Iwas mentally and emotionally exhausted. All I wanted to do was collapse in bed and lose myself in blissful unconsciousness. But as soon as Gray and I tramped into the house, I knew R&R wasn’t in the cards.
Everyone was crowded around Smith and his laptop.
Sir Zachary, who was clad in what might or might not be an actual Burberry dog jacket, was curled up on the couch cushion behind Smith’s head. He had his snout pillowed on Smith’s shoulder and was snoring.
We’d called the others on our drive home and filled them in. They were all already working on something that, at the end of the day, was my problem. The sight made my throat constrict.
There was a picture of Cooper Zillin on the blank wall. His body was contorted on a carpet in what I assumed was his house. Like Remwald, there was no blood, and his expression was frozen in agony.
Beside the photo was his autopsy report. The cause of death was listed as “probable cardiopulmonary arrest.” Just like Remwald.
“You’re not going to believe what Smith did,” Bri said by way of greeting.
Since Smith was too deep in his work to even notice we were there, A.J. explained, “Smith hacked into Cooper Zillin’s smart refrigerator, of all things.”
“So…now we know what he was going to have for dinner?” Graysen asked, raising an eyebrow.
Smith looked up at that. “People are such dumbasses, they don’t realize their smart speakers are listening to every word they say.” He reached for the can of grape soda on the coffee table and took a long drink. “If they weren’t too goddamn lazy to write their grocery list down instead of just telling it to their fridge, they’d have a lot more privacy.”
“And we wouldn’t be able to spy on them,” Yutika pointed out.
“So, what did you learn?” I asked. Smith’s process was always intriguing, but right now, I cared more about results.
Instead of answering, Smith unplugged his headphones. A second later, an unfamiliar male voice I assumed belonged to Cooper Zillin came through the laptop’s speakers.
In a rote, almost mechanical voice, Cooper began to list off names.
Yutika flipped open her sketchbook and began recording the names as Cooper read them off. It went on for about five minutes.
I realized I was falling asleep on my feet when Cooper’s voice hitched.
“That’s all of them,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please—”
A long, eerie silence followed.
Yutika put down her pen and shook out her hand. “I guess we have to figure out who all of these people are now,” she said, looking mournfully at the three-column list that went all the way to the bottom of the page. There had to be at least two-hundred names.
“No need,” Smith said. “I looked them up as we were going.”
“And?” I asked, too tired to be impressed by his quick work.
Smith reached for Yutika’s pen and circled three of the names.
“Who are they?” Graysen asked.
“Those three are the kids whose graves we dug up earlier,” he replied.
I let out a breath. Three names on this list happened to be the dead children who had visited Grandma Tashi.
That couldn’t be a coincidence.
“We are not digging up two-hundred graves.” Yutika put up her hands. “No way.”
“I think we can probably assume they’re empty, too,” Graysen said.
Smith pointed at the list. “The rest of these names also have no existing records beyond when they died and where they’re buried.”
“All of their records are missing?” Graysen asked in surprise.
Smith nodded. “The only documents that exist are their death certificates. That’s how I know they were all Mags. And that they all supposedly died from DAMND.”
The Magical Marking Office was fastidious about record keeping. It wasn’t unheard of for a file to get lost in the shuffle for a short period of time, but for so many to up and disappear…well, I knew from experience that didn’t happen by accident.
Bri reached out and brushed her fingertips over one of the names. She let out choked sob before pressing her fist to her mouth.
“Love bug?” A.J. asked, his forehead wrinkled in concern.
Bri shook her head. Without a word, she lurched to her feet and ran to the stairs.
The rest of us looked at each other. Then, we looked down at the name she had touched.
Lilly Hammond.
“Her niece,” I said in a soft voice.
A.J. nodded.
“Oh,” Yutika whispered, her eyes watering in sympathy. “Oh no.”
“She needs answers about what actually happened to her niece,” A.J. said. “This,” he motioned to the sheet of names, “just presents more questions than answers.”
“There’s no way for me to figure out what happened to her niece without a file,” Smith said.
We all just stared at each other, at a complete loss.
“Do you think we should try to keep Bri company?” Michael asked.
We all turned to A.J., who probably knew Bri the best of any of us.
“She’ll want to be alone right now,” he said.
I knew he was right, but I couldn’t let her suffer alone. Besides, in a weird way, I felt somehow responsible for her family’s grief. For years, they’d believed Lilly had been killed by DAMND. I couldn’t forget the look on Bri’s face when she found out Gray and I were together. I could still see the tears streaming down her face as she called us baby killers.
“I’m going to go talk to her,” I decided.
I scooped Sir Zachary off the couch. Having a furry, tail-wagging wingman couldn’t hurt my attempts to make Bri feel better. Sir Zachary opened one eye, tucked his snout under my arm, and fell back asleep.
I climbed the stairs and knocked softly on Bri’s door. When I didn’t hear anything, I tried the knob. It gave, and the door swung open.
Bri was sitting in the middle of her bed. With the pair of sweats she wore and her knees tucked up to her chin, she looked tiny.
She didn’t look up when I shut the door behind me. The little dog hopped right onto the bed and promptly curled himself into a ball at Bri’s feet.
Sir Zachary sighed in contentment when Bri started to scratch behind his one black ear.
I sat on the edge of the bed. When Bri didn’t tell me to get lost, I scooted closer until we were shoulder-to-shoulder.
“What the hell does this mean, Kaira?” Bri asked me.
I had no idea. The three kids whose graves we’d dug up were unquestionably dead, since Grandma Tashi wouldn’t have been able to see them otherwise. But the rest…who knew? The causes of their deaths had been faked, so it was possible at least some of the names on that list belonged to people who weren’t really dead.
I could see the warring emotions on Bri’s face. She was hoping, and at the same time, she didn’t want to give herself false hope.
Since I had no answers, I wrapped my arms around my friend and hugged her.
For a long time, we just sat there holding each other and listening to Sir Zachary’s snores.
Bri’s sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I never even got to meet her.”
My chest tightened.
“I know we need to prioritize finding this murderer,” Bri said, clenching her comforter in a white-knuckled grip. “But as soon as we get him, I’m going to figure out what happened to my niece and all those other kids.”
That went without saying. Bri and her family deserved answers. So did all of the other families who believed their loved ones had been taken because of DAMND.
“I promise you we’re going to get to the bottom of this,” I vowed to her. “We’ll do whatever it takes to get your family answers.”
Bri nodded. Her eyes were dry, and the pain in her expression had transformed into determination.
“Then let’s go find this son of a bitch,” she said.
When we got back downstairs, we found ourselves in the midst o
f a flurry of activity.
The blank wall was covered with a variety of different-colored sticky notes.
“What are we doing?” I asked, although one glance made it obvious.
“This is so cliché,” Smith complained.
“I’m a visual learner,” Yutika said, sticking a note to the wall. “Get over it.”
“I think I just died and stepped into a crime show,” Bri said, staring at the wall.
Eight names were printed across the top of the wall.
Smith had projected pictures beneath each member on the Board of Peaceful Resolutions. A.J. drew red X’s through Remwald, Jenny Yang, and Cooper Zillin’s photos…I presumed to remind us they were dead.
Michael was adding sticky notes under their names that summarized the circumstances of their deaths. Gray was writing the formula for the Magical Reduction Potion under William Mallorie’s name.
Scowling, Smith got to his feet and went over to join them. He started drawing arrows between the Board members, chronologizing the events surrounding their deaths—or in William Mallorie’s case, his memory loss.
Bri and I looked at each other, shrugged, and went to join them.
I found a box of thumb tacks in the kitchen, and stuck the list of names Cooper Zillin had listed off underneath his picture. I wrote It’s all a lie; the graves are empty with arrows next to the three dead Mag kids’ names.
When we were finished, we stepped back and surveyed our work.
“Well, the obvious first step is to make sure the four other Board members are protected around the clock,” Bri said.
“Pruwist took care of that while we were in his office,” Graysen said. “They’re being watched by police 24-7.”
“Except for this Nat,” Smith said, tapping the image of a curly-haired woman who appeared to be in her fifties. “According to my research, she’s been in New Hampshire for the last couple of weeks caring for a sick parent.”
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about her for the moment,” I said. “But we should go talk to the rest of the Board members.”
Before they get murdered or turned into vegetables.
“Maybe they’ll help us make some connections that’ll lead us to the killer,” Michael said.
We all looked at the bottom of the wall. Yutika had written MURDERER, surrounded by question marks.
Now, all we had to do was figure out how and why everything was connected. And we had to do it before our week-long timer ran out.
CHAPTER 17
We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” I said.
I pointed to the picture of one of the Mags on the Board who was still living—an Alchemist, who was apparently hiding out in his basement with police surrounding his house day and night. “Bri and Yutika, why don’t you go check on him. Make sure none of the cops are messing around and see if he can tell you anything useful.”
Yutika could create any kind of clothes or props they would need to blend in. It wasn’t as convenient or fail-proof as illusion, but whatever Yutika couldn’t accomplish with magic, Bri would make up for by knocking people unconscious.
Yutika saluted me and grabbed her sketchbook. Bri snatched the car keys before Yutika could offer to drive.
To Michael and Gray, I said, “You go pay Pruwist a visit. He has to know something useful that will help us figure out why this murderer is after the Board members.”
Michael would be able to Whisper his way right into a private meeting with Pruwist, no matter what else the interim Director was occupied with. Gray would know all the right questions to ask, and Michael would make sure Pruwist answered them honestly.
Whatever feelings I might have about Pruwist, he was the interim Director. If his brain suddenly turned to mush, the fragile matchstick walls of the Alliance would crumble altogether. Then, there would be no Alliance to stand between Valencia and the Federal Security Enforcers. It would be the Slaughters all over again.
Not to mention, my deal was with him. If Pruwist turned into a human vegetable, I could safely assume that whoever took control over the city wouldn’t be willing to give me a second law exemption regardless of whether or not I discovered the murderer.
If I wanted to stay unMarked without permanently disappearing from society and putting everyone I loved at risk, then Pruwist needed to stay lucid long enough for me to find this murderer.
“A.J. and I will go talk to the other Mag,” I continued, staring up at the image of Eleanor Ridley. According to the sticky note beneath her name, she was a Level 4 Mathematician.
A sharp pang went through my chest. That particular magic dredged up all kinds of memories and emotions I usually kept buried where they couldn’t get to me.
I rubbed at the scar on my forearm and pushed all thoughts of my father from my mind. I cleared my throat.
“Smith, stay here and be ready in case we find anything.”
And then, realizing how I might be coming off, I added, “Please. Sorry if I’m being bossy.”
I had been the delegator for all the times we’d organized rescues of unMarked Mags back when we’d been the Six. Now, we were the Seven, and we were no longer smuggling people into Boston. We were tracking down a murderer who was a veritable ghost. I didn’t know what I was doing any more than anyone else.
“I like it when you’re bossy,” Gray said. “Turns me on.”
“TMI.” Yutika covered her ears.
“How come everyone in this house is getting some except me?” Bri complained.
“Right there with you, sister,” A.J. said, flopping dramatically back onto the couch.
“Smith and Sir Zachary are single too,” Yutika told Bri.
Smith glared at Yutika before retreating into the depths of his hoodie.
Yutika began sketching enough cars to accommodate all of us. She also handed around earpieces and mikes so we could all stay in contact even when we weren’t together.
“Be careful,” Gray told me, before we went our separate ways.
“You too,” I replied, taking the set of keys Yutika handed me and hurrying out the door.
I drove the van, while A.J. rode shotgun with Sir Zachary on his lap.
“Remind me why we needed to bring the dog?” I asked as we inched through rush hour traffic on Storrow Drive.
“We can’t keep him cooped up,” A.J. informed me. “He’s going to be understimulated and under-socialized.”
Understimulated and under-socialized.
I thought about the Super Mags, who were still locked in MagLab. Remwald was dead, and yet nothing about those kids’ situation had changed. And now that Pruwist was running scared for his life, I doubted the Super Mags would rank high on his list of concerns. If they ever had in the first place.
“We have to get the Super Mags out,” I said through gritted teeth.
“One thing at a time, Girlfriend,” A.J. told me. “And stop strangling that poor steering wheel. He didn’t do anything to deserve that kind of treatment.”
“How do you know the steering wheel’s a he?” Yutika asked across our earpieces.
“Excellent point,” A.J. replied. He gave the steering wheel an apologetic caress. I slapped his hand away before he got us in an accident.
“I have a question,” Bri said. “Why would a murderer go after a group that was literally made to maintain peace?”
“Maybe the Board of Peaceful Resolutions wasn’t as peaceful as its name implies,” Smith said in our earpieces.
I could hear his excitement in the tone of his voice. There was nothing that got Smith going more than a government conspiracy.
“Remwald appointed all of the members,” he continued. “It’s not a big stretch to think they were up to something nefarious.”
“There’s no evidence of that,” Graysen said in a tight voice. “Remwald also appointed a lot of other Alliance officials, and they aren’t corrupt.”
“That we know of,” Smith replied darkly.
“Our Alchemist friend
isn’t taking visitors,” Bri reported. “By the looks of it, he’s as paranoid as Smith.”
“I resent that,” Smith said.
“Want us to bust in there?” Yutika asked. “And by us, I mean Bri?”
“No,” I said. “You’ll just freak him out, and he won’t tell you anything. We can go back with Michael later.”
“Roger that,” Bri replied. “We’ll just stick around for a while and make sure the cops aren’t up to anything dicey.”
I didn’t like the idea of any of us just lingering where a serial murderer might show up. There weren’t many opponents who could take on Bri, but we had no idea what…or who…we were up against.
“Pruwist is in a meeting about the murders right now,” Graysen said. “We’re going to wait until after to talk to him, in case he learns anything useful.”
A.J. and I were the last ones to reach our destination. Smith did some finagling on his end so a parking meter right outside our destination was marked as Out of Order. As soon as we slid into the spot, the meter changed to showing we had two hours left.
We were in Kenmore Square, outside a modest apartment building.
A.J. clipped a leash onto Sir Zachary’s collar, which had his name spelled out in purple rhinestones. I illusioned A.J. and I to look like unnoteworthy grad students, complete with backpacks and headphones to discourage anyone from trying to start up a conversation.
We scooted into the building behind a woman pushing a granny cart full of groceries.
“Eleanor Ridley is in Apartment 314,” Smith said over our earpieces. “Elevator’s on your left.”
We made it up to the third floor without a hitch. There were two Mag cops on either end of the hallway who had clearly been positioned there for Eleanor’s protection. I changed our illusions so A.J. and I looked like Mag Girl Scouts carrying order forms for the calorie-less cookies everyone was going crazy for this season.
I remembered what the uniforms looked like from when Cora was a member. I had never been the Girl Scout type. I had authority issues.
Desiree had been one for a week and then gotten kicked out for reasons Ma still wouldn’t tell me to this day.
I let Sir Zachary look like himself as we paraded past the cops. I held up my hands to display the illusion of the cookie order form.
Mags & Nats 3-Book Box Set Page 44
