A Catastrophic Theft

by P. D. Workman

  After Detective Jessup left, Reg did what she could to calm Sarah down, putting the kettle back on to boil and assuring her that the police department was bound to find out who it was that had stolen Sarah’s emerald.

  “Who are we kidding?” Sarah wailed, her normally neat blond hair askew. “The police department has no chance of finding my necklace! How are they going to figure out who it was that took it? And where it is being kept now? This is a job for a clairvoyant, not the police.”

  She turned her gaze to Reg, who was too drained from looking for the knife to even consider trying to locate Sarah’s emerald. Reg explained the reason for Jessup’s visit.

  “I can’t look for your emerald right now, but I’ll do it later, when I have a little strength back. Right now… I just can’t.”

  Sarah’s lips pressed together again, and Reg knew she was thinking about how she was always the first one to help others, yet both Jessup and Reg had given excuses and put her off.

  “I’m sorry. Really, I am. If I had known about your necklace a little earlier, I would have told Jessup that the knife would have to wait. I know this emerald means a lot to you. I’ll help you all I can. I just don’t have the energy right now to find anything.”

  “Of course,” Sarah agreed, but she didn’t sound at all convinced.

  “I’ll come over to the house and help you to look physically,” Reg offered. “I can’t use my powers right now but I could have a look around.”

  “I’ve already looked. It isn’t in the house. Someone came into the house and stole it.”

  It sounded just as unlikely as it had the first time Sarah had asserted that an intruder had taken the necklace.

  “Did they take anything else? Electronics? Other jewelry? Cash?”

  “They took the most valuable thing in the house. Why would they need to take anything else? They knew what they were looking for. They knew exactly what they were doing.”

  “But you have a lot of other jewels. They weren’t interested in anything else?”

  Sarah studied Reg suspiciously and Reg couldn’t help the flush that rose to her cheeks. She hadn’t stolen anything of value from Sarah. If she had, she’d have been able to keep it from her face. She was good at lying, but she didn’t have the same ability to cover her embarrassment at being suspected when she had done nothing.

  Of course she had taken note of Sarah’s vast array of jewelry. Of course she knew how valuable Sarah’s trinkets were. Sarah hadn’t exactly tried to hide them from her. But Reg hadn’t taken them. If she’d taken them, she would have done it in a way that would have diverted suspicion from her, or she would have immediately left town. And no matter how valuable the emerald was, she wouldn’t have been satisfied to have left everything else and taken only the one piece of jewelry.

  “If it was me, would I still be here?” Reg asked.

  “Maybe you thought I wouldn’t believe it was you.”

  Reg shook her head. “If I had something like that in my pocket, I wouldn’t be waiting around to see whether you suspected me or not. I’d be putting as many miles between you and me as possible.”

  Sarah studied her. Reg didn’t know whether Sarah would believe her because Reg was being honest with her about it, or whether she wouldn’t believe her because Reg was as much as admitting that she might have considered stealing such a valuable object.

  “I didn’t steal it,” Reg said, looking her in the eye. Maybe Sarah just needed to hear it from her, straight out. “I didn’t take your emerald or any of your jewelry.”

  “Can I trust you, though?”

  Reg swallowed, looking at her. Would she have been able to resist the emerald any more than Corvin would have been able to resist the knife, if the opportunity arose? Could she have decided, in the face of such a temptation, that her life in Black Sands was more important and valuable to her than the cold, hard cash that such a prize would bring in?

  “I wouldn’t trust me.”

  Sarah nodded her agreement. “No.”

  ⋆ Chapter Three ⋆

  T

  here was a long period of silence between them.

  As a child, it had always hurt Reg’s feelings when someone accused her of doing something she hadn’t done. It even hurt her feelings when someone accused her of something that she had done, not believing her protestations of innocence. It always seemed unfair that someone should suspect her. She had done everything she could to present herself as a good girl, and had never understood why people suspected her anyway. But the fact was, people would always suspect the foster child. The homeless person. The one who had a record. The person pretending to have paranormal powers. Guilty or innocent, people would always assume Reg’s guilt.

  And she would just have to accept it. There was no point in getting upset over it.

  “Sarah, I know you’re really upset over this… but I wonder if you can help me out with something, when it’s all sorted out and you’re feeling like yourself again.”

  She knew Sarah wouldn’t be able to resist her curiosity, even if she were upset over the disappearance of her heirloom. And she was driven to help people. It was her natural instinct, even if it was something Reg herself rarely felt.

  “Help you with what?”

  “It’s nothing. Later. When this is all taken care of and you have your necklace back.”

  “That could be weeks, Reg. Or never. If some sorcerer has gotten his hands on it…” Sarah shook her head, eyes glistening with tears. “It was my job to safeguard the emerald, and it’s gone. If it was stolen for some reason other than its value as a rare gem… then I’ve failed.”

  “I’m sorry. Why is it so valuable? What can it do?”

  “Tell me what you need my help for,” Sarah said, looking Reg in the eye and clearly avoiding her question.

  Reg hesitated, her own curiosity over the mysterious powers the necklace must have teasing her. “Well… it isn’t really anything important. It’s just that… I’ve always been good at finding lost things. Even before I realized that I had real psychic powers. I always had ideas, or saw where they were. I’d get in trouble because my school teachers or foster parents thought that I’d hidden things when I found them too fast.”

  Sarah nodded encouragingly.

  “And when Jessup came over and asked me to look for the knife, I didn’t think it would be any problem. I’ve touched that knife. I’ve held it and studied it. I should be able to find it anywhere. Or at least to have an idea of where to look for it.”

  “You didn’t get anything?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  Sarah considered the matter. She didn’t jump in with an easy explanation or tell Reg that it was nothing to be concerned about.

  “Your powers, at least since you came to Black Sands, have been very impressive.”

  Reg nodded, looking away from her. She had done a lot of things in Black Sands that she had never done before, or had never done since she was a child and had learned to hide and suppress her psychic abilities.

  “Most psychics don’t have the clarity of vision that you do. They have ideas and impressions, but not actual clear visions like you have had.”

  “I guess, yeah.”

  “So which is normal for you? Was it unusual when you were having clear visions? Or is it unusual that you are not getting anything now?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  “Maybe there is something that was helping you before that isn’t any longer.”

  “Like Starlight, you mean? Because he was trying to help me find the knife.”

  “As far as you know.” Sarah cast her eyes about for the cat, but he wasn’t in the room. “You can’t always trust what you see. Especially not with cats. They can be very deceptive. Where is he now? Why isn’t he out here begging me to feed him like he usually does?”

  Reg frowned, looking back toward the bedrooms. “I don’t know. He seems to like the new cat food, so maybe he just isn’t hungry.”

  “Maybe
he’s avoiding you because he didn’t choose to help you with your psychic vision.”

  “No. I’m sure he was helping me. It just wasn’t enough. I still couldn’t see the knife.”

  “Okay,” Sarah accepted this with equanimity, “then what else could be blocking you? Maybe you don’t want to find the knife.”

  “Of course I want to find it. Why wouldn’t I want to find it?”

  “Because it harmed you. Maybe you believe that if it is found, it will harm you again. You’re just starting to heal now; the wound is still fresh.”

  Reg licked dry lips. She raised her teacup for a drink, but her tea was too cold. “Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe the wound from the knife damaged your psychic abilities. Letticia didn’t like the way it was just healed out of the blue when it had been so difficult to treat initially. It was suddenly better, when she hadn’t even had a chance to apply the rowan berries to it yet.”

  “But we thought maybe that was fairy magic. From Calliopia…”

  “And maybe it was. But fairy magic is unpredictable. It rarely gives you something without taking something away. Haven’t you ever read the traditional fairy tales? Wishes are always granted in the worst possible way, leaving the wisher in a worse position than they were in to begin with. Maybe she healed you and took away some of your powers at the same time.”

  Reg’s heart pounded hard. She had been trying so hard to avoid Corvin and giving him what he wanted; had she blindly given them up to Calliopia without even realizing it? She shook her head, scowling. “I don’t feel the same way I did when Corvin took my powers. When I woke up after that… I felt empty and… deaf… like I couldn’t hear anything anymore. Because all of the voices and feelings were gone. But that’s not what I feel like now. I feel like… I’m not getting the answer to a question, but not like everything is gone.”

  “You might not have lost everything. You might just have lost the ability to seek. Or some other combination of powers. The folk are fickle.”

  ⋆ Chapter Four ⋆

  S

  arah eventually went back to the main house, across the back yard from the guest cottage that Reg rented from her. She declined Reg’s repeated offers to help her to search for the emerald necklace. She was quite sure that it had been stolen and she wasn’t going to accept any theory that it had been accidentally misplaced or slipped behind a piece of furniture.

  Reg watched Sarah walk back up the sidewalk to the house. When she was out of sight, Reg went to her bedroom. Starlight was sitting on the end of the bed, tall and stiff, his ears pricked up, listening.

  “Where have you been?” Reg asked him. “Were you listening to the conversation the whole time?”

  He just stared at her, but Reg could feel his haughty amusement. At least she still had that ability. Not that the ability to intuit a cat’s emotions could be a particularly profitable skill for a psychic. Unless she started to offer pet services. Get to know your cat… understand what he is thinking… why he is acting out…

  “You want to help me, don’t you?”

  Starlight gave a rumbling purr of assent. Reg felt a wave of warmth spread over her body and gave him a smile. She scratched his ears and his chin.

  “Yeah. You’re a good cat, aren’t you? Maybe you just didn’t want to come out while Sarah was so upset. You didn’t want to stir things up more for her, since she really doesn’t like cats—doesn’t appreciate cats like she does some other animals.”

  Starlight gave a sudden twitch, focusing his gaze somewhere beyond Reg. Reg turned around to see what he was looking at a second before there was a hard rap on the door.

  “Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that. What’s going on?”

  Starlight jumped down from the bed and headed toward the door, so Reg followed him. He stopped in the middle of the living room and looked at the door. Reg looked through the peephole. No uniform this time, but it also wasn’t anyone she recognized. A cloaked man.

  “Regina Rawlins,” he said through the door, his voice not raised, but still clear. He pronounced her name wrong, with a long ‘i’ like the Canadian city instead of her preferred Reh-JEE-nah.

  “Who are you?” Reg demanded without opening the door.

  “Dave Smith. I sent you a summons earlier.”

  “A summons?”

  “I assume that you received it, though I didn’t receive any response.”

  It took a minute for Reg to remember the summons he must have been talking about. A notification she got via a crow, informing her she would be expected to testify at Corvin’s tribunal.

  “Oh. That. About Corvin?”

  “Would you at least open the door, please?”

  Reg was even less motivated to open it knowing who he was. He was from Corvin’s coven. The head of his coven. Did that mean he was like Corvin? Maybe he was even worse than Corvin. Not someone she was going to invite into her home. She preferred to keep the closed door between them.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Miss Rawlins. I am not accustomed to having to shout through doors in order to have a conversation. Please open the door so we may talk face to face. You could have responded to my missive, and then I would not have had to come over here to speak in person.”

  “Okay. Go away, and I’ll send you a reply. Except… I don’t know where you live and I don’t have a messenger crow.”

  He chuckled. “I did give you several other ways to reply in my letter.”

  Reg’s cheeks warmed. “I, uh… don’t read your old-style writing very well.”

  “Perhaps you could just open the door, then.”

  Reg sighed. She looked back at Starlight to see what he thought of the idea. Starlight stared back at her, not indicating that she should open the door, but not hissing or biting her ankles, either. He wasn’t responding to Dave Smith the warlock the same way as he responded to Corvin Hunter.

  Reg turned the handle and pulled the door open a few inches. She sniffed, but didn’t smell the floral odor that Corvin exuded when he was trying to charm her. But maybe each warlock had a different smell, or different kinds of charms. She couldn’t assume that they were all exactly the same. Reg opened the door a little farther to look at him.

  Like most of the warlocks she had met so far, he was quite handsome. Dark-haired, clean-shaven, dark eyes. With his cloak, he looked like he had just walked out of a Lord of the Rings set.

  “I am not here to harm you,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  He didn’t seem threatening. But then, neither did Corvin. That was how he attracted his prey.

  “I’ve only known a couple of warlocks,” Reg told him. “Corvin stole my gifts. Another of them gave me this.” She raised her hand to show him the cut in the middle of her palm from Hawthorne-Rose’s knife.

  He blinked at the healing wound thoughtfully and nodded. “I repeat. I’m not here to harm you.”

  “I don’t trust your word. Sorry, but I’ve been burned before.”

  He gave a tentative smile. “Not all warlocks are Corvin.”

  “Maybe not. But how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  He raised his hands helplessly, knowing that nothing he said could convince her that he was trustworthy.

  “Do you… have the same powers as Corvin…?”

  “No. Just like with witches and mediums, everyone has different powers.” Then his eyes widened and he put out his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Oh, you mean his ability to take your powers. No, there are very few of us who have that ability. Certainly none others in our coven.”

  That, at least, was a relief. If he was telling the truth. She still wasn’t about to invite him in. Reg folded her arms, feeling vulnerable. Another warlock, standing just inches away from her, and she had no way to protect herself.

  “So what do you want?” she demanded.

  “Your attendance at Corvin Hunter’s upcoming tribunal was requested.”

  “Yeah. Do I really have to be ther
e? Can’t you deal with him without me?”

  “If you seek justice, you need to tell your side of the story. We have received reports of his activities, but we cannot proceed without your testimony.”

  “Can I just tell you or swear an affidavit? I really don’t want anything to do with his coven.”

  “You need to attend.”

  Reg sighed. She had suspected as much, even if she had hoped to get out of it. “Fine. I’ll come.”

  “Do you need me to give you the details? If you have difficulty reading my script…”

  “No. Sarah already put all of that in my calendar. Is there anything else I should know? Do I have to wear robes or observe some other kind of custom? I’m not from around here and I don’t know how these things are done.”

  “The coven will not be sky clad. There is no expected dress for the witnesses; you can wear what you are comfortable with.”

  Reg blinked at him and shook her head slightly. “What?”

  “Some rituals are typically observed sky clad, but not something like a tribunal. The participants will be robed.”

  “I don’t know what sky clad means, it sounds sort of…”

  Dave Smith cleared his throat and Reg thought she detected a blush. “Disrobed,” he offered in a tentative voice that made it sound like a question.

  “Disrobed?” Reg repeated blankly, before really comprehending what he was saying. “You mean naked? You guys go dancing around in your…?”

  “In our birthday suits, so to speak? Sky clad really does sound better.” He swallowed his embarrassment and looked at her steadily. “As I say, this proceeding is not such an occasion. The members will be robed and I would expect you would want to be as well.”

  Reg swore under her breath. “I didn’t mean I was going to come naked. I just wanted to know if there was a ceremonial dress.” She motioned to his black cloak. “You know, like that.”