We both scanned the scene, although there was nothing to take in. Gareth beside me, I walked through the house sensing the magic and committing it to memory. I wanted to be able to identify it when I encountered it again. After a long moment of consideration, he pulled out his phone and spoke to someone for several minutes. When he hung up he said, “The local SG will be here.”
“How are they going to handle this?” I asked. I just couldn’t believe the scene, undisturbed, as if the person had seen it coming and hadn’t done anything. The lack of any magic other than the foreign magic bothered me. My brand of magic should have inundated the air, unwavering and strong. There wasn’t any, as if she hadn’t made one effort to defend herself.
“Do they know about us as well?” I asked, a hint of irritation filling my voice. I thought I could temper my words, but they were frosty and angry.
“We haven’t discussed it with any other agency but our own, and it is on a need-to-know basis. But since your meeting with Mr. Lands, I doubt the existence of Legacy isn’t widely known or still considered a fable or conspiracy theory. He said in his press conference that you all exist.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, and I wondered if he was having the same disconcerting feeling I was. It took him too long to answer. “We share information with other agencies, and this isn’t something that we would keep from them.”
I didn’t want to wait for the SG to come—I felt that we were on borrowed time to get to the others—but Gareth urged me to stay. Ten minutes later, they swept into the house, dressed similarly to the agents at home: slacks and shirts, and nothing more than a badge to identify them. They moved in a practiced and strategic way, looking for prints, taking pictures of the room, the victim. Just as I did, they looked perplexed by the scene and the lack of evidence of the woman defending herself.
A tall, tawny-colored brunette, who moved with the same stealth and grace as most shapeshifters, eventually walked in. I suspected she was a werewolf. After surveying the area, her light hazel eyes, dark brown shifter ring encircling them, landed on Gareth. The ring roiled and glowed ever so slightly when she directed her attention to me. Her lips pulled into a taut line, and she redirected her attention to Gareth.
He nodded his head in greeting. “Tina.”
“Gareth, thank you for calling me,” she offered in a cool professional tone, whetted with suspicion and curiosity. “What brings you here?”
Dammit, the shifter will be able to detect a lie. I was about to respond, hoping she wasn’t as good as Gareth at detecting them, but he spoke. “We were here to visit her friend.”
The female shifter’s brows came together and her lips twisted to the side as she looked at him with a hint of doubt. She made no attempt to mask it. “So you and your . . .”
She waited patiently for him to offer more explanation of who I was. He didn’t give her anything more and instead simply reiterated what he had said before.
“Witch?” she asked.
Gareth hesitated before he spoke. “Put down witch for now,” he said in a way that left no room for more questioning. After a few minutes of silence her eyes narrowed on him, trying to read a face that was blank, devoid of anything.
“I will be able to give you more information later, but at this time I must act under extreme caution. So just put her down as a witch, and if you find any information, I hope that you will be open to sharing it with my department.”
A wry smile settled on her face, apprehensive and suspicious. “As long as you are forthcoming with what she really is. I’ve been around a lot of witches, and I don’t think this is one.” Shifters might be able to scent magic, but they couldn’t sense it the way I could. All they knew was that this was magic. Most people seemed to default to witch because there were more of them, and since I was a female, that was probably the first assumption. Although there were male witches, there were far more female ones.
The existing magic was so strong and powerful, I wondered if it masked our magic, if in fact the victim had fought at all. It was concerning. What type of magic could render us powerless and put this person in a state of terror where she was paralyzed and unable to fight, forcing her to succumb to whatever it was that took her life.
It looked as if the agent was preparing to pepper us with more questions when I touched Gareth’s arm. “We really should go.” I laced my voice with enough sorrow to make the officer think that I couldn’t bear to be there any longer. Part of that was true—I couldn’t bear to be around the body. I also needed to get to the others. This wasn’t a coincidence and I needed to make sure they were going to be safe. I wondered how this was going to be handled. Did they have their own version of Harrah who would manage to clean this up, or would they call her in? There was nothing like the original.
The next location was just thirty minutes away, similar to the other home we had just left. It was a little larger but not by much, a ranch house that wasn’t as neatly cared for as the other. But it was nice and quiet, and so was the neighborhood. The inhabitants lived closer to their neighbors, something that most Legacy didn’t do. But staying in smaller cities was something we all tended to do. Not too small that people would know who we were, but big enough to disappear, usually in suburbs outside of a larger city.
When we walked up to the house Gareth put his fingers to his lips to silence me. He pressed his ear to the door and after a few minutes he knocked. There was an answer. “Someone’s in here,” he informed me. I took out my sai and assumed the defensive position. He put his hand on his firearm; it was the first time I’d see him carry one, let alone consider it an option.
He knocked again, and then we both heard footsteps and sobbing. A young woman in her mid- to late twenties answered the door. Her jasper eyes were red from crying, her tawny skin flushed, her nose ruddy, the latter, I assumed, from wiping it aggressively.
“You’re not the police.” She sobbed harder. Her shoulders sagged and she looked as though she was going to fold into herself. Gareth caught her before she hit the floor and helped her to the sofa, briefly looking at the body in the middle of the floor.
He showed her his ID. I don’t think she cared whether or not he was the police or any other official. She just wanted to talk to get it off her chest.
She looked at the body again as tears streamed down her face. It was doubtful I’d soon get that image or those of the two dead Legacy out of my head anytime soon.
“He just looked past me,” she said between gulps of air.
“Who?” I asked. Her gaze fixed on the sai, and she started to tremble. I sheathed them quickly and softened my voice when I asked again.
It was harder to look over at the victim—he was younger. Probably in his late teens or early twenties, and like the other victims, his face was frozen in a state of somnolent awe. There weren’t any defensive wounds, and once again no trace of his magic—our magic. He was in the living room, just inches from the TV, a game controller near him and nothing more.
The woman took several controlled breaths before closing her eyes, but opened them again quite quickly; I assumed the images were too much to bear. She looked at the body again and then returned her focus to us.
Her voice shook as she spoke. “I come over here on Saturday mornings and we play games. There wasn’t an answer at the door, but I have a key so I used it. I saw this man standing over him. At the sound of my steps, I think it was a sound or probably screaming, no, I didn’t do that until after he left.” She closed her eyes again, this time for longer, recounting the events. “No, I didn’t scream. I gasped; then he looked up. But he didn’t … he peered at me. He looked through me almost like he couldn’t see me.”
Gareth asked, “What did he look like?”
“Tall. Really tall. Possibly six ten or taller. His skin pale, almost translucent-looking. And his eyes weren’t right. They were gray, all gray, and I thought it was my imagination until he wasn’t able to see me.
” She took a moment before she spoke again. “Maybe he was blind,” she said half-heartedly, as if she didn’t want to commit to the ridiculousness of the idea. I understood why; I was also having a hard time accepting that we might be dealing with a blind magical assassin. I wondered how he’d paralyzed the victims with fear so they wouldn’t react and what instrument was being used to inflict the same identical wound over the heart.
We questioned her longer but didn’t get much more than we had in the first few minutes. She walked in on a tall gentleman wearing a white tunic and slacks, pale skin, gray eyes—not much descriptive appearance, except she said his nose was broad and flared. Then he disappeared.
“And then you called the police” I asked.
She shook her head. “I called the police and then the other police.”
“Which other police?” I asked.
“The one for supernaturals.”
My heart skipped, and I wondered if she knew what the victim was.
“Why did you do that?” Gareth asked.
“The man disappeared. That’s not normal. What the hell are the police going to do?” Her tone was harder and it seemed like anger had replaced her grief. I could identify with that; I was starting to feel my own anger and was struggling to subdue it enough to be of any use. I looked over at Gareth. I didn’t want to leave her alone. When there was a knock on the door I was prepared to leave her with the SG officers. We were met by the same brunette, her eyes now laden with suspicion, and rightfully so.
“Gareth, I’m trying not to be cynical, but it’s awfully peculiar that you have been the first person on the scene at two murders today.”
“You have every right to feel skeptical, but it’s not warranted.” His eyes moved over the scene again, and his frown deepened. “I can assure you that I have nothing to do with this and will do everything I can to find out who did.” His words came out in a growl—his anger was blistering—and the muscles of his neck were taut.
He looked back at the witness: her face was still flushed. As the agents questioned her she brushed away the tears streaming down her face. He returned his attention to Tina. “Do you need anything else from us?” he asked in a tight voice.
The expression on Tina’s face changed; no longer skeptical, she seemed to possess a hint of fear and apprehension as she assessed Gareth. He wasn’t as reserved and emotionally controlled as usual. I wasn’t sure if his emotions were mirroring mine or a result of the magic that inundated the room. It was stifling, and I hated the way it evoked fear and dread. My flight or fight response had kicked in, but I had no idea who I needed to fight or be wary of.
Tina interviewed us for a few more minutes, asking for details of what had happened. Gareth filled her in on most of it. I interjected if I had anything to offer but I was distracted, once again committing the magic to memory. If I ever felt it again I hoped it wouldn’t elicit the same feelings of fear but instead make me want to fight like hell and kill whoever was responsible for this.
I’d suspected this was going to be how the day ended—in an SG office—after we discovered a third body, this time not in a house, but in the woods. She was alone in a bosky area among the foliage, in the same faceup position as the others. Long blond hair feathered out around her, her mouth and face resting in death’s confusion. The same pinky-sized wound through the heart. Three deaths. Three Legacy deaths. In one day. I wasn’t sure which feeling was more overwhelming, anger, frustration, or rage.
At least we weren’t in an interrogation room but, in Tina’s office, which was very similar to Gareth’s. Her arms were crossed and she leaned against her desk. Gareth and I assumed similar positions, standing next to each other after declining to sit down in the chairs that she offered. She stared at us, her lips pressed into a defiant moue, as she waited for us to give her something we didn’t have.
“And you have no idea who is behind this?” she asked in disbelief. We’d been there for over twenty minutes, and although we weren’t in an interrogation room, we were definitely being interrogated.
“No, we don’t,” Gareth said.
“Then at least can you tell me what brought you all here?” she asked.
Perhaps it was the fatigue from the day, or the overwhelming feeling of helplessness, or the desperation that came with being hunted by the unknown, but I didn’t feel like I had a lot to lose. I wanted to confess, but the words didn’t come as easily as I thought they would and remained trapped behind my firmly pressed-together lips. Gareth looked at me as if he sensed my hesitation, but I couldn’t tell whether or not he was okay with it or was telling me not to talk. I suspected that he was leaving it up to me.
“We came here to look for Legacy,” I confessed softly.
She didn’t look as surprised as I’d expected her to. Instead, she took a long breath and then regarded me for a long moment. “Is it because you are one?” she asked in a quiet voice.
My head barely moved into the nod.
Again, there were several beats of silence before she spoke again. Her voice was flat, and her position changed slightly: she assumed something defensive as though she felt the need to protect herself. To protect herself from me and what she’d heard I was and what my kind were capable of.
Why are you looking for them? I didn’t need to speculate—I knew what she was wondering. Was I like Conner, trying to gather enough to do a Cleanse again? Did I have some nefarious plan?
I hesitated, and before I could speak, Gareth placed his hand on the small of my back for reassurance. “Have you kept up with what’s been going on in our department lately?” he asked in a confident and familiar way as if he was used to them doing that. Was his the department that others looked up to in order to pattern themselves after, or were they the ones that had the greatest incidents that other ones could learn from?
She nodded her head. “You all seem to have had a lot of events. Events that seem odd. I thought most of it could be attributed to the fact that the Maxwells had gotten out. But I can’t help but think that maybe there is more to it.”
Gareth ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it more than it was from the many times he had done it as we followed them to the precinct. He took a long time to consider his words, which didn’t seem to bother Tina. It was my assumption that she would’ve been just as careful with her own words.
He told her more than I expected: including the information about the Necro-spears and the betrayal by one of their own from the Magic Council, and Conner’s past transgressions of letting the Maxwells out of Baratrum twice. Continuing with the listing of Conner’s acts, he told her about him killing the founder of Humans First. It was the first time she had shown any reaction to the new information. She stood up taller, squaring her shoulders, and her eyes widened as she sucked in an audible breath. Seconds later she’d regained control over her demeanor. The mask of professional stoicism had returned. Gareth disclosed everything except for the leak they had in their department, and I suspected it had less to do with his “need-to-know” policy and more to do with the embarrassment associated with such betrayal in the department.
“You do seem to have your hands full. How is Harrah dealing with it?”
So everyone knew about it. Gareth shrugged. “You know she can spin anything; we aren’t getting a lot of pushback and hostility.”
“Yet,” Tina added. Looking concerned, she mulled over the new information. “Camden is handling the situation with the three murders. It’s going to be hard to keep down the panic.” She gave me a faint smile. “Witches will be up in arms, fearful that they are under attack. Three murdered witches is a pattern. We’ll do what we can to quell their concerns. Camden is as good at his job as Harrah,” she offered.
Was there a special “spin” school that they went to where they learned to be “good” at their job? Did everyone go to lie-your-ass-off university, but only the top graduates got those jobs?
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Tina offered. “For now, I thi
nk it best that this conversation stays between the three of us. I’m not in a hurry to have the Federal Supernatural Reinforcement snooping around, and the moment they consider things aren’t in our control, they will be there.”
I didn’t know much about the FSR, because our city rarely had cause for them to intervene, but they were equivalent to the FBI and dealt with things in the supernatural world. Going by the similar scowl the mention of their intervention brought to Gareth’s face, he didn’t want to deal with them, either.
CHAPTER 11
I didn’t want to stay another night in the city where three Legacy had been killed within hours of each other by a blind assailant who’d been able to render them paralyzed. Whether he did it by magic or fear, they’d been unable to fight. The dense, dark, shadowy magic inundated the air, or perhaps it just lingered in my mind because I’d forced myself to commit it to memory. I just didn’t know what I would do once I encountered it. Would I run or stay and fight?
I finally crawled out of my bed close to noon, and I was glad that Gareth was okay with me sleeping alone and hadn’t stayed. The day before had been trying, and I was left with so many questions. There was an assassin coming after Legacy and it wasn’t Trackers. Every time I thought about the murders one thing left me perplexed: why the hell did they not fight back?
Showered and dressed, I went into the kitchen ready for the onslaught of questions that I would get from Savannah. She deserved answers, but by the time we’d gotten to the house late last night I couldn’t give her any. I still hadn’t sorted out things, and I’d felt like everything was spiraling out of control and I was just grasping for something. The only comfort I had was at this point Gareth didn’t want to err on the side of caution—he was going to bring the Trackers in. Every last one of them. This didn’t stop the most immediate danger but at least they wouldn’t add to the situation.
Savannah’s face was absent her typical gleeful morning smile, instead it was somber, concerned, and perhaps a little angry.
Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3) Page 11
