by Faith Hunter
Margot said, “I’m honored to accept your hospitality.” That was one of the proper church responses and I tilted my head in surprise. “I’m one of the few special agents who’ve bothered to learn the proper responses for the church.” She stepped inside. “Dang, girl, I thought you left that ‘suffer for the sake of your soul’ stuff behind. It’s hot as hades in here.”
“Mm-hm,” I said. “Coffee?”
“Sure. Let’s make the unholy hell of this furnace room hotter.”
“I got ice cubes if you want.”
“Iced coffee? That sounds like a little bit of heaven.”
I led her to the kitchen and she leaned on the counter, seemingly content and comfortable in my home. I took a tray of ice cubes and felt her looking around, taking inventory. The first time a cop had done that I had accused him of wanting to steal my belongings. Now I knew that cops were just notoriously nosy.
“Where’s your sister?” Margot had indeed been snooping.
I didn’t answer and she said, “I can’t see any court not wanting Mindy to live here. If you need a reference, I’ll happily provide one.”
A spurt of anger shot through me. The fact that Mud was living here off and on and I was trying to get custody of her wasn’t widely known. Margot had been spying into my court records. “You been keeping better track of me and mine than is common even for cops,” I said, maybe a mite too calm. “Want to tell me why?”
Margot stood and went to the wood-burning stove, inspecting it as if she had never seen one before. She held a hand over it as if testing to see if it was being used in the overheated house. She said, “You knew my secret. I expected you to out me and you didn’t. I was curious.”
I made a sound in the back of my throat that might have meant anything from agreement to a question. I could feel her eyes land on me, but went back to the task at hand, making iced coffee. I got out sugar and creamer. Found a pretty, hand-thrown mug with a soft greenish glaze. Tried to figure out how to temper it for hot and cold together. I didn’t want to crack my mug. “I did tell my boss,” I said. “Internal eyes only. If you have a problem or need help, you can ask and receive. Sugar and cream?”
Margot nodded slowly. “Both when it’s iced.”
I found an old Pyrex measuring cup in the pantry and dumped in cream and sugar, poured in the hot coffee. Stirred. Added the ice cubes, which made happy little crackling/popping sounds as they exploded under the change in temperature. Carefully, I transferred the mixture to the pretty mug, which did not crack or shatter. I gave the mug to my … guest.
Margot wandered some more, pausing to stroke Cello, who was lying across the back of the old couch. The cat sprang away and raced up the stairs. Margot sipped. “Word came to my SAC from high up in PsyLED that there’ve been black-magic witch circles in Knox County, circles not reported to PsyLED.”
High up in PsyLED meant Soul or the new man, FireWind. “Oh?”
“She asked me to do a little digging. As you know, I keep a watch on everything witchy in the county for familial reasons, so I take a lot of work home. I didn’t like what I discovered. Then you sent me a message. And then you got yourself abducted.”
She was laying out a timeline for some reason, but I had no idea why. I had discovered that when someone made an incoherent interrogative sound, people kept talking. “Mm-mm?”
“I had a meeting with the sheriff earlier today. He was busy, but he made time for me.” She meant that he was busy because of me, but made time for the FBI. It was a faint, professional dig. I didn’t react and Margot went on. “Seems there’s a young, para-hating detective who tried an end run around Unit Eighteen, not reporting magic and sacrifice. The sheriff called him into his office and took his badge, informing him and me that, pending an internal investigation, Detective Steff is on administrative leave. I don’t expect the investigation to result in Steff being dismissed, but it does place a black mark on his record.”
She tilted her nearly bald head to me and smiled. “FBI confiscated the detective’s official and personal computers, laptops, and tablets.” By her tone, I knew Margot meant she had done that in person. “I made copies of everything on external hard drives and transported the contents to PsyLED. Jones was overjoyed. That woman is a serious risk to PsyLED security, isn’t she?”
I looked at Margot innocently. “Beg pardon?”
“Right.” She didn’t roll her eyes, but I knew I wasn’t fooling her. In the church, her attitude would have been considered rude and antagonistic. In the world of law enforcement, it was just the way cops did things when they were fishing. “She was a known and respected force in the hacking world. That’s no secret. It’s also no secret that hacking is addictive to certain types of personalities.”
I didn’t know where Margot was going with this, but I was having trouble keeping innocence on my face and honesty in my heart. I was also truly impressed with the speed, breadth, and depth of her investigative work.
“If Jones happened to be drawn back into that world, she could be blackmailed, or her own hacking could expose her to other hackers who could then follow her trail back into PsyLED’s electronic systems. And through PsyLED into other government systems.”
A hollow place in my belly opened up, like a tunnel into darkness. The tunnel pathway Margot was drawing was scary.
“Last, but not least, if Jones gets caught dipping her toes into the hacking world, she can go to jail.”
I thought about trees and Soulwood and managed to keep my face at least semitranquil. Was Margot still fishing? Did she know things? Or was this a threat against JoJo?
“Anyway,” she said, “I downloaded everything into a dedicated system, so now she and I are on the same page as to the witch circles and the lack of reporting.”
Her meaning sank into me. She wasn’t going to tell on JoJo. Tension eased out of my body. “I thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’d like to request liaison with PsyLED on the witch circle investigation. Do you think LaFleur or Soul would be willing to put in an official request?”
“I’m still a probie and just back from leave, so I don’t know how much it’ll help, but I can ask.”
Margot grinned at me. “You’re a troublemaker. I like troublemakers. We get things done way faster and more efficiently than the fence-sitters and scared-to-be-noticed agents.”
“Troublemakers. Hmmm. I reckon we’re talking about this morning now. How much do you know?”
“Girl, everybody in the state heard about this morning. You look pretty good for a woman with a concussion who refused to go to the hospital.”
I gave her a hesitant smile and pointed to myself. “Not human. Hospitals can’t help me.”
“Because you’re a one-off.” I had heard Rick use that term and understood it in general, but didn’t know how it applied to me. At my blank look she said, “A one-of-a-kind. As in, they broke the mold after they pulled you out.”
I thought I might have heard a gasp from upstairs. Little Big Ears was listening. And Margot had figured out a lot about me. “Pretty much.”
“Hmmm. You just told me an untruth, Nell Nicholson Ingram.”
“Not really. I told you what I hope, not what I fear.” Truth. No one in my family had grown leaves yet. So far as I knew. I hoped they never did. I feared they might.
“Okay. Copy that. Thanks for the coffee. Let me know when Unit Eighteen posts the liaison request so I can push it through.” She walked by me and rinsed her coffee cup, placed it in the sink, and moved toward the door. Just as she reached it she called out, “You have any problem in public school, Mindy Nicholson, you let me know. I have friends in places both high and low.”
“Thank you,” Mud shouted.
Margot winked at me and went out the front door into the heat of the day.
• • •
We got to HQ near dark and, together, carted Mud’s purchases up the steep stairs and dropped them in my cubicle. I refused to think about how much it cost t
o send a child to free public school, but I felt horrible for all the people who had multiple children and insufficient money. Mud started sticking her fingers into the soil of my plants. “When you get finished with the plants, check in with JoJo or Tandy,” I said. “Then take your tablet back and read your books. Last time I looked you still had three books for summer reading.”
“Finished ’em,” Mud said absently. “So I started on the required reading for eighth grade. They talk a lot about sex.”
“Oh.” I studied her from the corners of my eyes. “Does that bother you?”
“Nope. I think people are silly when it comes to sex.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that so I settled on, “You have a point.” Leaving her at my desk, I went through the office, ostensibly searching for Rick LaFleur, but also looking for Occam, whose office cubicle was dark, though whether he was off work or on a case, I didn’t know. I found Rick sitting at his desk, his face green in the light of his laptop. He looked twitchy, tense, and very tired. I tapped on the doorjamb. “Got a minute?”
He glanced up and back down at his screen. “Maybe one. I just approved a request from the feds to have Margot Racer liaise with us on the situation involving Sheriff’s Detective Steff not following protocol. And since she managed to dig him out, I’m approving her request. We had a long conversation and I read her in on the circles, including my part in it. She wants to see all the circles ASAP and we need eyes on the ground, even though most of the circles are old and were worked up by the locals. You up for that?”
Margot had moved fast. So much for needing my input and my request. I wanted to read the ground at each of the witch circle sites for maggots, so yes, but I wasn’t the most important PsyLED agent for that job. “Why isn’t T. Laine going?”
“Kent is going out later with Tandy or Occam to do a full workup. I want you with the feeb. Your best pal. Chat her up. Bond.” Rick’s eyes were on the screen, not on me, and I frowned, not sure what he thought I was supposed to do.
“Fine, but Mud is here. Is it okay to leave her?”
Rick looked up. “You’re going to have to deal with child care. Soon. For now, make sure the weapons locker is secured.” His dark eyes returned to his screen. “T. Laine is working late and Tandy will be in the office all night trying to get caught up on the missing reports and doing research on the similar witch circles here, and some more that Racer found and sent us. Seems as though there were similar circles down south and one in Asheville.” A hint too casually, he added, “T. Laine will also be talking to the NOLA coven and the Asheville coven.”
I put the locations together with Rick’s personal history. The Asheville coven was predominately the Everhart coven. The Everharts were Jane Yellowrock’s friends. Jane Yellowrock was the Dark Queen of the Mithrans and Rick’s ex, and she had spent a lot of time in both New Orleans and Asheville. That explained why he seemed twitchier. “Okay. Interesting,” I said. According to the rumor mill, things had ended badly for them on a dance floor (thanks to Paka) and then ended badly again in a permanent way while I was a tree. I didn’t have an emotional context for Rick’s life, though I’d been brought up to speed on the facts of the breakup. My question toneless, I asked, “Is Yellowrock involved?”
Rick stared at his laptop, his hair glowing black and silver in the screen lights. When he answered his tone was lifeless. “Not that I know.”
I took a slow breath, fighting any kind of tentativeness. “Shall I find out?”
“If the case leads you to look for that information.” He sat back in his chair and met my eyes, his skin lined and sallow. “Ingram, Jane and I ended months ago. I’m good. I am not, and I don’t want to appear to be, stalking her. She has enough problems without having to worry about me. If you need to call her, call her. You don’t have to run it by me. Copy?”
“Copy that,” I said softly.
“And Nell?” A faint smile curved Rick’s lips, making him look younger and less sharp-edged. “Your official vehicle is on the way. I’ll let you know when the delivery date is confirmed.”
My mouth opened and closed. Opened again. “Oh. Thank you.” I stood there a moment longer before spinning around and nearly skipping back to my cubicle to talk to Mud. I was getting a car! And Rick was sending me out in the field again. I was still a probie but not such a newbie that I was useless.
• • •
“Rick is an interesting man,” Margot said.
I slanted my eyes at her. Margot was staring out the windshield at the night, hands light on the wheel, guiding her official vehicle. If you call a man who had been driven to the edge of insanity by kidnapping, torture, and his were-creature interesting. Strong, determined, gritty, and maybe a mite crazy might be better terms, wrapped up in a man carrying the magical equivalent of an incurable, infectious disease, but I didn’t say that to the special agent, settling on, “Mm-hm.”
“It’s got to be heartbreaking to be a wereleopard and have no females around. Unless he and Occam are together.”
I managed to hold in my yelp of shocked laughter. To give myself thinking time, I adjusted the air-conditioner vent. Then I readjusted it. The FBI had access to personnel files on PsyLED. There was no reason to suppose Margot hadn’t simply gone through official channels to learn about us all, and no reason to suppose she had anything negative in mind for us. She was just nosy, and not very delicate about her nosiness. Or she had orders to chat me up, orders similar to my own. I couldn’t think of a way to deflect her comments or ignore them, so I just put my head down and bulled through it. “That was a leading question, Special Agent Racer. And kinda personal to them both. Where’s this going? Is the FBI collecting data on my team?”
“What? No.” Margot shrugged, her wrists rising and falling on the wheel. “Rick’s managed to make a life and move up in a federal agency despite his para state. He’s got that bad-boy-tamed-and-suffering thing going, and he can’t do anything about normal human desires now that the wereleopard Paka is no longer part of your team, and missing in action. Neither can Occam and he was gorgeous before his accident. A regular vampire chick magnet.”
Occam had me. The notion was just there in my brain, like being stabbed by a pitchfork, impaled on the thought. Occam had me.
And then several things hit me: Margot knew something about Paka, from the missing in action comment; some of her questions were personal on a sexual level; and some were professional law enforcement. They could also be construed as asking if Rick was a liability and security risk. Which he was. Which we all were, and which we never put into reports.
Except she’d said that Occam had been a vampire chick magnet.
I stuffed my reaction to the Occam part of her comments down deep inside for now, so I could concentrate on the other things. But I felt it there, under my skin all crawly. I couldn’t lie to Margot and get away with it. I didn’t know what to say to both protect my team and remind Margot that we knew the were-taint was contagious. “Ummm. Well. They aren’t gay. They don’t date each other, not that it’s your business, Racer. And we have grindylows on-site to keep the populace safe, just in case anyone doesn’t follow protocol to keep from spreading the were-taint.”
“Prickly,” she said of my tone. “And put in my place with pure truth. Okay.” She sent me an amused look.
The crawly feeling under my skin got worse, but I pushed on. “Special Agent Racer, I’m sure that every single human on the planet is aware that were-taint is spread by blood sharing, saliva in cuts and bites, and sex. We know, and Rick knows, that any of the above means a death sentence for any were-creature who bites, or has sex with, someone who can contract the taint—and for his partner if the grindys decide so. He’s careful.” I wanted to add, And alone, but I didn’t.
She brought the conversation back to the witch circles. “Site of the oldest Knoxville witch circle is just ahead. The circle was discovered by a local teen. It was fairly fresh at the time and I’m putting its tentative date of construc
tion and activation just before the new moon, or waning sickle moon in May. The witch circle was cold and dead and there was no sacrifice present on the site when the circle was reported. There was also no blood when the deputies checked it out, though we have to consider the activity of scavengers carrying away any sacrifice and the spell itself taking away any blood. How close to the river are we?”
Back to business. A wave of relief flushed through me. Margot’s hands tightened on the wheel, as if she felt my reaction. I said, “GPS says two hundred feet to the river. Then down a ways to the actual water.”
Margot parked near a copse of trees and we got out, switched on flashlights, and started to the site, my gobag over my shoulder. There was nothing left of the circle except shallow trenches here and there. With a little imagination I could create a spoked circle out of them, but it was hard in the dark and with the passage of time and early summer rains. I had already calibrated the psy-meter 2.0 and done QC on it by reading everyone in the office. I laid my blanket on the ground and measured the circle’s levels. There was nothing left of magic in the ground. But when I surreptitiously touched the soil with a fingertip, I got a hint of maggots. I didn’t share that with Margot yet. Not until Rick gave me permission to read her in to everything.
Silent, I packed up and we went back to the car, where Margot marked her map with a green star. There were other stars, three now green, the rest yellow. She put the tablet down and started the car. “What kind of witch is doing the circles?”
“Our first thought was a single moon witch sitting at north, but T. Laine pointed out that moon witches always practice their workings at the three days of the full moon, to make better use of the moon’s entire power, so we changed it to a water witch working alone because of the river locations. Looking over your shoulder at the map of the witch circles—those stars are the witch circles, aren’t they?” I interrupted myself.
