“May I help you?” The guy’s smile made him ten times more gorgeous.
“I’m here to see Wager. I have a ten o’clock appointment. Raven BoneTalker.”
He glanced at an appointment book. “Yes, here you are. Let me get you an intake form.” He held out a clipboard with a form on it.
I shook my head. “Hold your horses. What’s your name?”
“Tony Namaka. I’m Mr. Chance’s new receptionist.”
“Well, Tony, Wager’s an old friend of mine. I need an intake form like I need another hole in my head, and unless I get my ears pierced a fourth time, that’s not going to happen.” I waved away the clipboard with a smile.
“I’m sorry. I’m new here and don’t know my way around yet.” He set the clipboard on the desk and then hesitantly punched the intercom button on the phone. Down in the Catacombs, the businesses often used landlines since cell reception still left a lot to be desired. “Mr. Chance, there’s a Raven BoneTalker to see you.”
“Send her in,” Wager said.
“You can—”
“I heard,” I said, winking at him. “I hope you enjoy the job. Wager’s a good boss. He’ll do right by you,” I added as I headed toward the door. Tony punched a button and the door clicked, unlocking. That was new too, I thought.
I peeked inside to find Wager sitting behind his desk. There was a mountain of file folders on the desk, two feet high. Wager was sorting through them, and when he heard me enter, he peeked around the stack, waving for me to sit down.
“Hey, Raven. Good to see you. You met Tony?”
I nodded. “Yes, I met Tony. Since when do you have a receptionist?”
“Since I realized what a mess my files are. I couldn’t find some information I needed for a client, and I couldn’t remember which file had the notes I needed. I searched for two weeks, and finally decided it’s time to hire someone.” He jerked his head toward the outer office. “Tony’s smart and he’s revamping the filing system.”
I wanted to laugh but stopped myself. Wager looked frazzled. As I sat down in one of the chairs near his desk, he moved the pile of file folders on his desk, shifting it to the floor so we could see each other comfortably.
“I think it’s good you hired help. He’ll be able to set appointments for you and keep you organized.” I leaned back in the chair.
“Let me grab my notes,” he said, sorting through another stack of papers on his desk. “Here they are.” He paused, then met my gaze. “What the hell are you involved with now? This little goose chase led me down a merry path, one that I don’t think you should be messing with.”
I frowned. “What did you find?”
“First, tell me what’s going on. Then I’ll tell you what I found out about that farm and the original owners.” He punched the intercom. “Tony, can you get me a triple-shot latte?” He turned to me. “Want anything?”
I nodded. “Pumpkin spice latte, please. Double shot. I already had a caramel mocha this morning.” I didn’t add that it had been a triple. Wager frowned on my caffeine addiction, even though he had a pretty stiff one going himself. Most people in the Seattle area were wired on caffeine. There was a Starbucks on every corner, sometimes two in one block, there were drive-thru espresso stands, there were all-night espresso stands. The blood in this city ran steaming hot and heavily caffeinated.
Wager told Tony what to get, then settled back. “All right, tell me what’s going on.”
I spelled out everything that had happened on Dream Circle Farm, including carting Marigold off to Shadow Oaks Safe Haven. “We have to find and kill that autumn wight or she’ll never be rid of its influence.”
“Crap. That’s bad news. I’ve never heard of them before now. I don’t think I ever want to encounter one.” He paused as Tony knocked on the door, then entered with our drinks. He handed us the steaming to-go cups, then just as quietly slipped back out to his desk, shutting the door behind him.
“Well, I did some research into the Lanchesters. There wasn’t much about Jericho, except that, yes, he did disappear in 1983. After that, there are no records of him. Nothing. No credit card charges, no mention of him that I can find in old newspapers. I searched through Vital Records—there’s no death certificate for him, either. It’s as though he vanished off the face of the planet and was never heard from again.”
“Or he was turned into a land wight and now lives out on the farm where he was tortured as a sacrifice to Reyas. Which is what we suspect. Okay, what about the mother? We think she killed Aida, and sacrificed her husband.” I took a sip of my coffee, the spicy scent filling the air as the taste of cinnamon and nutmeg tickled my throat.
“Elzabeth is another matter. She currently lives in rural Maine. Her kids are grown and scattered, and they don’t seem to ever contact their mother. But Elzabeth…did you know she was married three times before she married Jericho?” Wager held up a piece of paper. “I have the records here.”
“Three times? I wonder if Jericho knew she was a three-time divorcée.”
Wager shook his head. “Try three-time widow. All three of her former husbands died, all while they were still married to her.”
I straightened up, blinking. “She lost three husbands before Jericho? What happened to them? Was she marrying old men for their money?”
“Not so much, I think. No, I got hold of screenshots of their death certificates. All of the men were magic-born, by the way. She first married a guy named Lee Bloodburg in 1953. They had no children, and he died in 1955. He was apparently adjusting the television antenna on the roof when a minor earthquake knocked him off balance. He fell off the roof and broke his neck.”
“Earthquake, huh? Earth witches can cause earthquakes.” I frowned. “Do the cops know if they had problems?”
“It states here that there were several reports of loud arguments and screaming—their neighbors called in the complaints. But every time the cops went out there, neither Elzabeth nor Lee would say a word. And back then, domestic violence wasn’t considered a big thing.” Wager handed me the report. “Lee didn’t have a lot of money. He worked for a local butcher as a meat cutter and wrapper. Elzabeth offered piano lessons out of their home.”
“All right, who was her second husband? And did she stay in the house or did she sell it?”
“She stayed in the house. In 1956 she married Armando Lopez. He was one of the magic-born, as well. They tried to buy a house in the country but the loan wasn’t approved because they couldn’t raise a down payment and Armando couldn’t keep a steady job. He was good at his work, but he had the gambling bug and would often skip work to play in backroom card games.”
“I bet that went over well. So she wanted to move to the country—which makes sense, given she was an earth witch. What specialties did Lee and Armando have in magic?”
“Lee was just a general spellcaster. Armando was…well…he was charming, let me put it that way,” Wager said.
“Hence, he could talk his way into the games even if he didn’t have much money. Okay, how did he die?” I could see Elzabeth getting frustrated. Earth witches tended to live in the country and when they were cut off from it, they got a bit testy.
“This time it didn’t take two years. Armando died in 1957, two months after they were refused the loan.” He shook his head.
“How did he die? Another earthquake?” I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair. Wager always gave me a copy of the reports so I didn’t feel the need to take notes.
“Nope. However, she could have orchestrated this death as well. Armando Lopez died when he ran off the road, into a tree. Elzabeth was in the car, but she came out unhurt. She said he was drunk, and they did find evidence of high blood-alcohol levels when they autopsied him. She walked away with only a few scratches. He didn’t. They were driving out near Snoqualmie Falls.” Wager had a disgusted look on his face. “So while it wasn’t an earthquake, she could have used magic to send them careening into the tree—and her connection with
the element itself may have protected her. If she did engineer these deaths, she’s a piece of work.”
“Oh, I suspect she was behind all of them. What about the third husband?”
“She waited eight months. In 1958, she married Calvin Huddle. He was also one of the magic-born, and he’s rare—a star witch. He was able to weave his magic using the energy from the stars. Maybe she thought he could make her wishes come true, I suppose.”
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star…” I shook my head. “Okay, how and when did he die?”
“He died five months after they got married, on New Year’s Eve in 1959. He fell into an old well when they were house hunting. Oddly enough, they were looking at a farm near where the Dream Circle Farm is. There was a well that had been boarded over, but the plywood had weakened and it broke through when he stepped on it. I don’t know why he was standing on it—nobody in their right mind does that. But Elzabeth told the police that he had been drinking. Once again, high blood-alcohol levels were confirmed. You want to know what I think?”
“I know what you think and I agree. She weakened the board somehow, or saw that it was weak and steered him onto it. Did the cops ever question as to how come she was blowing her way through husbands?”
Wager shook his head. “Nope. All three deaths looked entirely accidental. But you and I both know that Elzabeth murdered her husbands. She waited two years before marrying again, and that was to Jericho. He had money and maybe she saw her dream finally happening.”
I frowned. That made sense. “She usually killed them within a year of getting married. I wonder how Jericho managed to outlive that, since they didn’t actually buy the farm until 1965.”
“That’s a question I can answer,” Wager said. “They didn’t actually buy the farm. It was his. He inherited the land from his father.”
I stared at him. “So he was due to come into possession of the land at some point. Maybe she decided to wait…or…hey, his father—how did he die?”
“You’re thinking like a detective now, Raven,” Wager said, laughing. “I checked into that. His father was in prime health, but in 1964, he and Jericho went hiking, and William—Jericho’s father—fell off of a cliff. Jericho told police that they had been searching for a way down the side of the ravine—it’s pretty steep. This was up in the Cascade foothills. His father refused to rope up and boom, his foot slipped, and he went tumbling down the cliff. Records show there was a quake right about the time he fell—only 3.5 but still, that’s enough to shake a hiker loose from a cliff.” He tossed the reports on the desk, pushing them over to my side.
“Was Elzabeth with them that day?”
“Jericho and Elzabeth insisted she wasn’t…but nobody else saw her that day. Who knows? It’s unlikely we’ll ever know.”
“Was Jericho an earth witch?”
Wager nodded. “His whole family was. So yeah, four marriages, three husbands dead within a year of marriage, one father-in-law dead when he stayed too healthy for too long, fourth husband missing and presumed dead. That’s how I see this case.”
I stared at the reports. “She’s still alive, you say?”
“Yep. She married again, to a gentleman farmer named George Dayton. They own a couple of acres and she sells vegetables at the farmers market. He’s retired and content to live on his pension. I have their address here. Trouble is, there’s no way to pin any of this on her. Unless you can come up with evidence that she killed the girl—and solid evidence, at that—Elzabeth will go through the rest of her life, getting away with at least five murders.” He shook his head. “Pity.”
I stared at the reports. I wanted to fly out there, to drag her on a plane and bring her back to stand trial. But would we have enough evidence? With these thoughts and more in my head, I thanked Wager, paid his fee, and headed down to the Wild Hunt. I wanted to talk to Herne.
Chapter Fourteen
The Wild Hunt was smack downtown on First Avenue, tucked between a bunch of fetish brothels, mom-and-pop delis, and a few other boutique stores. It was in a tall five-story brownstone that had recently been made handicapped-accessible after the city lit into the building owner and threatened him with a massive fine.
Herne’s agency took up the entire fourth floor, and as I stepped into the elevator and punched the button, I was surprised to find it working smoothly. For the longest time, the elevator was hit-or-miss, but apparently along with adding a ramp, the owner had finally quit jerry-rigging the elevator and now it worked smoothly.
I stepped into the office’s reception area. Angel waved at me as she looked up from her work. In back of her desk, a door led to Herne’s office, and to the right was the waiting area. Jog up a few feet, and a hall ran to the right, ending at a bend where it turned to the left. I strolled up to Angel’s desk. It was circular—well, actually more of a rounded U-shape. She was behind the desk, staring at something on the computer.
“Hey,” I said. Angel and Ember had become good friends of mine since the day I first set foot in the office as a client. Now, we hung out, partied, talked, and occasionally I would join them for a case if they needed my special expertise.
“What’s up?” Angel glanced at me. “Cute dress.”
“Thanks. I was wondering if Herne might have a moment? I wanted to talk to him about last night.”
“Oh right, Akron sent over a report today. Let me buzz him and see if he’s free.” She picked up the phone. A moment later, she hung up. “Go on down to the break room. Herne will meet you there. I’ll buzz Ember and she’ll join you.”
I thanked her, then headed down the hall. The break room was directly at the end of the hallway, on the far wall. To the left were Talia and Yutani’s office, Ember’s office, the storeroom, an armory, and a bathroom. As I entered the break room, Viktor was there. He didn’t have an office of his own. Instead, he pretty much floated around where he was needed and spent most of his time in the armory.
“Raven.” He jumped up, ever polite. The half-ogre was a softie, really, and brilliant, though his brawn fooled people into assuming he was just a stupid jock. Some of the Wild Hunt’s opponents underestimated him, to their dismay.
He pulled out a chair for me. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? Some pastries?”
I hadn’t eaten that much for breakfast, given how upset I had been about my father’s upcoming move. “Yeah, that would be nice, thank you.”
He poured me a cup of coffee and brought over a tray of various pastries, along with a saucer and fork. “Here you go.”
“You’re such a gentleman,” I said, laughing. “I mean it.”
“Well, thank you. I pride myself on not living down to the stereotype.” He returned to his chair, leaning back. “What brings you here today?”
“Waiting for Herne and Ember. I’m in a bind and I need some advice. I also want to know what Akron found out last night.”
“Last night?” Viktor asked.
I nodded, and began to fill him in on what had been happening. “It’s a mess. Marigold is in Shadow Oaks Safe Haven, and we’ve got an autumn wight running around loose. I’ve dealt with regular wights and they’re a handful, but I’ve never had to go up against one like this. I’m not sure what to do at this point.”
“Autumn wight, huh? Well, I’ll keep my ears open. The family sounds like a piece of work, though.”
“Well, the mother is, at least. I’m not sure what her sons grew up to be like, but I’m kind of hoping they moved far away. She’s not exactly the best influence.” I frowned, shaking my head. “What hit me the most was the body of the girl. Aida’s only crime was trying to protect her father. And her mother killed her for it.”
At that moment, Herne and Ember filed in. Ember gave me a quick hug and I returned it. I was feeling rather vulnerable right now, and hugs made me feel stronger.
“You’ve had a rough few days,” Ember said.
“That you have,” Herne added. “Have you consulted Arawn about the matter yet?”
I
shook my head. “I only go to him when things are dire, given he’s such a solemn god. And I wouldn’t consider this dire. It might be for Rain and Marigold, but not in the long scheme of things.” Pausing, I took a sip of my coffee, then slowly set down my cup.
“So, Angel mentioned Akron sent over his findings?” I pulled out a notebook, hoping for a yes.
“Yes, he has,” Herne said. “He went over that site with a fine-tooth comb. There’s no way to determine her cause of death. Everything is too badly decayed. What evidence of poison there might have been is long gone. Tox screen was negative.”
“Then we have nothing to go on. I have new information about the mother, and her whereabouts. I was hoping we could nail her ass to the wall for this. She deserves jail, if nothing else. What about the father? Is there any way to prove what she did to him?”
“Afraid not,” Herne said. “For one thing, we only suspect that she turned him into a wight. We can only speculate.” He looked as dejected as I did. “However, we did find out that there was blood on the statue of Reyas, and as far as we know, it matches her husband’s blood type. He had his blood drawn when he was in the military before they met and they always type your blood and put it on your dog tags.”
“So, we can pretty much rule out that he’s alive…other than as a wight. With his blood on the statue, you know that he probably didn’t give it willingly.” I frowned, trying to think of what to do next. “So, have you got any idea of how I can take on this creature? We have to break Marigold out of his control.”
“How do you catch an invisible predator?” Ember said. “Can you… I know this sounds ridiculous, but can you spray him with paint so that you at least have some idea of what he looks like? Or maybe, there’s something that will dispel his invisibility?”
Witching Time Page 16