by Livia Quinn
"You were right, and I think I just got proof. I got a call from a police department on the east end of the lake. Will and Paige were on an apartment lease together two years ago. They tried to hide it by spelling her name a different way. Now we've connected them."
"That's great!" She jumped out of her chair and paced. "So can you arrest him and make him talk?"
"I get that time is of the essence, Tempe, but this isn't the Spanish inquisition. We have to follow a few rules. The plan is still to pick him up in the morning and carry him to New Orleans to see the sketch artist. He may trip up somehow, but while he's gone we're going to search his house. Maybe we'll get lucky and turn up something to locate Paige. We're searching property and rental records but so far nothing's popped."
Dylan said, "Keep me in the loop, but we need to discuss our emergency plan in case we don't find him by Saturday."
"What is Saturday, the pumpkin hour?"
"River's force will expire," Dylan said succinctly.
Tempe choked out, "My brother will die."
The room was silent for several seconds. I reached toward Tempe but Dylan put his hand on her shoulder and patted her back.
Eyes narrowed at him, I asked, "Is Paige a POP?"
They all looked at me quizzically. Dylan frowned, "What's a POP?"
Tempe said to Dylan, "I get it. Jack's come up with an acronym from our talk at the clubhouse—People of Power—POP." Turning to me she said, "Paige is a borderline Tempestaerie. She couldn't do anything but predict humidity—and that only when her hair gets frizzy."
There was another word I'd heard Aurora use. "What is Air and… too?"
Aurora said, "Aretuu means 'enemy of all', in our language it literally means 'I am hate'."
"So these Aretuu, are they the ones who are after Dutch? The ones you think took River?" My head was swirling with new facts. Facts? "What makes a POP a Paramortal, anyway? And is every city in this country full of you people?"
Tempe swung toward me. "You people?" Uh-oh. She was getting irritated again. "Thanks a lot, Jack. I suppose the reason you're asking is that you're still contemplating some mythical safe existence. Was Memphis any more desirable than Destiny? I'm surprised a man with your experience believes there's some sitcom-esque place with no issues out there where you can raise a teenager in a bubble. Get real."
I sighed. I was out of my depth, but I was trying. I persisted, "So… to clarify… Paramortals are not human?"
Tempe muttered, "He's ignoring me."
Dylan said, "Not really. Calm down." He plucked a piece of paper from Aurora's printer and leaned forward. "I'll try to make this as simple as possible. To answer the first question, most places have few of what you might call extra-humans—those who have some hereditary Paramortal qualities that exclude them from mere-mortalness—hell, this isn't simple. We've created more nicknames in the last twenty-four hours than in all of history. Some Paramortals-to-be may even seem totally human until they find themselves in the middle of their quickening. Then it's kind of an aha moment." Dylan grinned. Tempe rolled her eyes.
"Paramortals is a catch-all term that includes all supernatural species, even a few human hybrids under the blood pact. They exist everywhere, but we have more than our share here in Destiny because of a super pulse of leylines running through the west end of Storm Lake."
Dylan drew a fairly decent approximation of Storm Lake, placing the leyline from northwest of Hugo, around the western shore, and adding a line from Destiny east to the middle of Fierce Winds Island. "The only other town on the lake with significant extra-human abilities is Hugo on the North shore. The rest—Thunder Point, East End, Larue, Two Lakes probably have a few closet extra-humans and a few Paramortals, but they aren't out or in danger of being exposed like here in Destiny."
Dylan went on, "The population is larger here because some of our ancestors who made the blood oath binding all Paramortals stayed here, rather than moving on." There's a reason for that—the fight is here."
Chapter 7
Jack
Tues, 11 pm Light years from Mayberry
* * *
The fight was here? Jesus, what fight? What have I gotten my family mixed up in?
"If this is some kind of fight between Paramortals and their enemies why don't they leave the humans out of it?"
He must have seen the look on my face. TMI as Jordie would say, but I didn't have a choice. Negative. There was always a choice. I could leave this room right now, pick Jordie up from school, grab my parents and get the hell away from Destiny, as far and as fast as I could. But would it do any good?
I recognized the look in Tempe's eyes, imploring, then shutting down. I saw no judgment there. My stomach felt like it was gnawing its way out of my gut. She would understand if I walked away. I was pretty sure she expected it. Understandable, considering how everyone in her life had exited when the going got rough. I'm sure that's how it felt, whether their intentions were noble or not.
Would leaving this fight be any different than walking away from a battle of human enemies who target innocents, like the terrorists I'd fought in the military? The Aretuu didn't sound like they cared who got in their way.
"I take it, these Aretuu don't plan to stop at Destiny."
Dylan gave me a nod, correct. "They don't discriminate in who they target. Every being on the planet is fair game."
Turning my attention back to Dylan I sighed heavily. "So tell me about this fight." The room seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief as if it were a living entity.
Dylan pulled a chair toward him and straddled it with his arm across the backrest. "The word Paramortal comes from 'para' meaning 'to defend'. It's also a derivative of a word meaning 'more'. That's why the ancestors chose the word to describe those who are more than mortal, who are under a blood oath to protect all mankind. It's like a creed. We are under oath, hereditarily and spell bound, to be… good guys, defenders of the defenseless."
Whether he chose those words with intention or not, it hit home. Since the day I went into the service at eighteen that's what I've been, one of the good guys. It's in my DNA.
"Are you starting to feel like one of us yet?" Dylan grinned. He had used those words for a reason: to buffer his next words. "Paramortals come in all shapes and sizes, colors and abilities. Fae, witches, weres like me, Djinn, grey men, you met a Nucklavee, Imps—"
I suppressed a groan. "Next you'll tell me vampires are real."
"—vamps, and the list goes on."
Tempe sat quiet through all of it. I studied her. "What kind of Paramortal are you?"
She stretched her hands out in front of her as if she was just studying her nails. "I'm a Tempestaerie, like my mother. Hopefully." She looked over at Aurora, then back at me, "Or not."
Aurora put her hand on top of Tempe's and squeezed. "Tempe will soon come into her full Tempestaerie power."
My brows lifted as I considered what full power might entail.
Dylan continued, "As I said, children of Paramortals are usually safe away from their parents as long as they haven't come into power. We hoped once River changed, Tempe would follow. That's why I was, uh," he looked at Tempe, "assigned to watch over her."
In an instant, the air got thick and the temperature shot up at least ten degrees. He shrugged unhappily, looked away knowing he'd upset her again.
I asked, "So why didn't that help River, if he's been a true Paramortal since he was fourteen…"
Dylan shook his head. "I can't answer that. They must have tricked him or used his mother or Tempe to get an edge. He'd just gotten his memories back so maybe he wasn't being careful. That's all I can think of."
"So, who's got him? How does this enemy work? And why River?"
Dylan blew out a breath looking over at Aurora. "It's all directed at Dutch. It's why the last nineteen years have been about keeping River and Tempe safe, so they couldn't be used to target Dutch."
I noticed he ignored my other questions. "Good plan," I said sarc
astically. "Why Dutch?"
"Dutch is one of the oldest Paramortals in existence, a founder of the Collecte."
Another term I ignored, for now. "How old?"
He watched me closely. "He's at least a few thousand years old—"
"Thousand!" My mouth dropped open.
"But it's not about how old he is. It's about how powerful he is, and how that power could be abused."
"So there are levels of power?" The more I learned, the more everything clicked into place. I felt the rush of excitement as we closed in on an impending resolution to the case—because no matter that it had suddenly taken on an otherworldly big picture, it was still about a murder, a kidnapping, and corruption of power.
Lately, I'd begun to doubt my detective skills but now I knew the reason I'd made no progress—I hadn't had all the facts.
My military training kicked in and delivered a sit-rep. Now I realized what had been a "crime" in the human world was looking more and more like undercover espionage in the Paramortal world, an attempt to take over, by non-human terrorists. This was something I could get my head around after a short self-debriefing.
I rubbed my eyes and got up, stretching my shoulders. It was after eleven and we weren't done. "Aurora, do you have any coffee?"
"Sure," she said and went to the kitchenette to fill the pot.
I leaned against the wall facing Dylan. "Let's say they have River. He's a Djinni. Why do they need Dutch?"
Aurora answered. "Any Djinn is something to be feared. After all, they have the power to grant wishes, and because they can be subjugated under certain circumstances to the wish maker, therein lies the problem. Those who use Djinn are not under The Oath so they can make a Djinni go against his nature. A Djinni would be unable to resist obeying even if it was detrimental to those they love. The older the Djinni, the more oomph behind the granted request."
"So…they get more bang for their buck with the head Djinni."
She nodded. "If they were to capture Dutch and request that he annihilate… well, you see the problem."
"Holy—" I let out a long slow breath and looked at Tempe. Her lips did a little upside down quirk that seemed to say, Bought your tickets yet?
"What's a Tempest fairy?" I asked her finally.
"Tempestaerie," she corrected. "A major Tempestaerie can control the elements, especially air and water, though they will have some influence over fire and earth. Thus—my rain and lightning bolts, such as they were. Minor Tempestaeries like Paige have no significant talent."
"Is that an honest assessment or just two kittens fighting over the milk?" I teased.
"Tempe's understating her potential, Jack," Dylan said. "In the past they've been known to call down asteroids."
That got my attention.
Tempe shrugged and said, "It's not all catastrophic drama though. A storm faerie, as we've been called, can turn into anything associated with weather." She was quiet for a minute then her gaze met mine, and her voice turned soft, sad. "I just remembered—when I was a kid, my first week at school I think, it had been raining for days—the principal's assistant came to my teacher and handed her a pair of black boots. There was a note in them from my mother. It said, "So your little feet will be dry and I can keep my girl close." She turned to me, her eyebrows dipping as tears flooded her eyes. "She'd… turned into a pair of boots, and I walked around with her on my feet all day… long…"
Aurora said, "It was all Phoebe could get away with—"
A few splats of water were the only warning we had before a gentle rain began to fall on every surface of Aurora's workroom. "Oh, dear. It's getting quite unpredictable," Aurora said. I arched a brow at Aurora who looked at Dylan, while she wiped the rain from her skin.
Dylan seemed to be out of patience. He rose advancing on me, staring me down with just a hint of grizzly-face. I rose standing toe to toe while the anger in his eyes sparked. I suspected it was directed mostly at himself. He cared for Tempe and the people here. I respected that. "You in or out, Lang?" he asked abruptly.
I knew my answer but I had a statement to make as well. "Show me your other—what did you call it, your Para—" The air bubbled around Dylan making it hard to discern any of his features, then the dressed in black, dark and deadly man standing eye to eye with me blurred once again into an eight-foot shaggy Sasquatch. His huge paws hung at his sides, level with my shoulders.
I studied furry-face, the slavering mouth, the intelligent dark eyes. "Turn around," I ordered.
The creature's head tilted as if to say, Really? but he turned as I reached out and tugged on his fur. A sound like a growl escaped and an image from the drive to work the previous week resurfaced. "I saw you, on Grand Pied Boulevard the morning after… damn," I shook my head. "Grand Pied. French, for big foot. How friggin'—"
A bark escaped the massive jaws and the Finrir's eyes glinted with laughter.
I swiped my hands over my face and the air shifted as Dylan turned back, and I was face to face with the man again.
"So, you're in." Dylan's voice sounded deeper, as if his vocal cords hadn't quite made it from growl mode to human. Scratch that, not human.
"It's a lot to take in…"
"And no time to play catch up," said Dylan.
Tempe had stiffened, but visibly relaxed when I asked, "Where do we go from here?"
"We find River and take care of whoever is responsible," she said.
"Who do you think killed the Nucklevay?" I asked.
Dylan corrected, "Nucklavee. I'm not sure. Paige and her partners, Phoebe's protectors, some other entity—human even—though not likely."
"A human, go figure," I muttered. I'd come a long way in two weeks…
Light years.
Chapter 8
Tempe
Wednesday, after midnight Eclipse of the "moons"?
* * *
Aurora stood up, fists planted on her hips, a stance I rarely saw from her. "Now that that's settled and we're of one mind, we must strategize. The full moon is Thursday night. But most important for River and all Paramortals is the Para-moon, an infrequent coincidence of our moon, Cache´, and the lunar full moon. All Paramortals will gain strength as Cache´ approaches but once the eclipse begins, all power will shut off, like the main switch on a circuit breaker, until the next moon rise."
Jack's eyes narrowed. I could almost feel his cop brain analyzing Aurora's words. "That applies only to Paramortals?"
"Yes. I'm sure you'll have more questions about it but let's take one thing at a time. This increased power will give us some better opportunities to find River. During the full moon, Tempe may be able to renew her mindlink—"
Jack's head swiveled toward mine, his chin sinking as he cocked his head and muttered, "Another of your little talents?"
I shrugged, "Not lately."
Aurora said, "Let's stay focused. During the full moon, whatever force River still has will be stronger, and we may possibly communicate through that mindlink and locate him. If not Thursday, there will be a second chance Friday night, and should we encounter any Aretuu, we will be most formidable at that time."
"But powerless after that," Jack said probably thinking of how this would impact the community. "So what's involved and where do we do this mindlink thing?" he asked. He circled his fingers around his right ear, which probably meant he'd decided we were all looney, including himself.
Aurora brought a tray of coffee cups to the table and said, "I think the Forge makes the most sense. There's a strong connection to River and Tempe through their property and it sits as close to the grand pulse as anywhere."
Dylan nodded. "There, or the Big Dead, now that it's no longer dead."
Jack shook his head and I read his expression—I don't wanna know.
"The Forge," Dylan said. "Hopefully Jack will come up with a clue after he searches Crain's house. I'll do a little sniffing around the house and his vehicle, and pay another visit to Aladdin's Rub, see if Paige ever showed up for work."
I stopped him with a hand on his arm, "Jordie works tomorrow, right?"
He looked down at me, a bit distracted and who wouldn't be with the world as he knew it flipped over onto its axis. "I think so, why?"
"I have a surprise for her. If you're not tied up you might want to be there."
* * *
Jack
6:30am His condition was "indeterminate"
* * *
I made egg white omelets for Jordie and me while I waited for Ryan to call.
"Are you going to pick me up after work tonight?" Jordie asked, taking a bite of her apple. She'd handed me her mid-term grades before going to her room. After she stumbled off to bed I'd remained at the kitchen table trying to figure out where all those brains had come from.
I hadn't been a slouch. Oh, be honest, Jack. You were a slouch. But when I found out I needed better grades to do what I wanted to do—get into Officer's Candidate School and become a fighter pilot, only then had I cleaned up my act and knuckled down.
Jordie didn't have to knuckle down. She loved school. She loved learning. She also apparently loved being a mentor to other students. Where had that gene come from? Maybe I was selling myself short. After all, I'd excelled in the Navy, climbed the ranks, mentored plenty of younger soldiers.
"I'll be there. Are you going to be able to handle a job and keep up with your homework, in addition to basketball?"
"Sure. The job was one of my goals for this year, to make extra money so that you don't have to pay for everything—"
"Honey—"
"I know, Daddy, but working for Aurora isn't really work. Still, it's time for me to start thinking about taking on responsibility. Before long I'll be graduating."
"Well, in three years," I said, my heart pumping faster just thinking about it.