A Season of Gods and Witches

by Bloome, Alice

  Gods were really so clever, cast it.

  While I still didn’t know how I felt about Paul introducing me to the rest of the pantheon as his, well, whatever, I did know how I felt about finally being able to welcome our unborn goddess in real life.

  My lips pursed. Let’s just cross that bridge when we get there, Blair Vavrin, I told myself. Right now, I still had one or more burglars to go after.

  “Hey, She-Ra?”

  “Yes, Blair?”

  “Is there any historical data that shows burglary incidents going up during Halloween season?” It was a fact that theft cases generally went on the rise during the holidays, so maybe something similar took place in towns like Silver Mist?

  “Let me look that up for you.” After a moment, She-Ra answered, “I haven’t found anything to indicate this, but perhaps a visit to Clio’s library will provide more answers. Information stored in its restricted vaults is only accessible to authorized individuals. Would you like me to make a reservation on your behalf?”

  Oh. That was something new. I had no idea Clio’s library had information that even agency-issued AIs like She-Ra weren’t allowed to access. “I think that’s a good idea,” I said finally.

  “On it,” She-Ra confirmed.

  Silver Mist Harbor on a late Wednesday autumn afternoon was moderately crowded, with both rental and private boats sailing in to dock for the night. Near the very end was a permanently moored boathouse with dark blue gabled roofs, vast, tinted glass windows, and a cozy porch. Perfectly picturesque with a capital P...but it also just happened to be my next crime scene, unfortunately.

  The Harbor Loft was one of the town’s most popular vacation rentals, and its current houseguest, according to the agency scanner, was a Mr. Graham Lewis, 63. He was tall, lean, and sandy-haired, and he wore a strained smile over his leathery, attractive face.

  Type: HARPY

  ASSOCIATION: N/A

  STATUS: SAFE

  Wait. What? Did I read that right?

  My confusion appeared to make sense to Graham as the older man shook my hand with a wry look on my face. “You know I’m a harpy then?”

  “Err...” Harpies were supposed to be an all-women race, just like Amazons. So...now they weren’t?

  “Gender reassignment surgery,” Graham supplied in answer to my unspoken question.

  He had to be kidding, right? Such medical procedures might work for homo sapiens, but the anatomy of a harpy had living components that were powered by both blood and magic. How was it possible that –

  “You probably know my doctor. He’s the chief coroner at NSA...”

  “I see.” Everything made sense now. Dr. Ace, better known as Aesculapius via the classics, could do anything in the field of medicine and magic, and so Graham probably being the first male harpy in history?

  I smiled at Mr. Lewis. “I’m glad the surgery went well for you.”

  His eyes twinkled. “You must be new in our world. You’re the only one, aside from Dr. Ace, of course, who’s ever told me that.”

  Oh, cast it.

  “I’m a self-made witch and a neophyte at that,” I confessed before quickly adding, “but I promise you, I work very hard on all my cases.”

  “I’m not worried,” Graham assured me. “I’m just glad you’re willing to take my case. Most other witches would’ve turned mine down flat, and I can’t blame them if they do. In many ways, this world of ours is still in the Dark Ages.”

  An apology hovered over my lips, but because it felt so inane and pointless to even utter, I cleared my throat and simply changed the subject, saying, “So...can you walk me through what happened?”

  Two hours and several pages’ worth of a case report later, I had a pretty good picture of how the burglary went down. He had gone to sleep last night at about ten in the evening, woke up at five, took a shower, and had breakfast. This was all part of his daily routine, which would end with a quick early morning smoke before he went off flying.

  Or at least that had been the plan until he discovered his 24-karat gold pipe missing.

  Because all doors and windows of his place had still been locked, and there had been no visible signs of a break-in, Graham had decided to search the house thoroughly before calling the police.

  Lastly, Graham had asserted that it was something he never took with him when flying. It’s a rare antique, the male harpy had explained, so I’m very particular about when and where I use it.

  It was about nine-thirty in the evening when Wednesday arrived at the boathouse, and Graham and I immediately stepped out so we wouldn’t get in the way of her work. With the glass doors open, however, we were able to watch Wednesday in action, and it was a pretty impressive sight. She had all these nice, cool gadgets that floated and lit up, and the way she so fluently dished out spells and chants left me awestruck – and just a little exasperated.

  Maybe it’s just me, but why was it that I seemed to be surrounded by all these geniuses at my workplace?

  First, there was Lana, the whiz of tech support, and now Wednesday, who might just be Sherlock Holmes’ secret child with a witch.

  Graham and I turned to her with expectant looks when she came out and started taking off her gloves.

  “Definitely a work of magic,” she confirmed curtly, “and most of the remnants are concentrated around the porthole.”

  My gaze swung to the aforementioned porthole, which was about 4.5 inches in diameter. I supposed an adult human could still fit in, but not without broken bones. Even so, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that the burglar from my previous case was the same culprit in this one.

  All I needed was more proof to support my hunch.

  IT WAS JUST ME AT PANDA’S for breakfast the next day, and I tried not to make a face when I overheard a table of witches loudly wondering if Paul and I had broken up because the INTERPOL detective had finally seen the light.

  Nix, a teenage waitress whose hair color changed more times than a celebrity changed outfits when hosting the MTV Awards, was properly outraged on my behalf, and it took a bit of coaxing to change her mind about going into a spell fight with the other group of women.

  “They’re friends of Roseanne,” I told her under my breath. “I’m sure they’re only saying stuff like that because they think what Roseanne’s saying about me is true.”

  “Then they’re idiots,” Nix grumbled as she served me my usual order. “If Paul were here—-”

  “Then they wouldn’t have said such things in the first place,” I finished wryly. “And actually – I’d rather not have him know anything about this. So please promise me you won’t say a word?”

  Nix’s gaze bored through me. “You do remember who your boyfriend is, right?”

  Oh. Right. I had forgotten Paul was also Apollo, the god of truth, which consequently made him exceptionally good at catching lies.

  Nix burst into laughter at seeing me grimace. “You’re just too cute, Blair. Only you would forget such a thing.”

  “It’s not that funny,” I protested as the younger girl kept on laughing. “And besides, it’s not like I’m with him because of...that.”

  “I know. And Paul knows, too, which is no doubt why he loves you so much.”

  “Niiiiiiix!” That was such an embarrassing thing to hear, and I quickly ducked my head and started shoving food into my mouth, all so Nix wouldn’t see my blushing face.

  A couple of tourists were walking by when I came out of Panda’s a half-hour and a full tummy later, and I hid a smile at seeing their confused expressions when they heard me thank Pan for another yummy breakfast.

  In reality, Panda’s was a vast, well-kept diner that served as the town’s primary place of social activities for Silver Mist’s supernatural and immortal residents. Humans, however, would only see its disguised form: a decrepit, burnt-down motel that had ‘haunted house’ written all over it – and definitely the last place people would go looking for food, no matter how starved and desperate they were.

>   Wednesday was already at the lab when I arrived at headquarters, and a quick glance at her timecard showed that she had been up working all night.

  “Don’t worry,” the technician said shortly when she saw what I was looking at. “I have my own room here, so I was able to grab a few hours’ shut eye before coming back to work.” Turning away from the complicated setup of test tubes she had on one table, Wednesday reached for one of the case folders on her office desk and handed it to me.

  I opened her report, and one word immediately jumped out at me.

  Ketamine.

  It was an ingredient unique to animal anesthetics, but it had also been reintroduced to society as a recreational drug. Special K, they called it, and there were only two ways for unauthorized individuals to possess this substance. One was theft from veterinary clinics, and the other was to have it illegally shipped from countries with rather lax law enforcement towards drug trafficking.

  After thanking Wednesday for her help, I made a quick detour to tech support so I could ask Lana for help.

  “Ketamine was found in both my crime scenes,” I began.

  “And you want me to nail down its source,” Lana guessed shrewdly.

  “I knew you were my partner at tech support for a reason.”

  “I’m your partner because the agency assigned us to each other,” Lana countered, “but thanks for the flattery.” As she started typing on her computer, she added, “One thing I can tell you right now, though – there aren’t any street dealers here in Silver Mist.”

  No surprise there, I thought. Street dealers only went where the money went, and since drugs or alcohol had no effects on non-humans, it made sense that only street dealers outside town could be involved in my cases.

  “I’ve just checked with regional customs, too.” Lana turned her monitor towards me to share her results. “No illegal shipment reports so far, but my contacts will keep digging.”

  “Thanks, Lana.”

  Lana cocked her head to the side when she saw me still standing in front of her. “Anything else?”

  “How come you’re not down with the flu like the others?”

  “Quarter human.”

  Oh.

  “That’s all it takes to be immune.”

  Irony of the year, I thought, considering how humans were often perceived as the weakest living race.

  The atmosphere in CSI’s office was quiet and lonely as expected, with Nosos’ virus still doing a great job at keeping most of the agent cubicles empty. After checking in with Marlee and Graham and asking them a few follow-up questions, I took out a pad of Post-Its and started writing down questions and possible theories to pin to my corkboard. It was laughably old school, especially in light of my access to both technology and magic, but it had always been what worked for me. And as the old saying went, never fix what wasn’t broken.

  So let’s get started, Blair Vavrin.

  My gaze flew back to the corkboard.

  BREAK-INS.

  It was a critical aspect of burglaries, but in both cases, there weren’t signs of any. On the other hand, how else could have such items been stolen without a burglar breaking in?

  HARPIES.

  Harpies were the victims in both cases, but Marlee and Graham didn’t know each other. A preliminary check on their backgrounds supported their claims, but maybe more digging could reveal something else?

  I grabbed my wand, and a single click had it transforming into a pen, which I then used to send a note to Lana.

  Can you look for any possible links between my two vics? Thanks!

  My phone vibrated just as the letters of my note jumped into a holographic envelope before it fizzled out of view, and when I clicked on the unread message, I realized it was from Jason.

  Can’t make it tonight, I’m afraid. I’ll leave it to you to tell your boyfriend the good news.

  Since it wasn’t like Jason to bow out at the last minute like that, I quickly typed my reply.

  Me: No problem. I hope everything’s okay.

  Jason: I can’t recall the last time I fell ill, but I’ll survive.

  Chapter Five

  The posh, almost opulent marble interiors of Kryvo Towers was just like what I pictured an immortal’s residence would be, and watching the comings and goings of its well-dressed and equally well-heeled residents made me feel secretly grateful that Paul had insisted Troy and Philip accompany me on tonight’s trip.

  With their good looks and handmade Italian suits, they looked right at home here.

  I, however, did not, and it wasn’t just because I was wearing the wrong thing. My clothes were always fine – dressing myself was one of the few things I knew was exceptionally good at, and tonight’s charity find – a vintage Chanel dress – was nothing to scoff at. What I did know I lacked – while at the same time something that all the other people here had – was an innate sense of self-confidence. Everyone here appeared so wonderfully self-possessed, like they knew they were born to do great things and lead great lives.

  I wasn’t that person yet, I couldn’t help thinking, but I have to be, if I want to stand by the truth god’s side and be a worthy mother to our unborn goddess.

  “All done, ma’am.” Troy’s deferential tone drew me out of my reverie, and I tried not to wince at the reminder of just how much my life had changed in the past month. Technically, Troy and Philip outranked me since they were INTERPOL agents, but because they also considered me as the future wife of a Greek god, they tended to act more like my bodyguards than my superiors.

  Soon after, Jason himself came down to welcome me, and I wrinkled my nose at how Troy and Philip swiftly flanked both of my sides at the other immortal’s approach.

  “Hey there.”

  I could feel Philip and Troy tensing and scowling at Jason’s casual greeting, and the cursed man only fanned the flames when he openly smirked at the sight of the two dark-suited men looming protectively over me.

  “Shall I be flattered your boyfriend thinks you need to have bodyguards to see me?”

  The first time Jason and I met, we were passengers on the same flight, and back then I had accepted everything about him at face value: a handsome, easygoing bank executive who occasionally asked me out for dinner because he knew I didn’t expect anything from him the way most other women in his life did.

  But in reality, he also happened to be immortal...and someone whom Paul deeply disliked for some still-unknown reason.

  “Stop provoking them,” I censured him with an exasperated shake of my head. “Paul already thinks it’s a bad idea for me to come visit.”

  “Then why did you?”

  The sharp tone had me blinking, and Jason grimaced when he saw this.

  “I’m sorry,” he said right away.

  My forehead creased with a frown of concern at the odd way he was acting. It was not like him at all to snap for no reason, and as immodest as this may sound, he had never treated me so sharply before either. “Are you really okay?” I asked gently. “I mean, I know you said I shouldn’t have come...”

  “Did you tell Paul that you wanted to visit me because I was sick?”

  My eyes widened. “Is that what this is about? You didn’t want him to know you were sick?” Troy and Philip were already coughing even before I could finish talking, and I had a horrified feeling I had hit the nail on the head.

  “Being sick is a sign of weakness to our kind, I’m afraid.”

  “But being sick is normal—-”

  Jason’s gaze was sardonic. “Has the truth god fallen sick then?”

  “Err, no.”

  “Exactly.” Jason’s tone was hard and flat, but the effect was ruined when he promptly let out a sneeze afterwards. “Sorry about that,” he said right after, his voice stiff.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I said in a small voice. “I’d never have insisted on visiting if I had known you felt this way. I just thought it was time I returned the favor and be the one to drive out and check on you.”

>   “That’s sweet of you,” Jason commented. “I hope you told Paul that, too?”

  “I did.”

  “Good.” A smile of satisfaction curved over his lips. “I’m feeling much better—-” My dread must have shown on my face because Jason suddenly stopped speaking. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  “After I told him that I wanted to visit you, Paul suggested I drop by Dr. Ace’s clinic and tell the doctor about your condition—-”

  It was my turn to stop speaking, with Jason lapsing into what I assumed was a harshly spoken round of Ancient Greek. Mostly curses no doubt, since I heard Paul’s real name crop up several times.

  “Sorry,” I said weakly when Jason finally cooled down.

  Jason’s lips twisted into a crooked smile. “You have nothing to fear, Blair. Paul and I go a long way back, and this prank – as irritating it may be – will not change the status quo.”

  “In other words,” I interpreted, “you’ll still hate each other.”

  Heaviness shadowed his dark eyes. “I bear him no ill will, but I can only speak himself.”

  I wished I could ask him more about Paul, but doing so didn’t feel right with Troy and Philip standing within earshot. And so I changed the subject instead, telling him about the medication Dr. Ace gave me as I handed Jason a packet of pills. “It’s not a cure, but Dr. Ace says it will make the worst of symptoms go away.”

  “Thank you for this.” Jason’s tone was oddly grave. “It has been a long time since someone last cared enough to do something like this for me.”

  “It’s what friends do,” I muttered awkwardly. “So no big deal.”

  Jason was quiet for a moment before asking, “Will Paul be taking you to Hermes’ ball?”

  The question, coming out of the blue, was so obviously in response to my visible discomfort, but I didn’t mind. I was just too relieved to have something else to talk about. “Paul wants me to go with him,” I confessed, “but I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

  “For the others to know about you?”