Vulture Moon

by Alexes Razevich

  “Oh no, no, no,” Chas said. “I know what I saw, and what I saw was magic.”

  I let a brief silence go by. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Come on, Cous,” he said. “It’s common family lore that Audrey and Cassie were magical. Family lore also says your grandmother was a psychic who could turn into a freaking animal when she wanted. Your mom tries to act all normal, but everyone in the family knows she’s magical too. Looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with you.”

  I forced a laugh. “If I were magical, don’t you think I would have gotten that pony I desperately wanted when I was a kid? Family stories are just that—stories.”

  “Then it must be your boyfriend. Those dogs came out of nowhere and disappeared in a blink. None of my neighbors have animals like that.”

  My heart was thumping but I kept my voice calm. “Stop being a goon, Chas. Tawny won’t bother you anymore. I’m going to hang up now.”

  I did before he could say anything more.

  “He’s going to be trouble,” Dee said.

  I shook my head. “He’s young and kind of stupid, but he won’t cause any grief. I probably won’t hear from him again until the new year, and that’s almost four months away.

  Dee didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t know my cousin like I did. Chas had the attention span of a gnat. A week from now, he’d probably have forgotten today even happened.

  When we arrived at The Bean Pot, a sign on the door said Closed for private event. A nervous frisson shot through me. The whole building fairly shimmered with the magic contained inside it. I knew Dee felt it too.

  “What do you think?” I said.

  Dee tsked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I’d say we’re in for a grilling.”

  “About?”

  “The deaths,” he said. “Jack must have turned in his report to the council and they have questions.” He laid a hand on my shoulder a moment. “You’re going to be on the hot seat. You need to tell the council about the dead being stuck in this world. You need to tell them everything you learned.”

  “If that’s all,” I said, worried that somehow the council had already heard about the snarling dog illusion Dee had conjured, “then no problem.”

  We couldn’t see any people inside, but they must have heard us arrive. Jack, wearing the all-white uniform of the magic police, came to the door, unlocked it, and let us in. He nodded a greeting but didn’t say anything as he led us to the back room.

  The small, cozy square tables that had filled the room before were gone, replaced by one long table draped in a white cloth. Behind the table a dozen men and women, their faces masks of impartiality, watched us walk in. Each wore a long purple cloak that hid whatever they wore underneath. Dee stopped just inside the door and made a small bow to them that seemed more obligatory than respectful, then continued on. Several chairs lined the walls, most of them occupied. Jack took one, sitting with a man and two women who also wore all-white uniforms. My mouth went dry at the fierce formality of the scene. I half-expected nerve-jangling music to play. It would have felt appropriate.

  Dee stopped a few feet in front of the table. I stopped beside him.

  A tall woman with beautiful burnt umber skin sat at the center of the table. Her voice carried command in every syllable, “Wizard Adair, thank you for joining us today.”

  Dee replied with a small nod of his head.

  “And this,” the woman said, focusing on me, “must be the psychic, Goodlight.”

  Her gaze seemed to pierce my skin and head straight for my heart. I had no idea what, if anything, I was supposed to say, so I followed Dee’s lead and inclined my head in a quiet nod.

  The woman gave a small flick of her wrist and two chairs slid away from the wall, across the floor, and stopped behind us.

  “Please,” the woman said. “Be seated.”

  A wiggle of nerves flowed through my body. This felt a lot like being called to the principal’s office. Dee shot me a quick glance and raked his fingers through his hair at his temples, inviting me into his mind. I slipped in, and saw him shift slightly, making himself comfortable with the itch inside his skull that told him I was there. We sat.

  Dee focused on the woman and I heard his voice in my mind. The council changes head every year at the summer equinox. Justine Benoit is this year’s head. Raging intelligence. One of the smartest women I know.

  I glanced at the woman. She had her eyes on me. Her gaze was steady but there was curiosity there, too—and the tiniest suggestion of humor and compassion.

  “Psychic Goodlight,” she said, “we thank you for coming today. Normally, you would not fall under this council’s jurisdiction, though I understand you are now also a wizard-in-training—” She shot a frown at Dee, then shifted her gaze back to me. “—so perhaps you do. That is a matter to be sorted out another day.” She sent another quick glare at Dee, then looked back at me. “Today, we would be grateful to hear what you know about these odd deaths occurring around us.”

  I seem to be in a bit of trouble, Dee thought for my benefit. Don’t worry about it. Focus on telling your story.

  I considered poking around in Justine Benoit’s mind, but she’d probably be aware of me in there the same way Dee always is. She didn’t strike me as someone who wouldn’t care.

  I cleared my throat. “I can only tell you what I’ve felt around the scenes.”

  I started with Brittany Keller and worked my way person by person, women and men, old and young, magical and ordin, to the end. When I finished, sadness had settled on me like a heavy coat. So much death—and for what? Was there some mad purpose behind it or was it just senseless killing? Neither option was good.

  The council head turned to her companions at the table and asked, “Any questions?”

  A tall, stoop-shoulder man in his forties with brown hair running to grey at the temples raised one finger in the air. Justine nodded at him.

  I heard Dee in my head saying, Byron Walters. A reasonable enough wizard.

  “I would like to know,” Byron said, “why Officer Schneider brought this psychic into the investigation in the first place.”

  All eyes shifted to the wall where Jack sat with his three magic police companions. He stood and bowed to Byron Walters.

  “Thank you for the opportunity to explain my decision,” Jack said. “I became acquainted with Psychic Goodlight while on the Sudie Wakanabe murder case. I found her insightful and her talents accurate and useful. These deaths are unusual. I felt her ability might help us find the truth about what’s happening.”

  Another wizard, a man maybe in his late sixties, medium height, a shock of wheat-blonde hair cut military short, raised a finger. Justine recognized him.

  Dee’s voice in my head said, Hugo Bernard. Total tight ass. Fancies himself the keeper of the pure flame of true magic.

  I stopped myself from snickering at the description.

  Hugo didn’t look at Jack or at me. He focused on Justine and said, “I take it from your earlier remarks that this psychic is getting magical training from Wizard Adair—who is neither accredited nor mature enough to teach magic to anyone.”

  I had a feeling this would be coming, Dee said in my head.

  Justine nodded.

  “That cannot stand,” Hugo said firmly. “If the girl wishes to join us, I suggest she be offered the opportunity to train with an accredited teacher.”

  Justine considered that, then turned to me. “Do you wish to learn magic and truly join our community?”

  My tongue seemed to have thickened in my mouth. I’d taken learning a few spells as no big deal. This council seemed to think it was a big deal indeed.

  If I said yes, Hugo would likely argue that my mentor be someone other than Diego, which frankly didn’t interest me. If I said no but continued learning from Dee, he’d be in trouble. How much and what kind of trouble? I had no way of knowing.

  Likely Dee knew, and Justine, and Hugo, and the rest of the c
ouncil. I had to guess since Dee had decided not to think the answer at the moment. My guess, given the harsh gleam in Hugo’s eyes, was a pretty fair amount of grief.

  I glanced at Dee, hoping to read something on his face, but his expression was bland, disinterested. His voice in my head stayed silent, which meant he’d purposely made his mind blank.

  Hell of a time to leave me on my own, I thought, and regretted yet again that he couldn’t read my thoughts the way I could read his.

  Jack saved me.

  He rose and bowed to the council members. “Please excuse my interruption, but that question seems one for another day. The issues before us are these deaths, what might be causing them, and what they might mean—especially given that Psychic Goodlight reports that the dead aren’t moving on. Why are they stuck here as ghosts? It’s not unusual for someone who died violently to refuse to move on, but all five? That seems unlikely. Are they under the control of the same force that killed them, or another?” His eyes flickered to Hugo Bernard and then back to Justine. “Worry over who might teach this psychic a spell or two seems a distraction and a waste of time that we may not have to wile away.”

  “Quite right,” Justine said, glancing up and down the table, making sure each council member had gotten the point.

  She turned her gaze to me. “I’m interested in this coven Brittany Keller was supposed to have recently joined. Witches also fall under the purview of this council. I want to be sure I have the coven leader correct. Frankie Ulmego, you said.”

  I nodded.

  Justine looked pointedly at Hugo Bernard. “Would you please follow up with Witch Ulmego?”

  Hugo didn’t look pleased with the task but nodded. I hoped that meant the coven was one less thing Dee and I had to look into. I hoped, too, that Jack would tell us what Hugo learned, if anything.

  Justine shifted her attentions back to me. “Do you have anything more to add about the deaths?”

  I pressed my lips together, unsure if I should say what I thought.

  Dee nudged me gently with his elbow. Whatever it is, tell them.

  Oh, now he’s thinking to me again.

  I cleared my throat. “I don’t feel the coven has anything to do with Brittany’s death.”

  Several of the council members raised their eyebrows. Hugo Bernard scowled.

  “Why is that?” Justine said.

  I shrugged. “It’s just what I feel. Sometimes my psychic knowledge is concrete. Sometimes it’s—I don’t know how to explain it. More loosey-goosey.”

  A couple of the council members laughed lightly. Hugo Bernard’s scowl deepened.

  I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m sorry, I can’t be more definitive. Certainly look into the coven, but I don’t think there’s anything there to do with the five sudden deaths.”

  “Then the council thanks you for your help,” Justine said, dismissing us.

  Dee bowed slightly again and turned to go.

  I followed his lead, resisting the urge to turn back for a final look at Hugo—imprinting his face in my mind so I’d know him should I ever see him again. Resisting, too, the urge to pop into his mind and hear what he was thinking. Tight ass indeed. Who I learned magic from was none of his damn business. Stupid rules.

  “One other point,” Justine said, forcing Dee and me to turn and listen to her again. She’d let us start to walk away and then called us back on purpose—all the better to add emphasis to whatever she’d say next. My liking for the woman dropped down a few points.

  “The magic police have this investigation well in hand now. Civilians, of course, must stay out of their way and let them do their jobs.”

  I felt the energy in the room subtly change. A warning to us. A rebuke to Jack. Some people didn’t like one or the other, or both. Hugo, on the other hand, fairly beamed his pleasure.

  Dee acknowledged the council head’s words with a slight tilt of his head. We turned toward the door again and made it out of the room without further callbacks.

  “Where to?” I asked when we were back on the street heading toward Dee’s car.

  “Home,” he said. “Yours or mine; it doesn’t matter. I could use a walk by the water to get the stink of Hugo Bernard out of my nose.” He paused. “If you don’t mind company, that is.”

  “I don’t mind your company,” I said. “The rest of the world can stay away for a while, thank you.”

  His shoulders relaxed, and he took my hand. “You did great, by the way. Spoke clearly, point by point. You’ve helped the council and the MPs a lot.”

  “Except now we’ve been warned off,” I said.

  “Brittany’s mother is Danyon & Peet’s client. We’ll continue working on that case. If it touches on other, related things . . .” Dee shrugged.

  I squeezed his hand slightly. “You’re sort of a rebel, aren’t you?”

  “Not at all. I take my work for our clients seriously. Tilda Keller is in pain over her daughter’s death. We have a moral obligation to ease that pain with facts, if we can. If we can discover who did it, why, and maybe help put a stop to more deaths, we have an obligation to do that as well.”

  “So, we’ll turn any information we gather over to the magic police?”

  Dee smiled thinly. “Possibly.”

  That was Dee all over. Always a perfectly good reason to do exactly what he wanted.

  I’d felt all the dead that the MPs knew about. I had compassion for the families of each of them. And a bit of desire for revenge, if I were honest. I was glad we’d keep hunting for the facts—and the killer.

  “So, Hugo Bernard,” I said as I slipped into the passenger seat of Dee’s car. “What’s the story with him. He has a thing for you, no doubt about that.”

  “It’s not me he dislikes so much as The Gate.” He paused. “Dislike isn’t the right word. Hate is more like it. Hugo hates The Gate.”

  Chapter Six

  We carried our shoes in our hands as we strolled the wet sand at the shoreline. Dee drew his power from the earth and I drew mine from the sea. Both of us were feeling better and stronger for walking where land and water met.

  “So, what happened between The Gate and Hugo?” I said as we turned to head back to my house. “Why do they hate each other?” I reached up and played with a tendril of his dark hair at the back of his head. “Unless it’s private.”

  “Not private,” he said. “It’s pretty well known in the community. Practically infamous. The hate only goes one way—from Hugo toward The Gate.”

  I slipped my arm around his waist, so our sides touched as we walked. It was amazing, really, how the feel of his skin could banish all the horrid reality of the last few days for me—even if only temporarily. Murder, ghosts stuck on this plane, the worry that somehow Dee and I would be punished for him teaching me a bit of magic—it all fell away. Here, now, the whole world was the two of us and nothing more, and it was perfect.

  “It was over a woman, of course,” he said. “Jenna Dunne. I’ve seen photos of her. She was stunning. Tall, fire-red hair. A body to die for. Every man’s wet dream.

  I frowned at him. He shrugged.

  “On top of that,” Dee said, “she was a first-class wizard. She developed spells that are amazing in their elegance.”

  I knew where this story was going. The same place these kinds of stories always went. “They both loved her. She loved The Gate.”

  “She loved Hugo, who it seems wasn’t such a tight ass in those days. They married and had two children—a daughter and a son.”

  I blinked in surprise. I couldn’t imagine Hugo ever not being the way I saw him today or imagine a woman like Dee described falling in love with that pinched-soul man.

  “If Hugo won the prize, why does he despise The Gate? And why is he so sour toward you?” I stopped. “Sorry. Tell the story your way.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Over time, Hugo began to believe Jenna was involved with someone else. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. In any event, Hugo believed it and started
to get very controlling. He didn’t want her or the kids out of his sight. If he had business to do, he’d lock them in the house with wards. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Right under Hugo’s nose, she packed up the kids and ran to The Gate for protection.

  “But they weren’t involved?”

  “He says no, not after Jenna married Hugo, and I’ve no reason not to believe him. Jenna and The Gate had gone out together and were friends. As The Gate’s power grew, Hugo decided his wife preferred her old boyfriend, who was now the more powerful wizard.” Dee paused. “Hugo challenged Gate to a magical duel. The winner got Jenna and the kids.”

  I glared at him, making my feelings plain about a man’s wife and children being little more than prizes in an ego battle.

  He held one hand up. “Don’t blame me. Back in the early 1900s, women and children as a man’s property was a pretty common attitude.”

  I blinked at the date. I knew wizards could have long lives, but not that long. I wondered suddenly how old Diego really was.

  “I’d guess The Gate won,” I said.

  Dee grinned, proud of his mentor’s victory. “Resoundingly. And in public. The magical public at least. Hugo turned as bitter as rat poison. He tends his bitterness the way a gardener tends his favorite hothouse flower.”

  I thought about that as I fished out my house key, took down the wards, and let us inside.

  “What happened with Jenna and the kids?”

  “No one knows for sure. Gate put a glamour on them, so they were unrecognizable to anyone who knew them before. They went off somewhere and lived their lives, I guess.”

  “That doesn’t explain why he dislikes you,” I said.

  Dee hiked a shoulder in a small shrug. “I guess Hugo’s hatred for the man he considered a rival, the man who engineered the disappearance of his wife and children spills over onto those close to The Gate.”

  “Does he hate Gil the same way?”

  He shrugged again. “Less so. Something about me rubs him the wrong way.”

  “You remind him of The Gate,” I said, sure I was right. “Gil doesn’t so much.”