by Lori Drake
I sighed, pushing food around with my fork. “I don’t know. Frustrated, I guess. Scared. A little angry.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t understand what’s going on, and all this time I thought I was just… a null, you know? Powerless.”
“Hmm.” He made all pretense of studying his plate, continuing to eat while he listened rather than watching me. He knew I hated it when people just watched me during conversations. “But you’ve never been a ‘null,’ not really. You can sense magic in others, see it when it’s being used. You’re not completely magic blind.”
“All witches can do that.”
“So, that makes you a witch, right? Even though you can’t cast spells or whatever.”
“I don’t know, Matt. I just don’t know anymore. I thought I had it all figured out, but this throws everything into chaos. I feel like I’m spiraling out of control with nothing to hold on to.”
His fingers brushed my forearm, curling over it briefly to give a supportive squeeze. “You have me.”
I smiled, weakly. “I know, thanks.” I gave his hand a pat, then went back to eating. “I just wish I knew what was going on.”
“We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
For some dumb reason, I believed him.
Dan showed up while we were finishing up, breezing into the apartment far too cheerfully. “Good morning, sis! Good morning, Matt! Oh good, you’re just about done. We have to go.”
Matt and I both looked at him warily. He beat me to replying. “We?”
“Well, Em and me. We have a meeting with Detective Escobar.” Dan flopped on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table, making himself at home. He had quite the nest of blankets and pillows there. Matt must have set him up the previous night before coming to bed.
“We do?” I asked, eyeing him from afar. Warily.
“Yeah.” He tossed something onto the coffee table. It landed with a thud.
My eyes narrowed. “Is that my phone?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I figured you wouldn’t leave without it while I was gone. Who’s Barry, by the way? He wants to get together for coffee.”
I was gritting my teeth already, and it was barely 9:00 a.m. “None of your business.” I pushed my chair back abruptly and began collecting the breakfast plates from the table. By long-standing agreement, Matt cooks and I do dishes.
“Wait, isn’t your cat named Barry?”
“Lord Barrington would not suffer a peasant addressing him so familiarly,” Matt said, but the damage was done. Barry. Barrington. Why hadn’t I made that connection sooner, and was the mental image of my would-be suitor licking himself going to haunt me forever?
I turned on the water, drowning out further conversation in my immediate vicinity, but I didn’t have much to wash. It was done all too quickly.
“I’m going to grab a shower.” I paused on my way past Matt and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks for the chat. Text me later. I promise I’ll answer.”
Dan sat up a little on the couch, craning his neck to look over the arm of it toward me. “No time, sis! We have to go!”
“If Escobar calls, tell him I had to take a shower,” I said, waving him off. If he liked playing secretary so much, I’d leave him to it.
“Okay, what should I tell Barry?” I heard him call as I was on the way down the hall. I pretended not to hear him.
Chapter 20
I thought Escobar’s eyes were going to pop out of his head when I walked into Rocky’s Roasters with Dan. He was sitting at one of the tiny round tables so popular in coffee shops that want to discourage people from busting out their laptops and hunkering down. I definitely needed more coffee to face the music, so I waved to Escobar and herded Dan toward the counter. I’m sure Escobar wanted answers, but he was going to have to wait a couple of minutes. Or a “cuppa” minutes, if you prefer. Har-har.
By the time we made our way to the table where Escobar was sitting, he’d had plenty of time to compose himself and think about how he wanted to start the conversation. That may have been a misstep on my part.
“Hey, sorry we’re late. Um, are we late?” I glanced over at Dan, who pushed back the sleeve of his coat to display his bare wrist.
“No idea.”
I looked back at Escobar and shrugged, slipping into one of the chairs. Dan spun the other around and proceeded to sit backwards in it, a move that made Escobar shift in his own chair, sitting a little straighter. I got the feeling I was missing out on some sort of guy thing, but I didn’t ask.
“So, who’s your friend?” Escobar asked, taking an all too casual sip from his cup.
“Down to business. Right. This is my brother, Daniel. Daniel, this is Detective Michael Escobar, SFPD’s Magic Crimes lead.”
Dan grimaced. “Please, call me Dan.” He reached across the table to offer the detective a handshake.
Escobar stared at the offered hand for a few seconds before leaning forward and accepting the handshake. Some pretty intense eye contact was made, or at least attempted, on Escobar’s part. Dan was as irreverent as ever, just smiling and almost immediately getting distracted by a pretty girl across the room.
I rolled my eyes and took a careful sip of my coffee. It was hot, so I put it back down again. “Look, I know I’ve got some explaining to do.”
Escobar grunted, shifting his attention from Dan to me. “I’ll say.”
“I know, it was shitty of me not to say anything, but it would have been shitty of me to turn him over, too. He’s my brother. I never thought he had anything to do with this, and now I can prove it.”
“I’d love to hear this one,” Escobar murmured around another sip of java.
“He was with me last night when the witch was attacked. So, he definitely wasn’t behind it. He’s got an alibi now.”
“Mmm-hmm. He does. For one of the attacks. Assuming it wasn’t orchestrated to give him one.”
Frowning, I eyed him from across the table. “There were witnesses.”
“All of whom left the scene before I got there. Including this one.” He pointed at Dan. “The only thing I have is contact info for a single witch that supposedly put a binding on the victim.” There was a little too much skepticism in there for my taste. But as a cop he was trained to question things, to take nothing at face value.
I sighed. “What do you want from me?”
“Well, for one I’d like to be able to trust you. But you’re really putting me in a bind there.”
“I’m sorry. But he can help. He knows way more about this shit than I do. The homunculus was his idea.”
“It was also the wrong idea. He could’ve been throwing us off his tracks.”
“He’s also sitting right here,” Dan said with a smirk. “If you want to arrest me, arrest me. Otherwise, put me to work or tell me to buzz off. I’ve got better things to do.”
I strongly doubted that, but I wasn’t about to point it out. Escobar and I both eyed him, and whatever was on our faces made Dan laugh suddenly.
“Ha-ha, you two should date.”
I scowled and refrained from throwing perfectly good coffee in his face. Won’t say I wasn’t tempted, though.
“She’s a little mouthy for my taste,” Escobar said dryly, and this time it was my turn to laugh.
“Aw, shucks. You’re too kind.” I batted my eyes at him. He ignored me and lifted his coffee for another sip. I went on. “But seriously. Bring him on to consult. Let him help. He’s a pain in the ass, but he knows his shit.”
“You really need to work on your flattery,” Dan said. I elbowed him in the ribs. It actually shut him up, and I made a mental note to remember that tactic.
Meanwhile, Escobar sighed and shook his head. “No way is the chief going to sign off on another consultant.”
“We can share the consultant fee,” I said.
Dan straightened in his chair. “You’re getting paid?”
Escobar made a thoughtful noise and glanced up at the ceiling.
“I might be able to make that happen. But first, he’s going to have to prove his worth.” Pushing back his chair, he collected his cup and got to his feet. “Come on, gumshoes. We’ve got an interview to conduct.”
Dan hummed the Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego song as we exited the coffee shop. It was going to be a long day.
Chapter 21
The motel that the SFPD put Gabriel up in was definitely no-frills. There were a pair of uniforms in a patrol car parked in the lot outside, and another one actually in the room with Gabriel when we got there. She looked a little happy to be relieved by Escobar, even if it was only for a little while. Gabriel was awake, sitting on the bed and playing solitaire with an old deck of red-backed playing cards.
I’d seen the spiderweb of wards the moment the door was opened and hesitated outside, much as I had when I first encountered the warded room Christina was kept in. Dan did too, studying the wards with a more critical eye.
“We can’t go in there,” he said.
Inside, Escobar turned to look out at us. “Why not?”
“Because we’re not keyed to it. It’s set up to keep magic users, creatures, constructs, and spells out. I could probably force my way in, but that would shatter them.”
I stepped up beside Dan and reached out to touch the glimmering web across the doorway, skimming my fingertips against it. I felt it react to me with the strange sort of cool elasticity that was an exact mirror of the wards protecting Christina. I pushed and my hand passed through. I moved forward, slipping through with a shiver and a glance over my shoulder as the wards rebounded back into place. Dan stood on the other side, mouth agape. He reached out the way that I had, but when he pushed against the wards they didn’t budge, and his hand failed to pass through.
“I guess you’re going to have to wait out there.” I flashed him a smile and closed the door in his face. It wasn’t very big of me, but it was satisfying. I was still smiling when I turned back to look around the room. It was poorly lit, a little dingy, and smelled of stale cigarette smoke. No matter how vigorously you scrubbed, it was difficult to get out, and I was pretty sure this room hadn’t been vigorously scrubbed in years, anyway.
“Mr. Sanchez, I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I’m Detective Escobar and this is my associate, Emily Davenport. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”
Gabriel looked up briefly, then went back to his game, continuing to flip the cards from the stock pile over three at a time. “That’s great. I have a few for you too.”
I moved over to lean against the dresser, preferring standing to sitting for the moment. “We’ll do our best to answer them,” I said, not wanting to be left out entirely. Escobar shot me a warning look, but I shrugged and went quiet again, letting him take the lead. Which one of us was supposed to be the good cop? I wasn’t sure. Then again, this was an interview, not an interrogation.
“Can you walk me through the events from last night?” Escobar began, taking out one of those tiny notepads and flipping through a few pages before finding a clean one to take notes on. It was so analog I had to smile.
“Not really, the last thing I remember before waking up in the ambulance was walking down the street. I was on my way to a meeting.”
Escobar glanced up from his notepad, curiously. “What kind of meeting?”
“Alcoholics Anonymous.” As he spoke, Gabriel kept playing, moving the cards around atop the comforter into neat little piles.
There was a nod from the detective, along with a brief scribble on the notepad. “There was nothing unusual at all, no warning? You were just walking along and the next thing you remember is waking up in the ambulance?”
“Yeah, it was damned strange. Unnerving.” He flipped through the last few cards in the stock pile several times in rapid succession, then started gathering up the cards to shuffle. Apparently he’d lost the game.
“Okay, let’s work backwards then,” Escobar said. “What did you do before you left for the meeting? Where were you? Did anything seem strange?”
I had a feeling we weren’t going to get much from this interview, and I was right. Gabriel had a pretty average Saturday. He went to the bank, did some chores around the house for his family, watched a football game, pretty normal stuff, all in all.
“So, how long am I going to have to stay cooped up here?” he asked after a while.
“Until we can be sure you’re no longer in danger,” Escobar replied.
Gabriel grimaced. “My old lady’s not gonna like that. Can you call her? Phone in here isn’t working.”
Much like the lights, the television… no wonder he was playing solitaire.
“She’s been notified, as has your employer. Really, all you need to do is hang tight and let us figure this out.”
Telling a bound witch in a warded room to hang tight is an exercise in futility, but on the whole, Gabriel seemed to be handling it pretty well.
“Take your time,” he said. “I mean, it sucks not being able to watch TV, but I haven’t slept this well in years.”
At least someone was content with the situation.
Dan was leaning against the wall outside when we emerged, casually flirting with the police officer that we’d relieved when we went in. I admit I’d hoped he’d be moping like a petulant child. The uniformed woman was a little thick around the middle and obviously flattered to have the attention of a young, attractive man. Before we left, she wrote her phone number on the palm of his hand with a ballpoint pen, making eyes at him like a teenager. Escobar shot me a glance, and I rolled my eyes, grabbedDan’s arm and dragged him away.
“Call me!” the woman called after us.
Dan grinned as I propelled him along.
“Do you ever think about anything but getting your dick wet?” I growled through gritted teeth.
“Oh, come on. Doris seems like a very nice woman.” Doris, like something out of Leave it to Beaver. Wholesome, Americana. Somehow it made me feel even worse for her.
“I’m sure she is. That’s just one of the umpteen reasons I can think of, off the top of my head, for you to stay the hell away from her.”
“Jealous? You know, if things don’t work out with Baryoucould give you a few pointers.”
“Shut up.”
He did, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to wipe the smug smile off his face all the way back to the car.
Escobar had parked next to us. He paused to wait for us to catch up, saying once we were in range, “I’m going to head back to the station and see what I can do about pretty boy, here. Want to meet me there in a couple of hours? We can go over what we’ve got with Danny boy.”
Pretty boy. Danny boy. I expected him to object, but Dan just smiled and chirped, “Sounds good, Detective!”
I eyed Dan but nodded my agreement. “Yeah, that’s fine.” I unlocked the car and Dan wasted no time getting in.
“Emily,” Escobar said, motioning me closer with his head while he slipped a hand inside his coat.
Curious, I moved closer. “Yeah?”
He removed a plain white envelope from an inner coat pocket and offered it to me. “Think about it.”
I looked down at the envelope, then back at him, but he was already turning away to get into his car. By the time I fumbled the envelope open with my gloved hands and unfolded the pages within, he’d already started the engine and was backing out of the parking place.
It was a very official-looking document, with the New Mexico state seal adorning the top left corner of the first page. Beside it, the bold heading read: Application for Admission to the New Mexico State Registry for Magic Practitioners
Subtle, Escobar. Real subtle.
Chapter 22
“What’s that?” Dan asked as I settled into the driver’s seat with the envelope in my hand.
“Nothing.” I stuffed the envelope behind the sun visor and started the car. While the car warmed up, I tugged off a glove and whipped out my phone.
Dan watched me for a momen
t, but let it go. “So, what now?”
“I was thinking lunch. How does that sound?” I asked, eyes still focused on the little rectangular screen.
“Lunch sounds… good?” He must have expected something else, because his reply had a hint of suspicion in it.
His suspicion was well-placed. Once I had answered assorted messages, I sent a fresh one off to a certain coven leader, tucked my phone away, and got us on the road.
Business at the Tin Whistle was booming when we got there, like I’d hoped. I didn’t see Hector’s truck in the parking lot, but that didn’t mean the witch wasn’t skulking around somewhere. Fortunately, the lunch rush was just getting started, so the line wasn’t quite out the door yet.
As we made our way inside, Dan looked around curiously. “This place is pretty cool. You come here often?”
“Yeah. Menu’s on the board over the counter. Figure out what you want while we wait.”
While he studied the menu, I looked around the crowded restaurant, observing the usual crop of locals. My eyes skimmed the artwork on the walls by habit. It cycled regularly, since all the pieces were for sale. I noticed there was a new painting hanging on the far wall, near the bathrooms. Earthy browns, oranges, and reds zig-zagged across the canvas which was full of angles in a very modern style. The subject was very natural, though: an arid valley with a stream stretching from the foreground into the background, bending sharply as it flowed toward a distant horizon.
Dan noticed my distraction when I didn’t move forward with him as the line crept along. He backtracked and leaned down, looking over my shoulder to try and figure out what I was looking at.
“Daddy issues?” he asked, breaking me out of my reverie.
“Huh?” I glanced over at him in confusion, then frowned and moved forward to close the gap in the line before there was any impatient throat-clearing or eager lunch-goers cutting in front of us.
“That guy over there.”
I looked. Hey, there was a guy sitting under the painting, an older guy in a company-branded polo shirt with a full head of silver hair and the telltale spark of a magic user. Eyes on his plate, he ate with the steady cadence of a man on a schedule. He was a regular, though as is often the case with urban dwellers crossing paths around the city, I didn’t know him by name. Smirking, I rolled my eyes and turned my attention elsewhere again. “I wasn’t looking at him, I was looking at the painting.”
