. I’d fiddled with my hamsa ring so much that I was gonna have a permanent groove in my finger and the inside of my cheek was bleeding from gnawing on it.

  “Hey.” Ro took his hand off the wheel to squeeze my thigh. “Badenov isn’t going to know what hit him, Moose.”

  “Changed my mind. I’m Squirrel,” I said. “Height-wise, it makes sense for you to be Bullwinkle. Gender-wise, too. Moose is a guy.”

  “Squirrel is a guy,” he said.

  “Don’t think so. Gender nonspecific. He has a pretty high voice.”

  “You literally just used ‘he.’”

  “To make it understandable for you. Also, Rocky was the smarter of the two. I’m Squirrel. No take-backs.” I put up my dukes. “You gonna argue with me?”

  Ro’s grin turned wicked. “Depends where it lands us.”

  Sadly, it landed us at the chapter. I trudged toward the entrance, pausing when my phone beeped.

  I sighed. “Selfie time. Do something cute. Pick me street flowers or something.”

  “Bored of cataloguing the incredibleness that is Rolita already? You millennials and your pathetic attention spans.”

  “I’m annoyed that it’s fake work moments instead of the two of us making actual memories. And don’t even joke about that name.”

  “Check the webs. It’s trending.”

  I opened Twitter. “Nooooo!!!”

  Ro kissed my brow. “Sorry, sweetheart. But hey, you have your reunion with Mandelbaum to look forward to.” He chucked me under the chin. “How fun will that be?”

  “So fun that we’ll immortalize my joy with a damn selfie.”

  This was my first face-to-face with the rabbi since he’d sent Ferdinand after us. I didn’t know if he was going to play coy or have me killed the moment I stepped through the front door.

  From the assessing look Mandelbaum gave me when I entered the DSI foyer, he hadn’t made up his mind yet. I’d dressed my part as the loveable-yet-not-to-be-messed-with underdog, but he hadn’t dressed his. He’d left off his suit jacket and his shirt was misbuttoned, the right side of his collar jutting up higher than the left. One of his tzitzit had come untucked and was sticking out the bottom of his black vest.

  The skin at the corner of his eyes was pulled tight, like clamping down on the grief reflected in their depths was taking up most of his energy. It didn’t detract from his aura of undisputed power, though it made me want to try to be friendlier.

  Sort of.

  The moment stretched on, the world falling away to the black void of his dark eyes boring into me. I kept my hands jammed in my pocket. One breath in, one breath out, I held his gaze, refusing to cower. Refusing to look away.

  He was just a man. Flesh and blood and heartbeat. I saw beyond his physical form to his life force, a pale orange light. A flicker, easily extinguished.

  Extinguish it. My voice. Not Lilith’s.

  I blinked and the rabbi once more stood solid before me.

  “Conference room in twenty,” he barked in his Russian accent and strode off.

  The wiry man who’d been trailing the rabbi scurried behind the reception desk, looking as if he was trying to make himself invisible as he dropped into the chair.

  I reached behind me and took Ro’s hand, because
my heart was racing, and my legs were questionably stable.

  “You good, Louis?” Ro asked the man, holding my hand tight between our bodies.

  Louis, the receptionist, nodded. “The rabbi’s in a mood. Can’t blame him, but…” He looked up at us with bleak eyes. “If a daeva compelled Ethan, what hope do we have? Tell me straight, is it safe for me to keep working here?”

  “I don’t know,” Rohan said. “Do what you need to and don’t feel guilty either way.”

  Louis nodded, biting his bottom lip and looking down.

  Ro clapped him on the shoulder and we headed through the door into the main DSI area.

  “He won’t last to the end of the day,” Ro murmured. “You okay? You look a bit shaky.”

  I was going to brush it off with an excuse about seeing Mandelbaum, but the very fact I wanted to brush off what I’d seen worried me. I wasn’t an addict and I wasn’t going to start lying. I told Rohan about the pale orange light and wanting to snuff it out.

  “I wasn’t drawing on her magic, I swear.”

  Rohan ran his hand up my back. “I believe you, Sparky. Do you want to call Dr. Gelman?”

  “No. Let’s see if anything else weird happens. I mean, I’ve pretty much wished I could murder Mandelbutt since I met him, so it might have been all me.”

  “True. We’ll go with that for now.”

  Probably about 70% of the staff that I’d seen yesterday had returned, which was pretty amazing, all things considered, but the mood was understandably subdued. Not much work was getting done, and mostly people grouped together to rehash events.

  Helen wasn’t back yet. Her assistant informed us that Dr. Ramirez still had her under observation.

  The carpet had been removed and the walls cleaned of all blood and gore, but the broken floor and jagged hole in the wall were a taunting reminder of yesterday’s events.

  I dragged in a shuddery breath, closing my eyes against the desperate look on Ethan’s face before he’d died.

  Ro spoke quietly into my ear. “Tell me what you need.”

  I opened my eyes. “Email. Let’s see if Orwell sent anything.”

  They had: a single line stating that the photo of Tia didn’t match anything in their archives of confirmed demons. It would have been nice to be delivered Tia’s address wrapped in a shiny bow, but if we couldn’t go to her, we’d have to make sure she came to us. We’d have to make a huge splash tonight at the charity event.