by T. G. Ayer
At the top of the stairs, we turned right and climbed a too-narrow staircase that led straight up into the dusty, cobweb-ridden attic. I could feel the hum of the computers from the bottom of the stairwell, something no normal human could do. We’d managed to soundproof the room but couldn’t do much about the energy the machines gave off. At least I didn’t have to worry about Fulbright’s guys hearing it. A paranormal might be able to sense the waves of energy coming from the room. But I wasn’t worried about Omega or Sentinel. Both organizations hired me from time to time; both knew what I did for a living. Unlike Fulbright.
Inside the small attic, we maneuvered past the old dusty trunks and boxes piled high at the eaves. At the far end, an old grandfather clock stood beside a warped, gilt-edged mirror that leaned against the wall, providing horribly distorted reflections of those who passed. Drake walked to the clock, and slid his hand behind the ancient piece, pressing the little button we’d installed there. The mirror swung forward on silent and invisible hinges, and we entered the tiny room behind it.
Steph looked up at me, her expression worried, which made me worry.
“What’s up, geek?” I asked as I sat on the edge of her desk, but she didn’t smile.
“You’re not going to like this, Mel.” She shook her blonde head as she tapped away at her keyboard, her ponytail swinging as she looked from one screen to another in front of her. Then she pointed at a monitor and I swiveled to have a look.
Six photographs filled the fifty-inch screen, one of them belonging to Samantha Cross. As I studied them, Steph tapped the enter button and another page of six photos came up. She tapped again and again; a few images were familiar—cases I’d tracked and found the people, some cases where I hadn’t been able to bring home a living soul. At last, she came to a screen that held a sickeningly familiar image.
Arianne. My sister.
“Whose files are these?” I asked, my voice tight. I hadn’t missed the fact that all the images had file numbers and further details available by clicking on the file. “Did you hack into the CPD’s files?”
“Nope. This is Omega’s.”
“What? Steph, are you insane?” I shuddered to think of what would happen to Steph, to all of us, should she be discovered.
“Nope. This is where the trail led me.” She shrugged, clearly not in the least concerned with being found. “Don’t worry, they can’t trace me. I’m piggybacking on one of the staff who’s online right now. As soon as they log off, I’ll hunt down someone else who’s online. Only problem with this type of hacking is it’s limited to having someone working online within their system. As soon as everyone logs off we can’t see anything.”
I was still in shock she managed to find a way into Omega’s files. I cleared my throat. “Okay, so can you explain what led to you hacking Omega?”
“Well, Drake wanted to look at the most recent files on missing persons and I pulled them. Only problem was there seemed to be more than we suspected. And many of the files had the Omega stamp on them. Seems a lot of the missing persons cases were handed over to Omega to investigate.”
“Probably looking for a paranormal aspect,” I said, almost to myself, not taking my eyes off the screens.
“That’s what I thought, so I decided what the heck. It was a good a time as any to hack Omega. So I did. And this is what I found. All CPD’s missing persons cases, plus reports from across the country. I kept the the-range search under eighteen just to narrow it down a bit, but once I hopped into Omega’s mainframe it was pretty clear they’d done their own homework. Many files were marked ’N’ and re-filed, so I assumed maybe ’N’ stands for normal. The rest were marked ‘P’ and those were the ones I just scrolled through for you. Here I assume ‘P’ means paranormal.” Steph waggled her eyebrows. “The dudes at Omega aren’t the most imaginative types, are they?”
I wanted to laugh but my mind was focused on the photographs lining the bank of screens before me. “So apart from this, what was so huge you guys thought I’d be upset?”
Steph and Drake exchanged worried looks.
“Steph?” I said, my voice carrying an edge of impatience and annoyance.
“Okay, okay.” Steph waved her hands about as if to placate me in some way. Not that it worked. “Now look. I went on a hunch and scanned a few files and ended up pulling Ari’s. Seems Omega had done their own investigation on her disappearance all those years ago. But her file is active at the moment. And so are all the other files marked ‘P.’”
“Active?” I asked nobody. “So, Omega’s been on the case all along, and they’re still on the case. But why would Ari’s file be open? No one’s been looking for her for a very long time.”
Steph exchanged another glance with Drake and said, “So one thing you will notice is that some of the files have information about a sigil.”
That had my attention like nobody’s business. “A sigil? Like the one on Samantha’s windowsill?”
Steph nodded. “Like on Samantha’s windowsill, and also like on the sill of your bedroom when Ari was killed.”
I looked at Drake, understanding now why he’d been so uncomfortable. He’d know this would only drive me harder to find Samantha, and he knew too that it would hurt me deep down. That knowing I might be on the trail of the same demon who’d killed my sister could possibly be a problem for me. It meant I was too close to the case. But who the hell was I supposed to pass the case on to? Not like I had a protégé hidden in one of the spare bedrooms.
“I’ll screenshot some of this for you. Not taking any chances with printing or saving from secure servers I’m technically not supposed to be in.” When I nodded, she said, “What are you going to do next? If that demon was able to follow you, you really need to be more careful with your projecting, and even with your jumps.”
I met Drake’s eyes, steeling myself for the inevitable. “He wasn’t a demon. And I’m going to need to see a necromancer.”
“What? You are kidding me, right?” Drake glared at me, then his eyes narrowed. “What was that thing then if it wasn’t a demon?”
“He was undead. I’m guessing a powerful sorcerer, strong enough to bring himself back from the dead. But he certainly didn’t return to life with all his normal looks intact. He’s one ugly mother, which is why he could easily be mistaken for a demon.”
“And what do you need a necromancer for, pray tell?” His eyes were chips of darkness daring me to give an unsatisfactory answer. “What about Natasha? She did the wards for the house.”
“Natasha is a white witch. A spiritual mage. She wouldn’t touch this kind of magic even if her own life was in danger and it could save her.” I shook my head. “There is only one person I can go to right now. I need a dark magician for the spell the demons cast around Samantha.”
“Why do you need a dark magician for that?” asked Steph.
“Because the demons holding Samantha used a pentagram drawn in fresh blood. The sacrifices were of living things, not of nature. And by that, I mean they used bones and blood as offerings for the spell. Nothing a white witch would want to work with.” Drake was still shaking his head. And I did understand his hesitancy. Necromancers were dangerous. And you just never knew what they would want as payment.
“I still don’t think a necromancer is a good idea.” Drake folded his arms and scowled at me, his wide stance typical of when he got all stubborn and insistent on me.
“Then where else am I supposed to go? You see any witches or alchemists around ready to help?” My questions were met with stiff silence as both Drake and Steph glared at me. “Okay, if it will make you two feel better, I’ll speak to Natasha and make sure she protects me. And maybe she will have some advice on the demons’ magic.”
I said the words, but I didn’t have my heart in it, and from the dark look in his eyes, I suspected Drake could tell. Even Steph was too quiet as she reseated herself and pulled her keyboard toward her. Despite their misgivings, they both knew what I was up against.
And it wasn’t like I had the luxury of putting it off either.
Chapter 10
Mel
After a couple of hours shut-eye, a knock on the door brought me downstairs. Detective Fulbright stood there, perspiration shining on his forehead.
I gave Fulbright an annoyed glance. “Detective.”
Fulbright nodded in response. “Good morning, Ms. Morgan. Could we have a moment of your time?”
My eyes narrowed as I examined Fulbright’s expression. “Fine. But I’m heading out soon, so you will have to be quick.”
He’d brought someone with him. I stepped aside, allowing them to enter before closing the door and leading them into a sitting room off the entrance hall, my attention solely on the detective’s partner. Dark olive skin, long silky shoulder-length hair, deep dark eyes.
“So who are you supposed to be?” I asked. “You the latest sorry sucker they found to babysit this fool?” I pointed a thumb at Fulbright, who went red.
The stranger bowed his head, a little dip that revealed a hint of his eyes behind the tops of his sunglasses, along with a tantalizing few inches of skin at his neckline—skin covered in dark swirling tattoos. My stomach tightened, and I found it a bit hard to breathe. I had to force myself to concentrate when he spoke. “My name is Saleem. I’m assigned to partner Detective Fulbright for a short period of time. I’m sort of on temporary loan.” His voice was smooth, liquid gold wrapping itself around me.
He extended his hand and I took it, but instead of shaking it like a normal person would, I froze. The rush of sensations that sparked through my fingers wasn’t what had caught my attention, though it was strong enough to take my breath away.
Although I was primarily a tracker, I possessed additional abilities many other trackers didn’t. For instance, I was able to sense the magical ward around my house and would probably know if someone tried to tamper with it. At the moment, the mere touch of my hand to Saleem’s told me he was a djinn.
I must have been silent for too long. It gave Fulbright’s fury a chance to simmer. “You can give Agent Saleem his hand back and answer my damned questions,” he snapped. But even as he spoke, his tone distracted me. Maybe it was the way he spoke the djinn’s name, and the expression on his face as he said it, like he’d just thrown up and still had the taste of vomit in his mouth. I glared at him, then glanced back at Saleem who’d been watching me with very observant eyes. He knew I’d picked up on Fulbright’s tone, but his only response was a that’s life shrug.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t calm. I was furious.
Saleem seemed to read my thoughts. “It is good to meet you, Ms. Morgan.” I shivered—the nice kind. Fulbright still stood there as if waiting for something. Oh, yes, those damned questions.
“Okay, Detective, what do you need.”
Fulbright cleared his throat, “What do you know about a man named Samuel Fontaine?”
I stiffened and glanced at the djinn’s face. His expression darkened. Seems he disliked his partner’s question as well.
“He is a friend. Is there something wrong?”
Fulbright shook his head. “No. I just wanted to get your version of what happened to Mr. Fontaine to result in his current condition.”
I shrugged. “How would I know?” Inside, I tried not to panic.
“I was under the impression he’d had a stroke,” he said, his lip curling into a sneer.
“Stroke, tumor. Who knows?”
“If he’d had a brain scan, we might have an idea. Any reason why his family never sought the advice of the medical sector to help him get better?”
I stared at him. “I don’t know what his family did and didn’t do. Samuel is my friend.” I waited as the silence grew between us. “Are we done here, Detective?”
The vein at his temple throbbed as he turned on his heel and strode to the door. I glanced at the hunky djinn and he smiled. A hot and dreamy smile that threatened to melt my insides. With that, he too walked to the front door, all the while those deep dark eyes never left my face once.
Chapter 11
Mel
“You aren’t going anywhere without me,” said Drake from behind my desk as I walked into the study after seeing the cops off. My bag hung over my shoulder, all my weapons where they were supposed to be. I was ready to go see the necromancer.
I raised an eyebrow and controlled my lips as they began to lift into a grin. Drake looked really serious but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by making him think I was making fun of him. I just said, “Playing the bodyguard now, are we?”
Drake rolled his eyes, the dark gray of them glinting. His mouth didn’t turn up with a hint of a smile like it usually did. He was dead serious. “I’m coming and you don’t have a say.”
“You do know I can just jump and leave you behind, right?” I asked, crossing my arms, remembering too late that Drake took body language very seriously and he’d assume some kind of underlying reasoning behind my physical behavior. I knew I was right when his eyes flitted toward my crossed arms and his jaw hardened. But I didn’t move. Let him think whatever he wanted.
“You could.” He nodded, his expression dark. “And then I will leave.”
My chest tightened. I uncrossed my arms and moved forward to place them on the desk, coming face-to-face with the gargoyle. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice harder and more serious now.
“It means I refuse to stay with you if you keep running headlong into danger without backup,” he said coldly, a darker emotion edging the timbre of his voice. “Not to mention the fact that you just did six jumps in the last few hours, two of them jumping two people. Reckless, if you ask me.”
I glared at him, ignoring the mention of the jumps. I knew well enough how taxing they were on my body. “Nobody is forcing you to stay.” I gritted my teeth. Why was he doing this now? Why was he delaying me when I needed to get going? I glanced at the table and tamped back the sudden urge to smile again. The surface of my work desk was littered with weapons and money. Otherworldly money. All the currencies we’d collected.
Over the years, I’d been paid with paranormal currency a few times—had a hard time saying no to people desperate to find their loved ones—even when I knew it would be damned difficult to convert. I sighed. “So what’s all this?” I straightened and waved my hand at the contents of the desk.
“Are you blind?” Drake asked, his voice holding an edge of ice. Wow, okay then. He was serious. I stayed silent. “I managed to find all the paranormal money we have. It may come in handy if the necromancer wants payment.”
I snorted. “What makes you think he’ll want something as superficial as money?”
Drake did a double-take. “What do you think he would want then? I know you can pay them with money, so what do you mean?”
“I can’t be totally sure, but from the look of the pentagram holding Samantha, I’d say he’d be asking for blood, if not a life, in exchange for his help.” I watched Drake’s face as he paled. His skin, a dark inky blue, turned a cool gray.
He glared at me. “So you’re sure he’s going to ask for blood, but you’re okay to go see him?” I opened my mouth to respond but he cut me off. “Blood magic is not a game you want to play.” His voice echoed ominously through my office as if it had a life of its own.
“Do I look like I have a choice? Samantha Cross’s life depends on me right now. Every move I make gets me closer to releasing her, and if a visit to a necromancer and a little blood magic can get me there, then so be it.”
Drake stared at me, the vein in his throat pulsing. I could tell he didn’t
want me to go, could see him struggling with his emotions. Then I sighed. “Fine, you can come with me. But don’t get in my way. And don’t get heroic or I swear I will jump you back home so fast you’ll take days to remember you are still attached to your body.”
He nodded solemnly and began wrapping up the foreign notes. “I don’t think we’ll be needing those,” I said. He raised his eyes, a question in his expression. I didn’t answer. Just turned and said, “Bring the weapons.”
Drake followed me out to the car without a word. He strode toward the trunk, his neck stiff.
Looks like I’m in for it.
Drake was coming, but he wasn’t coming quietly. Or rather, he was coming too quietly.
As I walked toward the driver’s door, he stepped past me and got inside. When he held his palm out for the key, I handed it to him without a fuss and walked around the car to get into the passenger side. Drake glared at me as I stowed my bag and buckled up. I guessed that meant it wasn’t going to be a fun ride. He put the car into gear and drove off.
I glanced around, up and down the street.
I turned my attention back to Drake and studied his profile. Drake always stayed by my side. The last nine years. That’s not to say he didn’t go off on his own every now and again. But he always came back. He always came back to look out for me.
I never asked him where he went or who he saw on his trips. He was always tight-lipped about his family and friends, and to this day I still did not know how he ended up under Storm’s protection.
