Death Magic wotl-8

by Eileen Wilks

  “That’s a long time for a story to keep its shape.”

  “It is, but bear with me. The story tells of how an evil magician put a small village to death ritually to fuel a Great Spell.”

  “How many in the village?”

  “Fifty-five, I think. I can call my grandmother to make sure of the number.”

  Which could have changed a hundred times over the years. “No, that’s okay. I was just wanting a ballpark on how many deaths we’re talking about.”

  “Anyway, the evil magician ended up being killed by a rival magician—the Bán Mac. There are a lot of stories about him. You can find some in most folklore compilations. Apparently he rode all over Ireland on his ‘horse of flame’ seducing matrons, rescuing maidens, defeating evil magicians, and drinking enough ale to kill most men. Also tricking the little people and getting tricked,” she added, “because this was Ireland, after all. Most of the tales focus on Bán Mac, but the story passed down in my family tells about what happened after the battle. The area near the sacrificial site was plagued by instabilities.”

  “What kind of instabilities?”

  “Oh, the usual—water turning to blood, animals born malformed, cows going dry. And of course a lot of ghosts. But there were also reports of ‘divvil beasts’ and frequent earth tremors, and something about ‘time gang awry.’ I can’t say how accurate any of this is,” she said apologetically, “but there’s probably some truth in it. The solution is the point of the tale, to those in my family. The neighboring villages brought in a priest to lay the ghosts. He did that, but he also ‘poured Spirit onto the land to knit up its break,’ and the odd occurrences stopped.”

  “Hmm.”

  The other woman laughed. “You sure can pack a lot of skepticism into a single sound. I think you need to talk to a priest.” She laughed again. “I didn’t mean it to come out that way. What I mean is that the Church may know more about these odd occurrences at sites of death magic than I do. But even aside from that, you need to let the Church know. The Catholic Church is very good at laying certain kinds of ghosts. The souls of those killed may need the power of the Church to replace what was stolen in order to complete their transitions.”

  That made two people who wanted Lily to talk to a priest. “A priest Cynna knows is supposed to call me about some stuff related to the case. I’ll ask him about it.”

  “Good.”

  “The other thing I wanted to ask was if there’s any way I could talk to that ghost if he shows up again.”

  “I can’t help you with that. If you were a medium, I could offer suggestions, but mediums and non-mediums experience ghosts so differently that my training doesn’t really apply to you.”

  “Is there any way you could come to D.C.?”

  A moment’s silence, then: “I’m afraid not. I have a prior obligation I have to honor.”

  It was the brief pause that made Lily suspicious. “Some kind of mysterious Rhej business?”

  Another pause, then a chuckle. “You could say that.”

  “It’s what the Leidolf Rhej said when she hit me up for five hundred dollars before heading for the airport.”

  That seemed to make the Etorri Rhej’s day. She laughed and repeated it, then said goodbye in high good humor.

  “I’m begining to think,” Rule said as the car slowed, “I should call my father and see if the Nokolai Rhej has also departed for an undisclosed location.”

  “Surely not.” The Nokolai Rhej was blind. She couldn’t jet off on mysterious Rhej business ... could she? “Maybe you should. Not that it will do any good, since we still won’t know what they’re up to. I’m starting to have some sympathy for Cullen’s attitude about Rhejes.”

  “They do know how to be silent.”

  The car had stopped for a light. So had a couple dozen other cars. As backed up as they were, it would take a couple of light changes to get through the intersection. They were only a couple blocks from Sjorensen’s place. Lily tapped her foot, considering getting out and walking the last bit.

  “Assholes,” Scott muttered.

  “What?” Rule said.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. The bumper sticker on that gray SUV bugs me.”

  Lily couldn’t see it until their own lane of cars crept forward—then there it was. A shiny gray Nissan SUV with three kids in the back—two boys and a cute little girl in pigtails—and two bumper stickers on its rear window. One read “Humans First.” The other said, “Honk If You Hate Weers.”

  Lily couldn’t believe it. “Jesus. Honk for hate. They think they’re being cute.” One of the boys threw something at the other. The mother turned around and said something to them. She looked like a nice woman, not yelling or anything, just wearing her Mother Face.

  “They’re probably here for the Humans First demonstration,” Rule said. “The big rally is tomorrow.”

  She’d lost track. With everything that had happened, she’d pretty much forgotten about the demonstrations Humans First had planned. “Rule. Tomorrow. Are you thinking what I am?”

  “I don’t think it’s coincidence, no.”

  Their eyes met. He looked as grim as she felt. If whatever Friar was cooking up was scheduled to coincide with the demonstration tomorrow, they didn’t have much time. And they still had no idea what Friar was planning.

  Anna Sjorensen was staying in an ESH studio suite, with ESH meaning extended stay housing, and “studio suite” meaning it was basically a hotel room with a kitchenette. It was the sort of place the government parked clerks, agents, and other human miscellany when it wanted them in D.C. temporarily. Sjorensen was still technically part of the Nashville office, temporarily assigned to D.C. for training, so she qualified for ESH.

  Unless Croft had gone ahead and pulled her into the Unit. Lily would ask about that.

  These ESH units weren’t bad; the location was decent, if noisy, being on a busy street. No parking, though. Scott dropped her, Rule, and Mark off in front. He’d have to circle the block until they came out again.

  On the sidewalk, the two men flanked her. Lily sighed and decided not to make an issue out of it. At least Rule was on her right. He knew better than to get in the way of her gun hand. “We aren’t all going to fit going through the door this way.”

  Rule slanted her a smile. “Mark will go in first.”

  “Good grief.”

  “It’s standard practice,” Mark assured her. “The Rho never goes through a door first.”

  “I’m not a Rho. I’m the one who makes sure the area’s safe for the other people.”

  “Not this time,” Rule said.

  “I’d like to argue, but that’s Arjenie’s ring tone.” She took out her phone as they reached the revolving doors that led to the lobby. With a sigh, she waited beside Rule while Mark went first. “Hey, Arjenie. Does this means you’ve got something for me?”

  “I’m not interrupting, then? Good. I e-mailed you the files. You didn’t ask me to call, so I wasn’t sure if I should, but I had a hunch you’d want to hear about this.”

  Lily had asked Arjenie for the complete personnel files on Sjorensen, Mullins, and Drummond. She was absolutely not entitled to see those. Even if she’d still been Unit, she would’ve needed Ruben’s written authorization to see the complete files. But Arjenie had the highest clearance possible now, Rule had said. She could access anything.

  Mark had reached the lobby without being shot. He nodded, and Lily and Rule took the wild risk of entering the revolving door themselves. “This is a good time, actually,” Lily said as they emerged in the small, empty lobby. “You found something interesting?”

  “Nothing much on Sjorensen. She was a good student and did well at Quantico. Not much on Mullins, either, except that he’s a recovering alcoholic—that’s how they say it, you know, even if they’ve been sober a long time, and he has. Twelve years. But that’s not why I called.”

  Lily smiled. Arjenie had trouble summarizing. “You found something on Dr
ummond?”

  “I think so. Maybe. His wife died last year. They’d been married twenty-two years. No children.”

  They headed for the elevators. “This is important?”

  “It’s how she died. She was killed by a woman named Martha Billings whom Drummond had arrested years ago. Billings was Fire-Gifted and mob-connected, and had a bad habit of burning things down for money.”

  “Ah.” Some Gifted had killed his wife. “What happened?”

  “Billings got out of prison, partied for about a week, then went and burned down Drummond’s house. He wasn’t home, but his wife was, and she died of smoke inhalation. They know it was Billings even though no one saw it because she confessed. She was mad that it hadn’t killed Drummond, so she sent him a video where she raved about how she’d killed his wife and she’d be coming after him next. Can you imagine that? She confessed in a video.”

  “Criminals are often not all that bright.” The elevator doors opened and the three of them got in.

  “She might have confessed, but she didn’t hang around to be found. Drummond went nuts. He tore up his office and did some raving of his own. Then he vanished. Just poofed, abandoned his cases, went missing. He’s gone for two weeks, and in that two weeks, Billings turns up dead.”

  “That is definitely worth a phone call,” Lily said. “I take it there was nothing linking him to Billings’s death?”

  “No, it was ruled an accident. The car she was driving burst into flames. There were witnesses, and no one saw anything except that it was suddenly engulfed in flame. No sign of ac-celerants, shots fired, nothing. The investigating officers decided she’d suddenly lost control of her Gift. She had a rep for doing drugs, and drugs do mess up your control,” Arjenie added, “so that wasn’t implausible. This happened four days before Drummond turns up. He’d been drinking the whole time, he said, and he doesn’t remember everything real well, but he had credit card receipts to show that he’d stayed at an inn down in Tennessee, a long ways from Boston. Boston’s where Billings died. It wasn’t a real alibi, but Billings’s death wasn’t ruled a homicide, so it didn’t matter.”

  They’d reached the seventh floor. The doors opened. Mark went first again, with Lily and Rule right behind him. No one in the hall. “That was not all in Drummond’s personnel file.”

  “No, but there was enough in it that I knew you’d want the rest of the story, so I went digging.”

  “I’m glad you did. Thanks, Arjenie. Feel free to bother me anytime you get a hunch like that. Did you find anything about Drummond’s alibi for five to six on the day of Ruben’s heart attack?”

  “He had his teeth cleaned at three thirty, and the dentist says he probably left about four thirty. The agent’s notes suggest he could have gotten to Headquarters by five if the traffic wasn’t bad, but in the end he was eliminated based on scan and visual records and the testimony of the guards on duty at the entrances that day. They know Drummond by sight,” she added. “He’s been at Headquarters for years.”

  “Hmm. Well, send me the dentist’s contact info and address, okay? Thanks.” Arjenie told her to take care of herself and Lily disconnected. She looked at Rule. “You heard all that?”

  He nodded. “You said Drummond had an attitude about magic. Now we know why.”

  “It’s not proof, but it’s suggestive. If he decided once to take justice into his own hands, he could decide to do it again. Maybe wiping out one Gifted wasn’t enough. Maybe he wants to get rid of all of us.”

  They’d reached a door with 715 over the spyhole. Lily knocked.

  No answer. She waited a moment and knocked again. She’d been reluctant to call ahead. Too easy for Sjorensen to turn her down. “Damn. Guess we’ll have to try back later.”

  “Lily. Step aside a moment, please.”

  Something in Rule’s voice kept her from asking why. She moved away from the door. He moved up—and put his face next to the crack where the door met the frame. Slowly he crouched, sniffing all along that crack. He straightened and turned. “I smell blood.”

  She dug in her purse with one hand. Pulled out her weapon with the other. And elbowed him aside.

  To her surprise, he let her. “Anna!” she called loudly, banging on the door with the hand that held her weapon. “Anna, are you okay?”

  No answer. She wasn’t expecting one. The hand groping madly in her purse connected with what she wanted. She pulled out a single latex glove, handed her weapon to Rule, and tugged the glove on. “Anna!” she called again, even louder. “I have reason to suspect you’re injured. If you don’t respond, I will force entry.”

  Weapon ready in her right hand, she reached for the doorknob with her gloved left hand. The door had a key card lock like a hotel and the light was red, so she was startled when the knob turned. She swung the door open—and quickly, before the two lupi could shove her aside, she stepped in.

  A short entry hall, angling almost immediately to the left. Blank wall dead ahead. Drops of dried blood on the pale beige carpet. And a very stubborn, very fast man dodging around her to run inside.

  “Stay back,” she ordered Mark without knowing if he’d obey, and she followed as quickly as her merely human self could, weapon out.

  On the left, a kitchenette. Directly ahead a single room—bed to one side, couch, desk, and tiny two-person table on the other. Big windows with the drapes closed. And a nice, reddish-brown stain on the carpet directly in front of her.

  No body. No signs of a fight, aside from the blood.

  Rule was moving quickly through the small space, pausing here and there to listen and sniff. Making sure they were alone, she supposed. Mark—wonder of wonders—had stayed out, guarding the door. Lily crouched and studied the bloodstain.

  It wasn’t fresh, but the center looked to still be damp. There was some spatter. She tilted her head. She was no expert, but that didn’t look like spray from a bullet. “You smell gunpowder?” she called. Rule had vanished into the tiny bathroom.

  “No.”

  The wound hadn’t spurted. There was just that bit of spatter. Head wound, maybe? It looked like the victim had been struck, staggered a step or two, then fallen to the floor. The biggest spot would be where she’d lain, unmoving, her blood soaking into the carpet.

  Lily turned her head. Brown spots led away, as if the wound had still been dripping when the victim was carried out. Or walked out on her own? “Can you tell for sure if that’s Sjorensen’s blood?”

  He came out of the small bathroom. “Probably. I’ll need to get close.”

  “Just don’t touch it.”

  He came and knelt near to the stain, bent, and sniffed. Held still a moment, his mouth slightly open. “This is Anna’s blood.”

  “There’s a trail leading to the door. Drops of blood. I don’t know if it’s enough to suggest she was still alive then, her heart still pumping, but maybe. Maybe she was. What I’d like to know is if she walked out or was carried. Can you tell by sniffing?”

  “Not in this form. Probably not as a wolf, either. There are other smells here.” He sniffed the carpet again, this time a couple feet away from the bloodstain, then shifted position and did it again. “Mostly it’s Anna, but two of the not-Anna scents are recent. I don’t see how I could tell if they carried her out, though. They walked in, walked around, and walked out, but I can’t say if they were carrying her.”

  “Okay.” She took out her phone. “You want to have not been here?”

  His eyebrows snapped down. “What?”

  “I’m calling Croft. Maybe I should call the locals, but Croft can get everything rolling quickly, and speed is important. She might still be alive. But that means we’ll be stuck here awhile. It might be that you and Scott dropped me and Mark off. You never came in. You’re on your way to the Twelfth Street Kitchen right now.”

  “We’re not separating. If you’re here, so am I.”

  She gave up and called it in.

  THIRTY-THREE

  RULE did not hit
or harm any cops in the next few hours. Not Special Agent Ron Fielding of the FBI. Not Sergeant Willy Spaulding of the Washington Police Department, either, and that took more willpower. As Lily said at one point, Spaulding might not be an asshole, but he did a damn fine impression of one.

  Lily had wanted Rule to leave, to stay free to continue their own investigation. It made sense. Rule hadn’t even considered doing so. He’d abandoned her once to get Ruben away, and she’d been arrested, locked up. It didn’t matter that his leaving hadn’t caused her arrest, and his presence couldn’t have averted it. He couldn’t abandon her again.

  They did end up separated for a while. Two sets of law enforcement wanted to question them, and the federal contingent, at least, was smart enough to separate them for that. The FBI claimed a meeting room on the second floor to coordinate their investigation; Rule was questioned there while Lily was questioned elsewhere. The two of them were then stashed in the manager’s office next door to the meeting room.

  The separation was probably good policy, but it came too late. They’d discussed the situation by the time Agent Fielding arrived. Lily didn’t want to call her lawyer; she wanted Anna found, and intended to cooperate as fully as possible. She warned Rule then that she’d be a suspect. Croft had told her not to reveal anything about the Bixton investigation, but Lily’s arrest was not a secret. It was quickly obvious that Fielding knew about it and what role Anna’s actions had played.

  Fielding didn’t know Lily, and it was his job to speculate. Maybe Lily had suspected Anna of setting her up and had gone to confront her; the argument escalated, and Anna ended up dead. Lily then got rid of the body—probably with Rule’s help, since Anna Sjorensen outweighed Lily. Lily was alibied for almost the entire day by Mark, Scott, Cullen, and some of the others, but Fielding assumed that Rule’s people would lie if he told them to. As, of course, they would.

  But Fielding was both professional and reasonable, and it was a stretch to suspect that Lily had not only killed Anna and enlisted Rule to get rid of the body, but had gone on to stage an elaborate discovery of the scene a few hours later. What was the point? Lily might be a suspect, but mostly because she couldn’t be crossed off the list altogether. After a couple hours he was ready to let them go.