The living room was deserted so I steeled myself and pushed the door into the kitchen. Empty, too; no one in the TV room either. I called out, asking if anyone was home, and heard my mother call back from upstairs. I found her in her sewing room, the room that had once been Gina’s nursery.
“Where’s Dad?”
“He went over with Gina and Jeremy. They’re supposed to be deciding on what to have at the reception, but I think he just wanted to give us a chance to talk alone.”
“Oh.” The dressmaker’s dummy in the corner of the room wore Mom’s wedding dress, the long-sleeved lace cuffs hanging empty at its sides. “Shouldn’t that be getting altered?”
“Jeremy’s going to take it this afternoon. I just…I wanted to air it out. And to look at it a little, I guess. It won’t be mine anymore soon.” She fussed with the sleeve, her fingers feeling the lace. A wave of sadness came off of her, making me wish I could take it away.
“That’s not true, Gina’s just borrowing it.”
“No, she’s taking it. It’s her turn to be a bride. Next, it’ll be her turn to be a new mother. That’s how life is supposed to go, sweetheart.” She sighed and I knew what would come next. She was going to tell me that my life wasn’t going the way it was supposed to. Magic would get in the way of that neat sequence of events. Maybe it wouldn’t ruin everything but it would change things. I wished I could stop her next words. She might say something about how I could try to be normal. She might just say she was sorry, that this was all her fault. “You’re a spirit witch.”
“If you don’t want to talk about we don’t have to,” I said in a rush. “We never have to talk about it.”
“Honestly, Lizzie.” Her vibe changed completely. Now my mother was annoyed. “My daughter has blue eyes and curly hair, and she’s a spirit witch. It’s not like I’m going to love you any less.”
“Really? Wow. Thanks, Mom.”
“But I am disappointed that you didn’t tell me sooner. I’m your mother. I want to know what’s going on with you, even the tough stuff. Especially the tough stuff, so I can help you get through it.”
“Mom…”
“I mean it.” She shook her head, came forward and hugged me. “Werelions, people shooting at you, thugs breaking into the house.”
“Gina getting married?”
We both laughed and I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror. I wore a dark blue dress that skimmed my ankles, one I’d bought out shopping with her. Mom’s church dress was just as long but green. Her hair had some white strands in it, but otherwise, dark and curly, like she’d said about me.
Looking at her in the mirror felt like I was looking at my future-self, and after the talk we’d had that future didn’t seem as lonely. “I didn’t expect you to take it this well. Most people are bothered by witches.”
“Honestly, Lizzie, as if I haven’t lived with your father all these years.”
On our way to church, I asked her at least half a dozen times what she meant, but she just smiled at me and changed the subject each time.
* * *
The first time Jeremy accompanied us to the family pew in our small church it caused a mild ruckus. Teenage girls wanted to kiss him, or at least hug him during the part of mass when everyone shook hands. Younger boys who looked up from their action figures to see the real live version walking down the aisle practically screeched in surprise. But now, a few months into things, the congregation had gotten used to the big man’s presence. He might be over six feet tall and pure muscle with giant biceps, but everyone did their best to act like he blended in with the crowd. It helped that Gina’s smile turned to a glare whenever any other girl tried to get next to him. Thankfully as a sister I was safe.
Even better, when everyone headed over to the church hall for coffee and donuts after the service, Gina flitted off to talk to people, leaving Jeremy beside me. I caught his arm before he could go over to talk history with the other veterans.
“I need some questions answered.”
“Something you need to whisper about?”
“Uh, no, I guess not.” I cleared my throat. I hadn’t really been whispering, just keeping my voice low. “Tell me about Henry Black.”
“He was a mean son of a bitch.” Jeremy dropped his own voice and didn’t bother to mince words. “He worked with the bad elements in the studio, the same ones that wrote my contract.” His lip came up in a near perfect sneer at the guys who’d stolen his soul away for a few decades. “He should be dead, but he’s probably too mean to die.”
“Any chance you’ve got a picture of him?”
“There might be something on some old film reels. I worked with him on a couple of pictures back when I was Edgar.” A girl skipped by us, a powdered sugar donut in her hand. Her younger brother looked at Jeremy with hero worship in his eyes. Jeremy smiled back, and I waited until the kids left.
“Do you think he would kill someone?”
“Sure.”
“What about selling someone?”
“He’d sell his grandmother for a nickel. The man had no soul.”
“Did he ever go by Hank?”
“I think so, maybe?” He thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, he did once or twice.”
“And those pictures…”
“Is it really important?”
I didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”
“Fair enough. I’ll take Gina into the city with me, maybe she’d get a kick out of the old films anyway.”
I thanked him. His pictures, if he could find them, would give me a good back-up, but I still needed some straight facts. To get those, I was going to have to make a phone call I’d probably regret.
Private First Class Randall Nicholson had the first bunk by the door in boot camp. He also had a mouth that went a mile a minute and never shut up. With his speed set to overdrive, his topic stayed locked: movies. Randall grew up in the sticks of Idaho or Iowa, or some other place where the only real recreation was the movie theater. He lived for the movies, worked at a movie theater, and dreamed of directing movies. By the time he made it to boot camp, he spoke in movies. It didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing, Randall had a quote for it. In the quiet times, when no one was talking much, he’d recite a whole film. Worse, Randall had no filter. He’d quote love stories to a guy who just got a dear-john letter. He’d quote movies about food while we stacked dead bodies. It didn’t matter to him as long as it was a movie quote.
His movie talk didn’t just annoy me, it got under my skin and ate at me. But I couldn’t deny that Randall knew his stuff. He’d helped me track down obscure references to Jeremy before he’d become my brother-in-law. Randall knew everyone associated with every film, down to the key grip and best boy. So while one day, just one day, I wanted to hear him not talk in quotes for a conversation, he was the guy to call for more about Hank Raven. I took a deep breath, swore I wouldn’t let Randall’s patter get to me, and dialed his number.
“Here’s Johnny!” he started.
“Your name is Randall,” I said, all promises to keep my cool forgotten.
“Come on, Hicks, it’s a classic line. Tell me you don’t know it, Jack Torrance?”
I ignored his question. “I need you to track someone down for me, can you do it?”
“That’s a bingo.”
I took a second deep breath, counted to five in my head. “This is heavy, Randall. The name is either Hank Raven or Henry Black. It might also be under H. Svart. He works with the studios, supplying animals for films. He may be trafficking weres on the side.”
“You gonna make him sleep with the fishes?”
I hadn’t thought about that yet. I’d been focusing on solving the mystery, or if I wanted to solve it. Now Randall, who usually dealt in nonsense, cut through all the extraneous details. If Hank was what I thought he was, what was I going to do about it? Would I kill him or turn him over to the authorities? My good sense battled with my good nature.
“Yo, Hi
cks!”
“Sorry, Randall. I don’t know yet.”
“Just remember, our lives are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.”
“That’s deep, Randall.”
“Benjamin Button, totally under-appreciated.”
Another quote. Time to get back to the topic at hand. “I don’t have anything else for you. I saw the guy. He’s White, average height, and black hair. Jeremy thinks he remembers him from decades ago so you’re going to have to look all over.”
“When somebody asks me a question, I tell them the answer.”
“I know. I need this one soon though, like in the next few hours.”
“No problem whatsoever.”
“Thanks, Randall, I owe you one.”
“Uh, about that? I’m having a party. If, you know, you or your sister’s boyfriend want to stop by? It’s mostly film school geeks but you know…”
That was when it hit me: Randall stopped speaking in quotes when he was nervous. I fought a sudden intense desire to find out what he was afraid of and mention it every time we spoke. Instead I took down the details for the party, made sure he knew how much I needed the answers, and hung up.
* * *
Randall would take a few hours, so I stared at the phone and drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter, trying to figure out my next move. The universe made it for me: the phone rang.
“Hey Lizzie.”
“Hey, Sis, what’s up?”
“Jeremy and I found the picture you wanted.”
“Great, send it over, email it or whatever.” I hadn’t expected them to find something that fast. I owed my brother-in-law a very large favor.
“No, can’t, sorry.”
“What?”
“It’s like ancient film or something. Jeremy is calling someone now, but he thinks it’ll take a couple of days to convert it to a regular electronic file.”
“No, I can’t wait. Hold on.” I thought about it. “How are you looking at it?”
“Jeremy has a private screening room, Lizzie.” She spoke to me with patience usually reserved for school children.
“So it’s on a screen?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Perfect. Take a picture with your cell phone and send it to me.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
“Thanks, Gina.”
The picture came through in a matter of seconds. Henry Black and Hank Raven were the same person. I was willing to bet someone’s life on it. The only question was whose.
Jo sat in front of me, her legs folded to the side, her hair mostly up but with a half dozen wayward curls spilling down. She lounged in bed, waiting for the sun to set in another couple of hours before she started her night. LaRue was upstairs warming her breakfast in the microwave.
I took a deep breath before I spoke. “I’m going to do something that might be very stupid.”
Jo leaned forward enough that her silk pajamas shifted, the sky-blue fabric sliding over her skin as she brought up her hands and rested her chin on them. “Very stupid and fun or very stupid and dangerous?”
“Very stupid and very dangerous.”
“Tell me everything,” Jo said, but then she changed her mind. “This is easier, just show me.”
She grabbed my hand, and my magic fired up the connection we’d had once. It came easy, like kissing Ted. I thought about that until a slow catlike smile spread across her face.
“He’s not stupid and he’s only dangerous in the good ways.” Her voice was a low purr.
“Uh, no, not him.” I directed my thoughts to the problem at hand going through the precious few facts, the hunches, all of it.
“So we need to know what’s keeping this slime young,” she summarized.
“Exactly.”
She released my hand and lay back against the heaps of silk-covered pillows. “That’s not going to be easy. Could be lots of things.”
“I just need to know the ones that would stop me from killing him.”
LaRue joined us, handing her a steaming mug. He slipped behind her, so she rested against his bare chest. He wore only a loose set of cotton pants, and I struggled to keep my eyes on something other than the two of them. They looked perfect together, matched. Her thick curls, his deeper blond hair, their bodies lean and strong. I was glad they were on my side. With the crazy plan I had in mind for tonight, I needed them.
LaRue raised an eyebrow at me. “Killing who?”
“A man who’s selling people, well, lycanthropes.”
“The werelion?”
“Him, too.” I smacked my forehead, cursing my own idiocy. “Jo, show him the guy. I think he’s the same guy you bought the lion from.”
“It is,” she told me.
“You already knew that?”
She nodded. “I’m still a little pissed about it all.”
“Because I should have told you…”
“Because people who steal babies really, really piss me off,” she corrected.
“Oh.”
“So when you kill this guy, I’m going to be there.”
“Uh, I don’t know if that’s such a great idea, Jo…”
“And where she goes, I will follow,” LaRue promised.
“Umm, really guys, I just needed to know about the magic.” Suddenly, the two powerful, hungry vampires weren’t on my side any more. Or if they were on my side, they weren’t taking orders. Either way, the venom in their voices meant I had an interesting night ahead of me.
I needed to call Ted. Before I got out of Jo’s driveway I changed my mind. I’d go see him, soften the blow. Maybe get him naked first to distract him. Unfortunately, when I walked into the living room he didn’t look like he was in a naked mood.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He got up and started to pace, not a good sign. “I tried to talk to Vincent. He evaded me.” He looked at me with a serious expression. “He never evaded me about anything before.”
“Maybe this is the hardest question you’ve asked him?”
“I asked him once why the people we ate fought back when they knew there was no way to survive.”
I cringed. “You think he’s the one?”
He nodded his head.
“I’m sorry. I know he’s the only one you trusted.”
“It’s not like we’re close,” he decided. “I just wanted to believe that one of them was a decent person.”
“What about Amy?”
“She’s not one of them.”
I considered correcting him, but if anyone would know who was really pack, it’d be him. “If you were Vincent, who would your next victim be?”
“Jason,” he stated without hesitation. “He’s part of the Pack, he’s violent, and he’s unpredictable. If Vincent is doing this to make the Pack better, if he thinks he’s weeding out the bad seeds, Jason should be the next to go.”
“I can’t say he’s a bad choice.”
“So what happens next?”
When I told him my plan, he went through the roof. We were in the middle of a heated debate about it when Randall texted me. I stopped the conversation by putting up my hand, and opened my phone to check the message.
“What’d he say?” Ted asked even before I finished reading.
“Randall didn’t find anything. So all I know is this guy is dangerous. He’s been hurting people for a long time.”
“Nothing else?”
I shook my head, and now it was my turn to pace. “No one has anything else to say.”
“You still want to do this? You’re going to call him?”
I nodded. It was something that had to be done. I could have given the number to someone else, Jo, Nala, or even Ted’s mom. But this was important to me. No matter how dangerous it was I was going finish things myself.
15
Ted insisted I use a pay phone to make my call. It took some driving but we finally found one by the side of the highway. I leaned the top half of my body into the plastic box and dialed th
e number I’d found back in San Francisco. When a voice answered, I didn’t tell him hello.
“I’m calling for Vincent. I’ve got a package for you.”
“That so? Thought it was going to be tomorrow night?”
“Shit happens.”
He laughed. “That it does. But you’ve got her? Vincent thought there might be trouble.”
“I’ve got her.”
“Hot damn. The alpha female. I’ve been looking forward to her for a while.”
The next victim wasn’t Jason. It was Ted’s mother. “When and where?”
“The usual time and place.”
“And that’s when and where?”
“Why don’t you ask Vincent?” He sounded suspicious.
“Because I’m on the phone with you.” He didn’t respond. My heart pounded. I needed this to work. “You know what, to hell with this. I’ve got other people to call. I’m sure they’ll talk to me.”
“You don’t want to do that.” The voice on the other end of the phone got very cold.
“Then tell me the time and a place.”
“Griffith Park, by the Hollywood sign, midnight.” He paused just long enough that I was ready to speak when he started talking again. “Don’t screw me over. I hunt them. I can hunt you, too.”
He hung up on me before I could say anything back.
When I got back to the car, I said, “It’s on.”
Ted nodded, started the engine, and drove us back to his place.
“He said he hunts them. Do you think…” The image of Amy being hunted down flashed inside my head, leaving a tight lump in my throat. “Do you think any of them have survived?”
He shook his head. “If they lived, they’d go back to the Pack. Go after Vincent at least.”
“I need to call your mom. She deserves to be there.” I paused thinking about what he’d want to know and what didn’t bother him. “She was supposed to be next.”
He nodded, but didn’t offer any other response.
“Is it cool if I call now?”
Missing, Suspected Dead: Elisabeth Hicks, Witch Detective Page 22