by R. L. King
As the others started to get up and file toward the table, Verity spoke up. “One other thing, before you go—if we’re all in on this, let’s get our first assignment. The crimes Jason was talking about are in Oakland. There’ve been at least three that we know of, including one where someone was badly injured and some other folks were hurt too. So if you have any contacts who know the Oakland area, please hit them up and get back to Jason if you have any info. There are mages working on finding them, but they need help.”
Yuri paused at the table as he wrote his name and email address. “Let me know if you need help with the database. I do that kind of stuff as a job, so maybe I could suggest some things.”
“I’ll do that,” Jason said, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to him, though it probably should have, that the group he’d gathered together might be able to offer skills in other areas beyond surveilling potential mages. “Thanks.”
One by one, the other group members noted down their contact information, bid the others goodnight, and filed out of the back room with their checks. Eventually, only Courtney and Wim remained.
“Do you guys have a way home?” Jason asked, looking specifically at Courtney. “No offense, Courtney, but I’m not sure I like a kid your age showing up here without a parent. That could get you and me in a lot of trouble if something went wrong.”
“Yeah, I know.” She smiled ruefully. “I’m usually the good kid—you know, straight As, never gets in trouble, never does anything I’m not supposed to—but when I heard about this and found out Mom couldn’t make it, I had to do it. I don’t live very far from here—maybe five miles. I took the bus.”
“It’s already eight thirty,” Verity said. “It’s getting dark. Will your mom be home when you get there?”
“No, she doesn’t get back until ten. Really, though—I’m fine.”
“I’ll call you a cab,” Jason said firmly. “No arguments. And if you need to talk to me again, call, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” She looked a bit relieved. “I was a little scared about being on the bus after dark.”
“Let’s do that right now.” Jason pulled out his phone and looked at Wim. “You got a way home?”
The teen snorted. “Don’t worry about me, dude. I got it covered. I want to talk to you for a minute, though, before I go.”
“Okay. Hang on while I take care of this.”
By the time Jason called a cab, gave Courtney some cash for the fare, and watched it drive off with her in the back seat, another ten minutes had passed. When he returned to the meeting room, he found Wim and Verity at one of the side tables, deep in conversation. Wim had turned the chair around and was straddling it.
“You wanted to talk about something?” Jason asked.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to say it in front of everybody. Like I said, I trust Blum, but I’m not sure I trust the rest of this group yet.”
“You want me to give you guys some privacy?” Verity made as if to get up.
Again, Wim snorted. “Nah. It’s pretty obvious you two are tight. I can’t figure out if you’re together or related, but either way, you’re gonna end up hearing anything I say as soon as I leave anyway, so what’s the point?”
Jason exchanged glances with Verity. The kid was sharp. “Uh…yeah. You’re right. Verity’s my sister.”
Wim gave a sage nod. “Got it. You two don’t look much alike, but I can see it. Anyway—I wanted to tell you something that might be related to that Oakland thing you were talkin’ about.”
“You know about that?” Jason asked, surprised. “I thought you were from San Francisco.”
“I am. But I have a lot of friends, and some of them live in Oakland. I hear things.”
Jason waited, giving Wim space to tell the story in their own time. He studied the kid, still trying to figure out whether they were a girl or a boy, annoyed at himself for caring.
“Anyway,” Wim said, leaning back and putting their booted feet up on the table’s remaining empty chair, “I got a couple friends over there who have a little magic. Not much—just enough to help ’em out a little on the streets. We don’t talk too often, but I see ’em maybe two or three times a year, usually at parties. Last time was a few weeks ago. One of ’em didn’t show up at all, and I noticed the other one was acting weird. Twitchy. Like she was either on something or afraid somebody was gonna come after her, y’know? Kept lookin’ over her shoulder.”
“Did you talk to her about it?” Verity asked. She’d leaned forward and was watching Wim closely.
“Yeah. I was afraid she might’ve got caught up in drugs or something. I mean, we all smoke a few joints now and then, but the hard stuff’s bad news. But she told me no, she’d met somebody—a guy who said he could help her out with her magic. Said he’d done it with some other kids too.”
Jason frowned. “You said she was a teenager, right?” There weren’t too many scenarios he could imagine where a grown man “helping out” a female street kid would end well.
His own sister’s case notwithstanding, of course, he reminded himself.
“Yeah. She’s maybe sixteen. I’m not sure. We don’t all sit around and tell each other our life stories, y’know? But anyway, I asked her what she meant. I think she was a little drunk, or she wouldn’t have said anything else. But she told me the guy said he could help her get better with her magic, and use it to make her situation better.”
Now Verity was looking grim too. “That doesn’t sound so good.”
“That’s what I thought too. But when I said something, she all of a sudden just clammed up and wouldn’t talk to me anymore. She bailed before I could say anything else.”
Jason pondered. “So you think she might be connected with the group I was talking about.”
Wim shrugged. “No idea. But if you can find her, maybe you can find out more. Especially if you know tougher mages than I do.”
“Thanks, Wim,” Verity said. “Can you tell us her name? What she looks like?”
Wim hesitated.
“It’s okay. I promise we’re not gonna hurt her. But a lot of people—including a good friend of mine—have gotten hurt because of this group, and we need to do something about them.”
Wim narrowed their eyes, focusing first on Verity and then on Jason. “No cops?”
“No,” Jason said. “Blum’s not involved, except to pass the info along to me and a couple other friends. This is something mages need to deal with, so no more mundanes get hurt.”
Another few seconds passed, and Wim’s tension was obvious even to aura-blind Jason. “Okay,” they said at last. “I’ll tell you. But you better be telling the truth. She goes by ‘Monita’—that’s like ‘little monkey’ in Spanish. She used to hang out with some friends at the Del Mar Mall in west Oakland, but I dunno if she still does. They sit in the back of the food court by the Mexican joint and make fun of people. She’s short, cute, kinda chubby, long dark brown hair. She has this monkey tattoo on the side of her neck—that’s where she got her nickname. That help?”
“Yeah, that helps a lot.” Jason wrote the description in his notebook.
“Don’t tell ’er I told you where to find ’er. It’ll piss ’er off.”
“Don’t worry,” Verity said. “Anything else?”
Wim dropped their feet to the floor with a loud thud and stood. “Nah, that’s it. I gotta jet.”
As they reached the door, though, they turned back around. “Guys?”
“Yeah?”
“Find her, okay? She might be in trouble, or at least she’s worried about something. I know I got no real way to know, but from the way she was acting, I think that guy might be bad news.”
25
Stone didn’t want to put the new rift and the situation in Oakland aside, but for the next several days he didn’t have a choice. As soon as the fall quarter started at the University, he was swamped with work. Between dealing with the administrivia of student adds and drops, attending various meetings (there al
ways seemed to be extra ones this time of year) and actually teaching his courses, he had little time to get away for any extracurricular activities.
He now regretted that he’d relented to Beatrice Martinez’s request to teach three courses this quarter: one entry-level and two advanced seminars. Ever since he’d been named the recipient of Adelaide Bonham’s endowment to the Occult Studies department, he’d thought it might mean a decrease in his workload. Now he chuckled when he thought about how naïve he’d been. Until they secured at least one new faculty member in the department—an endeavor that hadn’t proven fruitful so far after many months—he and Mackenzie Hubbard were forced to split up most of the work between them. Hubbard wasn’t any happier about it than he was, especially now that he’d managed to sell one of his horror novels to a small press and was hard at work on another one, but neither of them could do much about it.
Stone supposed some of this was his own fault: he was most of the reason the Occult Studies department was so popular. When he’d accepted the position at the University nearly a decade ago, the department had been plodding along like an unwanted stepchild, perpetually in danger of having its funding cut due to low enrollment. Hubbard and the late Edwina Mortenson were both solid professors and knowledgeable in their field, but Stone’s practical experience and personal charisma had led to an uptick in enrollments from the beginning. Each year saw a few more students choosing to focus on Occult Studies, and many more who signed up for the low-level courses. Stone had a reputation for being a tough grader, but also for providing orders of magnitude more entertainment than your average dry professor. All this meant that he usually found himself turning students away each quarter, and this one had been no exception.
His phone rang as he sat in his office on a Friday afternoon waiting for a student to show up for a meeting, and was surprised to see Jason’s number on the display. “Hello, Jason.”
“Hey, Al. Got a minute?”
He glanced at the door, but so far saw no sign of anyone approaching. “Not long—I’m expecting a student any moment. What’s up?”
“I’ll make it quick. I think V and I might have a lead on the Oakland thing. We’re planning to check it out this weekend.”
Stone sat up straighter in his chair. “Oh? What sort of lead?”
“Remember a while back we discussed maybe trying to talk to some of the mundanes who know about the magical community? You know, people like me who have relatives or friends who are mages?”
“Yes…”
“Well…I decided to do something about it. We’re getting nowhere on this the way we’re going, so I figured maybe some of those mundanes might know something. Blum thought it was a good idea too. He helped me get in contact with a few.”
“He…did. Jason—”
“I want to help, Al. I can’t do magic, but I am good with finding stuff out. Better now than before. V and I met with some of them last night.”
Suddenly, Stone felt as if he was struggling to descend a slope covered in shifting scree. “You’ve already met with them.” He glanced at the door again, but still saw no students approaching. He wondered if the guy had forgotten about it, since it was Friday afternoon. He’s probably got important parties to attend.
“Yeah. Last night. We didn’t bug you about it because I wanted to make sure it would be useful—and I also didn’t think you’d want to be dragged in yet. Don’t worry, we didn’t mention you, and they don’t even know V’s a mage.”
“So…what did you find out? You said you had something.”
“Yeah. One of the people there said they knew a couple kids in Oakland who have some magic. They saw one of them at a party a while back, and said the girl had been approached by an older guy who offered to help her with her magic.”
“That’s interesting, but what makes you think it’s relevant?”
“Don’t know yet. That’s why I want to talk to her. Maybe she knows this Daisy we’re looking for, if they’re both mages.”
Stone leaned back in his chair and glanced up as someone knocked on his door. Apparently, the student had shown up after all. “Er—all right. That’s brilliant. I’ve got to go now—my appointment’s here. When are you planning to go to Oakland?”
“Maybe tonight. I was gonna head up to SF and have dinner with V, and then we’ll drive over there. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”
“Come in!” Stone called to his visitor. Then, quieter to Jason, he said, “I wish I could go with you, but I suppose it’s a bit pointless until we know more about whether this has anything to do with what we’re looking for. Just…be careful.” He thought about the rift, but Oakland was a big city. The odds Jason and Verity would go anywhere near it were low, and even if they did, it was unlikely Verity would even spot it unless she was specifically looking for it.
The student, a tall, skinny young man in a surfer T-shirt and cargo shorts, pushed the door open, and Stone raised a finger at him. To Jason, he said, “Call me later. I want to know what you find out, even if it’s nothing.”
26
“So Doc didn’t take it too well when you told him about our plan,” Verity said.
“Yeah, I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything outright, but I could hear it in his tone.” It was just after eight, and they were in Jason’s Mustang heading across the Bay Bridge toward Oakland. “I’d have thought he’d be happy about it. He isn’t getting anywhere with this, is he?”
“Not last I heard. But he’s been busy with work stuff, and I guess he figures as long as the gang isn’t committing any more crimes, he can afford to take a little time off.” She settled back in her seat, watching the moonlight dance on the Bay. “I don’t want to take any time off, though. I want to catch the assholes who messed Greta up.”
“I’m glad to hear she’s doing a bit better, anyway,” Jason said, a little lamely. He knew “a bit better” didn’t amount to much: Verity had told him over dinner that she still wasn’t walking, and was scheduled for another surgery next week.
“Yeah, I guess. She’s still pissed as hell, though. She’s got all the Harpies, even Max and Bea, looking for info. So far none of them have found anything, though.”
“That seems odd. Isn’t Max a PI?”
“Yeah, but she’s not a mage. It makes a difference.”
Jason gripped the steering wheel tighter. “V…have you ever thought maybe they just left town? Moved on somewhere else? Maybe the Arena thing spooked them. If they’re petty criminals, thinking they might have killed somebody might have been enough to send them into hiding, at least.”
“It probably did. But it’s not so easy for them to just uproot and go somewhere else. Street kids don’t have those kinds of resources.”
“Even if they’re mages? Obviously they can steal money without anybody catching on.”
“Yeah, but I doubt they’re very versatile. The ones Greta and Tani saw were young. Younger than I was when I started learning magic, and they probably don’t have good teachers. Besides, it’s not just money. They’re not gonna leave their friends and families behind. I think you’re right that they’re hiding. Maybe this Monita person can tell us something, even if she isn’t part of the gang.”
The location Wim had given them was the Del Mar, an older, rundown mall in west Oakland. “Busy place,” Verity commented as Jason found a parking space in the large, half-empty lot. Even from here it was easy to see people moving in and out of the well-lit interior. Several more figures slouched near a double-doored entrance.
The two of them headed inside, walking past a gauntlet of teenage boys lounging and smoking on benches outside the door. One of them wolf-whistled at Verity as they passed. Jason glared at him, but Verity grabbed his arm. “Come on, it’s no big deal,” she muttered.
Grumbling, he followed her in. “Damn, I feel old. I forget sometimes how obnoxious guys that age can be.”
“You were pretty obnoxious at that age,” she said, chuckling. “Just ignore them. It’
s not like both of us can’t handle ’em if we have to. Besides, I don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
“Little late for that.”
He was probably right: this time of night, most of the mall’s occupants seemed to be bored teenagers, both boys and girls, clustered in small groups. All of them looked Jason and Verity up and down and a few snickered or made comments under their breath, but none approached them. The few other actual shoppers got the same treatment, but most of them ignored it and continued on their way.
The food court was in the center of the mall’s two wings, a sprawling space filled with scattered tables, chairs, and a series of empty planters that had obviously been designed a long time ago to give the place a splash of color. Now the plants were mostly dead, leaving the color to the various vendors’ bright signs that advertised the standard array of chain fast food along with a few one-off local eateries. The ratio of chains to local businesses seemed to be about three to one, but judging from the logos on the customers’ cups, the local ones were more popular.
“There’s the Mexican place Wim was talking about.” Verity took Jason’s arm and made a subtle head motion toward the back corner of the space. The place, named Don Roberto’s Taqueria, featured a smiling neon taco flanked by a cartoon man and woman in colorful Mexican costumes.
“Do you see Monita?” Several of the nearby tables were occupied, mostly by more teenagers, but it was impossible to get a good look at them from this far away.
“Not from here. I don’t think we should both just head over there together. Why don’t you go check out the burger place next door, and I’ll wander over with a disregarding spell up and see if I can spot her.”
