Blood Relation (Arcane Casebook Book 6)

by Dan Willis

  Alex opened the notebook and tore out the page of notes relating to the Cartwright case.

  “The rest of this regards my other cases,” Alex said, offering the removed page to Harcourt. “So unless you have a warrant…”

  He let the sentence hang and Harcourt turned red as a beet. Alex suddenly realized why the balding man had been so angry that Alex pretended to be a police detective.

  “I’m guessing you do have a warrant,” Alex said with a sly smile. “But your warrant specifically says that you can seize the police files. I’m betting it doesn’t cover consultants, does it?”

  Harcourt snatched the offered paper from Alex’s grasp and stormed to the door.

  “You haven’t heard the last of this, detective,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll be back.”

  With that he threw open the door and stormed out, leaving it open behind him.

  “Looking forward to it,” Alex called after him. It was a childish thing to do and Alex knew he’d end up regretting it, but he just couldn’t help himself. He did manage to wait until he’d shut his door before laughing out loud.

  An hour later, Alex got off the skycrawler at the station across from the Chrysler Building and crossed the street. Once inside, he rode the elevator up to the sixty-fifth floor, home to the offices of Kincaid Enterprises. The last time he rode this elevator was five months ago when Andrew Barton’s assistant had tried to make himself a god by channeling magical energy directly into his brain. Alex, Barton, and Sorsha had confronted him and managed to stop him, but just barely. They were all left a bit shaken by the incident. Especially its culmination.

  Even now, Alex shuddered at the memory.

  In the aftermath of that incident, he’d let his guard down with Sorsha. He’d called her ‘doll.’ She’d chastised him for it, but then she’d kissed him on the cheek. He could still see the slightly exaggerated sway of her hips as she’d walked away from that moment. It wasn’t the first kiss she’d given him, but the previous one had been one full of fire and passion right on his mouth. She’d delivered it right before she’d informed him that she never wanted to see him again.

  That had been back when he’d been dying from having burned through most of his life energy. She hadn’t wanted to fall for him only to watch him fade away and die, and Alex didn’t blame her. That said, things were different now — Alex could have as much life as he wanted and Sorsha knew it.

  That kiss at the top of the Chrysler Building had been an invitation.

  Unfortunately right after that kiss, Alex and Sorsha had formed the Arcane Irregulars, a group dedicated to seeking out and stopping magical troublemakers. Sorsha had maneuvered Alex into the leadership position in the group, something Alex objected to and later resented. It made things between them awkward. As a result, even though the Irregulars met twice a month to go over possible leads, Alex hadn’t been to visit Sorsha outside of these meetings. He kept thinking that he should see her, but things just got busy between working for Barton and moving his office.

  He felt his hands shaking as the elevator slowed to a stop. Each time he’d failed to visit her in the past made it more and more difficult to face the possibility. Now he needed her help with a case, so he would have to confront Sorsha whether he wanted to or not.

  The offices of Kincaid Enterprises occupied a corner space on the sixty-fifth floor. The exterior walls were made entirely of frosted panels made with slightly bluish glass. Large silver letters adorned the door next to a handle made of chromed metal.

  Inside, a sumptuous waiting area was lined with comfortable leather seating and an art deco desk made of whitewashed wood, glass, and steel polished to a mirror shine. Alex knew from experience that the blonde, Scandinavian woman behind the desk was named Inge, and she smiled when she saw him. The smile quickly slid into a look of mocking amusement, as if she knew a secret about Alex. Ever since he’d met the girl, she made that face whenever she saw him. Clearly Alex’s potential relationship with the boss was a topic of conversation around the office and Inge had opinions.

  As Alex crossed the carpeted floor to the desk, Inge pressed a key on her intercom. A moment later Sorsha’s voice emanated from the speaker.

  “Mr. Lockerby is here to see you,” Inge said, her knowing grin getting somehow wider.

  There was a pause that made Inge raise the blonde eyebrow over her left eye, then Sorsha spoke.

  “Send him back.”

  Inge started to rise, but Alex waved her back into her seat.

  “I know the way,” he said.

  A set of double glass doors to the left of Inge’s desk led to a hallway with even more doors. Alex knew from experience that a large conference room occupied the right side with offices on the left, Sorsha’s being the first one. Alex knocked and went in.

  The office was as he remembered it — Sorsha’s desk in the center, with a massive window behind and comfortable armchairs in front. A door to the right side of the office led to a powder room, and it opened as Alex entered.

  “Hello, Alex,” Sorsha Kincaid said as she entered. Her platinum hair shone in the morning light, framing her delicate features and shading her face just enough to make her pale blue eyes stand out in contrast. Burgundy paint adorned her lips and her eyebrows had been darkened with eyeliner. There was a classical beauty about her that always reminded Alex of statues in museums, and he wondered if she cultivated that look on purpose. It had a way of reminding others that she was a very literal Greek goddess, at least in terms of her power.

  “It’s about time you came by,” she went on, the shadow of annoyance passing briefly over her features. There was also a slight edge in her voice that made the hairs on Alex’s arm stand up.

  “We saw each other two weeks ago at the last meeting of the Irregulars,” Alex said, attempting to put her at ease. That earned him a hard look.

  “But you haven’t come to see me,” she said, clearly irritated now. “I suppose you’ve come to ask me for my help on one of your cases?”

  She was exactly right, but her voice told Alex that this was the absolute wrong answer. Fortunately Alex had already decided to face her irritation head on.

  “Of course I’ve come for your help,” he said, pausing just long enough for Sorsha’s features to harden. “It gives me the perfect excuse to see you.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment, as if weighing his remarks for any signs of deceit, then the ghost of a smile touched her lips. Alex took that as a good sign, but Sorsha wasn’t the kind of woman to give up her pique without a fight.

  “As you said, though,” she said, her eyes flashing dangerously. “We saw each other just a few weeks ago. Why would you need an excuse to see me now?”

  Pasting on his most charming smile, he shrugged his shoulders. He was an idiot. He should have come to her months ago and he knew it. She knew it too, but she wouldn’t be satisfied until he admitted it.

  “The last time I was seen in public with you, the newspapers printed pictures,” he explained. “The way I remember it, they made some assertions you didn’t like. I didn’t want to put you through that again.”

  Her eyes narrowed down to slits and he could see the muscles in her jaw tightening. He’d boxed her in rather neatly, passing off his reluctance as courtesy, but she was far too smart not to suspect him of duplicity. If he didn’t offer an olive branch to go with his declaration, she’d be sure to make him regret it.

  “Of course if you’re willing to risk it,” he said in the most nonchalant tone he could manage. “I helped the head waiter at the Rainbow Room out of some trouble a while back. I’m sure he could get us a nice quiet, out-of-the-way table.”

  The only sign that the words had any effect on her was the arching of an eyebrow. After a tense moment, however, her lips melted into a languid smile.

  “Why Mr. Lockerby,” she said in a lilting voice. “Are you asking me out?”

  “I believe I am, Miss Kincaid. Perhaps we could take in a show—”


  Sorsha’s eyes suddenly hardened again. Alex almost blushed as he realized her mind had jumped to Regina Darling, the Broadway star Alex had dated recently. He chided himself as his mind raced.

  “There’s a picture I’ve been wanting to see,” he covered and Sorsha visibly relaxed. “Maybe we could see that first. You know, make an evening of it.”

  “I’m busy tonight,” she said, her smile becoming more genuine. “But I’m free tomorrow.”

  “Pick you up at six for the show?”

  “That would be lovely.” she said.

  Alex inclined his head and then turned to leave. He stopped as if suddenly remembering something and turned back.

  “Yes?” Sorsha said, barely hiding a smile at his somewhat obvious tactic. “Was there something else you needed?”

  “Since I’m here, you don’t happen to know someone named Earnest Harcourt, do you? Snappy dresser, bad toupee. He claims to work for the War Department.”

  “The government is a big organization, Alex,” she said. “I only work with the FBI.”

  “Could you ask around? I need to know if he’s on the level.”

  Sorsha promised that she would, and Alex turned to leave again.

  “How did you come to know a man in the War Department this week?” Sorsha asked, causing Alex to stop. Something in her voice sounded a warning bell in his mind and when he turned back, the playful look she’d worn was gone. Her face now had a serious aspect that Alex knew meant she was thinking through a problem.

  Alex told her about the death of Alice Cartwright and the appearance of Harcourt.

  “I guess that makes sense,” she said in a voice that clearly indicated she still had questions.

  “Are you working with the War Department now?” Alex asked, hoping to catch her in an unguarded moment and get an answer. Instead she just gave him a sly smile.

  “You ought to know that if I were working with the War Department, I couldn’t tell you about it.”

  So, yes.

  “You’ll let me know if you find out anything about Earnest Harcourt?” he said.

  Sorsha promised she would, and Alex showed himself out. She’d admitted that whatever she was currently involved in concerned the War Department, but that was all she could give him without compromising her own position. He’d have to do his own digging if he wanted to connect those dots. Still, if Harcourt turned out to be who he said he was, Alex might not need to bother at all.

  He decided not to worry about that until he had to, pushing the whole mess with Harcourt and Alice Cartwright out of his thoughts. They were much better occupied with a memory from the spring — a dance he shared in the Emerald Room.

  6

  Runes

  Half an hour after leaving Sorsha’s office, Alex rode the public elevator up from Empire Station to his twelfth floor office. Sorsha knew about his interconnected vault, so it would have been easier to return to his office that way, but when he opened his rune book, he found himself out of vault runes.

  It had been more than a week since he restocked his red-backed book, and he was running low on several of his usual constructs. He’d have to spend at least a few hours this morning replacing the more important ones. To completely refill his book would take the better part of two days, and Alex wasn’t looking forward to it. Writing runes used to excite and challenge him, but these days it had become a tedious task that occupied more of his time than he liked.

  What he really needed was to figure out how Moriarty had opened his vault using only a key. Now that thought filled Alex with nervous energy; he loved figuring out new ways to use runes and, as much to his surprise as anyone else’s, he was good at it.

  The elevator slowed and Alex stepped off onto the twelfth floor. The reality that he wasn’t going to play with new rune combinations brought a sigh from him, but there was no helping it. He was a runewright detective, despite having taken that slogan off his door, and that meant he needed the tools of his trade.

  “What’s that face about?” Sherry asked as he entered his office. Her usual smile shifted into worry before he could answer. “Marnie wasn’t out of coffee, was she?”

  Alex opened his kit bag and pulled out a heavy thermos, eliciting a relieved grin from his secretary.

  “Anything needing my attention?” he asked, placing the thermos on Sherry’s desk.

  She shook her head as she unscrewed the top of the thermos bottle.

  “I’ve got a few calls to return, but nothing active yet.”

  Alex nodded and headed for the back hallway.

  “I’ve got to call Danny, then I’ll be in my vault working on some runes,” he said. “If anyone needs me…take a message.”

  Sherry assured him that she’d handle things, and Alex trudged down the hall to his office. Just like his previous one, this office had a desk with two comfortable armchairs facing it. Unlike his former office, this desk was polished oak with brass accents and a leather top. It was something Alex could have afforded, but would never have bothered with. Like the furniture in his apartment upstairs, everything in his office had been supplied by Andrew Barton. As Alex sat behind the massive desk, he had to admit that the Lightning Lord had style.

  The top of the desk held a brass tray for his active case folders, a polished metal intercom box, a pen holder with a blotter, and a new, cradle-style telephone with an all-in-one receiver. Alex had a habit of leaving whatever folder he was working on open when he left for the day, but Sherry always came in first thing in the morning and tidied. She said that a clean workspace would keep Alex ‘centered,’ whatever that meant. Alex did have to admit that coming in to find a clean desk made him eager to face the day, so maybe she was on to something.

  Picking up the phone, Alex dialed the number for the Central Office of Police and asked for Lieutenant Pak.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the operator came back on after a minute. “Your party doesn’t answer.”

  “Try Captain Callahan,” Alex said. “Tell him it’s Alex Lockerby.”

  This time the line was quiet for almost two minutes.

  “What do I have to do to get rid of you, scribbler?” Callahan said when the line connected. “I figured now that I have the big office, you’d be Danny’s problem.”

  Callahan’s tone was gruff but there was no malice in his voice.

  “I’m just like a bad penny,” Alex said. “I always turn up. Besides, I’ve still got a whole book full of expensive runes you haven’t used.”

  “I’ll bet,” Callahan said, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice. “I’ve got work to do, Lockerby, what do you want?”

  “I’m on the trail of some burglars that knocked over a warehouse near Grand Central Terminal,” Alex explained. “Real pros.”

  “And you want to know if they’ve hit anyone else recently?” Callahan guessed.

  “You don’t get good at stealing without practice,” Alex said. “I figure this isn’t their first job.”

  “You want to talk to Lieutenant McClory,” Callahan said. “He’s over division four, they handle robbery. Tell him I sent you.”

  Alex thanked the Captain and hung up, calling back for McClory. The robbery lieutenant wasn’t thrilled with Alex’s request, but he took down the information and promised to have one of his detectives call back with any information matching the warehouse robbery.

  As he hung up the phone, Alex felt like there was something more he should do. Until he heard back on the robberies, though, he had no leads. Besides, he was just trying to avoid the work he needed to do.

  With a sigh, he put his hands on the leather desktop and pushed himself to his feet. If he didn’t restock his rune book, he wouldn’t be able to do much even if he got information on the robberies.

  “Off to work,” he said, heading for the cover door to his vault.

  Alex still wrote his runes at the large drafting table in his vault. He’d received the table years ago as payment for a case and he loved working at it. Unlike a desk, the dra
fting table had an angled writing surface that was four feet square. The angle of the upright surface was adjustable, as was the height, making it perfect for long writing jobs.

  Next to the drafting table stood a three-foot-tall rollaway cabinet. It was wider than a standard filing cabinet with drawers in the front where Alex kept the various pens, papers, and ink bottles he needed for rune writing. On top of the cabinet sat a half-full bottle of single malt Scotch, an empty shot glass, an intercom box, and a telephone. The latter two items were connected to the ones on Alex’s desk by running wires under the vault’s cover door. A second set of wires ran from the phone, along the wall behind the drafting table, and ended in the brownstone.

  As he sat down, Alex ignored the intercom and the phone; neither one would ring unless Sherry had something important to pass on, so Alex poured himself a Scotch, drained it, and set to work.

  His book was low on pretty much everything, and he didn’t have time to write all that he needed, so he had to prioritize. Most important were the finding runes. He still had three of those, but one good lead on Su Hi’s missing herbs could use those up in a single afternoon. In the old days, it would take Alex half an hour to write a finding rune. Now he could do it in half that time.

  Sitting at the writing table, Alex selected a bottle of emerald infused ink from the top drawer of the rollaway cabinet and set to work. Finding runes were elaborate constructs based on an octagon with runic symbols at each point. In the center, a sweeping, curved line went over the top of a straight, horizontal one with an angled end. When Alex first learned it, he thought of it as a dragon reclining on a chaise longue.

  After an hour, Alex had written four of the all-important runes, setting them aside on the edge of the drafting board so the ink could fully dry. Next came vault runes. With his linked doors, Alex used his vault to get back to his office or the brownstone several times a day. Fortunately vault runes were fairly simple, just a triangle with circles on each point and rune symbols in each circle, rendered in silver ink. In the center went a symbol of Alex’s own design that linked the rune to his specific vault. These were simple enough that Alex could knock out ten of them in an hour.