by T. G. Ayer
Might as well take the bull by the horns.
I said a prayer and patted the bed beside me. Saleem’s face crumpled and I knew he thought I was going to tell him the worst news possible. I didn’t plan on drawing it out. As he sank onto the mattress I said, “I made it to her room. But . . .”
“What happened?”
“The ward was too strong this time. I couldn’t get close. And something threw me out so fast I lost all control.” At least that part was true.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and rested his chin on threaded fingers. “Now what?” He gave me a sideways glance.
“Now, we figure something else out. Your mom looks safe and healthy. She doesn’t seem like she’ll put up with anyone’s shit so maybe let’s look at a different tactic.” I realized I was manipulating him into redirecting his efforts, but if he hated me for it then so be it. I’d already agreed to do it. I wasn’t sure who was worse to piss off; Saleem or the queen.
Lying and manipulating.
I’d reached an all-time low.
Saleem laughed. “You could tell that without even talking to her?” He didn’t sound at all surprised.
I nodded. Best talk as little as possible about his mom. I’d like her too much. And I’d never been the secretive type. This lying stuff is hard.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead, then dragged his fingers through his hair. “So until we figure out a way to break through the wards on the property, we need to come up with another plan.”
I cleared my throat. “How about going home to check on Riz? If your mom is a captive how do you know he isn’t in some sort of danger?”
He shrugged. “He’s at home. It’s the safest place for him to be. I’ve never had reason to believe he was in danger.”
I shook my head, amazed that he couldn’t see the logic of it. Or maybe he was just in denial. One family member in peril was one too many if you ask me.
“If your mom is being held captive it means Omega has something against you. You’ve had no idea until now that she was still alive, so who says Omega hasn’t taken advantage of her absence and is right now influencing your kingdom. Maybe even your brother?”
There. I said it.
Saleem was staring at me, a little shocked, a little surprised and mostly scared. “I can’t deny that I have worried about him, but I just didn’t think it was likely that Omega would infiltrate Kamsin.”
“And now you think it is possible?” I asked, preferring he move down this road himself. I had other things to attend to.
“Quite possible, if not probable. My brother may be in danger but it would mean plenty of subterfuge to get there since Omega won’t allow me to go back home. Apparently for my own safety.”
“More likely to keep you from knowing the truth.”
Saleem snorted. As he hunched over, shadows shifted on his skin. His tattoos, or magical runes, moved every so often, when he was stressed or upset. At this point he was probably both.
“I can project there if you need me to. Go check it out a little.”
“Not a chance.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because he is perfectly capable of jumping. You aren’t the only one with that particular talent you know.” Drake’s hard tone broke through our conversation.
I looked up as he stalked into the room, grabbed a tissue from the box and dabbed my upper lip.
Shit. I’d missed a spot?
“You’re bleeding.”
“No shit.” I swiped at a fresh trail of blood, scrunched up the tissue and sent it flying at the wastebasket. It hit the edge, balanced on the rim and tipped back out to fall onto the floor.
Story of my life.
“What happened?”
Saleem gave him a quick rundown then headed to the bathroom to clean up. I had to go see Natasha asap, so I washed my face, dabbed on some makeup, ran a brush through my hair and checked my shirt for bloodstains.
All ready, I returned to the room to find the two men in my life about to come to blows.
“What the hell is going on? Are you boys ever going to get along?”
Both turned their heads to glare at me as if they expected me to butt out. Sorry, pals. Not happening.
“Drake, I can take care of myself. Djinn, you have better things to think about than to fight with a gargoyle. You probably need the likes of him if you want to save your brother.”
I stiffened as the words fell from my lips, realizing too late how certain I’d sounded as I spoke about Rizwan’s peril. But Saleem didn’t seem to notice, although Drake did give me a strange look.
“What’s this about your brother?” asked Drake, his fury abating, tempered now by curiosity.
Saleem gave him a more detailed version of his brother’s possible situation, and about having to go back home without Omega finding out.
“He’ll need all the help he can get,” I said, joining them at the foot of the bed. “So you two can make plans while I scoot off and meet Natasha.”
“What plans?” Drake snapped a confused gaze at me, his expression clearing only when he realized who I was going to see. “What do you need her for?”
Drake had never appeared to like Natasha, and I had never been able to put my finger on why. Perhaps it was because my white witch friend enjoyed making him sit outside while we talked, keeping him at arm’s length as if he wasn’t welcome.
“Got to go, Drake.” I headed out the door trailed by the two men. Downstairs, I grabbed my phone, sent off a quick text to Natasha, threw my bag over my shoulder and turned for the door when a loud whistle almost ripped my eardrums apart.
I spun on my heel, palms against my ringing ears. “What the hell was that?”
“How are you going?”
“I’m jumping, of course.” I spoke too quickly, forgetting that my nose had turned into a bloodletting device not so long ago.
“No, you aren’t.” The gargoyle and the djinn spoke in unison.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll take the truck.”
“I’ll drop you off. You need to rest.”
I opened my mouth to decline when my phone buzzed. Natasha telling me she’s visiting a junior leyline mage at Storm’s place so I could meet her there anytime this afternoon and that she’d wait for me.
I glared at Saleem. “If I can’t jump, how do you propose I return home after you drop me off? They haven’t yet finalized plans for the city teleporting cab service you know.” My sarcasm had all of the power of a baby’s left hook.
Saleem snorted. “Meet me at O’Hagan’s after seeing the witch.”
I gripped the strap of my bag tighter and swallowed my annoyance. I hated being babysat. “Fine. Can we go?”
The guys exchanged knowing glances. Amazing what happens when men are pitted against women.
They band together like emotionally scarred brethren with a mutual cause.
Chapter 17
Saleem dropped me off inside the living room of Storm’s building. Two teens pored over a couple of textbooks in the corner by the window, while another sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, sketching something with smooth, graceful strokes.
She gave me a gap-toothed smile as I materialized, before bestowing Saleem with a very appreciative glance.
Saleem let go of my arm, fondled my ass with way too much familiarity, and disappeared leaving me annoyed, and leaving our poor witness pouting in disappointment.
I smiled apologetically at her and hurried out and into the corridor heading for the offices. Natasha sometimes came to Storm’s to make use of his office space. Not all her clients enjoyed having to drive all the way out into the countryside to see her. The effect of her house with its charms and magical adornments was definitely lost when meeting her in a plain bland office with standard furniture and no magic whatsoever.
A good number of mages borrowed Storm’s rooms, and he’d had to set up a system with a whiteboard and names of the mages on site with the room number noted. Storm’s apar
tment building could house way more than those he had offices for, so it wasn’t unusual to find someone located in one of the apartments upstairs. Today was such a day.
I turned on my heel and headed for the elevator, punching the button for the first floor.
My mind still reeled with the queen’s revelation and I hoped I had time to fix it before I ended up losing the fight.
The elevator door pinged and I scurried out and down the short hall. As I neared the apartment, the door swung open and I smiled. Natasha was a true witch with an incredibly strong power. She usually knew when someone was coming to her home before they got within a mile of the property. I quite preferred her brand of security.
The apartment was tiny, a small living room with one sofa and a flat screen tv, a round wooden table with two chairs and a little L-shaped kitchen were all contained in a small front room. A single room and a bathroom occupied the back half of the apartment. Simply furnished, it was the best that Storm could do with the funds he had. And the kids appreciated it. I know I did when I’d lived in a room just like this.
Natasha had pushed aside the spindly-legged seventies coffee table and sat cross-legged on the floor, her colorful flower-printed skirt billowing around her. Give her bobby socks and a ponytail and she’d belong to the sixties. Heaven knew how old Natasha was though. I’d never asked.
The consequences of asking a woman’s age were probably multiplied with witches.
She threw her bright white hair over her shoulder and got to her feet. Natasha’s greetings to her friends were always overly effusive. The first time I’d met her my personal space had issues with her constant need to be in it. Now, I relaxed into her embrace and grinned at her as she stood back and examined me.
“You bleeding again?”
I rolled my eyes. “Once a month like clockwork.”
She snorted loudly, a distinctly porcine sound. “Avoidance behavior does not negate the problem, as you well know.”
I sighed. People just don’t seem to want to let it go. “Yeah. I projected earlier. Got thrown back too fast I think. I don’t get nosebleeds when projecting. Until now, it was only the jumps that did it.”
Natasha pursed her lips and tucked her hair behind her ears, the tips of her silver-polished fingernails glinting. The white witch was a delicate, feminine flower when she was in a neutral mood.
“So, tell me what happened to throw you back that fast?” She watched me closely, and I knew she was looking for the slightest indication of a lie. Then she’d pounce, like a rattlesnake.
I set my bag beside me and sank to the floor opposite her seat. She followed me, lowering herself gracefully to the floor in front of me. I leaned against the sofa. “I projected into a magically warded compound. A client wanted me to find his mother.”
Natasha nodded, encouraging and calm.
“I was taking my leave when she told me something.” I shivered.
Natasha leaned forward. “You’re afraid.” Not a question.
I tilted my head and looked at her. “You cannot see it?”
“See what?” she asked, perplexed.
“The woman I spoke to was powerful. She can see through the Veil. And she saw something about me.”
I paused again and Natasha gave my fingers a squeeze.
“Something on me.”
Natasha let go of my fingers. “Oh.”
I nodded. “Yeah. My reaction.”
“Tell me.”
“She said there is something on me, a spirit or entity. She wasn’t sure if it was demonic, or magical in creation but she said it’s hitched a ride and isn’t going anywhere until I find out who put it there and how I’m going to get rid of it.”
“Dear goddess.”
“I don’t think the goddess had anything to do with it.”
Natasha snorted again. She got to her knees and shuffled closer. “Now, be still and let me see what I can find.”
She held my hands and closed her eyes and I watched, as her skin began to glow a soft silver.
After a few moments of extremely tense silence, she sighed and sat back. “Right.”
“Right?” I squinted at her. “How long do I have to live?” I was only half joking.
She sucked in a harsh breath. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen it before.”
“What is it?”
“It’s something like a poltergeist.”
“Ghost, I can handle.”
“No, it’s not a ghost. It’s an ancient spirit. An evil one.”
“You’re telling me I’m possessed.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
This conversation was weird.
“So what exactly is this spirit, and who the hell did this to me?” I leaned forward. “I’m assuming this has to be done to a person?”
She nodded. “Yes, most definitely. It needs to be invoked through a ritual. The spirit would need to be summoned.”
“So do you think you can undo the summoning?”
“I would if I could, but it’s not anything like the magic I possess. It’s way too dark for me.”
“Dark?”
“Yeah, the summoning would have required the sacrifice of a life.”
“So what is this thing then?”
“It’s called a tokolosje.”
“African black magic?” I asked, shocked. Shaking my head, I frowned, scanning my memory for someone I may have crossed who could have had access to African black magic. I came up empty.
“I’m afraid so. You’re going to have to find a sangoma to help you get rid of it. Thing is, I know it’s going to be difficult. It’s been attached to you for a while now.”
“How long?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
“A few months perhaps.”
“And the purpose of it?”
“Drain your power, weaken you. Maybe, access to your spirit or soul.”
We both stared at each other in shock. “Nosebleeds.” We spoke in unison.
“You know something messed up?” I asked.
“What?”
“I’m actually relieved.”
“What?” her eyebrows rose.
“At least I know it wasn’t something I did, or wasn’t something to do with jumping or projecting. There’s nothing wrong with my powers.”
“There’s just something wrong with you and we have to fix it.”
She sounded so somber, I just had to ask. “What’s the urgency?”
“If we don’t have it removed it will suck the life force out of you. You will die.”
“Erm so . . . how long do I have to live?” No longer joking.
The expression in her eyes was enough to confirm that it was not a laughing matter.
“If we don’t remove it, and fast? Five . . . maybe six . . . eight months at most.”
Chapter 18
If it hadn’t been for Drake and Saleem’s combined insistence on no jumping, I would have left Storm’s place in peace.
Instead, I gritted my teeth as I stopped in my tracks to avoid walking straight into Det Pete Fulbright. He stood on the sidewalk in front of Storm’s apartment building, his girth successfully blocking my way. Thankfully, I managed to stop just in time to avoid smooshing my face into his generously pillowed chest. The man seemed to have increased in size and softness over the last few months.
Taller than me, his already generously rounded face had developed an additional chin and eyes that seemed to have sunk deeper into his face. His faded blue, ketchup and coffee stained satin tie was sorely in need of a priority position in the nearest trashcan. The front of his shirt struggled to stay buttoned, the fabric stretching so much that his pink hairy chest could be seen clearly through the gaps.
Not that I had a problem with hairy chests. Only when they belonged to Fulbright.
“Detective.” I used my polite voice. He hated it when I was uncontentious. The man had dogged my steps since I was a kid, had gone from odious and troublesome, to a veritable stalker.
&n
bsp; He studied me for a moment as the light from the street lamp bore into my eyes. It lit his profile, giving him a haunted look despite his heavy jowls. I wished I could figure this man out, understand what it was about me that made him haunt my movements with such passion.
“Morgan.” He made my name sound like profanity.
The silence between us stretched uncomfortably.
Clearing my throat, I straightened my spine and said, “How can I help you, Detective?” I glanced at my watch pointedly.
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “You could explain to me how you’ve become involved in the Santiani disappearance.”
I shrugged. “Not sure how that pertains to you, detective.” I lifted a brow. “Jurisdiction and all that.”
Fulbright smiled. “It’s called interdepartmental cooperation. My counterpart at the Glades Precinct gave me the heads up that you’ve been brought onto the case.”
“And how does that impact on them? Or you?”
Fulbright leaned backward, sliding his hands into his pockets, bringing his ample belly a little too close to me. I took a tiny step backward to avoid the collision. “It’s the issue of your interference.”
“Not sure how I’m interfering when people come to me to help them find their missing loved ones.”
“You could say no. In fact, you should say no because it really is none of your business.”
My eyes narrowed as I felt my blood pressure rise. “I should say no? You really think I’m going to say no when it’s possible that I can find the missing person before they die? Just because the cops don’t want it to look like they’re not doing their job?” I wanted to mention specific details on how lax the investigation into Gia’s disappearance had been, but it occurred to me that Fulbright could just be on a fishing expedition.
Fulbright shrugged again. “One of these days you’re going to regret poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I let out a chuckle. “Really, Detective. You seriously think I’d be scared off with idle threats?”
“What makes you think they’re idle?”
“Abusing your authority, I see?” I asked with a cold smile.
