Spring's Calling (A Season of Magic Urban Fantasy Novel)

by Sarah Biglow

  “I need you back at the precinct as soon as possible.”

  “Is everything all right, Captain?”

  “Come right to my office when you get here.”

  Heat snaked up my neck and settled in the tips of my ears. Once again, I had the distinct feeling I was being called in to be reprimanded. She said nothing else to me and I ended the call. Despite my brain telling my body I needed to move, it took me two tries to get my feet to cooperate and for me to get to my car.

  Numbness seeped into every pore on the drive back into the city. The sun had dipped below most of the buildings in downtown by the time I found a parking spot at the precinct. I wiped sweat from my palms and tried to shake the nerves building with every step as I entered the building.

  The bull pen was eerily empty. Had everyone gone on a coordinated dinner break just to freak me out? Even the Feds had disappeared from the conference room. Acid sloshed in my belly as I walked past my desk and knocked on the doorframe to Captain Beech’s office.

  “Come in and close the door.”

  I pulled the door shut behind me as I stepped over the threshold and paused, unsure whether to stand or sit. This time she gestured for me to take a seat and I perched on the edge of the seat nearest the door. Easier to make a quick exit if necessary. The captain closed a folder on her desk and looked me in the eye. “How are you doing, Ezri?”

  I blinked, confusion buzzing in my brain. “Fine.”

  “I have some concerns with how you’ve handled yourself so far with this investigation.”

  “Did Jacquie say something about me leaving the scene yesterday? I already apologized to her and I assured her it wouldn’t happen again, ma’am.”

  The captain held up a hand for silence. “It doesn’t matter who raised the concerns. But they are legitimate. You’ve displayed some erratic behavior recently that needs to be addressed and I can’t allow it to continue unchecked.”

  I averted my gaze as she continued. “Leaving your partner without notification. The way you treated our federal partners. At best, it’s just unprofessional. At worst, insubordination.”

  My muscles turned to water as I sat there. I’d been following leads and defending my case. The rational part of my brain said that the captain was right. Seen by an outside observer, I had been acting a little off lately.

  “What happens now?” The defensiveness left my voice.

  “You’re to report to the department’s psychologist for evaluation tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. Upon a satisfactory report, you’ll be permitted back to work. Until then, you’ll be on leave with pay.”

  Arguing would only prove her point more and so I clamped my mouth shut and tried my best to stand without my legs giving out beneath me. Captain Beech stood and moved to open the door for me.

  “It goes without saying that you can’t be involved with the case until you’re reinstated.”

  “Y-yes, ma’am. I understand.”

  Angry tears pricked the backs of my eyes but I wouldn’t let them fall. Not here, not ever. I was stronger than that. I squared my shoulders and held my head high as I marched through the bull pen. It was sparsely populated now, but no one gave me a second thought.

  Like everything else I’d endured in the last ten years, I would get through this hiccup in my career too. I wanted to be mad at Jacquie but she’d been doing her job and looking out for me.

  Needing a distraction when I got home, I turned off my computer and set aside the map and ledger in one of the boxes. Instead, I dug into the first box, finding a manila folder that looked out of place among the rest of the antiques. The folder contained a couple sheets of lined paper with my handwritten notes about my mother’s death scrawled on them. At the very bottom of the box, a bulky plastic bag containing the knife I’d found in my mother’s chest sat untouched.

  I hadn’t been aware enough not to touch the handle, but I could easily exclude my own fingerprints from any other sets that might be there. I could see myself pulling the blade free, casting it aside in my horror and grief.

  When I’d realized no one was coming to take the evidence and get justice for my mother, I’d bagged it up and secreted it away until I could find someone to test it. I hadn’t built enough rapport with the forensics people until recently.

  “Tricia,” I breathed and scooped up the folder and the bag and stuffed them in a shoulder bag.

  I texted Tricia to meet me for dinner on her break. If I got lucky, she’d agree to run the blood and fingerprint analysis for me off the books. At the very least, seeing her would keep my mind off my impending shrink visit in the morning.

  I had no love for the profession, especially when my father had tried to get me to seek therapy in the wake of my mother’s death.

  I’d been so angry at the world back then I hadn’t given it a real chance. Eventually, my father gave in and I’d stopped going.

  “THANKS FOR MEETING ME,” I said and slid into a booth across from Tricia a short time later.

  “Well, it’s not drinks but it will have to do,” Tricia set her menu aside. She slid out of the booth and pulled me into a fierce hug. “Happy Birthday a day late.” Her sharp brown eyes traveled from my face down and back up again.

  We sat. I toyed with the corner of the laminated menu, summoning the courage to ask what I’d come for. “So, uh, I kind of have a favor to ask.”

  “Is it illegal?” She laughed.

  “Yes.”

  She stared at me for a minute and then said, “Shit, you’re serious.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.” As discreetly as I could I took out the knife and slid it across the table to her. “I need you to test this for fingerprints and DNA.’

  “First, where did you get that?” She kept her hands away from the plastic.

  “My mother’s chest ten years ago.”

  “Fuck, Ezri, I … I’m sorry.”

  I averted my gaze. How I wished people would stop telling me how sorry they were and actually do something about it. “Please, can you test this off the books?”

  “You know I’m not supposed to run tests unless it’s associated with a case.”

  I rubbed at the crease between my eyebrows, frustration building. “And my mother’s death was never logged as a homicide. I could file a report now; that way you’d have a case number to link it to.”

  “Wouldn’t that be suspicious?’

  “It’s all I’ve got,” I answered.

  She took the bag and slid it down on the booth seat beside her. “Look, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  I smiled at her, tension melting from my body. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

  Tricia smiled but it barely showed. I’d pushed her and it might not pay off. Panic started to worm its way into my thoughts, sending shocks of tingling nerves down my arms. One touch of the sandalwood charm and a little dab of magic and the tension receded. For now.

  “So, are you still seeing that doctor? What’s his name, Marcus?” I asked, suspecting we both wouldn’t mind a change of topic.

  Her head whipped up and this time the smile was genuine. A faint blush colored her cheeks. “Off and on. Currently on. It’s hard with both of our schedules, but when we’re together we definitely enjoy ourselves.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “How about you? Still rocking the single life or has someone caught your eye?”

  It was my turn to smile. “Definitely still single and not in the market to change that any time soon. The new gig has a lot more responsibility and I just don’t feel like I’m in a place to meet anyone.”

  “Cops date all the time. You’ll find the right person.”

  J.T.’s face flashed before me, stirring up long-buried feelings. “Maybe.” I paused. “Let’s order. I know you’re on the clock still and really busy. I don’t want to keep you too long.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can use the break. But I get the feeling you don’t want to talk about wor
k.”

  “I swear sometimes you’re a mind reader. Things at work aren’t great right now.” I waited to see if Tricia prompted me for more. She didn’t. Instead, she flagged down our server and we placed our orders.

  “Did you at least take a minute yesterday to celebrate the fact that you’ve been alive for a quarter of a century?”

  “Not really. I went and visited my mother’s grave. Since she died birthdays haven’t really been my thing.”

  “I get it. What about your dad?”

  I bristled. “What about him?”

  “I guess I just figured you’d see him.”

  “We haven’t spoken in years. I’d rather not talk to him or about him if that’s okay.”

  “Okay. I hear you. I’m just saying if it were me, with all that time gone by, maybe I’d try to reach out. You’re both adults now and maybe you can find some common ground.”

  I nearly choked on the straw in my mouth. “That’s a fantasy, Tricia. That man and I have nothing in common and never will. Please just drop it.”

  “You’re right, it’s your relationship. I shouldn’t tell you how it works or what you should do with it.”

  In an instant, my shoulders grew heavy with the guilt of lashing out at my friend. She’d been trying to be empathetic. She didn’t deserve the brunt of my anger and inner drama. “I’m sorry. I’m just cranky with everything going on. Sometimes I let things build up until they just bubble over and I take it out on people who don’t deserve it. It’s just, with the anniversary of my mother’s death and the shrink visit, I’m going a bit crazy.”

  “Shrink visit?”

  I’d let too much slip. No taking it back now. “I’m on leave until I’m cleared by the department’s shrink. My partner accused me of erratic behavior and so the captain thinks I’m not fit for duty.”

  Tricia propped her hands under her chin. “Don’t hate me for saying this, but maybe it will be good to talk to someone. You clearly have a lot of stuff on your mind right now. Maybe having a neutral person to unload on will do you some good.”

  I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that therapy wasn’t the answer for me, but maybe all of these people telling me it was good for me was a sign. I’d never been the best at asking for help, not since my mother’s death. “I don’t hate you. And I should go in with an open mind. I mean I’m off the case until I’m cleared so I need to make a good impression.”

  “I’ve heard he’s cute,” she said and winked.

  “I’m in enough trouble with the department as it is. I can’t add inappropriate relationship with another employee to the list.”

  “Just keep an open mind,” she repeated with a snicker.

  The conversation turned to less dramatic fare as our food arrived and we tucked in. Just as the sky outside took on a purple-blue hue, Tricia’s phone rang. She scooped it up, opening her wallet in the same gesture and tossed a couple of bills on the table. More than enough to cover both of our meals plus tip.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I protested.

  “Consider it a birthday gift. I have to run. They need me back at the lab.”

  I slipped on my jacket and said, “Thanks for this. I’ll walk you out.”

  We parted ways outside the restaurant, Tricia going to the parking garage around the corner and me wandering up toward Boylston Street. Arlington church wasn’t far off, sitting opposite the Public Garden. The sight of it triggered a sense memory of the damp limestone signature coming from the Garden and I weaved through pedestrian traffic to stand at the entrance to the park. Is our killer using the park as cover to fade into the crowd? Is he one of the many homeless who call the area a temporary shelter, even on the bitterly cold nights? And who is his partner? These thoughts jumbled in my head as I walked. A gust of cold night air ripped through my jacket and I pulled the fabric tighter. It did little to ward off the chill as I entered the park and strode past the lake with its dormant Swan boats. The paths were devoid of foot traffic. Most people preferred the wider space of the Common one block over.

  I found a measure of peace here. As if to give Mother Nature the middle finger, some of the trees had budding leaves on some of their topmost branches, saying, “Spring is coming whether you like it or not.” Magic, like nature, could be resilient, always fighting to exert control. It’s why our powers were so tied to the seasons. The potential for magic flows through everything. Every leaf, every rain storm and gust of air.

  I reached out to the air around me, sending the molecules vibrating faster to create a pocket of warmth. Maybe it was all in my head, but I swear as soon as the hint of my own magic hit my nostrils, the damp smell of limestone surfaced. I tried to follow it past a row of lifelike statues but they all had the vague scent, as if they were drying out from a quick evening rain.

  “Get a grip, Ezri,” I chided myself. I was so desperate for answers that I was making things up just to play the hero.

  I don’t need to play at being a hero. I’m supposed to actually be one. I’d never been clear on who exactly I’d be facing down, but these deaths raising up the spirits of dark practitioners had to be part of it. And I was all that stood between their plan and keeping humanity safe.

  No pressure.

  March 14, 2017

  Eleven

  I slept in fits and starts. My brain wouldn’t shut off, fretting about the case and when the killers would strike next. And what had pulled Tricia from our dinner? Was there already a fourth victim I knew nothing about? One and two o’clock in the morning came and went. By the time my alarm went off at six thirty, I’d managed maybe three hours’ sleep. I did my best to cover the fading bruise on my throat and made myself presentable, ready to honestly give the session with the shrink a shot. Out of routine, I clipped my badge to my belt.

  I kept my head down as I walked into the precinct, ignoring my colleagues as I marched up to the second floor and down to the very back of the building. The sign on the door read, “Dr. Fellowes.” My heart skipped a beat.

  There are plenty of people in the city with that last name.

  I knocked once before the door swung inward and a familiar face greeted me. Surprise more than anything kept my feet rooted to the floor. Otherwise, I’d have been halfway out of the building before he even opened his mouth.

  It had been ten years, but Desmond looked the same as he did when I was a teenager except with a few added laugh lines around the corners of his eyes. How had I not known he’d ended up here serving the same department as me?

  “It’s been a long time, Ez. Please, come in,” he said, not letting me ruminate on how I’d been blind to his presence for all these years.

  I wanted to tell him to fuck off with his familial demeanor. We were distant cousins after all, even if our families had been close. I wanted to turn and run, but I was still frozen in place.

  “It’s you.” The words sounded miles away to my ears.

  “Come in and we can talk.”

  I inhaled and slowly blew the breath out, silently begging my leg muscles to respond to my brain’s command to move. Sure, there was a 50/50 chance I’d go back downstairs, but it would be better than standing there on the threshold dumbstruck. Finally, my feet moved and I followed my cousin into the office.

  It had a surprising warmth to it. The furniture was understated and the artwork on the walls was definitely Desmond. He’d always loved abstract art. He sat behind his desk, inquisitive blue eyes tracking my every move. I eased the door most of the way closed but remained standing.

  “I’m not going to bite, I promise. You can sit down.” He gestured to the leather sofa opposite the desk.

  “This is a conflict of interest. You aren’t qualified to assess my fitness for duty.”

  “I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, but I can assure you I’m licensed.” The smirk on his face only made me want to punch him.

  “You’re family. You aren’t objective.”

  “We’re distant relatives. To mo
st people it wouldn’t even count. Please, sit down. I want to help you.”

  I flipped him off for good measure but settled on the side of the sofa farthest from him. He watched me and I met his gaze with a glare. He didn’t flinch. So we sat there staring each other down until he blinked.

  “Why are you here?” I finally asked.

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

  “I mean why are you here in the police department?”

  “Contrary to popular belief, you don’t own the department, Ezri. You don’t get to stick your name on it and claim it as your own.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger in my chest, burning to be released. “Fine. But shouldn’t someone else be doing this?”

  “I can have one of my colleagues take things over but, given the timing of things, I think you’d rather have someone in the know on this side of the desk.”

  I clenched my hands into fists in an effort to disperse some of my nervous energy. “Can we just get this over with so I can get back to work?”

  Desmond leaned back, elbows propped on the edge of the desk, one hand rubbing his chin. “I’m not going to just rubber stamp you back to work.”

  I was on my feet before I realized my brain had given the command. “I don’t need this shit right now. Not from you.”

  “For God’s sake, Ezri, sit down.” His facial features remained neutral, despite the harsh tone of the words.

  “How can I trust you after everything you did?”

  I expected him to deny what he’d done, but he said nothing. His face fell, though, and I could see unshed tears in his eyes. He almost looked as if I’d slapped him across the face.

  “Ezri, please sit down. I think we are long overdue a chat. Forget I work for the department for a minute. Can we just be family?”

  His puppy dog eyes were working their way into my heart, urging me to give in. But the wounded girl that had shaped me was revolting in my head. I stood immobile for a while longer, letting head and heart fight it out. Eventually, my heart gained the upper hand and I sat back down. “Okay. Fine. Let’s talk.”