The Witchkin Murders

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

“Events? Stop sugarcoating, Kayla, and just tell me straight.”

  He felt her eyes on him. He kept his fixed on the road. He didn’t want her seeing the black rage that had erupted inside him.

  “When I was twelve, I had this treehouse. Nobody but Landon and me went there. My father and I had gotten into a fight the night before. I’d been rude and loud at a dinner party and embarrassed him. I did it on purpose because he’d had my favorite teddy bear taken out to the firepit and burned. He made me watch. I can’t remember why he did that.”

  Ray risked a glance at her. She was staring down into her lap, her forehead wrinkling as she tried to remember her crime. After a minute she shook away the effort and continued.

  “I didn’t notice when I climbed up that day that the windows had been covered with fine mesh. Next thing I know, bees start pouring in from a hole in the roof that hadn’t been there before. I tried to get out, but the door was locked.” She stared into space.

  “The next thing I remember I’m in the hospital and everybody is crying. Everybody but my dad. He just looked at me, and I knew it had been his punishment.”

  “Jesus fuck,” Ray muttered. “The man’s a psychopath. He didn’t really physically hurt you? The hell he didn’t.” His voice rose, and he felt power spinning through him like a hot cyclone. He clamped his lips together, gathering what calm he could.

  “What else did he do?” he asked in a low voice when he’d found some semblance of control.

  Kayla rubbed the back of one of her hands. “Doesn’t really matter. The main thing is I got out and he can’t touch me now.”

  “Why? Because of the history of witches in your family? If he’s as vindictive as I think he is, he’ll get you before you have a chance to leak the witch story.”

  “The news will still get out. I’ve made sure of it.”

  “He gets pissed enough, he won’t care. He’ll be after you regardless.”

  “Let him try,” was her only response.

  That brought Ray to his next burning question. “You say that like you’ve got an ace in the hole. Are you a witch, too? Like your aunt and grandmother?”

  He felt her eyes on him.

  “No. I never showed any signs of power, much to Grandmother’s eternal disappointment.”

  Truth rang in her words. Ray digested them, a sick feeling beginning to churn in his stomach. He’d been certain she’d quit the force because she’d manifested witch powers. It had given him hope, not just that having her secret out in the open made it possible for them to be friends again, but that he’d finally have someone who understood what he was going through. He’d have someone he could confide in.

  But she was hiding something else altogether.

  He fell silent. He didn’t know what to say to her. Anger started to build. It helped combat the ache of dying hope.

  “My father won’t let Landon keep the card you gave him,” she said suddenly.

  It took Ray a moment to get on the same page. “I gave him two. One to be confiscated and the other to keep.”

  “You always were two steps ahead of the game.”

  His lips bent in a bitter smile. “Not always. Not with you.”

  Neither spoke again until they neared the station. Ray figured he’d grab the new phone and take Kayla home.

  As he pulled into the parking lot, Kayla spoke.

  “I wish I could have done it differently,” she said.

  “Do what?”

  “Quit. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  She’d said leaving Landon behind when she’d joined the academy was the second hardest. Ray wasn’t sure what to make of her statement, but he wouldn’t ask why she’d left. Not right now. She wasn’t ready to tell him, and he didn’t think he could handle another one of her refusals to speak. Instead he focused on what she did say.

  “Had to do?” he asked, fixing on the word. “No one forced you.”

  She sighed. “No. No one forced me.”

  Ray pulled into his parking spot and shut the car off. He unbuckled and turned in his seat to look at her. “Something happened to you at Magicfall,” he said, the pieces falling into place again. Her anger over his dismissal of the witchkin’s murders. Her quitting right after Magicfall. Her refusal to explain why.

  But if she wasn’t human anymore, what was she? And did he care?

  “The world turned inside out that day. For everybody.”

  Another nonanswer. Disappointment washed through him. He swiveled away and thrust open his door.

  “I’ll be back. I’m getting my phone.”

  He didn’t ask her to come inside. Neither did he tell her to wait. She would. She needed him. For now.

  Bitterness flooded his mouth as he strode away and into the building, for once not aimed at Kayla. He had no right to be angry. Whatever had happened at Magicfall, he’d made it so she couldn’t tell him. He should have put it together a long time ago. He should have sought her out and bulldogged her until he got the truth. How would the last four years have been if he hadn’t had his head so far up his ass he couldn’t pick up the obvious clues?

  “Some detective I am,” he muttered as he pushed the station doors open. He went directly to the property clerk where his new phone awaited pickup. He signed the paperwork and thanked the clerk, then headed straight back out. As sure as he was that Kayla would wait, he didn’t want to give her too much time to decide to go it alone.

  As he walked, he inserted the memory card he’d jacked from his old phone while Kayla was busy distracting Alastair, and made sure the pictures he’d taken at the Runyon estate were there. He sent a text to his old number, hoping Landon had managed to keep it from Kayla’s father. He typed in his name and then hit send. The card he’d slipped the kid had the dispatch number on it, and his text gave Landon his new number.

  Relief washed through him when he found Kayla still sitting in the squad car. He slid behind the wheel.

  “Where do you live?”

  The address she gave him took them to a neighborhood at the edge of Washington Park near the amphitheater. She lived in a quaint two-story brick house with several stained-glass windows and a pointed arch above the door.

  Ray pulled into the driveway and parked. “I’m coming in,” he said, not letting her argue. He grabbed her pack out of the back seat and followed her to the front door. Above the lintel were two beasts set in tile that looked like sea dragons. Above them protruded a ledge of brick covered with peeling white paint.

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Two years. It was empty. Whoever owned it hadn’t been here for quite a while.”

  The inside of her house was cozy, with a living room equipped with a comfortable-looking couch, several recliner chairs, and a wood fireplace. Kayla pointed to a spot in the mudroom for him to set her pack, then took off her boots. She stripped off her jacket, revealing a plum-colored long-sleeved shirt.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “You haven’t eaten since before I called, have you?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer but headed into the kitchen. Ray followed, sitting down on one of the two stools beside the breakfast bar. He watched as she pulled out the makings for an omelet, along with a slab of bacon and potatoes. She set to work in silence, pausing to put on coffee. When it was done, she poured him a cup.

  “At least we didn’t lose coffee with Magicfall,” Ray said as he stirred in some sugar and sipped. Better to keep the conversation off heavy subjects for now.

  “I’ve heard the Astoria coven of witches has it growing in greenhouses,” she said.

  They made small talk about changes in Portland and the rest of Oregon since Magicfall, carefully avoiding anything personal.

  “That looks amazing,” he said as she set a loaded plate in
front of him. His stomach gnawing at his ribs, Ray plowed into the meal. Kayla ate hers more slowly, standing up on the opposite side of the bar. When they finished, she put on rubber gloves and rinsed the dishes and wiped down the counters. When she could find nothing else to do, she led the way back to the living room and sat down in the corner of the couch, her feet curled up beneath her.

  Ray sat just in front of her on the coffee table. She waited warily for him to speak.

  “If I’m going to let you investigate with me, I need some promises,” he said. “First, you don’t go off on your own. We’ll do this together or not at all.”

  She nodded agreement.

  “Second, you don’t keep any secrets from me that bear on the case. That’s non-negotiable.”

  Another nod.

  He drew in a rough breath. Now for the tough part. “Kayla, I have to know what happened. I have some guesses, but I need your word that you’ll tell me when this is all over. That we’ll talk about it.”

  It wasn’t a condition. He wouldn’t make it one, because this is where she might draw the line and he wasn’t going to drive her off. The fact that she hadn’t trusted him hurt like a bitch still, and realizing he’d practically driven her off made it ten times worse.

  Would you have told her you’re a witch? The nasty little overly reasonable voice was back. Will you tell her?

  Kayla was no longer looking at him. She stared at her knees and chewed her lower lip. One hand smoothed back a strand of hair. It trembled.

  How bad could it be? It wasn’t something obvious like becoming a troll or one of the harpies he’d heard had been hanging out near the massive Clatskanie Bay that now served as the estuary between the Columbia River and the ocean.

  Finally, she looked at him, her dark eyes luminous with unshed tears. “When it’s over. But—”

  She broke off and swallowed hard, compressing her lips together and shaking her head and looking away.

  That was all the answer he was going to get. It was better than he’d expected. At least she hadn’t refused outright.

  Ray decided to move on. “But first—for the record, I know I was an asshole. I made you think you couldn’t trust me, and I can’t tell you how much I regret that.”

  Her head snapped around, and her stunned gaze locked with his. “You what?”

  He grimaced. “I apologize for the things I said to you back then. I should have tried to talk to you. I shouldn’t have given up.”

  She gave a thin smile. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

  “But I should have tried.”

  She shifted uneasily, toying with the hem of her shirt. Before she could shut down on him, Ray changed the subject.

  “The first thing we should do is get to Nuketown and see if we can find a witch who can tell us what these symbols are.”

  Kayla visibly relaxed as he switched gears. “They don’t like cops.”

  “You’re not going without me.”

  “They won’t hurt me; they know me.”

  “How?” The question came out harsher than he wanted, but dammit, what was she doing hanging out in Nuketown? Didn’t she know how crazy dangerous it was? A gun wasn’t going to help her against witches and witchkin. Especially against the Sunspears and Shadowblades—warriors the more powerful witches created to guard their covens. They transformed humans into supernatural fighting machines with psychotic tendencies.

  “I go there a lot,” she said with a dismissive gesture. “Nessa—I sell my salvage to her shop—sets up a store there a couple times a month. I help her with it.”

  “Are you insane?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Why? Because they aren’t human?”

  His fist hit the arm of the chair. “Because they are fucking dangerous, Kayla. And unpredictable. Shit, you know what happened during the war, what sorts of atrocities they are capable of.”

  She gave a faint shake of her head. “From what I heard, most of the supernaturals who attacked humans in the war didn’t want to. They were forced by the Guardians.”

  The Guardians were supernatural beings with god-like powers who had been responsible for Magicfall. They’d been angry at the way humans had covered the earth and forced the magical creatures into hiding, or driven them away entirely. Their plan had been to wipe out most of humanity and bring magic back into the world so that the magical denizens could thrive.

  Fortunately for humanity, they hadn’t expected the technology and architecture of the modern world to hinder their efforts. Nor had they expected the birth and power of the technomages. Not nearly as much humanity had died or changed as they’d planned. But a lot had. And many of those deaths had come at the hands of the magical armies led by witches.

  Ray scratched his jaw, biting back the torrent of protective and angry words that threatened to spew out. Kayla was no helpless child. She was a grown woman with skills. The problem was that they sure as hell weren’t enough to save her from a magical attack.

  Unless they were. What the hell did he know? She’d managed four years living with witchkin and survived the Witchwar just fine on her own.

  “We’ll go together,” he said with finality.

  “I’ll get more information on my own.”

  “Then we’ll split up while we’re there.”

  Not to mention Ray should spend more time in Nuketown and get acquainted with its denizens. The department tended to ignore arcane-on-arcane crimes. They didn’t have enough manpower or the magic to deal with them, and who cared what Portland’s magical denizens did to each other? But arcane-on-human crime was another kettle of fish, even though the city government refused to authorize all the resources they needed to investigate, especially since that would mean hiring non-humans onto the force. Not a popular idea. Making contacts in Nuketown could only help Ray do his job.

  “When do you want to leave?”

  Ray was exhausted and would have loved a few hours’ sleep. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to get them for quite a while. “When are we most likely to find what we’re looking for?”

  She glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was coming up on one in the morning. It would take at least an hour to get there.

  “No time like the present,” she said and stood. “Let me get changed.”

  She ran up the stairs. Ray stood and paced, wishing he could grab a shower and a change of clothes. He’d stand out like a lighthouse beacon in his suit.

  Ten minutes later Kayla reappeared. She’d brushed her hair and tied it back again, and she now wore heavy canvas Carhartt pants and a blue henley. Even in midsummer, the fog on the river and the late hour meant there’d be a chill in the air.

  Over her arm, Kayla had slung a small pile of shirts. She handed them to Ray. “See if any of these fit.”

  Jealousy spiked and drove a rusty railroad tie into his gut. Had she found a lover? But of course she had. What man wouldn’t want her? Well Ray would fucking well walk through fire before he wore her lover’s clothes. He just barely resisted the urge to throw the clothing back in her face.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ll stick out like a bull in a chicken coop. One of those ought to fit. You’re lucky I had them, though. Most clothes I find go to Nessa, but I haven’t cleaned out all the stuff belonging to the former residents. If you want, you can check and see if any of the pants that got left behind will fit. Second bedroom on the right.” She gestured toward the stairs.

  Ray gave a short nod and went up the stairs, two at a time. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else, his insane relief at knowing she hadn’t given him hand-me-downs of one of her lovers crashing through him.

  God but he had to get a handle on this jealousy and possessiveness. Now was not the time to go Neanderthal and start peeing on his territor
y. Kayla would definitely not appreciate that, and anyway, too much shit lay between them. Any relationship required trust, and until she came clean, he couldn’t scrape up much for her. Just because his dick was raging to get inside her didn’t mean his brain was willing to take the risk of getting fucked again. First he needed some truth from her. Then maybe there’d be a possibility for clawing back friendship going forward. After that? Well, that was wait and see.

  He did find a pair of jeans that he could wear, though they fit a little tighter than he liked. He also found a green tee shirt with a silkscreened picture of a leprechaun drinking a beer on it. Over that he pulled a black wool sweater. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fit his feet into the boots he found, which left him with his brown loafers.

  Ray gathered up his rumpled suit and folded it, packing it into a gym bag he found on the floor of the closet and went downstairs. Kayla waited with a thermos of coffee and two full travel mugs.

  He smiled appreciatively. One thing they both had in common was a deep love of coffee. He reached for one of the mugs.

  “I forgot what you looked like in civvies,” she said, looking him up and down. “You look—”

  His brows rose as he waited for her to finish her sentence. “I look . . . ?”

  “Fit,” she said as she turned away. “We should go.”

  Ray nodded, uncertain whether ‘‘fit” could be read as a compliment or not. He didn’t think that’s what she’d originally meant to say.

  He stashed the gym bag in the trunk and grimaced. He should update Crice.

  The captain answered almost before the phone rang.

  “What? Who is this?” Crice barked.

  “Garza. I picked up a new phone.”

  “What’ve you got?”

  “I located the crime scene. It looks like magic was involved in the abduction.”

  He found himself reluctant to report that Theresa Runyon and her daughter were witches, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe because he didn’t relish exposing their secret and ruining their lives.