“This is our case,” Detective Ridgely said with far less venom than her earlier statement. She’d relaxed slightly, but her gaze remained glued to Carol as if Carol would jump her at any moment. “MCU can’t just waltz in here and steal it.”
Jonah shook his head. “I’m sorry, but facts are facts.” He crossed his arms over his chest, apparently ready to stand his ground.
“He was stabbed to death, and it was made to appear to be an MCU case,” Wheeler added, glaring at Carol. His fear was palpable, in his stance, his expression, even his scent, bitter and venomous.
Jonah moved, putting himself between Wheeler and Carol. “My familiar isn’t a threat, Detectives.”
Carol growled, just low enough that only Jonah could hear it. She didn’t like that he’d put himself in potential danger, but she held her place. In this battle, as an MCU detective, he had far more power than she did.
Jonah remained where he was. Either he hadn’t heard her, or he was ignoring her. “I’m afraid not. I’ll need the vic’s familiar to talk to mine while I go over the crime scene.”
The two detectives glanced at each other, their expressions inscrutable. Ridgely finally replied, her tone uncertain. “The sniffer didn’t detect anything.”
Sniffers were magic detectors built for those without magic of their own. Most police, firemen, and rescue personnel were trained in their use, but that didn’t mean they were infallible.
Carol snorted disgustedly. She’d learned all about sniffers in the academy and how they were supposed to be used by detectives without delicate noses like hers. “Because you didn’t read it properly. There’s ambient magic here, so you just stopped at that reading instead of allowing the sniffer time to work.”
The detectives seemed thoroughly aggravated once more, possibly because she’d dared to speak up. “The sniffers should have picked up any kind of magic if it was concentrated,” Detective Wheeler grumbled. He seemed a little more at ease now that Jonah stood between them.
Carol tapped the side of her nose. “Well, this sniffer will go talk to the poor familiar of our victim while you guys hash the rest of this out.”
She didn’t bother waiting for a response. She took a step around the flabbergasted detectives, squaring herself in front of the cockatiel familiar and blocking their view of him.
“Hi.” In deference to his nature, she kept her tone friendly. “What’s your name?”
The guy was visibly shaking, his arms trembling so violently she was afraid she’d manage to break his bones. “Ronnie. Ronnie Stewart.”
Carol smiled, hoping to put the poor guy at ease. “I’m Carol Voss. I work with that guy.” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb at Jonah. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you some questions. Is that okay?
“Yeah. Sure.” Ronnie glanced up at her through the fall of his hair. “But I’m not sure if I can be of any help.”
“It’s okay. We’ll do this as slow as you need, all right?” Ronnie nodded once more, so Carol began asking her questions. “Can you tell me what you saw?”
Ronnie shook his head. “I was in class when I felt him die.” He shuddered. “Louis was my best friend. We were going to stay bonded forever.”
Shit. He would have suffered from the bond snapping the moment his sorcerer died. “The pain must have been terrible.” Carol took a seat next to him and pulled out a small recorder. She didn’t have a notebook. She preferred to have words as they were spoken rather than short notes. She’d used the same recorder in college. She’d transfer the file to her laptop when she was home.
For a moment, she jolted. Home was no longer her House. Home was now back at Jonah’s place, in a comfortable room that was as sterile as a hotel room.
“It was,” Ronnie replied, shivering. If he’d been in cockatiel form his crest would have been completely raised, his feathers flat against his body, the signs of an upset, scared, or startled cockatiel.
“Can you tell me when you sensed his death?” Carol glanced toward Jonah. He was walking away from the two detectives, heading for home plate and some numbered evidence identification markers. He’d exchanged his notebook for his wand. His magic pulsed along their bond as he began to channel their combined energy.
“Around six last night.” He wiped away a tear. “I tried to tell the campus police that something was wrong with Louis, but they didn’t listen to me.”
“Ugh. This is exactly why I wanted to go into law enforcement,” Carol muttered. Sorcerers were always listened to; familiars, rarely. “Can you tell me his full name? The boys in blue didn’t bother telling me.”
He sniffled and nodded. “Louis Reeves.”
“Thank you.” She glanced over and caught sight of Wheeler and Ridgely talking to each other. Their hands were flying and their expressions absolutely furious as they glanced between her and Jonah. She did her best to ignore them, but it was hard when they both kept turning to glare at her. “So, you tried to talk to campus police. What happened when they brushed you off?”
“I called the police.” He shook his head. “They said they couldn’t search for him until he’d been missing for forty-eight hours because he’s an adult.”
“The laws need to be changed where familiars are concerned.” Far too often they were treated as extensions of their sorcerer only when it was convenient. The law was still ambiguous where the sensations fed through a familiar-sorcerer bond were concerned. A landmark case against familiar bond sensations was the rape of a woman by a sorcerer. The familiar attempted to report it to the police even though he wasn’t present. He’d been aware of the attack through their bond. The police failed to respond until after the woman managed to escape her attacker and get to a police station. The courts had stated that, while the familiar had done the right thing by trying to turn his sorcerer in, without corroborating evidence, the police couldn’t act on the “feelings” of a familiar.
Carol hoped someday to help change that law. “Did you try calling him?”
“It went straight to voicemail.” Ronnie bit his lip. “I tried to find him using our bond, but it was gone. There was nothing to follow.”
“Which meant waiting for him to be found.” Carol rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” He was folded in on himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle. “I just wish I’d felt something before he died. I might have been able to find him, save him.”
“Yeah.” She touched his left wrist, and he flipped it over, showing her the available written in magic letters. “This sucks rocks.”
He gave a bitter chuckle. “You said it.”
She stood and grabbed her recorder. “Can you think of anything else you think I or the police should know?”
He stared up at her, his head tilted at an almost boneless angle. It was always a little freaky when bird familiars did that. “Tell those two to go to hell for me.”
She nodded. “I will.”
The poor bastard had a right to be angry. The laws were written by humans, the majority race. Humans just didn’t understand how the contract worked between familiars and sorcerers. Hell, they were responsible for the Burning Times, where humans, dimens, shifters, merfolk, and all sorts were burned at the stake simply for being different. The ensuing years had shown that the majority of magical folk, both native to Terra Mundus and interdimensional, just wanted to live their lives in peace. Interdimensional beings, aka dimens, weren’t that different from their human counterparts.
Mostly. The jury was still out on infernal beings, the real demons, that walked the earth. The denizens of Terra Infernum could be a bit malicious at times.
Carol headed toward Jonah, who was kneeling by home plate and one of the evidence cones. She stopped and crouched next to him. “He says he became aware that the vic had died at six last night. Despite the fact that he reported it to campus security, no one would investigate his whereabouts because the law involving familiar-sorcerer bonds sucks.” She sighed. “I t
aped the interview; you can listen to it and find out if I missed anything.”
“Good work.” Jonah held out his hand, a square piece of paper in it. “Here. Give him my card. Tell him to contact me if he or any of his friends find themselves in similar circumstances.”
“Got it.” She went to Ronnie and delivered Jonah’s message.
Ronnie stared at her. It seemed he couldn’t believe Jonah. His glance at the two homicide detectives explained why. “Do you believe him?”
She glanced back at Jonah, who was talking once more to the two homicide detectives. Man, he was pissed. She made a judgment based on what she’d observed of him combined with his family’s reputation for fairness. “Yup.”
Ronnie slipped the card in his pocket without another word.
Chapter 6
Jonah pulled away from the campus, heading to the coroner’s office. Dealing with xenophobes like Wheeler and Ridgely happened far more than they should. There were laws preventing people from discrimination against larger predators, but people would forever view them as different, frightening. Only vampires faced more prejudice than shifters and familiars who happened to be large.
Jonah and Carol arrived at the coroner’s late Saturday afternoon. He was starving, ready to go eat, but his window of time to speak to the coroner was slim. He doubted Paul would have more than a rudimentary cause of death for him, but it would give him a start.
At least there was a Jack in the Box across the street. He could almost taste their spicy sriracha burger.
“What was at home plate?” Carol stepped out of the car into the hot July sun.
Carol’s question pulled his mind away from the thought of Oreo shakes. “Not much, unfortunately. A footprint, which should be molded by now, a candy wrapper that will hopefully give either DNA or fingerprints, and a cheap vape pen.” He had high hopes for the vape pen. It should be a good source of DNA, plus they might be able to trace the pen to a specific store. They might even be able to trace the vape liquid.
That was if it even belonged to the bad guy. A lot of times what was picked up was only trash, something left behind by someone else, but it still needed to be investigated and either verified as evidence or eliminated. He’d hate to be the guy who failed to catch a killer because he thought a gum wrapper was insignificant.
“What did your spell reveal?”
“Dark magic was definitely present. I found blood magic residue, but there was something else there, something dark.” Jonah shook his head. “I’m not sure what it was, but it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.”
“That can’t be good.”
“No, it’s not. Worse, I might know where I’ve sensed it before.”
“Terra Noctem?” Carol shivered and rubbed her arms.
He wasn’t surprised that she’d paled. Terra Noctem was not a place he wanted to fuck around with.
None of the planes other than Terra Mundus were designed for anyone but their own denizens and Travelers, those who could travel through the other planes without harm. As far as magical science could tell, there were ten planes in total, Terra Mundus—the realm of humans—and Terra Noctem being two of them. The belief was that, somehow, Terra Mundus had been created from each of the other nine, allowing the denizens of the other planes to live, or at least move about comfortably there.
“Yes.” Jonah wasn’t about to speculate more than that. He needed to focus on the body and what Paul had to say about it. Once he’d done that, he’d consider what he’d experienced at home plate.
Carol was staring at the Mission–style brick building where all bodies were taken to be autopsied. “I’m surprised we can get in on a Saturday.”
“I had to call ahead. I took care of it while you were talking to the crowd, searching for witnesses.” He’d tasked her with working with one of the uniformed officers, giving her the chance to learn from him while Jonah called Paul. At the end, the uniform had given Jonah a discreet thumbs-up.
Carol brushed her hair aside as the wind blew it against her cheek. “No one noticed the body getting dumped, so that was a dead end.”
Jonah walked up the broad steps of the ME-Coroner’s building. “Here’s hoping Paul has found something already.”
The coroner’s office was located on the grounds of the LAC+USC Medical Center within the Forensic Science Center. Paul Lofland, MD-M, was the doctor in charge of magic-related deaths in L.A. County. His familiar and spouse was Debbie Miller-Lofland. A bloodhound who helped him in his work, she had a master’s in forensic science and a bachelor’s in magical studies. She was a huge help in identifying rare magical substances used in murders, suicides, and unintentional deaths.
Jonah led Carol up the steps and to the third floor, where Paul’s office was. He knocked once on the door and opened it, not waiting for a response.
Paul’s secretary wasn’t present, but Debbie was. She was at the secretary’s desk, rummaging through the drawers.
“Looking for something?” Jonah grinned when Debbie jumped with a yip.
“Jesus, Jonah.” Debbie put her hand over her heart. “You suck.”
“Only when asked nicely.” He winked, his grin widening when Debbie chucked a pen at him. He bent down and picked it up, almost jumping himself when a hand brushed over his backside.
“Who’s your friend?” Debbie sounded amused.
Jonah straightened, pen clutched in his hand. His face was a bit red not only from bending over but from that soft touch to his ass. Had she meant to do that, or was it an accident due to proximity?
“Carol Voss, my new familiar. Carol, this is Debbie Miller-Lofland, the wife of the coroner and an expert in deadly magical substances.”
Carol’s expression was far too innocent to be real. Maybe her hand brushing his ass hadn’t been an accident at all. One could hope.
“Nice to meet you.” Carol stepped forward and held out her hand.
“You too.” Debbie met her and took her hand, widening her eyes in amusement. “You keeping Jonah in his place?”
Carol chuckled. “We only met today, but I’m working on it.”
“Debbie?” Paul came out of his office, frowning at his spouse, only to stop when Jonah waved hello. “Oh, hey, Jonah. Right on time.”
“You could have told me he was coming,” Debbie muttered, glaring at her husband.
Paul shook his head. “I did, but you were too busy muttering about Sally to pay any attention.” He tilted his head. “Why did you think we were here on a Saturday anyway?”
Debbie sniffed. Her head snapped around to Carol. “Oh. You’re a wolf.”
“Yup, and I understand you’re a bloodhound.” Carol tapped her nose. “Gotta be a pain down in the morgue, right?”
“Ugh, you have no idea.” Debbie put her arm through Carol’s and led her into Paul’s office. “The crispy critters are the worst. I always crave barbecue afterward.”
Paul got out of the women’s way, allowing them into his office. “Nice. Debbie could use more friends.”
“Carol too.”
“We’d better get in there before they start plotting something,” Paul whispered. He gestured for Jonah to follow him.
Jonah entered the office to find the women going through some papers on Paul’s desk. “What are you hunting at?”
Debbie glanced up. “Come take a look. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Carol’s expression was grave, her face pale. “I think the pictures tell the tale.” She gestured toward one in particular that gave Jonah pause.
In the picture, their victim lay with his hands crossed over his chest in a funereal pose. He was lying in the dirt, home plate under his head, his legs closed. His shoelaces had been tied in such a way that his feet remained close together. Between his hands was a white lily. Around the stab wounds under the corpse’s hands, almost invisible thanks to everything blocking them, were dimenic runes, ancient writing used by interdimensional beings.
“What the fuck?” H
e picked the picture up, examining the runes closely. “Something’s off about these.”
“Here, this gives you a better view.” Paul handed him a different picture. This time the man was lying on a steel gurney, his head propped up on a small pillow designed for use in autopsies. The stab wounds were much clearer, angry red and deep enough in some spots to show bone. He could tell it was a blade with only a single edge from one of the stab wounds. One part was thicker, with a flat edge, almost triangular in shape. They were clustered, almost as if someone were aiming for a bull’s-eye. Around the wounds were runes, much clearer now that the blood had been washed away. The separated skin of the stabs made it impossible to read the ones in the area of the stabbings.
“These runes are just dimenic language, not magical,” Jonah muttered.
“Eat at Joe’s, basically.” Carol stared at the picture in her own hand, another autopsy shot. “It looks like someone typed a phrase into Google Translate and just wrote what the program told him to.”
“What does it say?” Jonah wasn’t great at reading dimenic languages, but he could recognize what was magical and what wasn’t. They were two distinctly different alphabets, much like Japanese had kanji, hiragana, and katakana.
“‘To enter a friend.’” Carol rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it sounded like Google Translate.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Jonah couldn’t figure out what the killer had wanted to say. Was it sexual, or meant to hint at possession?
“I have no idea.” Paul shrugged. “I’m sending a copy to someone who speaks different dimenic languages to see if they can figure it out.”
“Good idea.” Jonah pointed to the wound. “Is that the cause of death?”
“No, it was definitely mana draining. The stabbing was post-mortem.” Paul pointed to the edges of the wound. “There’s no antemortem bleeding. The flesh isn’t red. This was done after he died, not before.”
“Why stab him after the fact?” Jonah frowned at the picture, trying to put the pieces together in his mind.
Sound's Familiar (Terra Noctem Book 1) Page 5
