“Did… did you just squeak?” Shakes’ eyes were huge and Caroline heard the suppressed laughter in his voice.
“I don’t squeak. I am a Federal Agent and a respectable vampire. I don’t squeak,” Darien sniffed.
Shakes snorted in an effort not to laugh, and Caroline turned away when she couldn’t swallow her grin.
“Anyway, I was thinking we should maybe get Mitch and try to track the rest of those dolls. Your boy Oscar said that he’d already delivered another dozen to these guys, right? So maybe we can track their magical signature if he gives us a sample of his spellwork.”
“Think that’ll work?” Caroline asked. She had been taking crash course lessons on magic and magecraft from Mitch for almost a year now, ever since she had almost blown herself up by causing a magical feedback loop that shredded a powerful spell in progress. She still wasn’t sure she would have done anything differently since it likely saved Mitch, Darien, and Greg. And, probably most of the Chesapeake Bay Area as well.
“It should. Every mage has a signature. Like a fingerprint, you know? I’m not one hundred percent sure I understand how it works for mages, but for folks like me that are part magic, every spell we cast has a little bit of our essence in it. Like a bit of our soul, you know? That’s one of the reasons that we can’t cast a spell that’s too big— it takes too much of out of us, literally.” Shakes shook his head and shrugged. “It’s probably similar for human and elf mages since there’s a limit to spell size for them, too.”
“Wait, I thought elves were partly magic too, like you?” Caroline frowned.
“They are, but it’s a little different. It’s much closer to a human connection to magic, in that while it is encoded into their DNA to have an affinity for working with magical power, they don’t have an intrinsic attachment to it.”
“Yeah. My naiad half has magic basically baked in if you will. Pixies and shifters and elementals and the magical paranormals all basically run on magic, kind of like humans run on electricity, if that makes any sense?” Shakes stretched again and stood up. “I sent Mitch an email telling him to expect us to show up soon, so let’s head on up there and see if we can find these jerks.”
"Not you, D. Go get some rest," Caroline caught his arm before he got too far. He grumbled, but nodded and headed down the hall the other way. Shakes, however, headed off to the stairwell with Caroline following along behind. There was so much for her to learn, sometimes she wondered if she would ever know enough to feel competent around her colleagues.
16
“Well, that sucked.” Caroline slumped down into her own desk chair. They had spent nearly the whole afternoon with Mitch in the test spell room unsuccessfully trying to track the dolls. Benford eagerly gave them fresh samples of his spellwork to use as samples for the trace, one of which was a charm to increase the efficiency of the tracking spell, but nothing seemed to work. The few dolls that Mitch tracked down turned out to just be the rejects being used by street performers. Finally, Mitch grumbled about wasting energy and guessed that the thieves had the dolls in a shielded container.
“Well, at least we know that the last couple of reject dolls are off the streets. The only ones we have left to worry about are the ones owned by Amberight and his followers,” Darien agreed, perching on the corner of her desk.
“Are you going back out to the bar tonight? I know Zanna has headed out again.” Caroline looked up at him. He didn’t look too tired now, just a bit rumpled, with his too-shaggy hair and his sleeves rolled up. He could probably get away with going as-is, just taking off the tie he wore to the office as part of his ‘professional’ look.
“I guess I should—” Darien’s answer was cut off by a yelp from the holding area. “What the hell is going on back there?”
Caroline shook her head, just as confused, and followed Darien back.
“Now I suggest you sit yourself down and relax, buddy. You’ve got enough troubles without adding another count of assaulting a Federal agent to your list.” Greg’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. He was very much over whatever nonsense his prisoner had been trying with him, and when she looked past Darien’s shoulder she couldn’t fault him. The big blond man was sporting an impressive black eye and his t-shirt had a gaping rip from the right front around to the middle of his back, making the fabric droop down and showing far more skin than he usually liked outside of the beach, a line of blood striped across his torso.
At least the prisoner looked wary enough, handcuffed to the table, even if he was mouthing off. They were in one of the less comfortable interview rooms, unlike when they’d chatted with Oscar Benford. This room looked much more like the ones everyone saw on television: stark white walls, a long, one-way glass window on one side, and a plain metal table with a few chairs around it. The table had a small loop to attach handcuffs to when necessary and it was to this that the prisoner was linked.
“And how would I add anything to your garbage charges? I’m locked to the damned table now,” the elf said, yanking hard on the cuffs around his wrists to prove his point. He was slim and didn’t look particularly tall, though it was difficult to tell with him seated and hunched over the table as he was. His greasy brown hair was cut short save a swath of longer hair sweeping over the top of his head that kept sliding into his face moments after he flipped it back. Without his hands free it must be difficult to control.
“Yeah. You’re locked to the table, because you managed to hide a knife during your arrest and tried to slice me open with it on our way inside,” Greg growled.
“I don’t know what the hell you are— you’re not an elf, and you’re clearly not human— so you’d better enjoy this while you can. It’s not going to be long before you’re on this side of the table, chained up like you should be,” the prisoner snarled. He felt no shame in his actions, neither the attempt at Greg nor whatever got him arrested in the first place.
Darien moved into the room faster than any human could move, and was leaning over the elf, putting himself between Greg and the prisoner. Caroline couldn’t see his face now, but she would put money that he was letting a little bit of his vampire nature show.
“In the absence of your lawyer, I am going to strongly suggest that it is not in your best interest to talk right now. Especially if you are going to make threats against an arresting officer. So, sit down and mind your manners.” He spoke calmly, in an even tone, but Caroline didn’t need her talent to hear the menace in his voice. The prisoner’s face paled a few shades and he leaned back in his chair. Darien stood, satisfied that he had made his point.
“And this guy’s name and issue?” He turned to Greg, dismissing the elf. They stepped out of the room and closed the door behind them. Greg grimaced at the remains of his shirt while he talked.
“Well, he and his buddy— who is in the next room, by the way— were just being drunk and rowdy until about halfway through their stumble to the next bar on their itinerary, when they thought it would be a good idea to hit on Zanna,” Greg smirked.
Someone tapped softly on Caroline’s shoulder and she turned to see Shakes, rolling his eyes and handing her a file folder. She flipped it open and glanced through the few pages inside. Everything may be digital these days, but there was a weightiness to a physical file that seemed to make a difference to the prisoners.
“Oops. I’m surprised that neither of them is in the medical suite,” Darien said.
“Yeah, well, the one who put a hand on her is being checked over, but there’s nothing worse than a few bruises, I’d imagine. She is a professional, after all.” Greg shrugged. “Funny thing, the guy who tried to assault her is being significantly less hostile.” Greg pulled out his phone and flipped to the notes app. “I’ve got someone running them both through the system, but so far all I’ve learned is that this guy goes by the name Tanyl Silvertree, and he’s a mouthy, aggressive drunk. We’ll see what his prints turn up, though.”
"Shakes dug up a little bit more," Caroline closed
the folder.
"Anything handy?" Greg asked. Caroline shrugged.
“Tanyl Silvertree, hmm? That sounds like a very traditional name,” Caroline commented from the doorway. She opened the door and stepped back into the room, closely followed by Darien, and closed the door softly behind her. In the grand tradition of TV cop shows, she sat demurely at the table, across from the elf and placed the folder in front of her. She didn’t turn but felt Darien come up to stand behind her right shoulder as she flipped the folder open.
“I assume that you would prefer to use the name you gave Agent Barnett over what it says here, Mr. Silvertree. Have you had it changed legally from Eliot Neeson?” She asked.
“It’s my right and my heritage to use that name!” Silvertree grumbled. He narrowed his eyes and peered at her, clearly unsure what to make of this young human woman.
“You have every right to use the name you feel fits you best, of course. It’s just a matter of the paperwork, that’s all. We are legally required to process you using your legal name, but if you would prefer I use the more traditional name you have chosen for this interview, I’ll be happy to do so. If you’ve had your name legally changed then I’ll make sure that our files are updated in the system.” She smiled pleasantly. “Now then, can you tell me what happened tonight?”
“I was out with my buddy and we got a few drinks. There wasn’t anyone worth our time at the place we were at, so we were going to a different club and that half-breed looked like she wanted some company, that’s all.” He shrugged. “My buddy and I were offering that company and then she started all the crazy kung-fu shit. Then that guy showed up and now we’re here.” He sneered at Greg over the last part of the statement. Caroline wished he had gone up to the medical suite for a bandage and a new shirt, but she would deal with the stubborn man later.
“I assume you mean Agent Zanna Perkins?” Caroline almost enjoyed seeing the elf’s eyes widen slightly before being replaced with a grin.
“If that’s how you agents dress to go out, I need to meet more agents. What are you doing later, babe? I got nothing against having some fun with a human.” He leered at her, but Caroline’s gift let her hear the nerves in his voice. His nerves weren’t likely relieved when Darien and Greg both growled at his words. He sat back in his chair as far as the bindings would allow and tried to smirk. He didn’t succeed.
“Mr. Silvertree, I know that your elven metabolism allows you to process standard alcohol quicker than a human would, but the bar you had just left reported serving you elven ale, which means that you are still legally intoxicated. Between that and your file,” she tapped the top page of the still-open folder in front of her, which held enough paper inside to tell her that he was no stranger to the inside of a cell. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to hold you until you sober up, and then we’ll see if Agent Perkins wants to press assault charges. I suspect, considering what I head as I arrived, that Agent Barnett will definitely want to press charges. Until that gets sorted out and you’ve sobered up, I do suggest you keep yourself calm. We’ll provide you with something to eat and a bottle of water to help you along. That ale packs quite a punch, I hear.” She smiled and closed the folder and started to stand.
It was a trick she’d seen used a few times before but never managed to try herself. They needed information that had almost nothing to do with what he was here for, but he was clearly involved. If nothing else, his brand new name told them as much. But from his attitude and posture, she could tell he was mouthy. He liked to brag, and since he couldn’t come out on top physically, he had to do it verbally. All she had to do was act like he wasn’t worth listening to.
“Enjoy it while y’all can. It won’t be long till the real power in the world is in charge like we should be.”
Caroline turned back to him, as bland an expression as she could manage plastered to her face. Maybe she should take a few acting classes next year if she was allowed to drop some of the ones for her major.
“That’s right. It won’t be much longer before you humans are taking your place as second best, and we elves are on top where we belong! As soon as we take over the government, we’re putting our king in charge and then you and your pets won’t be so cocky." He jerked his head at Darien and Greg to leave no doubts as to who he meant. "Frigid chicks like you won’t get anywhere then.”
Darien growled again, and Caroline just shook her head.
"Mr. Silvertree, I think you shouldn’t say any more without your counsel present,” Caroline murmured.
The elf didn’t listen to her advice, and she was glad that the video and voice recorders were both running.
17
“So they plan to either flat out win the seats in the elections or somehow gain control over the winner, and that’s how they’re going to take over the government. It’s planned like it will be a non-violent coup. The violence will come later, I imagine,” Darien said. “Not that this guy has a lot of inside intel, he’s clearly just a grunt.”
They were all in Point’s office now, drinking coffee and eating pizza. Zanna wore an oversized FPAA hoodie over her undercover-at-a-club clothes. Honestly, with shorts that short and those fishnets, Caroline didn’t blame the drunken elves for hitting on Zanna. The agent looked hot. At least she was mostly covered up now. Earlier she had been getting teasing wolf-whistles from the bullpen. It was distracting, to say the least.
Darien and Greg had escorted first Silvertree then his buddy down to the holding cells they had in the basement to sleep off their bender. They had been left with some fruit and crackers and several plastic bottles of water. Silvertree had spilled a fair amount of information in his bragging, and his buddy— who was less enthusiastic than Silvertree— had filled in some of the other gaps.
“Then, once they’ve got control of the government, they plan to replace it wholesale with an Elven monarchy. The king is going to be chosen via single-elimination combat,” Greg finished up before grabbing another slice of the meat-lovers pizza. Point grunted and chewed his own slice.
“Why on earth would election by violence strike someone as a good way to choose a leader? That’s just a good way to get the most violent, bloodthirsty psychopath in charge of everything! I don’t… I just… ugh.” Caroline stuffed her own slice of everything pizza into her mouth so she wouldn’t be tempted to keep sputtering her objections.
Zanna sighed and shook her head. “It was the way some Northern European elf tribes chose their leaders a little over a millennia ago. There was a lot of war back then between the tribes, and between the various paranormal communities and the human villages… basically it was a violent, messy time and having a skilled warrior as a leader was a real benefit.” She scrunched up her face and after a moment shrugged again. “Some extreme elements of the elf supremacists feel that is the most authentically traditional manner of choosing a leader.” She made huge air quotes when she said authentically traditional, and Caroline almost felt the disdain in Zanna’s words physically.
“Yeah, but you go back a bit further than that, and those same tribes were actually pretty democratic and peaceful. There was a head family, sure, but if they didn’t do a good enough job leading the tribe the people could pick a new family to take over. It wasn’t until the famine drove the wolf shifters east into what’s now Germany that the elves started getting militant like that,” Darien said.
“This isn’t history class,” Point interrupted, although he was smirking at Darien, just as impressed as Caroline was. “When did you get so scholarly?”
“When we started getting more elf supremacist cases.” Darien sighed. “I’ve been reading up on the various wings of the movement and what they’re claiming about tradition and history and so on. Then, because apparently I get sucked into the rabbit hole of research way too easily, I started tracking down sources for those claims, and… well.”
Zanna laughed. “I think you know more about elf history than I do!”
Darien shrugged. “It’s interes
ting. I like history and research and stuff.”
“So what you’re saying is that I should talk to you before I write my next paper,” Caroline teased. Darien just smirked back at her and shrugged.
“Okay, folks. Back on track, please,” Point butted in again. “As much as this plot sounds like a concern, how does it tie into the thefts? Thoughts?”
They fell silent, turning it over.
“Maybe they stuff they’re stealing is symbolic?” Greg ventured a guess. “They might be used to rally the troops?”
Point grunted and they all nodded slowly, considering it.
“It’s possible that they want to try to link them all together like Sheldon Collins did with the weather enchantments?” Darien asked.
“There aren’t enchantments on all the objects, though,” Zanna said. “And the ones that are there have nothing to do with each other and were cast by different mages. The weather enchantments only worked because they were all similar enchantments and cast by the same mage.”
“True.” Darien grimaced.
Caroline reached for her soda and mused out loud, “Is there a way to use the residual spell energy on the items? Not to combine them together but to power something else? I mean, it seems to me that even if they’re not similar enchantments cast by the same mage, the mages that used these things all had similar opinions, right? They were all Mad Mages, who held similar beliefs to what Silvertree was spouting off. Maybe they are planning to somehow harness that energy somehow?”
Point grunted again, but Zanna tipped her head thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s not completely impossible. We should get Mitch in here and ask him. He’s the expert on this theoretical spell casting.”
“We’ll put it on the list and ask him about it in the morning. Anything else?”
Caroline flipped the empty pizza box in front of her closed and started shuffling the leftovers into one box while everyone thought again.
Legacy of the Mad Mages Page 9
