“I’m sure it was,” Annie said.
Marielle teleported, and Annie fell forward.
“Shit! Where did she go?” Annie shouted. Fabien ran, with Gibbs following quickly after him, heading to the back of the hall.
The hidden door!
Annie took up the chase, following them past the rest of the Wizard Guard, the human resources department, the maintenance department, until they all crammed in to the much smaller Wizard Hall.
Everyone in the hall wore confused expressions. Some were scared, others curious, but all peered over the wall of their cubicles watching.
Fabien grabbed Marielle and began to wrap a strong silken rope around her wrists, but he underestimated her strength and will. She pulled an arm free and shot a spell toward the pin in the ceiling. The spell swirled and traveled upwards before exploding outward, all of Wizard Hall in darkness.
Chaos emerged as the wizards began shouting. Lights flickered on and small crystals were activated, their soft glow like a trail throughout the hall.
Hearing footsteps, Annie and the others turned. In the low light, they could see the shadow of Marielle as she ran for the front door.
Gibbs, Annie and Fabien followed after as more lights switched on. The computers still flashed.
Marielle reached the tall, thick wooden doors leading outside. They had been locked shut.
When Gibbs, Annie, and Fabien reached Marielle, she was frenzied and scared; her eyes darted across the still dim space as if she were planning her escape.
“There are no more doors, Marielle,” Fabien said. “You could keep teleporting, but it will tire you, and for that you will not be granted any kindness. Not for all of this.” The icy chill in his voice made Annie shutter.
Marielle, alone and caught, hung her head and slid to the floor.
Annie pulled on Marielle’s arm, yanking her upwards. She wrapped her arms around her back and tied her hands together with her palms facing inward, using the magical rope that the disgraced wizard guard couldn’t escape.
“I think she’s all yours,” Annie said, handing her to Fabien.
“It was all Armand,” Marielle murmured. Fabien sent a lighting spell towards the ceiling, throwing the entire space into a bright light. Marielle shrunk at the glares from Jory and Roland, who followed as Fabien led her to the prison wing.
*
Annie took pleasure in watching Marielle tossed into the cell specially created for witches and wizards who had committed crimes. She bit her lip to keep from smiling when the door slid shut.
“Fabien! You cannot do this. You know I didn’t do it. Armand. It was Armand. He told me I would lose my job if I didn’t do what he wanted me to do.”
“Armand killed your mother, your family members? Not likely,” Annie said.
“But I didn’t. I couldn’t,” Marielle pleaded.
Annie pulled out a charred phone. “Amelie gave this to me before she was dusted. We expected it to be a burner phone. You know, pay as you go, no contract. But funny thing, it wasn’t. It’s actually yours. Also strange, you are the only phone number that ever called this phone. You’re just stupid, blinded by greed, yes?” Annie asked.
“Armand. He did this!” Marielle rattled the bars and wiped her hands across the lock, but it didn’t unlock. She shook the bars again.
“You see Marielle. We figured it out, the memory modification spells you performed on your people. Four were with the consent of Fabien, and the rest you performed after you or Amelie committed the murders. That’s why Fabien wasn’t aware of how many vampire kills there were. It was a complex plan. When did you first meet Amelie? Did the plan form then?”
Marielle sneered.
“See, we figure you killed your mother for the money. You had money issues. Gambling, was it? Or a spending habit out of control?”
Annie watched Marielle for changes in her demeanor or expression. Marielle looked down at her hands.
“So the killing was easy, the money quick. But how to do it and get away with it without getting caught. And then what? You met Louis and discovered who he was with and the plan formed? Is that how it went?” Annie moved close to the cell doors, inches from Marielle’s face. She reached inside and pulled Marielle’s face upwards.
Marielle pulled away. “It was all Armand,” she murmured.
“No, it wasn’t Armand. Your words are all over those emails. You weren’t aware enough to use a fake email address or avoid writing the emails at work? You left a paper trail everywhere you went. Even Remy. You hired him to work in computer security, and yet he doesn’t really work here. Does he?”
Marielle paced like a caged animal. She threw a spell, but only a weak spark flew from her hand to land on the floor. She lunged for the bars, her arms reaching through them, swiping at Annie, who remained just out of her reach.
“You blew up our lab with that pin. Interesting spell,” Annie said.
“You were supposed to investigate in your cubicle like we do,” Marielle sneered.
“Did you not research your enemy? Had you done that, you would realize that we are so much larger than you, and we have facilities—many of them—that allow us options. You only destroyed our lab. Thankfully, no one was injured.”
“That’s a shame. I was hoping to kill your entire Wizard Guard. You know too much,” Marielle said.
“You got too greedy.” Annie summoned a chair.
Marielle looked on, her face drawn and confused. Gibbs and Spencer entered the hallway as Annie waved her hand at the cell door. When it slid open, Marielle attempted to run but was grabbed by Gibbs and Spencer, who held her arms behind her.
“What? What are you doing? Let go of me!” She kicked out her legs as they lifted her up, as Annie dropped the metal chair. The wizard guards slammed Marielle into the seat.
While they held her down, Annie tied Marielle around the chest to the back of the chair. When she was secure, they tied her arms behind her. She squirmed against the restraints, unable to move. Spencer and Gibbs held each leg as Annie tied both of them secure. Once Marielle was completely incapacitated, Annie showed her a vial containing a purple liquid.
“What’s that?” Marielle asked as she pulled against the restraints. The chair jumped up and landed against the stone floor.
“Binding potion. You see, all the evidence is neatly organized in a police file for the Département de la Sûreté/Sécurité Territoriale. We will be handing over the evidence to them. You left a lot of dead nonmagicals. We need to produce a murderer for all of these victims. I think there have been too many memory modification spells performed recently. And this”—she waved the vial in front of Marielle— “this potion will take away your powers so you can’t hurt anyone or escape from the nonmagical prison you will spend the rest of your life in.” Annie smiled as she popped the cork on the vial.
Marielle clamped her lips together so tightly her jaw tensed. She shook her head roughly. Annie understood the look, the fear of what was about to happen. No magical ever wanted to be without magic. It was who they were, it was what they did, and to lose the power was like losing a limb.
To dump a magical into a nonmagical prison without their magic was the worst possible punishment. It rendered them vulnerable. and alone. If they tried speak their truth, they would at best be locked away in an asylum. It wouldn’t be an easy path.
As a punishment, it was used sparingly. Your crimes had to be great, to have something that would endanger all of magic. Marielle did, as did Rathbone eight months ago.
There was much shame in the punishment, and it came with the loss of friends and families who wanted nothing more to do with the disgraced wizard.
Annie grabbed Marielle’s chin and held it steady. Using a freeze potion, she pulled on Marielle’s jaw and opened it. Unable to move her head, Marielle tried to jerk her body from Annie. Annie climbed on her lap and held her legs in place as she poured the binding potion down Marielle’s mouth.
When the liquid was gone, A
nnie clamped Marielle’s jaw together and held her head backwards.
“Swallow it or I will make you swallow it!” Annie said through gritted teeth. Her arm shook as she continued to hold Marielle’s jaw closed. Marielle’s eyes darted across the room. She was still unable to move her head.
Annie pushed up on her jaw, jerking her head backwards. Weakening, Marielle swallowed and slumped.
With one last measure, Annie summoned Marielle’s phone and shoved it in her back pocket.
Stepping off of the other woman’s lap, Annie exited the cell and slammed the door shut.
*
With Marielle in prison, Bucky took the loop down, and the Wizard Hall employees grudgingly went back to work, fearful they were being watched. Anxious, eyes darted across the office space and rested on the hallways as the French wizard guards waited for Armand to come to work. He was forty minutes late.
“Is he here yet?” Annie whispered to Fabien when she returned from the prison.
“He’s late. I’ve been watching,” Fabien said.
“You think he knows?” she asked.
“I can’t be sure of that. What I do know is that she hadn’t had time to contact him without us knowing,” Fabien replied.
Annie reached for Marielle’s phone, switched it on, and sorted through her texts. “There’s nothing here from this morning. Last night, she told him to lay low, no celebrating. She said to wait until next week, to give it time to blow over. And… she couldn’t wait to hear about the sad loss of the American Wizard Guard. Ugh.”
“I think we should scry for him.” Fabien said.
He led Annie, Spencer, and Gibbs to Armand’s cubicle, pulled down a map of France stored in a basket behind his desk, and unfurled it across the tabletop. Using a large blue crystal that barely fit his palm, he summoned an item belonging to his boss: a piece of leather from a bracelet.
“Where did you get that?” Annie asked.
“He kept this in his cubicle. I don’t know why,” Fabien admitted as he pushed the crystal across the map. “He lives in Paris, so it should be… yes, he’s home. Odd, I think.” Fabien pulled down a second map of Paris only and scried over the area of Armand’s home. The crystal glowed bright, hot light. “Yes. He is home,” Fabien confirmed. “This way.”
Fabien had taken charge of the situation, of his department, and of the plan as he led them out of Wizard Hall through the back entrance. After finding the latch, he opened the door and led them into the dark tunnel.
“Let’s go,” he said with little emotion in his exhausted voice.
Annie, Gibbs, and Spencer followed him into an empty field. Though it was midmorning, the sky was gray, the sun hidden behind thick, dark clouds.
“Here are the coordinates,” Fabien said. “I will see you there.” His face was stern and determined as he teleported away.
“He’s fightin’ mad,” Gibbs said as he glanced at the coordinates and teleported out.
“Ready?” Spencer asked. He wrapped his arms around Annie and teleported his weary partner to downtown Paris.
They landed in the garden outside Armand’s three-story townhouse. Small but well-maintained rose bushes lined the stucco wall. The gate to the garden was covered by a growing vine, which climbed up and over the trellis.
He’s well paid, Annie thought.
The house was decorated with gargoyle carvings at each corner. Morning rainwater gently sprinkled from the grotesque mouths.
Annie turned the corner to the front porch. Looking up, she saw sturdy iron balconies that hung outside each of the six windows. The crosshatch design matched the heavy leaded glass window on the front door, which was slightly ajar.
“That can’t be good,” Fabien commented. He cautiously pushed the door open and listened before entering with his palms open and ready. He waved them inside, and they followed into the unlit house.
Four sets of boots clicked against the stone floor, the only sounds of life in the eerily quiet house.
Ominous.
“Annie, you come with me upstairs,” Fabien ordered. “Gibbs, Spencer, if you head down this hallway, turn right and you’ll enter the rest of the downstairs. Call out if you find him.” On a mission, he turned and took the stairs two at a time. Annie glanced at her team, shrugged, and followed.
Her hands grazed lovely wooden hand rails that curved at the end. The newel posts made of iron were decorated with a familiar bird cage design; they were cool to the touch.
Fabien had been to this house before. Without hesitating, he turned at the top of the stairs and made his way to the front of the house, to a wide open door where light escaped into the otherwise darkened hallway. He did little to hide their presence, and he didn’t wait to give the owner privacy as he entered the room without knocking.
Annie nearly bumped into Fabien when he stopped suddenly, staring at the bed with disbelief. Armand Lefebvre lay sprawled across his unmade four-poster bed. His eyes roamed the room, settling on Fabien and Annie. If he was happy or relieved, he was unable to show the emotion on his sunken face.
He’s dying.
Fabien rushed to his boss, who bled from two puncture wounds in his neck. As with the other victims, he had been sucked of much of his blood, with the rest left to pool beneath him. The stain stretched under his six-foot-long frame and covered most of the king size bed.
“His pulse is thready and weak,” Fabien said after checking his wrist. He summoned a pillow to place under Armand’s head and glanced at Annie. A tear rolled down Armand’s cheek.
He knows he’s dying.
She reached for Armand’s hand, no longer angry, only deeply saddened by his last moments on earth.
“Was it Marielle?” Fabien asked as he examined the marks on Armand’s neck.
“Vampire,” Armand could barely speak above a rough, raw whisper. Speaking took energy he couldn’t spare; he closed his eyes and shuddered, then pointed to the back wall.
To tie a loose end.
As she texted, Annie’s hands were so shaky she could barely type the words. It took little time before she heard the sound of feet shuffle up the stairs and stop just outside the bedroom door, where Spencer and Gibbs waited respectfully as the French Wizard Council member died slowly.
“It was”—he coughed from the strain of speaking— “Marielle,” Armand admitted.
She must have promised a lot of money or property for him to do this.
Annie refrained from speaking out against the man as he took his final breaths. He had bled out for some time, and there was nothing any of them could do for him.
Annie rested her hand inside the pocket of her pants and felt the cool, smooth glass vial that sat at the bottom of the long pocket. It contained the potion Graham Lightner had given her to assist in this situation.
“We can’t do anything for him,” Annie whispered to Fabien. His face grew paler, and his jaw clenched. He wiped away a tear and nodded.
“I need you to…” Armand took a difficult breath.
“We know what you did. You don’t have to say anything else,” Annie said.
His hand shook violently in hers. “Sorry,” he said and closed his eyes. “So cold. I’m cold.” Shaking and shivering, he reached out for someone, any human touch. She gently squeezed his hand; it slipped from her fingers and fell to the bed with a thud.
She pulled out the vial filled with the untraceable potion.
“I can help,” she whispered and uncorked the stopper, dropping only two drops onto Armand’s lips. “Lick your lips, Armand,” she whispered. “This will help.” He did as she ordered and licked the poison from his dry lips with an equally dry tongue.
His body jerked once before he went still; his chest stopped rising with breath.
A soft cry escaped Annie’s lips. She reached for Fabien, “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“She fooled us all,” Fabien admitted. “This must be dealt with. We will need evidence for this as well. Can this be done?” He stood erect, his jaw
square and tight.
“Yes,” Annie said. She expected she would have to text Graham with an update, but turned and saw he had joined Spencer and Gibbs and was waiting patiently at the door.
“I was just going to call…” Annie said, weary and tired.
“Gibbs,” he said and glanced down at Marielle Beauchamp’s last victim with a heavy heart. He offered Annie a wan smile as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Did you use the potion I gave you?” Graham asked.
Annie handed him the vial with only two drops missing. “I don’t…”
“None of us like this, but looking at the amount of blood, he didn’t have much time anyway. You just ended it quicker for him.” To be certain, Graham dropped holy water on Armand’s exposed arm and watched as it rolled to the bed. The man hadn’t been turned. Annie breathed a sigh of relief.
“I have this, Annie. You go home. Rest,” Graham said.
Annie backed from the room, directing Fabien, who was temporarily scattered as he left the home of Armand Lefebvre for the last time.
Chapter 38
Ten boxes of real and manufactured evidence for ten different cases sat in the back seat of the car. Unfamiliar with the streets of Paris, Annie sat on the passenger side and rested her head against the window, looking out at the tourists who flooded the streets, shops, and cafes.
Maybe one day I can come back.
She sighed and glanced at Special Agent Jack Ramsey, her contact at the FBI, as he drove through the busy midday traffic in their rented car.
“You okay?” he asked as he pulled the car into the parking structure beside the DST, The Département de la Sûreté/Sécurité Territoriale, otherwise known as the Department of Territorial Safety/Security in France. He found a spot near the elevator, guided the car in between the lines, and shut it off.
“I’ll be fine. It’s just…” Annie didn’t have the words to express what she was feeling. Jack knew; he had seen the crime scene photos and heard Annie’s side. It would be enough for him.
“You know; some cases stay with you long after you solve them. Give it time. You will be able to move on from this.”
Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Page 103
