Grave Cargo: Arcane Transporter 1

by Jami Gray

  Brenner followed my gaze. “A call came in, and the first responders hit the scene.” He turned back to me, all signs of lightness gone, replaced by a stoic grimness. “The code came as a 451-M.”

  It took a moment for my brain to translate the radio code. “Magical homicide?”

  He gave me a nod. “ACRT is on its way.”

  When magic was used to commit a crime, the Arcane Criminal Response Team, or ACRT, was called in to contain any magical fallout. Maybe Angela’s theory of Family involvement wasn’t so far-fetched after all. “Any idea of who your victim is?”

  “We’re in the process of ID’ing him now.” Something worked behind his eyes, leaving me unsettled, and I wasn’t sure why. “How long did you say you’ve lived here?”

  For the first time, my anxiety churned. “Almost seven months.” When he didn’t say anything more, I pressed, “Why?”

  Instead of answering, he asked, “Are you still working for the Guild?”

  “Yes, on a contract basis.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Any recent jobs involving known Family associates?”

  It was my turn to go cryptic, as I didn’t like where this was headed. “You know how it works, Detective. All Guild contracts carry a confidentiality clause.” In fact, those nondisclosure agreements were ironclad. To break one would require a hell of a warrant. Not to mention the Guild paid a pretty penny to a team of lawyers well-known for their ability to block said requests.

  Brenner’s smile was more of a grim twist of lips. “You do realize your non-answer is an answer?”

  Giving myself a stern reminder on professionalism, I held his gaze without flinching and fought back my urge to snarl some pithy comeback.

  He sighed, dropped his foot and sat forward, bracing his hands on his knees. “Just do me a favor and don’t take any out-of-town jobs, okay?” He waited for my nod before he stood.

  Studying him, I took my time doing the same. When we stood side by side, I asked softly, “That bad?”

  He ran a hand over his close-cropped brown hair. Worry deepened the harsh lines in his face, cracking the official hard-ass mask. “Worse.” He patted my shoulder. “You be careful.”

  “Will do.” Apprehension tightened my shoulders as I watched him walk away. I turned, dumped Lena’s now-cold coffee and my empty cup in the trash, and pulled out my phone.

  Still nothing from Lena.

  That apprehension sank a little deeper even as logic tried to hold it back with the reminder Brenner had called the dead body a “him.” I typed out a quick text, hit send, then waited for a response. My screen stared blankly back.

  Don’t panic. Maybe she’s in the shower. Maybe her phone is dead. Maybe—I cut off my line of spiraling thoughts. It did me no good to stand around and drive myself insane. Since getting back inside my condo was out, it was time to go to work. I followed the walkway around the condo to the residents’ attached parking garage.

  My faded jeans and T-shirt were a far cry from my typical business casual look but wouldn’t cause more than a few raised eyebrows at the Guild offices. Besides, I didn’t have any runs scheduled for today, hence my lazy morning. My initial plan had been to go in late and catch up on my reports. The late part still held true, so up next was filing my reports. If I was lucky, Lena would be at the office.

  I crossed in front of the entry gate. Recognizing the familiar teal mohawk visible inside the parking booth, I raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Shane.”

  “Hey, Rory.” Shane stepped out and met me. “Did you hear what happened?”

  Since I wouldn’t be able to get by without answering, I stopped. “Yeah.”

  Excitement and interest animated his face. “Did you see anything?”

  From anyone else, that question would have been considered tacky, but Shane was a year away from completing his degree in criminal justice, so it was to be expected. “No, I came in after the first responders got there.”

  Disappointment dimmed his excitement. He looked behind me as if he could see what was happening from our tucked-away location. “Sucks to be stuck down here sometimes. Nothing exciting ever happens.”

  “You’re young still.” I patted his arm in mock sympathy and moved around him. “I’m sure you’ll get more than your fair share of excitement.”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  I headed toward my parking spot in the back. Despite the dim lighting, my baby was a sight to behold. She was a rebuilt 1968 Mustang Fastback, sporting a beautiful coat of midnight-blue paint complete with white racing stripes, dark-tinted windows, and five hundred fifty-one horses under the hood. A year after winning it in a street race from an overconfident college student with more money than sense, I still got a charge at seeing it parked in my spot. I beeped the after-market alarm and slid behind the wheel. The previous owner had sunk a lot of money into blending modern convenience into the classic interior of this racing-edition beauty, and now I reaped the benefits. The engine growled to life, the sound echoing off the cement walls.

  Pulling out of the garage, I headed to work. As I navigated traffic, I tried to remember if Lena had been home when I stumbled in just after midnight. It was dark when I came in, and I had tossed my keys in the bowl on the island then headed straight for my room. I couldn’t recall if her door had been fully closed or partially open. Our condo boasted an open floor plan with our bedrooms and their attached baths split on either side of the living space. Everything was quiet, and I’d made an effort to not disturb her because she could be vengefully cranky when her beauty sleep was interrupted.

  Thinking about it now, had it been too quiet? As if maybe Lena hadn’t been home? Unlike me, she had a thriving social life. In fact, recently, there had been a handful of nights where she hadn’t come home—a sure sign she’d met someone. Although we did our best to let each other know where we were, there were times when she’d come in doing her walk of fame—she refused to call it shame, and I couldn’t blame her—and only then would I realize she hadn’t been around.

  Doesn’t explain the radio silence.

  I soothed the worrying voice with the reminder that Lena was not only an adult, but a Guild-certified Key who could handle herself. She knew how to spot trouble, especially since it took a special kind of vindictiveness to create some of the curses she’d dealt with throughout her career. Because her client list was much more volatile than mine, the Guild ensured all Keys, or curse breakers, were trained in self-defense, both mundane and magical. So yeah, Lena could take care of herself.

  But if she didn’t text me back or wasn’t at the office by the time I got there, I would be putting my skills to use and tracking her ass down.

  Chapter Two

  Located in the upscale part of town, the Guild offices were housed in one of the many multi-storied glass-fronted corporate buildings lining the Camelback corridor. I could never quite figure out how a magical mercenary storehouse managed to share building space with lawyers, financial institutions, and corporate giants. It wasn’t so much the high-end rent demanded by the building’s location, which was easily paid by the commission the Guild made off their employees; it was the unsettling dichotomy of the building’s occupants.

  At any given time, a combat mage reeking of magic and covered in undeterminable things could run into a briefcase-carrying lawyer or a buttoned-up number cruncher. And it wasn’t just the varied employees; even the clientele was jarringly different. There was no telling who would turn up looking for help from the Guild or what trouble they would drag in behind them. During my ten years of punching the Guild’s clock, none of the building’s other residents ever made a peep of dissent about our business or clientele. Of course, that could be attributed to being afraid of pissing off the motley crew the Guild claimed. We did have a well-earned reputation of payback. Whatever the reason, the strange arrangement worked.

  Like most Guild employees, I skipped the elevator and used the stairs to access the second floor, where our offices were l
ocated. I walked down the hall, passing thick doors locked tight in wards, and pushed through a door bearing “Arcane Guild—Western Division—Arizona Office” etched into the glass. An instrumental rendition of a song that normally carried a hefty bass line played through the lobby speakers. I bypassed the cluster of chairs with the accompanying end tables sitting on either side of the door.

  To my left, a harried-looking man with a pet carrier at his feet perched uncomfortably on the edge of a corner chair. He was so wound up that I almost expected him to pop up at any second, as if launched from a cannon. Thankfully, it didn’t happen. Instead, his attention shot to me as he rocked forward. When it was obvious I wasn’t the person he was expecting, he settled back down and returned to staring at the pet carrier. Whatever was in it was vocally unhappy, hissing and rattling the cage.

  “Morning, Rory.” The man sitting behind the front desk didn’t take his eyes off the screen in front of him as his fingers danced over the keyboard.

  “Hey, Evan.” I waited until I hit the desk before saying more. “What’re you doing here?” Normally, the front lobby was manned by one of the trainees, not one of the Guild’s best electro mages.

  “Daria called in. Seems she zigged when she was supposed to zag and ended up in urgent care with a dislocated shoulder last night.”

  “Urgent care? Wouldn’t it be faster and easier to call in a healer?”

  Without looking from his screen, he said, “Probably, but would she remember to zag next time?”

  Recalling some of my more memorable training experiences, I conceded his point.

  Under the short silver-touched brown hair, a forbidding frown darkened his face, turning him from friendly corporate greeter to ruthless raider. “Suck it, jag off.”

  My lips twitched at his snarl. I leaned over and saw his screen was filled with a war-torn battlefield. “Who’s winning?”

  A spectacular explosion lit up the screen, obliterating the action. Evan’s frown turned into a feral smile, and he finally looked up, light dancing off the clear lenses of his glasses. “Me.” Something in my expression must have given me away, because his brown eyes narrowed with speculation. “What’s wrong?”

  For a brief moment, I considered sharing my worry about Lena but thought better of airing my paranoia. At least not yet. Unwilling to go into detail about my morning, I stuck with “Long morning.” Thankfully, he didn’t push, and I decided to shift his focus. “You do realize you’ve got a customer waiting?” Since my goal wasn’t to embarrass, I kept my voice low so it wouldn’t carry.

  He leaned to the side, looked behind me, then turned back to me. “Yeah?”

  “Might want to tone down the trash talk.”

  He waved my point away. “Trust me, he’s more worried about other things. He’s waiting for Adrian, who’s currently finishing up a phone call with another client.”

  The yowls behind us grew in strength. This time, we both looked back at the waiting client. A sweep of color flooded the man’s face, and he muttered, “Sorry.”

  “No worries.” I gave him a commiserating smile before turning back to Evan. I widened my eyes in silent query.

  Evan leaned in and lowered his voice. “Someone cursed his dog, who likes to dig in flower beds—” Another distinctly feline, not canine, yowl cut him off. “Into thinking it was a cat.” Humor lurked in his eyes as he added, “In heat.”

  I winced. “Vindictive neighbor?”

  He nodded.

  “Why Adrian?” Like Lena, Adrian was a Key adept at reversing curses, but where Lena preferred the variety of private assignments, Adrian leaned toward the corporate jobs.

  “The guy’s homeowner’s insurance is covering the bill.” A thin layer of exasperation colored Evan’s response.

  Ah, that explained why the poor guy and his feline-identifying canine were stuck in the lobby. Adrian liked to milk his corporate accounts because they paid by the hour. Behind us, the hexed pup started caterwauling, then a nose-curling stench blossomed through the lobby, followed by an embarrassed exclamation from the cat-slash-dog’s owner.

  Evan sighed, bent down, and dug through a desk drawer. He came back up with a roll of paper towels and rounded the desk. “Any chance Lena’s coming in soon?”

  My faint hope of Lena beating me to the office sputtered out. “I was hoping she was in already.”

  Evan shook his head as he headed over to the disaster area. “Nope, haven’t seen her this morning.”

  My anxiety spiked, and I decided after I filed my report with the director’s office, I would be digging through Lena’s locker for clues. Unless… “Is Sylvia in?”

  “Yeah.” He tore off a handful of paper towels and handed the roll to the embarrassed client. “But I think she’s in a conference call.”

  Scratch that idea. With the director unavailable, I could squeeze in a quick search of Lena’s locker and maybe ease my mind. “Got it. I’m heading to the back.”

  Evan lifted a hand in acknowledgement then turned to help with the cleanup.

  Behind the desk was a deceptive-looking door that separated the calm public facade from the inner sanctum of chaotic mayhem. Thanks to the myriad of magical situations handled by Guild personnel, accessing the operations area meant bypassing multiple security wards. Dealing with the redundancy of the wards on a daily basis was an irritating but necessary precaution. The initial ward was built into the door, specifically the doorknob. I grasped the handle, endured the itchy buzz of a magical scan, and when cleared as an authorized employee, felt the lock release. I pushed through the door, crossing the threshold, and triggered the uncomfortable sensation of the secondary ward. Much like walking through a clinging curtain filled with fire ants, it left behind a stinging impression, which was still highly preferable to the lethal response incurred by an unauthorized entry. I’d once witnessed that. The memory still made me shudder.

  As magical mayhem tended to sleep in, mornings were typically calm. Today proved no exception. The low hum of conversations spilled out of half-opened doorways that led to the more private offices and conference rooms. Somewhere, a phone was ringing. Workstations—some with computers, some without so employees could utilize personal tech—dotted the main space. The odor of burnt popcorn hung on the air, and I wrinkled my nose to hold off a sneeze. I threaded through the workstations toward the employee lockers, intent on snooping through Lena’s stuff.

  Next to the double doors leading to the locker room was a large whiteboard. I stopped and scanned the names. Finding Lena’s, I noted three green checkmarks and one black X. Three open cases, one closed. I was listed toward the bottom, with one black X, a green checkmark that I took a moment to switch to black, and a blue circle indicating a potential contract that hadn’t been there yesterday.

  Nice. I made a mental note to check in with Adele, Sylvia’s right hand, for the contract details. But first, Lena’s locker. Pushing through the doors, I hit the cooler temps of the office gym. The relative quiet disappeared under a wash of bass-heavy music and the distinct sound of a body hitting the ground—hard.

  I edged around the mats where a red-faced bruiser was sprawled on his back, relearning how to breathe. His opponent, a seasoned combat mage, stood above him, hand down to help him up. “Like I said, easily distracted.”

  Bruiser took the offered hand and let the other man haul him up. Once on his feet, Bruiser rubbed his jaw. “That was a hell of a punch, Gabe.”

  “It’s called a bolo for a reason,” Gabe said.

  Oh, ouch. I winced in sympathy. I’d been on the receiving end of Gabe’s sneaky hook during my hand-to-hand training, and more than once, I’d left with the bruises to prove it. I kept moving through the narrow path between the mat’s edge and the nearby weight machines.

  My passage caught Gabe’s attention. “Hey, Rory. You’re here early.”

  I half-turned and kept walking, now backward, toward the lockers. “Had a report to file.”

  Gabe cocked his head, and a grin ease
d the strong lines of his face. “In the gym?”

  “Ha, ha.” My heel snagged on a weight machine. I caught my balance and gave Gabe my back, calling over my shoulder, “In the office, but I needed to check on something first.”

  I pushed the door to the women’s locker room open and slipped inside. As the door swung shut behind me, the gym’s music faded, replaced by the drone of a hair dryer. Turning away from the mirrored sinks, I went to the empty area where the lockers and benches sat. Snooping in Lena’s locker wouldn’t get me in trouble, but I didn’t want to waste time fending off the curious while I indulged my growing paranoia. It helped that our lockers were side by side. Even better, we had exchanged combinations for our locks since there were times we needed to nab something and bring it home.

  I had her locker open in moments, but my search didn’t take long. Not that I was sure what I was even looking for, but besides the workout clothes, makeup, hair ties, an extra set of office wear, a yoga mat, and a towel, there was nothing to calm my worry. No note with my name on it, no random address, nada. I muttered an oath and closed the locker a little harder than necessary.

  “You okay, Rory?”

  I spun around, my pulse spiking before leveling off. “Dammit, Nat, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  The curvy sun-touched brunette armed with a hair dryer grinned, but her eyes remained watchful. “You do realize that’s part of my job description, right?”

  “Okay, ninja chick, but unless you’re spying on me, give me a warning.” I sat on the cement ledge that served as a bench and fiddled with the lock. “I’m too young to keel over from a heart attack.”

  Natalie laughed, opened her locker, then tossed in her hairdryer. “Let me guess. Lena borrowed something and forgot to return it?”

  “I wish,” I muttered as I replaced the lock. I waited until she closed her locker before saying, “I’ve got a question for you.”

  “That sounds ominous.” When I didn’t return her grin, Nat’s humor was replaced with a predatory sharpness. “What’s wrong?”