by LJ Rivers
I gaped and tried to make sense of it in my mind, but I was still missing too many pieces.
“Our sources tell us she was a revealer,” Leon interjected.
“Because that’s what she told everyone. Having three gifts is rare, as you know. Besides Saga, Lorelei is the only other witch I’ve known who had more than two. Unlike Saga, she kept her abilities a secret out of fear.” The flame extinguished as Rosamund closed her fist around it, and I blinked, uncertain of my own eyes.
“And Edwin?”
“Your uncle shares many of your mother’s talents, though he does not have the power to retain life and make it his own.”
“I’m sorry.” My hand was up in the air again. It was my new thing. “If my mother could basically live forever, why did she die?”
Rosamund’s expression darkened. “While I’m not entirely sure what happened, Edwin believes she was killed. Being a phoenix witch, as they are called, does not mean they can rise from the ashes. They tend to heal better and faster than other witches, but a phoenix is still vulnerable to weapons and all the things that might kill a person, save for old age.”
“Like an animal attack,” I muttered. “What of my father?”
She picked up the watering can and showered the plants. “Abrax? I never met him, so I’m afraid I can’t tell you much, and no one has seen him since your mother’s passing. I can only tell you what Edwin told me. Abrax was a shield witch, like you. They kept it a secret, and, with the exception of Edwin, their coven believed he was human. When Abrax disappeared, and you were practically orphaned, Edwin fled Scotland and brought you along. He believed someone in the coven had found out, and that Abrax was the real target, not Lorelei. Edwin then changed his surname and became part of a Danish coven. As is customary, he presented himself to whomever was clan leader in the area. During your upbringing, he kept his eyes and ears open, and whenever a possible threat surfaced, he took you on some trip under the guise of training you or taking a job somewhere.”
This was all too much. “What do you mean by target? And what threats? It makes no sense. My mother was killed by an animal. How am I supposed to know what I’m hiding from if no one will tell me?”
“I’m sorry, Cam, but he never told me that much. I could be wrong, but I think he believes I’m more protected if I’m not privy to all the details.”
“I still don’t get why he never told me.”
“When you were little, he needed to make sure you would not tell anyone what you were. Children can’t begin to comprehend the dangers of confiding in people, and you would be too young to defend yourself. Children trust too easily and fall in love too quickly.” Her eyes glinted with sorrow. “I should know. As you got older, Edwin decided the only way to keep you completely safe was if you never knew, thus never tapped into your magic. There are those out there who can detect magical signatures, and though yours is widely different from all other witches, you could have inadvertently revealed yourself. So, instead, he taught you to be tough, trained you in martial arts, acting, and survival; he taught you first aid, the power of medicinal plants and herbs, and fed your brain with knowledge. If, by chance, someone were to discover what you are, you would still be prepared to defend yourself. If you were captured, you would have the necessary tools to escape or survive, and if you had to fight, you would not go down easily.”
I slumped in my chair, stunned. This was too much to wrap my head around. I could sort of understand why my guardian hadn’t told me, but I still didn’t get why me being a shield witch was such a big deal. I couldn’t even do magic. I might as well be entirely human.
Rosamund regarded me with her big fern-green eyes. “You’re wondering why your power makes a difference.”
I sucked on my bottom lip, unable to speak.
“So am I,” Leon cut in.
I startled, having all but forgotten he was there.
“A shield witch is immune to magic,” he reasoned, “and she—or he—negates magic that comes in close contact with them. None of that sounds like a big enough threat for someone to spend years hunting them.”
The Solis stepped out of her heels as she continued watering the plants. “A shield witch is immune to active magic, that is true, but she does not entirely negate magic. It’s more like she absorbs it—borrows it. While Cam does not have magic of her own, she could theoretically borrow the magic from any other veiled world person and use it for herself. Depending on how powerful Cam is, she could maybe only hold the magic for a while before she would have to give it back. Or she could hold the magic for hours, maybe days, before the magic returns to its owner. In theory, a coven of shield witches could render an entire city free of magic for a time, then unleash the powers borrowed upon any given target.”
I blew out a breath, but it was Leon who spoke the words I couldn’t.
“A magical bomb?”
“Of sorts,” Rosamund said. “I’m not sure how it would work exactly, and since there are no shield covens left, that is no longer an issue. On the other hand, if the shield witch is powerful enough, she,” the Solis looked pointedly at me, “might pose a significant threat all on her own.”
“I can see how that might scare a lot of people,” Leon commented, “though there’s plenty of powerful magic just as dangerous.”
“No.” I finally found my voice. Yay, me. “I think I get it now. If a witch uses magic against another, it’s more of an even playing field, and the enemy is known. I could go undetected and basically render someone powerless, making them vulnerable for attack without them even knowing why. I could also take their power and use it against them. That’s a whole other ball game. If you were, say, a bird, used to depending on your wings to fly, then your wings suddenly vanished while you were soaring fifty feet in the air, you would plummet to the ground without warning.“
He studied me with a mixture of awe and understanding. No fear, that I could tell.
“I’m sure you still have plenty of questions.” Rosamund put the watering can down. “Though you should ask your uncle about the rest. As the situation stands, I’m sure he’ll tell you now.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Defying Gravity” from Wicked began playing at full volume, and Leon quickly retrieved his phone from his jacket. “I’m sorry, Rosamund, it’s Saga.”
His choice of ringtone put a smile to my face.
Rosamund waved a hand for him to answer, and he did.
“Hi, Saga, I’m in the middle of—” He snapped his mouth shut. This wasn’t a social call. He stood and went to the open doorway leading to the garden, where the children no longer played. His brows furrowed as he listened, and his lips drew into a line. He grunted a few responses, then hung up.
I looked up at him, tilting my head quizzically. “What’s up?”
Stroking his palm through his short curls, Leon angled for the stairs. “Thank you, Rosamund. I’ll keep you posted about the vampire attack, but we have to leave now. There’s a body.”
“A body?” I echoed.
He pinched his nose. “A woman. She’s been exsanguinated.”
Chapter Eleven
Neither of us spoke as Leon sped toward the crime scene. I didn’t know what to say. A drained body spoke for itself; it had to be a vampire, I knew that much. But why? Also, I was having some trouble rewiring my brain from the conversation with Rosamund—and the revelations about my family—to focus on a murder. My guardian was a witch, and he had been hiding it from me my entire life. Not only that, but my parents were witches too, and my father was like me. Was he even alive? I wouldn’t get the answers I needed just yet, but maybe my five o’clock meeting with the mysterious Naunet would shed more light on things. If these issues were even related.
Outside, the afternoon sun splashed colors of orange and pink across the firmament, promising a warm evening. According to the display in front of me, it was already past three, and I had somewhere to be after this. I tapped the dashboard with my fingers, trying
to grab hold of a stray thought.
“Is it true that vampires sleep during the day?” I asked, breaking the silence.
Leon glanced at me before returning his attention to the road. “While many of the popular myths in modern-day fiction are total hogwash, that one holds true. And I see your point.”
Hogwash. I snickered internally. That word always tickled my funny bone for some reason. I made my expression neutral because I didn’t want to come off as insensitive to the fact that someone had been killed. “When did the murder take place?”
“That’s the thing.” He scratched at his stubble. “No more than two hours ago. A vampire is always the culprit when we find an exsanguinated body, but it doesn’t make any sense. Vampires are literally dead when the sun is up, and they don’t usually leave dead bodies lying around.” His lips twitched in amusement. “Apart from their own.”
I conjured a mental image of a vampire sleeping peacefully in his coffin, dead to the world during the day, then nudged Leon gently on the arm before adjusting the backpack by my feet. “So, not a vampire.”
“It can’t be. Maybe it’s not a veiled world crime after all.” His shoulders relaxed, as though he was perfectly comfortable with this being the work of some psycho human instead of a bloodthirsty vamp. I actually smirked a little at my internal phrasing, but quickly wiped it off. Veiled world or not, a woman was dead.
“Lots of crazies in the human world, too.”
“The local veiled world crime unit is already on the scene, so we’ll check it out regardless,” he said firmly. “I know it’s not exactly what you signed up for, but I don’t mind a second pair of eyes that might be able to spot something I don’t. Especially since this is all new to you, I’m sure you can offer a different perspective.”
“You’re giving me a lot of credit,” I mumbled.
He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Just do me a favor and allow me some time alone on the scene after we’ve both gone over it.”
“Why?” After singing my praises seconds earlier, why did he suddenly not want me there?
“Because, if you’re too close, I won’t be able to use my gift. There might be emotional residue on the scene, but with you there, I can’t tell.”
“Oh, right.” That reminded me of something. “By the way, what did Noelle mean about giving her a break?”
“She’s an empath, like me, and as such, she couldn’t sense anyone’s emotions when she was near you. It’s a little strange, as she mentioned, but also nice. The bombardment of emotions can sometimes be a lot to handle, especially for someone as young as Noelle, who is still developing her powers and learning how to use them.”
“Glad to be of service.” I tipped an imaginary hat at him. “Is her mother in Berlin as well? You told me you’ve lived here for ten years, right?”
His smile waned, replaced by a stony expression. “She’s dead.”
Me and my big foot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It was a long time ago. Noelle was only a baby.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you move her to Berlin? I don’t know how this works, but didn’t you have a coven or something in France?”
“Simone was a werecat.” When he mentioned her name, his eyes regained some of their previous spark, revealing the love he once held for this woman. “She came to live with me in France when we married. After her death, I wanted Noelle to get to know the other part of her family, so I contacted Simone’s former pride in Berlin and applied for a job with Saga. She had wanted me to come work for her for a while, anyway.”
“Simone belonged to Rosamund’s pride.” It wasn’t a question, but the pieces began falling into place.
“Rosamund welcomed Noelle with open arms, and she has more or less grown up with one foot in the pride and another in the clan.”
“Does that mean she’s a wildcat, like her mom?”
He wiped his eyes, and I worried I was prying too much. My upbringing had taught me to ask questions, but never when to stop.
“If it’s too private, you don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s all right, Miss Anker. Or do you prefer MacKay? I’ve learned a lot about you, so it’s only fair you should know more about me.”
“I think we’re past formalities. Call me Cam, would you?”
“All right, Cam. We’re not sure about the nature of Noelle’s powers yet. Since werecats are also witches, to an extent, Noelle is undoubtedly a witch and has inherited my skill set. Usually, a mixed child will inherit either the mother’s or the father’s magic, not both. A child can’t be both a wolf and a cat, for instance. In cases with a mixed lineage like this one, we won’t know until the time comes for her first shift. Or not. If she goes through puberty and doesn’t shift, we have our answer. I wouldn't care what animal lives inside her—well, I wouldn't want her to be a turtle or a slug, but you get my point—but Rosamund is convinced there is a cat inside my daughter.” He chuckled mildly, and all the love he held for his daughter practically shone on his face. “Part of me wants that for Noelle, if only so she may have a piece of Simone with her.”
I wanted to ask what happened to his wife, but this wasn’t the time, and I didn’t want to dig up painful memories and see his face harden again. I wouldn’t know what to do if he started crying, so all I said was, “She’s a lucky girl, your daughter.”
He grinned from ear to ear this time. “I’m the lucky one.”
I hated to come off as rude, especially since Rosamund seemed so accepting of Noelle, but something she had said rubbed me the wrong way. “I’m glad Noelle has the pride, but it’s a little unclear to me how it works. Rosamund seems so progressive, while at the same time hellbent on Petra mating with another werecat. It doesn’t quite add up, does it?”
“You’re new to all this, so I don’t blame you for asking questions. In fact, I much prefer you ask me than to have you inadvertently offend someone. As for the pride, Rosamund’s had a few suitors, but never took a life mate.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Sounds slightly hypocritical.”
“It has caused her a lot of grief with the pride, as it’s quite unusual for a future Solis to bear children when she’s not mated. And she’s had three litters. She has had to prove herself worthy of the title, and it’s been an uphill battle, to say the least. Not everyone thinks she’s fit to lead. I think the reason she’s being so hard on Petra, is that she doesn’t want her daughter to make the same mistakes.”
“Oh, I see. Does that mean the kits have different fathers?”
“Her third litter was by a cat named Hans, who died a few years back. I’m not sure about the others.”
We took a right, and my eyes narrowed as I realized where we were. Wedding, not far from my apartment. In fact, Leon drove into my street and parked on the corner.
“Wait,” I said, “why are we going to my place?”
“We’re not. The body was found in a rental across the street from yours.”
Chills rippled down my spine as I clasped my backpack. While I had left it in Leon’s car when we visited Rosamund, I wasn’t comfortable with leaving my Glock in this area. I loved living here, but crime was at an all-time high and car theft was not uncommon.
I followed Leon into a nearby building, one I had walked past almost every day for the past two years but never been inside. There were no permanent residents here, only short-term rentals. We continued to the fifth floor and were met by the standard red and white crime scene tape, with “Polizeiabsperrung” written on it, barring the door.
“Who’s in there?” I asked.
“The Veiled World Unit of Berlin, or the FAB—the Fauve Tatort Einheit Berlin. They are a mix of veiled beings with a variety of skills.”
“What about the human police?” I whispered.
“The Fauve—the highest authority in the veiled world—has that under control. You’ll find that one of the most common jobs in our world is preventing exposure, in one form or another. We are
highly organized, Cam. There’s an entire system set in place to make sure we’re always first on the scene when something might be our kind of business. Luckily, we don’t see much like this anymore, but it happens.”
“Doesn’t it raise suspicion?”
“Sure, sometimes, but we also employ vampires who can wipe memories if the situation requires, as well as weavers.” He gave me a sideways glance and must have seen the confusion on my face. “They’re illusionists and specialize in cloaking and misdirection. Aside from that, some things always slip through the cracks, but humans rarely buy a story without hard evidence. Sometimes not even then. When they do, most people will laugh at their convictions. I mean, there are a lot of people out there who believe in extraterrestrials, though the majority will write them off as purely SCIFI nonsense.”
Was I guilty of the same ignorance? How many times had I read about sightings of strange creatures or events, only to laugh at how silly it was? Maybe some of those stories had been true, and I was simply blind to it. There was so much out there I didn’t know about, and no matter how well Edwin had prepared me for the eventuality that I would one day find out, part of me resented him for never telling me the truth. For allowing me to live all my twenty-six years in ignorance.
Leon climbed over the tape and halted when I didn’t follow.
“Don’t we need protective gear or something?” I said under my breath so as not to disturb the people inside.
“This is the veiled world, Cam. We rely on magic, not forensics. At least not in the same way humans do.”
It went against everything I knew—from every cop show ever—about contaminating evidence, but surely Leon knew what he was doing. Steadying myself, I ducked underneath the tape and entered the room. Five people in white coveralls—likely for appearances’ sake—were milling about the room. One man in a black suit and plastic gloves sat on his haunches by what I assumed was the body, though the man was obscuring my view.
