by Shona Husk
“What do you make?”
He shrugged. “Stupid shit.”
“A candle that doesn’t let intruders leave is very clever.”
He searched her face for the smirk or the lie but found none. “Thank you…I like it too.” He’d never expected to catch her in the spell. “Right, what can you tell me about Percy Mallory?”
“So, I’m in?”
“You’re in.” He couldn’t do this on his own. He needed her hands. “But if you give that sword to Bright, I will sic a hellhound on you.”
Her face paled. “You can do that?”
“Oh, yes. And they don’t stop hunting until they have gotten their mark. No body of water or distance will stop them. They only way is to kill them, and I’ve seen them shake off a dozen bullets like they were flea bites.” Peyton had been bitten and that job had become a real mess terrifyingly fast. The Morrigu had saved Peyton, but it had taken him years to come to terms with his inner hellhound. Cosima didn’t need to know that it would Peyton, not an actual hellhound, hunting her down.
Her face hardened. “If Bright comes after me, death by hellhound might be kinder.”
“We can protect you.”
She nodded. But he knew she didn’t believe him. He didn’t blame her, magic was usually dangerous, occasionally useful and always fun. Much like Cosima.
The house was different in daylight, but no less imposing. Two stories of white painted bricks surrounded by a well-tended garden. Mail hung out of the letter box. Her brother had died in this house that looked so much all the others on the street except for the police tape and the squad car in the driveway.
Sawyer rested his arms on the steering wheel. “Mallory hasn’t collected his mail.”
“So? He’s probably staying elsewhere because of the murder.”
“It wasn’t a murder. No one wanted Anthony dead. Misadventure? He was killed while committing a crime.”
She glared at him. It was murder. The sword had killed her brother. “We’re just going to walk in?”
He grinned. “Yep. Have some ID.” He handed her a lanyard with her photo and the name Cathy.
“There’s police tape.”
“Yes. And we’re investigating the stolen antiques.”
“Pretty sure impersonating,” she read the tag. “International Antique Police…is that even a thing?...is a crime.”
“You’re worried about legalities?”
She didn’t really want to be arrested. “I don’t see how this is going to work.”
“If we have the misfortune of seeing anyone, they’ll look at the tag and believe what it says. We aren’t impersonating cops. There’s no such thing as Antique Police.” He got out of the car and adjusted his suit, before slinging a bag over his shoulder. “Come on Cathy.”
She forced a smile. Antique Police. They were so going to jail.
No one would think his homemade IDs were legit. But the cop inside took one look, let them in, and pointed them upstairs to where the swords were kept like they’d been expected. She knew the floor plan, had it mapped onto her brain. She hesitated on the landing. There was no blood. No sign that was where Anthony had died, but she stepped around the area he’d taken his last breath.
Sawyer took her elbow and escorted her toward the swords with a muttered warning. “He was found in the garden.”
“Mallory moved him?”
“I don’t know what happened after you left him.”
The accusation lay beneath his words. “I should have stayed.” But all she’d been able to think of was running.
“And get arrested?” He lifted an eyebrow then turned away, casting a quick glance over the collection of weaponry. “There’s nothing magical here.”
“How can you tell?” She walked over to the sword cabinet. It was exactly how it had been before they’d unlocked it—except for the missing Mordred Blade. “Not even security?”
“Not even.” He joined her. “Mallory must have sword with him. He’ll be looking for power and glory.”
“He’s a real estate agent, what’s he going to do make people over bid on his latest piece of junk?”
“You said he used to sell luxury apartments, but it all dried up. Maybe he was successful because he had the sword. Now it’s all charged up again; people will listen to him. They’ll want to buy from him even if they don’t know why.” He smiled. “I can’t believe you still look up the mark.”
All that research on the owner of the object had finally paid off. She nearly skipped it every time but never did because it was part of their process. “Aren’t you glad I did?”
They were a team again. It couldn’t be that hard to snatch a sword out of Mallory’s hands. And then…every fiber of her being wanted to hand in over to Bright, but Bright would definitely kill witches. She was thief not a killer. How many of the other things she’d stolen had been used to kill or hurt? “How long will the charge last?”
Maybe it would run out before Bright got it and maybe he didn’t know that he needed to keep the magic fed. She doubted that. Bright was many things, but a fool wasn’t one of them.
“Without talking to Mallory and looking at the sword it’s hard to tell. And Anthony didn’t have much magic.”
With those few words, she remembered why she was there. This wasn’t a job; it was fixing a mistake. If only she’d been the one to reach into the cabinet and grab the sword…the only magical item in the cabinet. “It’s odd Mallory doesn’t have more things. Usually people have more than magical object.”
“What do you mean?” Sawyer frowned.
“Do you remember when you first realized you could feel the magic in an object?” She remembered the first time it had happened. They’d been taking some kind of guard dog statue. Sawyer hadn’t wanted to touch it, said it was going to bite his hand off. The moment he’d touched it, he’d screamed like he was being attacked.
They’d barely gotten out with the dog statue.
While they’d all known what magic was, they’d all somehow thought it one of those things rich people had. When the effects had worn off, Sawyer had confessed to feeling odd a few times, but thinking it was nerves because he was getting close to eighteen and he’d get an adult record if caught.
It was some time around then that Anthony had gotten really good with security systems and the two of them had gotten together. The more she knew, the better she was able to stitch together their past. What it had actually been, not what she’d thought it was.
Anthony was her brother, and she missed him—the wound was open and raw—but every time she thought of him, she couldn’t get past the way he’d told her they had to ditch Sawyer before he dobbed them in. The lie had been easy to believe.
Sawyer had bought her a ring, and she’d smashed his nose.
And now he was helping her. Did he still like her? She glanced at him, her gaze landing on his nose, and she winced. It was easier to think about the job.
She’d missed one important detail when researching Mallory. “Of all the jobs we did, how many owners just had one magical thing? You have more than one thing.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “I thought you couldn’t feel magic.”
“I can’t tell what kind of magic it is, but I can feel it like an incoming storm.”
“Do we really want to investigate the rest of Mallory’s belongings?”
Footsteps plodded up the stairs.
They both stared intently at the sword cabinet.
“Is everything all right up here?” the cop asked.
“No.” Sawyer turned. “The sword we are trying to return to its rightful owner is missing. Where’s Percy Mallory?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
“A dead body was found at his house and he’s disappeared with a very valuable antique? Doesn’t that sound just a little concerning?”
“Um…I’ll call someone.”
“Good idea. While you’re doing that, we’ll take a few more minutes to wander through t
he house. Promise I won’t touch anything.” Sawyer smiled and even Cosima wanted to believe him. She didn’t of course.
“Sure.” The cop didn’t move.
Neither did they.
“I’m going to have to accompany you.”
“Fine.” Sawyer glanced at Cosima. “Lead the way.”
What? Oh…she knew the floor plan. If she was going to hide the sword, she’d be tucking at the back of a wardrobe or beneath the mattress. But if the sword was now all juiced up, would Mallory be letting it out of his sight? If he’d felt the power before…
She was going to have to research him a little more. She led Sawyer and the cop into the bedroom. Sawyer gave a very good show of checking things out before shaking his head. But she saw him pocket a comb from the bathroom.
They repeated the process of every room in the house, not finding anything remotely magical. They said farewell to the cop and walked back to the car.
“He wasn’t a collector.” Sawyer said, loosening his tie before taking it off and shoving it in his pocket. “He had one lucky object that did something, and it was pure dumb chance.”
“That happen often?”
He drew in a breath and stared up at a raven sitting on top of a streetlight. “Magic and dumb luck go together about as well as water and electricity.” He glanced at her. “Magic is dangerous.”
“I know.”
“You don’t. You really don’t. And you don’t want to ever see it when it goes wrong or get caught in the crossfire. It gets messy fast and there’s no way to clean up and make good with the cops because chattering about magic will get you sent for evaluation and meds.”
She leaned on the roof of the car. “Then why did you join the coven?”
“I wanted power. I wanted more from life than just getting by and doing dangerous job for even more dangerous people.” He got into the car.
She slid into the passenger seat and put on her seatbelt. “How did that work out for you?”
“’Bout the same as everything. I get to see it and taste it but can never hold it.”
There was a bitterness in his voice that caught her off guard. He’d made good…but he still felt as though he had nothing. He hadn’t changed that much, but where she once would’ve reached out her hand, she kept them in her lap. They were working together, not getting back together. “What do we do with Mallory?”
“For the moment nothing.”
“Nothing?” They had to get the sword.
“We have to find him, protect him from Bright, and figure out how to get the sword. People who hold magic rarely want to give it up. And I can’t ask my friends to risk death, but I can ask for help. So, we’ll go back to the coven, have a meeting and figure things out.” He glanced at her. “Did you expect to walk in there and grab the sword?”
She had, but she wasn’t ready to admit to that. “You didn’t?”
“No. But it’s always good to start at the beginning. Either he collected swords and didn’t know what he was getting, or when the magic dried up, he started collecting in the hope of finding another. We need to know which.”
“Do we?” She put the seatbelt on and turned to face him. “Really? All we need is the sword.” The man she’d used to know would’ve jumped first and worried later.
“We’re doing this my way because I don’t want people to get hurt. Last time we worked together it didn’t work out so well for me.” He started the car and pulled away from the curb.
“I’m sorry.” She’d thought Anthony was looking out for her, but he hadn’t been.
“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”
He was such a terrible liar, but she didn’t press. She didn’t know what to say to him. “Do you miss it?”
Do you miss me?
“What? Living by the seat of our pants?”
“We had fun.”
He smiled. “We did, but we were young and took stupid risks. We didn’t ask for nearly enough money either.”
“We increased our rates after…” She glanced out the window. She didn’t want to see him on the floor as she walked away every time she closed her eyes. “Why didn’t Anthony want to join your coven?”
“They wouldn’t have him. He wasn’t marked. I don’t know what that means only that Mason is very selective. Fuck knows how I got in. He gave Anthony the details of a couple of other covens. I don’t think Anthony contacted them.”
“He didn’t want to be told how to use his magic and thought you were being neutered.”
Sawyer tilted his head. “For a while I was. They kept a very close eye on me so that I didn’t get in trouble.” He scowled. “That white sedan has been behind us for the last three blocks.”
Cosima checked the wing mirror. “Slow down and double back.”
“I know how to lose a tail. Get the green marker out of my coat pocket.”
“Green marker?”
“Just get it.” He turned the corner.
She leaned over and stuck her hand in his coat, pulling out three markers. Red, white and green. She handed him the green one. “What does it do?”
“It’ll give them a bit of a bounce.” He held it for a moment, then tossed it out the window.
Cosima twisted in the seat to stare out the rear window. The marker rolled along the pavement, and as it went the ground buckled and moved. The car following them swerved, but it didn’t matter. The car bounced two feet high and landed hard; the driver lost control and skidded into another car. She winced and turned around, her brain already rewriting what she’d seen into something more likely—the car had swerved to avoid a cat or something. Roads didn’t ripple.
“That should keep them busy for a while,” Sawyer said with a grin.
The car they were in jumped and skidded as they were nudged. She lurched sideways, and the seatbelt cut across her collarbone and jerked her back into the seat. Sawyer cursed, one hand on the wheel, one hand reaching for her.
“Where’s the red marker?”
Red marker?
She stared at her hands. The car pitched forward, snapping her toward the dash.
“Marker!” Sawyer shouted.
There, at her feet. She picked it up and handed it to him in time to see a blue car nudge them from behind again. Panic flared. Sawyer tossed the red marker out the window. But it wasn’t a marker anymore, it was a ball of fire. The car was consumed.
“White marker.” He stuck out his hand and she scrabbled around the floor for the marker before putting it in his palm. “Take the wheel for a moment.”
“What?”
“Just drive for a second. Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”
Had she hit her head? “I’m fine…I think.”
She grabbed the wheel and kept them straight while Sawyer looked like he was saying a quick prayer to the god of white markers. He kept it in his hand as he retook the wheel.
The radio announcer chirped something about an upcoming tour for the artist they’d just played. The traffic lights went red and they stopped as though nothing had happened.
Her body ached and her mind was trying desperately to piece things together. “Were we just in a car chase?”
“More of a car ambush. Bright had people watching the house, too. Maybe he’s even got a second team on the job.”
“And you used magic, right there in the street where anyone could see.”
“If I hadn’t, we’d probably be on the side of the road with neat bullet holes in our foreheads, the unfortunate victims of crime.” He touched his pocket. “If there’s another surprise waiting, I’m all out of tricks.”
She didn’t believe that. Magic was real; she knew that even though her mind was busy trying to prove it wasn’t. “You threw a fireball out the window.”
“Yes.”
“And made the ground ripple.”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing now?” She pointed at the white marker.
“We’re invisible.”
�
��Won’t people crash into us?”
“Not that kind of invisible. The kind where people see but don’t notice—it isn’t a hard skill to master, but the focus is rather intense. We’re going to my place. It’s closer.”
It might have been close, but by the time they got there, Sawyer’s nose had started to bleed, and her body felt like she’d been slammed into the floor. He parked the car.
There always seemed to be a spot out the front of his building. She’d noticed that last time too. Magic again?
When they got out, he did a quick walk around the car. “Peyton is going to be pissed.”
The rear end was dented, the passenger door smashed and scraped. It looked like they’d been in an accident. “There’s a spell on the car isn’t there?”
“Yeah…if there hadn’t been, we’d be in much worse shape. Think of it as a magical roll cage.”
“Roll cage?”
“Like in a race car. Reinforces the body so the occupants don’t get turned to paste.”
Right. She glanced at him. “You need to…” She pointed at his nose.
He wiped it with the back of his hand, and it came a way bloody. “Let’s get off the street.”
The second time she went into his apartment, she was invited. No candles lit up and she was pretty sure she’d be able to walk out the door if she wanted. Which she didn’t. Out there wasn’t safe.
“No one can get us in here?”
“It’s as safe as I can make it. But it wouldn’t withstand a grenade.” He locked the door, pressing his hand to the wood for a moment. “I need to make a new set of markers.”
“Why markers?”
“Cheap, inconspicuous. and they can be color coded.” He pulled a pack of twelve out of the kitchen drawer. “It’s a pain in the ass and I’ve been putting it off. That’s why I only had red and green and white with me.” He put the white marker next to them. “At least I don’t have to redo this one.”
“Thirteen colors. What do they all do?”
He smiled. “I’m not going to tell all my secrets, but I am going to get out of this suit and shower so I’m ready to do some work and make some phone calls.” He stripped off his jacket and draped it over the back of a dining room chair.