The Witchkin Murders

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  His jaw clenched. Withholding information was not only stupid, it was a firing offense. Would he be so reluctant if he wasn’t hiding the same damned secret? What did that say about his capacity to do his damned job? On the other hand, until he knew more, he couldn’t know if being witches figured into the crime at all. He could report it later when he knew something for certain.

  Yeah, right. On what planet? Their kidnapping had everything to do with being witches. Quit being a pussy, Garza. Suck it up, and tell him already. These aren’t your secrets, and you can’t compromise your investigation just because you’re a fucking witch and you’re terrified of exposure.

  “Captain—” Before he could say more, Crice interrupted.

  “What kind of magic?”

  “Witch and something Logan couldn’t identify. I’m headed to Nuketown to see if the witches might know what we’re dealing with.”

  “Good. Update me as soon as you know something. Don’t screw this up.”

  “There’s just one—”

  The call cut off.

  Ray eyed his cell and shook his head. His confession would have to wait. His relief irritated him.

  He tucked the phone in his pocket and slid behind the wheel. He used his radio to tell dispatch he was out of service and on his way to Nuketown.

  A minute later, Kayla came out. She had a pack on her back—much smaller than the one she’d carried earlier. She set it on the back seat and then climbed in beside him.

  “What’s that?”

  “Some things to soften up a witch’s heart,” she said. “Stuff they can’t get all that easily. Tampons, for one.”

  “I could have lived without knowing that,” Ray said, starting the car and backing out of the driveway.

  “Men can be so squeamish.”

  “We could talk about ball sweat if you’d like,” he offered.

  She snickered. “Maybe not. Drink your coffee and drive.”

  Something in Ray’s chest loosened like an overtightened rusty valve. He felt himself smile. This was the way things were supposed to be. He’d fight hard not to lose this again.

  Chapter 13

  Kayla

  RAY YAWNED WIDELY as he backed out of the driveway. When he’d shifted into drive, he glanced at Kayla who stared through the windshield, her knees pulled up to her chin.

  “‘You okay?”

  “Whoever took Grandmother and Aunt Margaret knew they were witches before he went after them. He probably went after them because they were witches,” she said, voicing the thought that had been circling around in her skull.

  “Agreed,” Ray said, turning a corner.

  “Why risk taking them at home? Why not wait until they were out shopping or something?”

  “He might have had a deadline that couldn’t wait.”

  Kayla hadn’t wanted to arrive at that conclusion, but it was unavoidable. Which meant the kidnapper wasn’t going to ask for ransom at all, and which also meant that whatever he wanted them for was happening soon, if it hadn’t already.

  “I hate him, but my father doesn’t look good for it.”

  “He doesn’t have much motive,” Ray agreed. “He no doubt benefitted from their witchcraft. It’s possible he needed them out of the way for some reason, but in that case, I doubt he’d have made such a public production out of it. Be easy enough to arrange an accident.”

  “I’m having a hard time believing they didn’t know their kidnapper, either,” Kayla said, twisting to lean against the door so she could look at Ray. “They couldn’t possibly have been in a harder place for anyone to grab my grandmother and aunt. The kidnapper had to get on the grounds, in the house, and then down into the basement. Someone the family knew could have easily gained entry to the house. Question is, how did the guards and staff not see them?”

  Ray nodded and glanced over at her. “Maybe one of the not-a-coven witches staging some kind of coup to take over and used magic to hide?”

  “But wouldn’t Zach have sensed their magic? Could they have covered their tracks so well he couldn’t sniff them out? And what were those symbols? He seemed certain they weren’t witchcraft related.”

  Suddenly Ray stiffened, his hands tightening on the wheel.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook himself. “What do you mean, what?”

  “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked in a humorless smile. “I did. Her name is Kayla.”

  “Funny.” She twisted back around to face front.

  The silence stretched. Then Ray let out an aggravated breath and touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  She swallowed, making an effort to sound careless. “For what? It’s not like it’s not true, and you’ve made it pretty clear you think I suck. I would too, in your shoes.”

  “I told you we could work together on this.”

  “You didn’t say you’d be happy about it. Anyhow, no worries. I don’t expect you to forgive and forget.”

  Kayla kept her eyes fixed on the passing scenery, emptying her voice of emotion. She’d so deeply missed the joy of working, of the give-and-take in hashing out a case with him, that she’d let herself forget that things weren’t the way they’d used to be and she and he weren’t friends. He’d flat out told her so at Keller Fountain.

  He swore and punched the dash. That startled her enough to look at him.

  “What did you do that for?”

  Abruptly he twisted the wheel and hit the brakes, skidding to a stop on the side of the road. He jammed the shift into park and turned to look squarely at her. He looked as angry as he had that day she’d quit. She shrank back, bracing herself for his acrimony. Partners were closer than spouses, and by leaving without an explanation, she’d betrayed that soul-deep trust in a way that nobody should be expected to get over.

  He noticed her movement, his lip curling as he jerked back. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Kayla lifted her chin. He would, but not physically, and not deliberately. He didn’t think anything he said could hurt her. “I know.”

  “Do you? Because you’re looking at me like you expect me to start throwing punches.” His eyes glittered in the street lights.

  She rubbed her fingers over her throbbing forehead, feeling drained and wishing herself just about anywhere else. “Look, I don’t think you’re going to hit me. I’m just tired, and this kidnapping and dealing with my father has thrown me. Let’s just get going and get this all over with and then you won’t have to see me again.”

  His face flushed. “You think that’s what I want? To not see you? Goddammit, Kayla. I’ve missed the hell out of you every day since you quit. You were my best friend, the one person I thought I could trust with anything, and you left.”

  The ferocity of his tone stunned her as much as his words. She didn’t know what to make of either. She didn’t know how to make it right. He wasn’t going to let this go, and Kayla realized she couldn’t let him go on this way. She’d not wanted him to know because she’d been afraid of what he’d think of her. But maybe that’s exactly what he needed to be free. It wasn’t like it would make anything worse for her. He’d still be out of her life, only he’d stop torturing himself with wondering why. It had been cruel of her to put that on him.

  “Can’t you just talk to me? What the hell was so bad you’d dump your whole life in the toilet and me with it?”

  “I don’t—” She sighed and rubbed one of her eyes. Why not tell him? Because while he didn’t know, she wouldn’t have to see the disgust that she wasn’t human. Wasn’t a person. Then again, what difference would it make? Things couldn’t get much worse between them. She snorted inwardly. Never say never.

  “Let’s just say that if I was murdered, I wouldn’t qualify for
an investigation.”

  He sucked in a quiet breath. “What are you?”

  She searched for a description. Only one word came to mind. “A monster.”

  RAY PULLED INTO a dock just north of the hospital on the Willamette. He parked under a streetlight in a lot more full than it should have been at this time of night. Market night in Nuketown brought in a fair number of people from throughout Portland. The docks along this stretch of the river were reasonably safe, and a lot of boat taxis waited for fares.

  It was getting late, even for the Nuketown Night Market, and more people were returning from the Island than were going. Most people willing to go to Nuketown tried to get to the Night Market right after dark. The witches who ran the market had elected to hold it at night because most everybody could be nocturnal but a few who needed the market couldn’t stand the light of day. Plus, a lot of the witches preferred the ambience of night, especially since it made humans nervous.

  Ray led the way down to the boat shed for the Metropolitan police. He hadn’t said a word since her confession. A couple times it looked as though he wanted to speak but then thought the better of it.

  He chose a patrol boat from one of the slips, holding a hand out to help Kayla get aboard when the boat rocked on the waves. Kayla cast off after stowing her pack in a waterproof box in the stern. Ray started the boat, and as with cars running on magic, it made little sound as he reversed out of the slip and turned upriver.

  One of the things that had always struck Kayla as being strange and magical about the river even before Magicfall was the fact that it ran south to north rather than the reverse. Nuketown had developed on the south side of the metro area about ten miles east of Lake Oswego. The river had expanded into a vast lake with peninsulas and one giant island, which was actually the top of an underwater mountain. The lake started around where West Linn had been, swelling out to swallow Clackamas, Happy Valley, and Milwaukie before narrowing back down to river size again. Nuketown had grown up on the mountaintop island, imaginatively dubbed the Island.

  The Island itself was five miles wide and shaped like a seven-legged spider. All the trading happened in Nuketown, situated where the two southernmost legs connected to the center. Quite a few magical people lived on the Island in little villages, family nests, and protected enclaves.

  A six-foot-wide slatted bridge spanned the distance between the longest leg of the spider and the northeast side of the river. Magic held it in place. Other than that, the only way to get to the Island was by boat.

  The separation by water from the rest of the city blunted the suppressive power on practicing magic that came with a mass of civilization like a city. That allowed the witches and other magic-wielding creatures better use of their talents. Their isolation also made them feel both more dangerous to humans and semi-contained. The contradiction didn’t make any sense if you thought about it, but most humans tried not to think about it.

  Getting to the Island by boat wasn’t easy. The river had grown hazards after Magicfall, and most couldn’t be seen. Kayla was fairly certain a few of those had been created by witches or other witchkin to help protect their island sanctuary.

  Shortly after setting out on the water, they negotiated their way through the maze of giant, rippling coral that protruded out of the water in a dangerous ribbon forest. The colors ranged from cobalt blue, smoky purple, orange, yellow, to red as if a summer sunset had been captured, shattered, and planted into the river.

  It took concentration and quick reflexes to get safely through them. Even with a magical motor, the boat had difficulty fighting the current that did everything in its power to dash passing boats to smithereens on the exposed reef. There was no way to go around except on the shore, but building docks on the other southern side wasn’t feasible because of the waterspouts that would suddenly blow up out of nothing and wreak havoc on and off shore.

  Ray maneuvered the boat with skill and ease that spoke of practice. In the meantime, Kayla hunched in her seat under the cabin cover that housed the steering console. She quietly prayed that no water would splash her. Tired as she was, and having already resisted transformation once, she doubted she could hold out more than a few seconds if she did get wet.

  Most shifters tended to turn into something familiar like a lion or a wolf or an otter. Not Kayla. She didn’t even know what the hell she turned into. She’d gone as far as she could go into the university libraries looking for a reference to something like her. Nothing. She’d gone to Powell’s Books figuring there must be something in that huge variety. Again, a big fat nothing.

  What would Ray think if he saw her? She didn’t want to know. He’d crap his pants or run screaming. Maybe both. Her jaw tightened. It wouldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it.

  She braced herself as Ray swished them around a tight S-turn. Droplets of water splashed onto the windshield. She flinched.

  The water on the other side of the coral forest was bizarrely calm, as if the water held its breath and waited for something. If she’d been alone, she’d have gone into the water and transformed to find out why.

  They’d gone another half mile or so when Ray spoke. “Is there a less obvious place to tie up than the Night Market marina?”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “We’re driving a patrol boat. I’m not sure it’s the wisest choice for everybody to know there’s a cop wandering around.”

  Kayla snorted. “Even dressed as a civilian, I’m not sure anybody’s going to believe you’re anything but a cop. Good thing you never wanted to go undercover. You’d have been made in seconds.”

  He gave her one of those looks that said he agreed but wasn’t altogether bothered by that fact. “It’s always worth a shot.”

  Kayla had explored the Island many times from under the water. The floor of Lake Sagalie was deep and craggy with one lone mountain sticking all the way up to the surface, the Island being its crown. The lake’s name came from a Chinook shaman who showed up there as a cloud of rainbow light and declared the new lake would have that name. Wasn’t a soul in all the city who didn’t hear him. Even deaf people. After that, he vanished, but Kayla kept expecting him to show up any time someone forgot to call the lake the right name. Personally, she had a healthy enough respect for magic not to want to test the possibility. She had enough problems.

  “There’s a little cove where we can tie up the boat and pretty well be out of sight. From there it’s only about a mile to Nuketown.”

  She’d wanted a private spot where her other self could bask unseen in the sunshine in the summer months, so one night when it was storming and nobody could see her, she’d dug out a bowl in the rocks and a trench to the river, piling rocks up on either side to screen her from sight.

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s between the two hairpin legs.”

  Those two legs faced east and paralleled each other, with a small channel in between. It wasn’t terribly deep and had a number of sunken boulders and outcroppings that made it difficult to navigate, not to mention a grove of underwater sawgrass that could literally cut through a boat’s hull. Or at least the grove had been there, before Kayla had cleared most of it out to make herself a water road. Adding to the complication of getting in, the claws of the two legs curled toward each other, and on summer days when the water level dropped a little lower like it was now, a boat like this one would just barely get through.

  Ray frowned at her. “You sure? I didn’t even think anybody could get up in there with the boat.”

  Kayla gave a diffident shrug and looked out over the water. The fog had lifted, enough to see a few hundred yards ahead though everything still looked ghostly. “It’s a little tricky, but you won’t have any problem.”

  Ray turned the boat slightly toward the east, and Kayla thought she might have heard him say, “If you say so.”

  Aft
er the coral forest and the waterspout zone, the rest of the approach to the Island was usually pretty tame. But every so often a wandering whirlpool or three or four would pop up out of nowhere and pinball around the lake. They ranged from only a foot or two across to half a football field. Even the little ones were plenty dangerous. They could suck a boat down into the depths in nothing flat.

  Ray had slowed to give them a better chance to see a whirlpool and react. They moved quick. In her other form Kayla had the ability to sense them, to feel them in the water, but in her human form she was blind. How stupid was she to risk the boat and Ray’s life just because she was afraid to rip off the Band-Aid and show him? But no, stupid was too kind. She was a fucking coward.

  A vortex swirled at them, dragging them in. Ray swore and gunned the magical motor, twisting the wheel sharply. Kayla grabbed on to the edge of her seat. He overshot and got the boat crosswise of the current. The wave of water shoved them, tilting them dangerously down on the driver’s side. Any farther and they’d capsize. Panic exploded inside Kayla. This was it. This was how everything ended. Then Ray opened the motor all the way, swerving to get the push of the current behind them. The boat bucked slightly, hesitated, and then launched out of the whirlpool pull.

  Once they were clear, Kayla sucked in shallow, panting breath, finding it difficult to slow her pounding heart. Until faced with the inevitability, she hadn’t realized how much she didn’t want Ray to know—to actually see—what she’d become.

  Ray slowed the boat again and patted the dashboard. “Gotta love patrol boats. These babies are built for speed and endurance, and they can take a hell of a beating too.” He frowned at her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “A little seasick.” As if. But Ray seemed to accept that explanation for her short breaths and stiff posture.

  Meanwhile, Ray had the expression of a kid who’d just gone down the best roller-coaster ride of his life, rather than narrowly avoiding certain death. If he hadn’t become a detective, she was willing to bet he’d be a waterdog, which is what the cops patrolling the river were called.