“Thanks, Sir Bond. Now, go put this back before she figures out it’s missing.” Giving his partner a last rub, he held out the piece of paper, which Sir Kipling took gently in his mouth before trotting off and disappearing around the back corner of Lily’s apartment building.
Sebastian sat in a state of turmoil. He wasn’t one to make friends. Allies, certainly; partners, maybe; enemies, most definitely. But not friends. Oh, he helped people, but you didn’t need to be friends with someone to help them. In fact, it was better to not be friends. Then they wouldn’t get all hurt and indignant when you disappeared after helping them out of whatever mess they’d gotten into.
In his school years it had been different. He’d had a respectable little clique about him, the good-looking, popular boys who got good enough grades to not be grounded but spent most of their time looking for adventure and girls. That was, until his parents died. Everything changed after that. Everything. His so-called friends avoided him like a disease, though a few, such as Cory, stuck around out of the sheer novelty of being “friends” with an orphan.
Orphan. He hated that word. It was largely his hatred of it which had kept him from making new friends: he would have had to explain why his parents never came to school events and why he was never allowed to have parties at his house—Aunt B. was nothing if not strict and refused to allow “young miscreants” into her domicile. So, instead of explaining, he simply stopped talking. It was easier.
After school and his break with the old Bat as his guardian, he was completely on his own. A loner. A survivor. Beholden to no man. It was why he made such a good witch: he liked clear-cut deals and trades. A service for a service. None of this wishy-washy friendship that never held up when you needed it. And, of course, once any person found out he was a witch, there was no danger of friendship anyway. Mundanes feared or mocked him; witches were always suspicious he was after something of theirs, which he usually was.
Then he’d met Lily. Lillian Singer. Even her name was beautiful. And she was smart, no-nonsense, and straightforward. A little awkward, perhaps, but that just added to her charm. And she was a wizard. And she didn’t seem to mind he was a witch—unheard of in the wizard community. And she put up with his shenanigans. And, and, and. A handful of years and many “ands” later, he’d finally admitted to himself that he had a friend. Well, probably more than a friend, but he couldn’t let himself think about that. She was way too good for him.
Not that she made it easy to keep emotionally distant. Every time he thought he had a handle on their relationship, she did something unexpected like giving him the benefit of the doubt when faced with suspicious circumstances. Really, who did that? People who got themselves killed, that’s who, he grumbled to himself, trying not to think about how her trust in him made him feel giddy with joy.
And she was going to get herself killed at the rate she was going. Which was why he was counter-stalking her. She was too stubborn and independent to accept his help—something that had almost proven fatal once already. He wasn’t going to let her do it again.
He had the utmost respect for her privacy and rights as an adult human being. Which was why he was only counter-stalking her instead of having one of his fae friends hover a foot behind her twenty-four hours a day. He was counting on Sir Kipling to take up the slack on that front. She was his friend and had stuck her neck out for him on multiple occasions. He intended to return the favor.
He told himself the fact that he couldn’t keep away, couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t keep his heart from beating faster every time he laid eyes on her had nothing to do with it. She wasn’t interested in him, anyway. She was interested in Agent Doofusface.
Sebastian kept extra still as he spotted Lily emerging from her apartment for the last time. As she turned to lock the door, Sir Kipling trotted down the steps and headed for the car, not giving the slightest tail-twitch, ear-flick, or sideways glance to indicate he knew Sebastian was watching. Good for him, Sebastian thought. He’s shaping up to be a real James Bond. The neighborhood lady cats had better watch out.
He waited until Lily’s car had pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Ponce De Leon Avenue before standing up and letting the glamour fade. “Alright, Jas, you’re up,” he said to the seemingly empty air. Yet, at his words, a sort of colorful hologram fuzzed into sight in front of his eyes. He had Jas on a retainer these days. Though more temperamental and mischievous than most pixies, he was darn useful. The little guy was so enamored with light and sound waves that he didn’t appear to even have a corporeal form anymore and could mimic any wave desired, creating illusions and noises at will. Having the little squirt on call was costing him a fortune in alcohol—the preferred payment of most pixies—but it was worth it.
“Remember, you’re supposed to observe only. Stay as far away as you can and notify me immediately if anything happens. Well, go on,” he urged the quivering hologram, waving a hand in the direction of Lily’s disappearing car. Jas faded from view and, he assumed, zipped off after his friend.
Sebastian had work to do in the city, or else he’d be following Lily himself. The open road was a dangerous place and the perfect opportunity for John Faust to lay a trap, if he wanted to. Sir Kipling was a formidable foe but wouldn’t be enough if he and Lily were ambushed. Jas was a precaution. If something happened, he could report back to Sebastian in an instant. Time and distance meant little to the fae, especially one who could manipulate light waves.
Stiff from hours of sitting, Sebastian suppressed a groan as he stretched and limbered up his muscles. Feeling better, he headed across the apartment complex to where he’d hidden his car, mentally going over the things he needed to get done that weekend while Lily was gone.
Top priority was to get back with Tina to see what else she’d dug up on Rex Morganson. He knew in his gut that Rex and John Faust were one and the same, and he didn’t intend to let that sorry excuse for a human being take another swipe at Lily. If he could just find something to connect the two, he could sic the FBI on Mr. Fancypants’s fancy pants faster than you could say “you need a new wardrobe.” The FBI were awfully interested in Rex, so it shouldn’t be too hard. He had a few other contacts to touch base with as well. It was going to be a busy weekend.
It turned out to be not only busy, but stressful. Not the least because he couldn’t stop worrying about Lily. But then Monday came around, Lily was back home safe from her family’s house, and he could resume his counter-stalking with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t as if he had to follow her everywhere. She was relatively safe at McCain Library, and of course at Aunt B’s. Even her house was acceptably secure after she redid the wards following her “adventures” at the LeFay estate. It was just in between that made him nervous. However, her love of routine and keeping to a schedule worked in his favor, and he had time to slip away and take care of the few odd jobs and spur-of-the-moment clients, which kept food on his table and gas in his tank. The hardest part was Tina, who, when she wanted you for something, wanted you now. As in, yesterday.
Frustratingly, she had not made much progress when he’d checked in with her over the weekend. She was supposed to be tracking down Rex Morganson’s criminal records and any information the FBI had on him. He didn’t ask her how she did it. He didn’t want to know. All he wanted was to know everything possible about Rex’s movements and activities so he could try to match that with what he knew of John Faust. So far, however, they hadn’t had much luck.
It wasn’t until Thursday morning that Tina finally found something useful, and she’d wanted to show him in person. In reality, she probably just wanted him around as a punching bag for her poltergeist, but hey, appreciation was appreciation.
He rang the doorbell to her apartment and then quickly stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the egg Percy had just dropped from the second-story window. It splatted on the doorstep and he grinned to himself. He was learning.
Tina glared at the spot when she came to open the do
or and muttered a few choice words under her breath. Sebastian hoped that meant she would tell Percy off but doubted he would get that lucky. “Come on,” she said, gesturing curtly up the steep stairs before mounting them herself. He followed, judiciously not looking up at her ascending backside as he climbed.
Upon reaching the apartment, Sebastian ducked as he went inside, just in case. Nothing happened, and he made it into the living room safely. If only he could see the darn poltergeist, that would be half the battle won. At least anything Percy picked up remained visible, so if he saw a pillow floating through the air at him—
He ducked.
The pillow narrowly missed one of Tina’s prized lava lamps, and Sebastian swore inwardly in disappointment. So close.
Percy must have realized what a narrow miss that had been, because the mischief-maker dropped the pillow and the apartment went still. There was a limit to how much he could get away with inside the apartment, and he knew it. As Sebastian turned to survey the living room—currently buried under a mess of papers strewn over couch and floor—he heard glass breaking in the kitchen. Tina drank enough beer and soda to kill an elephant, and Percy was allowed to smash the bottles on the kitchen floor instead of wrecking other, more important things. Sebastian wondered who cleaned up the glass—Percy or Tina.
“So, what’s all this?” he asked, ignoring the crashing sounds coming from the kitchen.
Tina, perched on the one clear spot in the middle of the couch, grinned. “This is me earning my keep, loverboy. I finally got my hands on the FBI files. Your Rex Morganson is a busy man.”
Sebastian’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed the nearest piece of paper. “Excellent! Have you read them all yet?”
“Who do you think I am, your deputy? Our deal was for me to find it, not analyze it. I’ve just been scanning the juicy bits. You never know when you might need to blackmail someone.” She winked.
“Actually,” Sebastian replied, looking up from the paper he was reading, “our deal was to help me get evidence against Rex so the FBI could arrest him. You don’t get the coin until we have that evidence. So I suggest you start reading a bit more thoroughly.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Tina rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue but then bent back over the papers.
Sebastian settled in and they spent hours reading, only breaking the silence to mention anything useful they’d found. Takeout was ordered, delivered, and consumed. Percy was yelled at multiple times for distracting them—Sebastian’s favorite bit. Usually Tina let her poltergeist have his way, but she seemed especially dedicated to this job. Possibly because his truth coin was the promised payment.
He didn’t actually intend to give it to her, of course. It was a family heirloom, given to him by his father. But Tina hadn’t been interested in money, and he’d made it clear her other payment preference wasn’t an option. He hadn’t known how else to get her to help. If he was lucky, by the time they were finished she’d let him talk her into taking money instead. Or, as a last resort, perhaps Lily could find someone to reproduce the coin. It was a gamble, but sometimes you had to take risks.
Midafternoon had come and gone before they finally felt like they had a grasp on the whole file. After gathering up the papers, they collapsed on the couch to compare notes. Tina, beer in hand, blew a bit of wayward bangs out of her eyes. “This Rex guy is a slippery fish. I can’t believe in all of this mess they don’t have a single solid piece of evidence against him. All that work and the FBI are just chasing hunches. And who is this LeFay guy?”
Sebastian nursed his coke, alternating between sipping it and holding it to his forehead. All that reading had given him a headache. Lily would laugh if she saw him. She’d call him a lightweight. “It’s not all that bad. I’d hoped for something a bit more solid on Rex, but he’s a professional. Why do you think he uses people like Anton? It’s so they can’t peg this stuff on him in a court of law. They can have suspicions, but they can’t prove it.”
The next part was tricky. He wanted to protect Lily’s privacy as much as possible from someone as nosy as Tina, but it would be hard, what with her name staring up at him from a file on top of the pile. “I think we can conclude that the LeFay guy is who they think is behind the Rex Morganson alias,” he said carefully, addressing her question.
He kept his expression neutral, but inside he was nervous. Originally, he’d hoped to gain some points with the FBI by pointing them in John Faust’s direction. But that was down the toilet, since they already had their own suspicions. More disturbing, however, was that they’d somehow connected Lily to it all. How in the world they’d done that, he had no idea. He thought it might be due to the missing child report for Lilith LeFay, filed about twenty-three years ago by one Ursula LeFay. Sebastian suspected it was filed without John Faust’s knowledge. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to go to the police about anything. So why had Ursula done it? Desperation, perhaps?
But that wasn’t all. Also in the file were nine other missing children reports, dated from twenty to about three years ago. All of them followed a similar pattern: the father of the child was unknown; the report had been filed by a concerned relative, not by the mother; the mother could give no information about the circumstances of the disappearance, nor had she told any of her relatives who the father had been.
It was bizarre. You would think the mothers would have been desperate to find their children. But in every single one of the interview reports, the women seemed to suffer from some sort of amnesia, most likely brought on by the trauma of their loss. At least, that’s what the psych report said.
The important question was, why in the world did the FBI think John Faust was connected to a slew of child disappearances? Was it just because of the similarity between his case and the rest? Or did they think he was responsible?
Judging by the confused crease on Tina’s forehead, she had just as many questions as he did. “But why, though? Why do they think it’s the same guy? That’s the part I don’t get,” Tina complained.
“Well,” Sebastian began, but was interrupted by a muffled ring coming from underneath him. He ignored it, but instead of giving up, the person called back, setting off another round of rings.
Tina rolled her eyes impatiently. “You gonna do something about that?”
“Nah, they’ll leave a message. So, remember the memo talking about how they’d found illegal activity tied to Rex Morganson—” he began, but was soon interrupted by more ringing. Apparently someone very much wanted to talk to him.
“Hurry up and answer it before your butt rings off,” Tina said, glaring in annoyance, “and tell them to go jump in a lake, we’re busy.”
Digging underneath him, Sebastian extracted his phone from his back pocket, checking the caller ID. Uh-oh. It was Lily.
“Just hurry up, will you?” Tina said. Sebastian could have sworn he felt Percy perk up, perhaps hoping Tina’s annoyance would translate into an excuse for him to abuse the guest.
“Just gimme a second, okay? Sheesh—hey, sorry, is this quick? I’m kinda in the middle of something.” He tried to keep his tone light, though his heart was pounding as it always did these days whenever he interacted with Lily.
“Well, if it’s not of vital importance, I suggest you bring your ‘something’ to a swift conclusion. Madam Barrington and I are meeting in the Basement to discuss a certain odious wizard and how we’re going to foil his nefarious plans. You should be there when we do.”
Well, that certainly sounded fun. Minus the Aunt B. part. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought of them sitting down to a powwow together. “My, my, my, Lily. Are you actually encouraging me to stray onto your precious campus? I thought I’d never live to see the day.”
“Men are technically allowed on campus as long as they’re accompanied by a chaperone. You just never bother with that,” Lily retorted, making him grin even wider.
“That’s because my sterling reputation is all the chaperone I’ll ever need.”
>
Lily snorted, which made him want to make another joke, but he caught sight of Tina’s impatient glare and got to the point. “I agree, I should be there. But what I’m doing now is pretty important, too. Can we meet later?”
“No, we can’t,” came her brusque reply. “And what could be more important than figuring out how to fight John Faust?”
Well, so much for that, he thought. “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting,” he quipped, hoping it would throw her off enough that she would forget to press for details about exactly what he was doing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, sounding annoyed.
“Weeell,” he hesitated, pretending to take her question literally. “It’s kind of obvious, you know, win without having to—”
“No, no. I meant, what are you doing? What in the world would subdue John Faust?”
“Uhhh…” His mind raced, looking for a way to delay the inevitable. “I’ll tell you about it later. Let me wrap up what we’re doing here and I’ll—”
“We?” Lily demanded sharply.
Uh-oh. He cursed silently. Now he’d done it. He proceeded as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Yeah. We. Tina is helping me dig up some…well, she’s helping me out.”
“I knew it! You shouldn’t associate with that witch, Sebastian. She’s a disaster waiting to happen. I mean, not that you aren’t your own disaster in the making, but you should be surrounded by sound judgment, not someone who will compound your foolishness.”
Well, that was about as bad as he’d been expecting. She was in full bossy form now. What he couldn’t figure out was, if she’d accepted him for who he was, why couldn’t she do the same for Tina? It was when she got all high and mighty like this that he remembered why he’d avoided having friends all these years. No matter, two could play that game. “Foolishness, huh? Foolish, like running off to the private compound of a suspicious stranger who’s already threatened you once? That kind of foolishness?”
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Allies Page 13
