The exploding note and the fact that they’d been willing to shoot at me in broad daylight, with friends around, was more disturbing. It meant that collateral damage wasn’t really a concern for the killer.
Once again, just being me was putting everyone around me in danger. F-M-fucking-L.
“Jade,” Alek said softly, stepping up to me. He wrapped his arms around me and I didn’t resist. “We will find and destroy this assassin and send Samir his head.”
“I love it when you go all Conan on me,” I said, resisting the urge to rub my nose on his chest. “Then we will listen to the lamentations of his women, right?”
I pushed away from him and sighed. “At least now I know someone is trying to kill me. I’ll be more ready for it next time. I hope.” All I wanted was a ten-year nap, but I had a store to run. I couldn’t leave Harper there forever. She’d just come kick my ass again. “Take me home,” I said.
I took a quick shower and changed. Alek hadn’t wanted to leave me, but I pointed out he had work to do that was more important than babysitting someone who could take care of herself. I promised to be careful with windows and walking out doors, as ridiculous as that sounded. I knew he had a point.
I made it down to the shop just in time to stop a fistfight. Harper looked about ready to kill one of my regulars. Trevor came by and hung out on Friday and Saturday afternoons, painting minis that we sold on eBay in trade for me keeping him supplied with comics.
“You cannot be serious,” she was shrieking at him. She had a stack of comics in her hands, where she’d been setting out the new releases on the wide display rack I kept for them, but she was now brandishing them like they were going to be weapon number one if fisticuffs happened.
“If your brain hadn’t been fried by all the cartoons you watch, you’d understand,” Trevor said. He was grinning slyly, clearly baiting Harper. Man had a deathwish.
“Get out of my goddamn store…” Harper started to say, her pale skin turning an awesome blotchy shade of scarlet.
“Woah,” I said. “It’s my store, furball, and no one has to go. What is going on?”
“He said,” Harper started, then paused to take a dramatic breath. “He said that the Punisher would kick Batman’s ass in a fight.”
“You said that?” I turned to Trevor.
“I was just pointing out the advantages that the Punisher has.” Sensing danger, he backed up and slid behind the card table he set up to paint on, putting it between him and us.
I turned and walked to the tall bookshelf that held the graphic novels. I pulled out the hardbound slipcase of the Absolute Dark Knight. Slamming it down on the table in front of him, I leaned in close enough to tell he’d been eating Cheetos for lunch.
“You like painting minis here? You like the free comics?” I said, trying to keep the smile off my face.
“Sure do, boss,” he said, his expression scared but his brown eyes dancing with humor.
“Then put your hand here and repeat after me,” I said, indicating the slipcase. “I solemnly swear that Bruce Wayne is the bestest superhero ever and I will never profane his name or legacy by suggesting anyone could kick his ass. Because they can’t. Because he is the fucking BATMAN.”
He managed to repeat what I’d said with only a minimum of giggles. For a man who worked nights at a truck stop and still lived in his parents’ basement, Trevor had a lot of pride. I then looked at Harper. “Good enough?”
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. She turned back to putting away the comics and I returned the hardcover to its spot.
“So, saw Alek dropped you off,” Harper said, coming over to the counter as I booted up my laptop, hoping to lose myself in translation work.
“We talked,” I said.
“And? You guys okay now?”
“Yeah. Maybe. We’ll see.” I shrugged. A chunk of hair fell into my face. I had tried to braid it all back like usual, but the part that had been obliterated by the bullet was too short to stay tucked in. I’d need to French braid it or something. Another annoyance.
“What happened to your hair?” Harper reached over and tugged on the short chunk.
I glanced past her at the back of the store where Trevor had pulled his painting table and was setting up to get to work. He was human, so I doubted he could hear us. I still lowered my voice down to a near whisper, knowing Harper’s preternatural senses would pick it up just fine.
“Someone took a shot at me today, at the college,” I whispered. I didn’t really want to worry her, but Ezee had been there, so it wasn’t like I’d be able to keep it a secret from Levi or Harper. I was somewhat surprised he hadn’t texted both of them ASAP afterward.
Then I saw the total lack of surprise in Harper’s face. Ezee had texted her. Bastard.
“Yeah, I wondered if you’d tell me yourself,” she whispered back. “You are still coming to dinner tonight though. No getting out of that.”
“It isn’t a good idea,” I said. “Who knows when that assassin will try again? I would just put your mom and Max in danger. Plus I think Levi is bringing Junebug. That’s too many people I care about in one place for me to risk it.”
“Bullshit. Who better to protect you?” She made a face at me. “You can’t live your life looking over your shoulder, remember? We’re here to watch your back. If you don’t show up, I’ll tell Mom why and she’ll bring the whole damn thing to you, and you know it. Besides, you warded the shit out of the Henhouse. There’s probably no safer place in town.”
She had a point there. I had been practicing wards by layering them all around Harper’s mother’s bed and breakfast. It was remote enough I could work magic without fear of random discovery, and often had all my friends gathered there. And, until he’d taken off, Alek had been living there in his house trailer, which had been another reason to make sure the place was protected.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Now will you please let me work?”
She looked like she had more questions, but just sighed and grabbed her own laptop off the counter, retreating to the oversized chair she liked to game in.
I closed my eyes and tried to picture the word written on the paper, but it hung outside my memory, eclipsed by the explosion, the press of power on my body. Japanese, though, I was almost sure of that. Painted with ink; I remembered the shape of the symbol, the brush lines, the flow of it. I gave up eventually and opened my email.
The day wore on without anyone trying to kill me or accuse me of murder, or any other shenanigans. I was almost lulled into thinking things might stay normal. Almost. I pulled the shades on the front windows, though with the displays and the posters up, it was very difficult to see directly into the story anyway. I had a hard time turning my back on the windows or doors, and for the first time in forever, I actually locked the rear door. It isn’t paranoia when someone is actually trying to kill you.
Alek showed up just before I was ready to close for the night at seven. During slow seasons like this I usually didn’t bother keeping the place open later than that. Wylde during the non-school year is usually a sleepy little town where everyone stays in after dark. Maybe because many of its residents are things that go bump in the night. Or run around howling at the moon.
It was getting dark as I hustled Harper out with a promise I’d be at dinner in an hour. Alek slipped in the door as I was preparing to lock up.
“Find anything?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I am keeping my inquiries soft at the moment. I do not want to draw attention to the missing humans if I can. Liam, Ulfr’s oldest son and the interim alpha, knows the whole story. I questioned him closely and am convinced he is uninvolved and deeply invested in the Peace staying intact. Henry, Dorrie’s mate, also knows some of it. He also appears uninvolved.”
“So what’s our next step?” I said, emphasizing the “our” part of it.
“I am going to try to trace the Lansings’ steps. I will start at their house and then follow the route Vivian said they wo
uld likely take to Bear Lake. Perhaps I can find where they were taken, and track the killer or killers from there.” Alek rubbed at his neck, rolling his shoulders. It was the only indication he gave of how tired he must be. I doubted he had gotten much more sleep than I had last night.
“Great, let me lock up and I’ll come with you.” I latched onto the excuse not to put my friends in danger, and the excuse to be doing something, anything, that wasn’t just waiting for someone to try to kill me again.
“No,” Alek said. “I can do this on my own. I might be gone for hours. If something happens here, you may be needed. Liam has your number, and Harper’s, since you have such terrible phone luck.” He smiled at that last part, pulling my cell phone from his coat pocket. He must have retrieved it at the pool. I hadn’t even remembered it after the whole “being shot at” thing happened.
“Thanks,” I said. “You sure you don’t want company?”
“It is likely another dead end,” he said, folding his hand around mine.
“The Council’s visions aren’t giving you some help on this? What did they show you?” I asked.
The troubled look returned to his eyes, and he bent and kissed my knuckles. “Nothing useful,” he murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Call me if you find anything,” I said, uneasy with his answer, his almost defeated posture.
“I promise,” he said as he turned away and left.
I watched him go, then locked my door and flipped the sign to closed.
“We got a last-minute guest, but he’s out taking pictures,” Max said as he walked me into the big house that served as home and business for Rosie, Max and Harper’s mother.
Rosie wasn’t Max’s real mother. She’d taken the boy in when he was just a pup. Harper didn’t know where Rosie had come by him; Max was just one of the strays that Rosie had adopted. She had a big heart, Harper’s mom did.
I had a sneaking suspicion that I was another stray she’d taken in, but I was too flattered by inclusion in this odd little shifter family to ask outright.
“Oh yeah?” I said to Max when I realized I was being too quiet. “Photographer. That’s cool.”
He continued talking at me, telling me about dinner and how he was going to take the photographer out on a ride tomorrow. Only thing Max loved more than his big sister was horses. Weird for a wolf, in my mind, but the horses seemed to love him right back and not mind at all that he was, at heart, a predator. They were strays too, rescued from auction blocks all over Idaho. Who knows? Maybe even the horses knew a good thing when they saw it.
The Henhouse Bed and Breakfast was a good thing. The house had that old country feel, lots of wood, handmade quilts on the beds, a big country kitchen with whitewashed cupboards, a giant gas stove, and an original riverstone fireplace with cooking hearth. The land and original ranch had been grandfathered into the River of No Return Wilderness area. The house and barn were relics of another time, slowly built on and updated by Rosie. I didn’t know how old she really was, but I was guessing she’d settled this land a long, long time ago.
Dinner smelled delicious, some kind of thick, spicy game stew bubbling in a huge pot, and the yeasty, comforting scent of fresh-baked bread. I helped Harper set the huge dining table while Junebug, Levi’s owl-shifter wife, and Ezee bustled around the kitchen with Rosie directing with the efficiency of a drill sergeant.
I knew from the looks I was getting that Ezee had told Levi and Rosie at the very least about the assassination attempt. We should have been eating outside on the huge porch, enjoying the last dying warmth of summer. No one said a word about us eating inside and I swallowed my own protests. If being in here kept me safer, it would keep them safer, too.
As we bantered, bustled, and tried to stay out of each other’s way, I felt at home, almost forgetting that a giant target was painted on my back.
Ezee snagged a roll from the basket as Junebug brought it out to the table. The tiny woman admonished him, her amber eyes flashing with laughter as he pretended to put the roll back and instead tossed it to Max at the last moment.
“We’re about to eat, and I think I hear our guest coming in,” Junebug said. She grinned and ruined her stern look, shoving her long blond hair away from her face as she tried to leap up and snag the roll. Levi caught her waist and lifted her in a smooth motion and she snagged the roll from midair. She smiled up at him as she returned it to the basket and, bending, he kissed the tip of her nose.
Nez Perce punk mechanic and tiny blond hippy. Levi was all sarcastic humor and moody edges, Junebug smiles and earthy mothering that rivaled Rosie’s. If the world had room for their love in it, maybe there was hope for me, too. I pushed away the weird longing that rose up inside. I was getting maudlin in my old age, apparently. Introspection had never been my strong suit.
I heard the front door open and turned, pulling on my magic for a moment as the back of my neck prickled.
A slender Japanese man entered, pausing in the doorway. He had a camera bag slung around his neck. The guest. I let go of my magic, sensing nothing off about him. He hadn’t triggered any of my wards, so he was human as well. Just a guy.
I smiled at him and Rosie emerged from the kitchen.
“Please, Mr. Kami, come in,” she said, bowing politely as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“I do not wish to intrude,” he said in accented but very fluent English. “This is your family time.”
“You aren’t intruding. Please join us for dinner.” Rosie smiled at him and the small man smiled back, unable to resist her charm.
We made introductions all around, and everyone settled in. For a few minutes peace reigned as food was passed around and dished out. I looked around the table and felt something, like a small chip of myself, settle in my heart. Family.
The warm feeling was only slightly dampened by remembering what always seemed to happen to my families.
I found myself studying Mr. Kami, who was seated across the table and one down from where I was. His face was lined enough to place him in his forties at least, with his hair pulled into a topknot that reminded me of old samurai movies. He wore loose black pants and a long-sleeved dark green shirt. He’d hung his camera bag off the chair behind him.
There was nothing unusual about him. His face was bland, almost forgettable. His eyes were dark, though not as dark as mine. He was tanned, more so than heritage would dictate, which fit with a man who spent lots of time outdoors taking pictures. His fingernails were trimmed and he ate with a polite tidiness that drew no attention.
Maybe it was because someone had tried to kill me. Maybe it was the Lansings’ deaths or Dorrie’s poisoning. I felt on edge, paranoia damaging what should have been a happy evening. I shoved the feeling down and decided to make small talk.
“Kami is an unusual surname,” I said. “Where in Japan did you grow up?”
His eyes flicked to me and he brought his napkin up, carefully wiping his mouth and finishing chewing before he spoke.
“A tiny village in the Oki Shoto islands,” he said. “It is very remote.”
“I’d love to go to Japan,” Harper said. “I’ve been to South Korea for tournaments, but never any further.”
“Tournaments?” Mr. Kami asked.
“Oh God, don’t get her started,” Levi said with a mock groan.
“But I am curious. Please tell,” Mr. Kami said.
Which led into an explanation about what Harper did for a living with videogames that Mr. Kami listened to with very polite attention.
I’d heard of the Oki Shoto islands. Kami means paper, or spirit. It’s a weird last name. Japan has a huge diversity of surnames, it’s true, but it was the only odd thing about a man who was otherwise completely normal-seeming. Human. Boring. Everything about him from his appearance to his mannerisms said “nothing to see here, move along.”
I was so fucked up that his sheer normalness bugged me. Or maybe it was that curling slip of paper earlier. What were the odds that in a
tiny town like Wylde, someone would show up using Japanese on a spell scroll and it not be remotely related to the one Japanese foreigner in town? I didn’t believe in coincidence. Not today.
I closed my eyes for a moment, listening with my other senses to the conversation, to the people around me. I pulled on my magic, spooling up a thread of power from the huge well within. I touched my wards, letting my consciousness spiral to the outermost circles around the property. Nothing unusual. I pulled myself back in, listening with magically enhanced senses to my friends. I felt their own thrumming power, the soft rhythms of their hearts, the tickling feel of their sleeping animal selves. I could identify each just by his or her energy signature, that metaphysical something that helped define what they were. This awareness of life power in others, this second sense was a gift, of sorts, from an asshole murdering warlock whose heart I’d eaten to save Rosie and Ezee’s lives only a few months before.
Mr. Kami, however, didn’t even register. It was like he wasn’t there. He might have been part of the chair on which he sat for all my metaphysical senses could tell.
He should have shown up. I could sense the horses in their stalls, sense the fat tabby cat out on the porch swing. Not Mr. Kami. He had less presence inside my wards, against my magic, than a cat. I opened my eyes and looked at him.
Then, deliberately, carefully, I prodded him with a touch of my power. To a human’s senses, it should have felt like something brushed against him, a phantom touch. A truly oblivious human, like our friend and fellow gamer Steve, might have felt nothing at all.
Mr. Kami tensed and flicked his dark eyes to me. For a moment it was like a mask slipped out of place and his gaze went beetle-black and hard, intense and focused like a predator’s. Then the bland look came back, but I felt an answering push of power. Just a touch, the smell and feel of it hot and alien.
Twenty-Sided Sorceress 3 - Pack of Lies Page 5
