by Sarah Biglow
“Then let’s see what you can remember.”
Before I could respond, a knock on the doorframe drew both of our gazes. Desmond stood there, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to offer my help.”
“I know you’ve got a degree, Doc, but I’ve been trained to do this,” Jacquie said.
He smirked. “And I’ve been able to use my magical skills to facilitate a more complete memory recall in these types of interviews. One might say I’ve got a talent for it.”
I appreciated the posturing from them both. I’d spent so much time putting distance between myself and anyone who gave a damn about me that having them fight over me now was a refreshing experience. Note to self: letting people in doesn’t always have to end in tragedy.
“Desmond can stay. As people keep reminding me, time isn’t on our side.” Not that I needed any reminder. “The sooner we get a clear picture of this bastard the sooner we nail his ass and find Kevin.” I had the suspicion that Taggart should be the top of my suspect list.
“I’ll get another chair,” Desmond said without looking at me.
He returned and set the chair on the opposite side of the bed. I looked from my partner to the only living family that mattered and back again. “So, let’s do this.”
Desmond reached over and fluffed the pillows beneath my head, sliding one down so it propped me up about as much as my core muscles would allow. Next, he gripped my right hand with both of his.
“I know your instinct is to fight me, but I need you to let me in, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Close your eyes. Take a deep breath, count to ten and then let it out.”
I did as I was told. Eyes shut, I took a big gulp of air and started to count to ten.
One…
Two…
Three…
My veins throbbed with Desmond’s magic. It raced through my body like a drug, sharpening every sense to the point that even thinking hurt. I lost track of the counting and blew out the breath anyway. My lungs ached with the effort.
“Too much,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
A pulse jumped from my palm up through my arm and down my spine. The sharpness lessened enough to be tolerable.
“She’s ready.” Desmond’s voice sounded a million miles away.
“Ezri, I’m going to ask you some questions now. Do the best you can to remember anything you can.” Jacquie’s voice in contrast was practically shouting in my ear.
“Okay.”
“I want you to go back to the afternoon when you found the body. What led you there?”
Like old home movies, the day rewound on my eyelids. “I used the map and the other points to find the body.” The scene materialized in my mind’s eye. The woman lying prone on the sidewalk. People walking by oblivious. “I hoped I wouldn’t be too late, but she was already dead.”
“What was the scene like? What did you hear and smell?”
“Traffic. People walking and talking. Too much noise.”
“Block that out, focus on what your other senses noticed,” Desmond said from on high.
Like turning a radio down as far as it could go, the people and the cars disappeared. I was left in silence, but that gave my nose the chance to turn it up to eleven. Kevin’s magic and that of my attacker were everywhere. How people couldn’t smell it was mindboggling.
“I can smell their magic. It’s stronger than I’ve ever felt before.” I could feel my fingers pressing against something hard. “There’s some kind of a barrier. I can feel it.”
“Was it visible?”
“Yes. And no.”
“What does that mean?” Jacquie’s tone was laced with impatience.
“I can feel it, but anyone walking by wouldn’t notice. Whoever put it up is good.”
“What did you do next after you felt the barrier?”
My own magic wafted from my body. “I broke through. It shattered like glass. That’s when I found her.”
“Did you see or feel anything else?” Jacquie prompted.
“I started to call it in and then something hit me from behind.” In one swirling motion, I was on my back again staring up at the blurry figure who’d nearly done me in. “He stood over me and then I woke up at headquarters.”
“What did he look like?”
“I didn’t see. My head was too fuzzy.”
Another jolt danced up my arm, this time settling behind my eyes. Some of the outline cleared and I could make out a black suit and skinny tie. My would-be assassin held his blade over my body and I caught the whorl and scythe mark of the Order. “He’s with the Order.”
“Can you see anything else? Anything about the weapon he used?”
The pain in the memory washed over me and nausea tugged at my throat, but I refused to give in. I forced myself to block everything else out, even the man standing before me, until all that remained in the fuzzy black void was the knife. Its silver blade flashed before me, growing longer in an instant. But that felt wrong. It hadn’t grown. Sweat peppered my hairline as I tried to rewind the memory and slow it down.
“Ezri? What are you doing?” Desmond’s voice was still so distant.
“Trying to remember.” Time rewound and the man’s hand stopped mid-motion. All I saw was the handle of what looked to be an elaborate utility knife. The blade flicked from within the handle, sharp and straight. “Uh, it’s like a utility knife. I don’t see any logo on it. It’s a straight blade maybe five inches long.”
“Is anything else coming into focus? Can you make out anything about him now?”
“No.” I pulled my hand free from Desmond and the room flooded back. “I need to stop for a minute.”
“Of course. You did good.”
“How long was I lying there before someone found me?”
“Not long. As soon as you sent me the address, I left the precinct. And … I think I caught the attack on the dashcam.”
“Please tell me you are running facial recognition.”
“I wasn’t close enough to get a clear image.”
Time to share my theory about Agent Taggart. “You said Agent Taggart wasn’t there when I called, right?”
“Right. Why?”
“During the news conference, I swear I spotted the Order’s brand on his wrist. And my attacker was dressed like a Fed. In a dark suit and tie.”
“If you’re right, he’s been pushing us in the wrong direction the entire time,” Jacquie said, anger tightening the corners of her lips.
“I don’t doubt the FBI has people on the payroll fighting against us. Even so, why would they bother trying to stab you or at least not stick around to make sure the job was done?” Desmond asked.
“What? Instead of shoot me? Less evidence to leave behind.” I turned back to my partner. “How certain are you that you didn’t get a good look at this son of a bitch?”
“I was out of the car as soon as you went down, but Taggart or whoever attacked you was fast. And cloaked themselves. Like you said, they’ve been putting up barriers around the crime scenes to mess with surveillance.”
“I need to see that tape.” I was already kicking aside blankets. I needed to confirm that the lead agent was manipulating this case and me along with it.
“Avery’s working on it,” Desmond said.
“Has she had any luck with the other videos?”
“I’ll check in. But I think, right now, you should follow doctor’s orders and get some more rest.”
I shook my head. “I can rest when I’m dead. We still have too much to do.”
I kicked the sheets off and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, narrowly missing Desmond’s chair. Only the IV hooked into my arm stopped me from making my planned escape. I dug at the medical tape, wincing as it took a layer of skin and hair with it. The IV itself stung even more coming out of my arm, leaving a tiny pool of blood to dribble from my elbow.
Jacquie was on her feet and blocking the d
oor the moment my feet hit the ground. “Jacquie, please don’t stop me. I need to do this. I need to have some damn control over what’s happening to me. I’m done being kept locked up while everyone else saves the day. Ever since I learned what destiny had in store for me, I knew I couldn’t let anyone else save me. It’s my job.”
“You can check in with the tech guys, but you might want to get cleaned up first. And don’t blame me if J.T. tries to usher you back to bed,” she said.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“There’s a bathroom down the hall,” Desmond offered with a vague hand gesture toward the left.
Jacquie stepped aside. I tugged on a pair of sweatpants and trotted into the hallway and made a sharp left. The first doorway turned out to be a linen closet and the second was another bedroom. Lucky door number three held the bathroom and a shower.
Stepping from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, I felt like a new person. I pulled on a clean pair of pants and a T-shirt someone had laid out for me. When I returned to the bedroom, my gun and badge waited on my pillow.
“Thank you, partner.”
The fabric of the T-shirt rubbed against the fresh bandage on my abdomen and I pulled it up, tugging on the edge of the medical tape to get a better look at my battle scar. The two wounds were red, the stitches dark threads against my skin, but the pain had lessened.
“Those should dissolve in a day or so,” J.T. said from the doorway to the bedroom.
I reapplied the tape and settled the shirt back in place. I made a show of strapping on my gun and badge. “Thanks again.”
“I’m just sorry you’re going to have a scar.”
“Hey, a scar is better than a slab in the morgue. I owe you my life.” I closed the distance between us and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”
He returned the embrace lightly, putting just enough pressure to tell me he accepted my appreciation. “I was really worried there for a minute. You had us all pretty damn scared, Ez.”
“See, you all were better off without me around. Less potential for near-death calls.”
“Don’t joke. Anyway, I came up to say you can leave if you’re feeling up to it. As your personal paramedic, I’d caution you against extreme physical activity for a while, but we both know that’s not in the cards.” He fished a scrap of folded paper from his back pocket and handed it to me. “In case you need me, here’s my cell number.”
Our fingers touched as I took the paper from him and that schoolgirl crush returned. “Thanks.” I cleared my throat in an attempt to divert his attention from the blush creeping up my neck.
“You know, maybe once things are settled, we could grab dinner,” he said.
I stared at him, not believing he was asking me out after all this time. I didn’t respond right away.
“Or coffee,” he added quickly.
Part of me wanted to accept wholeheartedly, but my future was still uncertain and I didn’t want to promise him something I couldn’t deliver. “Assuming I survive the next few days, I’d like that a lot.”
“Great.” He remained where he was, barring my exit.
“I was actually on my way to check in with Avery and her people in the tech department.”
“Oh, good.”
I gestured for him to move and he scrambled to give me space. I pocketed his number and wound my way through the upper floor until I found the double doors leading to the meeting hall. I stopped short of the doorway, unsure whether I’d be bursting in on a private meeting. I stood there equivocating for longer than I needed before deciding to throw caution—and decorum—to the wind and pushed the doors inward. The space was empty, cast in shadows from the heavy curtains lining the windows. I veered right and followed the path I’d taken to get to the tech hideaway the first time. The whir of technology drew me in and I found Morgan sitting there, headphones slung around his neck. I could barely make out what he was looking at around his beefy torso. I’d half-expected Jacquie to be with him, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey,” I said as loudly as I could.
He didn’t respond.
I moved to stand closer and nudged his shoulder. Still nothing. I finally snapped my fingers in front of his face and he blinked slow, as if he were just waking up. Surprise registered on his sweaty face and he jumped, the entire rolling chair skidding backward with the effort.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was an octave higher than I remembered from a few days ago.
“I thought I’d check on your progress with my evidence.”
He swallowed—his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat—and patted at the sheen on his forehead. “Right, sorry. I was just …”
“You were just what?” I pressed.
“I was just cleaning up some footage and it was you. He just attacked you out of nowhere. I don’t see stuff like this a lot.”
“Show me.”
He didn’t move. Bypassing him, I turned to the computer and the black and white dashboard camera footage. Fear danced down my spine and I gripped the edge of the desk to keep from letting my legs turn to jelly. The video was zoomed in as much as possible, but it was still a good distance away. I hit “Play” and watched as the air—which appeared empty—rippled as I approached it. I could just make out the dead body on the sidewalk as I watched myself crouch down. The video flickered as a figure appeared and struck me on the back of the head. My wound throbbed in sympathy with my recorded self. My hindbrain warned of danger, but I couldn’t look away. There my attacker was in broad daylight trying to end me.
“Can you make his face any clearer?” My voice rasped against my vocal cords. I needed hard proof of Taggart’s involvement before I could do anything through official channels.
“Not without losing resolution.”
“There’s got to be something magical you can do to enhance it,” I snapped.
“Sorry. There isn’t.”
“This isn’t good enough. I can’t see who he is.”
For a large man, he seemed small when he cowered. “I’m sorry … I did what I could.”
“What about the other videos?”
“We’ve made some progress on those,” Avery said from behind me.
“Please tell me it has something useful,” I said.
She nudged Morgan aside and cued up the video of Mrs. Mendoza’s scene. “We haven’t finished, but this one’s pretty clear.”
She hit “Play” and I watched as I saw Kevin—all made of stone—knock our first victim to the ground, hands pressed to her chest until the life left her eyes. His accomplice stood just out of view of the camera angle. All I could make out was a black-suited shoulder and the back of his head. Still, I’d seen that pomade-coifed head of hair before. Taggart wasn’t stupid enough to let his face be caught on camera even with magic concealing the scene.
“Trenton, we’ve got good news,” Jacquie announced, moving into the already crowded space.
I wouldn’t let my body relax until we were back down on the first floor with the front doors and open spaces in sight. She handed me a coat, which was definitely not mine, and waited.
“Where are we going?”
“Your friend Kayla found Kevin.”
J.T. appeared at the top of the staircase to the second floor wearing a jacket and carrying a first aid kit in one hand. He descended to meet us and eyed Jacquie. “You ready?”
“What’s going on?” I fought with the zipper on the coat, finally giving up after three futile attempts.
“Well, your suspect is a gargoyle. From what I know, you’re going to have to expend some serious energy to get him talking. I’m just tagging along in case either of you needs medical attention.”
My jaw hung open a little at his statement. In all of the craziness of nearly dying and being saved by the people I’d sworn to hate, I’d completely overlooked what needed to happen to actually solve the case. Did I even have the ability to make Kevin talk? And even if I did, I couldn’t exactly arrest a gargoyle.
Sure, Jacquie would understand, but the FBI—minus Taggart—and the general public couldn’t know about the undercurrent of magic in the city.
“I … I have no idea how I’m going to do this.”
“You’ll figure it out. You’re pretty resourceful,” J.T. said and gave me a gentle shove toward the door.
Time to interrogate a gargoyle.
March 17, 2017
Twenty-Three
It was after midnight by the time we got back into the city and found Kayla waiting for us at the entrance to the Arlington T station. Her hair looked almost black in the darkness. Maybe it was because she was barely visible. She said nothing to our trio as we approached. Instead, she turned and started walking into the gardens. The memory of running through, chasing Kevin’s magic flickered across my mind’s eye. I’d been so close and I hadn’t fully realized it.
I didn’t have time to recount all the little ways things could have gone different if I’d just paid a little more attention or if I’d had the added resources of the Authority. I didn’t have to like working with them, but I couldn’t deny that they had managed to find the killer when the police and FBI had fallen short. Without their aid, we likely wouldn’t have found Kevin until the Order had tried their hand at whatever resurrection they had planned.
The grounds of the garden were quiet except for the distant, distinct screech of the T. The streets beyond the park were pretty busy for a Friday night with college-aged students drunkenly enjoying the start to their weekend. I spotted a few homeless people lingering beneath the sparse streetlamps and flaked out on benches. They didn’t seem to notice us. The moon hung low in the sky, almost full.
“Is he much farther?” I asked, a stitch developing in my side with every step.
“We’re close.” Kayla’s voice had an ethereal quality to it thanks to her still-translucent status.
I pressed my left hand into my side, trying to surreptitiously ease the pain, but I wasn’t subtle enough. The telltale “snip” of a zipper opening and footsteps thudding a little faster on the pavement revealed J.T. at my side before my eyes registered his presence.
