“Did you give her the photo?” Raziel asked, ignoring my snarkiness and not commenting on my attire.
“Nope. My business is mine. I don’t share.”
Raziel raised an eyebrow. I lifted one of my own. He gave me a genuine smile which made me uneasy. “Do you know how she got into your office?”
“Screwed the janitor for the keys?” I suggested with a straight face.
“Actually, she may not be far off,” another voice said. I turned my eyes toward the approaching plain clothes cop who nodded. His hair was cut in a military style and his brown eyes twinkled. “The day janitor said he knew our victim, and his keys are missing. Her name is Monica Cawlell. They apparently hooked up two nights ago and stayed at one of the local hotels.” His grin was cocky. “Mr. Eustis is married and has been hooking up with Ms. Cawlell for the past month or so. Uniforms are currently overseeing the removal of Eustis’s belongings from their home. His wife was livid.”
“Thanks, Esposito,” Raziel said.
Esposito, probably a detective, smiled and nodded at me before walking off.
“So, she’s a cheap whore,” I commented as I continued admiring Esposito’s fit physique.
“Can I have your attention here?” Raziel asked. “Any idea what she was doing in your office?”
“You have my attention. I can easily admire your underlings while talking to you,” I quipped. “As for the two-bit, whoring thief, I’d say she was after the photo you found. I presume you have a crew dusting my office for prints. Hopefully they’ll be careful and not encounter any protections I may have placed.”
Raziel’s handsome face was a cool mask of indifference, but he radiated annoyance that was slowly turning toward anger. “I took care of those. I’m afraid you’ll have to redo them after they finish. And yes, your office is being dusted for prints and searched for anything else she might have left.” I caught him clenching his jaw out of the corner of my eye and winked. It didn’t help his disposition, which stoked mine. “Thank you for keeping your office so clean and neat. It makes this process easier and faster.”
“Delighted to be of assistance,” I replied cheerfully. “It makes things easier for me, too. This is the first time a thief has escaped. I suppose I should consider putting wards on every surface in my office now.”
Raziel Elwyn closed his eyes, and he drew a breath. “Please don’t explain that statement.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Why don’t I escort you to your office, and you can tell me if anything else is missing?” Raziel asked pleasantly.
“Gladly.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pair of expensive, kid leather driving gloves. “Lead the way, detective.”
As we entered the elevator near the cordoned-off stairwell, he added, “I also want to know your interest in the Eye of Amon.”
I followed the floor numbers as they lit up. “I’ll give you all the details you desire, once we’re in my office.”
* * *
It took five minutes for Raziel to dismiss the two uniformed cops babysitting my office, leaving us alone.
I took my usual seat behind my desk and gestured for him to take one of the other chairs. He looked at me in disapproval and remained standing. Shrugging, I waved my hand and the room glittered in Magick for a brief moment, shrouding us from unwanted listeners outside the door.
“You don’t like to sit? That must make police paperwork even more tiresome,” I teased.
He kept right on looking at me. Jerk.
“Let me tell you the story of how I was hired to find a missing fae witch and her necklace, which just so happens to be the fabled Ilygad Amon,” I said, leaning back comfortably in my chair.
Raziel smiled sardonically and nodded as I began my tale.
After I finished, Raz didn’t say a word. I wasn’t entirely certain he believed me, but that was his problem.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any information on Althea Kerr’s disappearance and probable kidnapping, would you?” I asked after a few moments of silence.
“Let’s discuss that after you make certain nothing else has been taken,” Raziel retorted.
He removed a small notepad and pen from his pocket and flipped the notepad open. His eyes met mine, and I found myself actually liking the angel. He was a goody-two-shoes, but he wasn’t a snob like certain other angels I’d met. Raziel seemed to take pride in what he did, albeit a very small amount, since pride wasn’t something angels were supposed to give into or possess.
Pride usually came before a fall, and fallen angels became demons, the very things angels fought against in the eternal war of good versus evil.
Turning to the room, I allowed myself to relax as I stood. Some spells only worked when the caster had a clear head and relaxed body. Detecting the Magick used by others was delicate work and was one of the many things my parents insisted I perfect as a child. Living with the fae, it had been something of an imperative that I learn how to detect even the slightest bit of Magick.
The seelie, who were thought of as the ‘good’ fae, were anything but nice, and their ideas of pranks were frequently cruel and sometimes deadly. The unseelie? The dark fae? It was rare for their pranks to not be deadly. There had been frequent visits by the unseelie at my mother’s Court. Each visit had resulted in some amount of destruction and chaos.
Clearing my thoughts, I allowed my Magick to sweep outward from where I stood until it touched the walls of my office. After decades of practice and years of experimenting, I had learned how to add a little extra to the detection spell.
As I turned around the room, every surface in my office was glowing in a soft vibrant lavender sheen that sparkled like glitter. Every place touched by the dead hooker was evident and the spells that Raz had been broken were a sullen gray. Studying the room and what amounted to a Magickal dusting, I tried to figure out what had happened.
I stared at all the wards I would have to replace. “Which spells did you remove?” I asked. Thankfully, I didn’t keep anything important in this office.
“Only the ones at your desk and the door,” he replied.
His soft tone sounded a bit dangerous for my taste, and I snapped my head around to look at him.
No longer was there a plain clothes detective standing in my office, but rather an angel with brilliant white wings, who happened to be wearing mortal clothing. Hell, he even had a golden halo around his head, and his wavy brown hair was blowing in an unseen breeze.
I raised my brows and remained relaxed, but only because I knew you never showed fear to the enemy. And, at the moment, I wasn’t certain if Raziel was friend or foe.
“Trying to impress or intimidate me, Raziel?”
He swung his angelic head left, then right, once. “Neither. I’m merely reminding you of whom you may be thinking of lying to.”
“More of a what than a who, and I don’t care either way,” I retorted in as casual a voice as I could muster. “You have questions, and I will answer them truthfully. It’s not my fault if you don’t like the answers.”
“You have no prior involvement with the victim,” he began. “Any theory to what she was seeking? Is anything missing?”
“Something besides my sense of security? Maybe she was looking for the item in the picture. I don’t have it, by the way. You would know if I did.”
“So, the picture is not yours?” he inquired, his eyes burning into me.
“No,” I answered easily. “That picture is not mine.”
Raz did not seem pleased, but since I did not own the picture, I hadn’t lied. He looked away from me and toward the door through which he’d entered. Grateful for the break from his gaze, I suppressed a shudder.
“She broke in, without your wards alerting you, and searched for an item you do not possess…that’s your story?” he asked, carefully saying each word.
I nodded once. He wasn’t asking if I had suspicions about how it could have happened, and I wasn’t offering. There were ways
around wards, even for mundanes, and I had a very good idea of what had happened and how. What I lacked was the reason why. If I could learn ‘why,’ I could figure out ‘who.’ When I learned who, they would quickly discover why one does not anger a professional necromancer. Depending on my mood, they might even survive it.
“To appease your doubtful nature, I will tell you this: nothing I own is missing from my office. From what I gather of her movements, she only touched my desk and searched my drawers. None of the filing cabinets have been touched, and the spells cloaking my safe are still in place.” I gestured toward the bookcase to my left. “Whatever she was searching for, she didn’t find it.”
There was a long, pregnant pause. Finally Raz nodded, looked at me, and said, “You speak the truth.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Now, tell me what you know about Althea’s kidnapping. Please.”
The angel nodded, and I watched in honest fascination as his snow-white wings smoothed and vanished, along with the halo. There were no fancy lights or here-one-second-gone-the-next effects. They simply ebbed away. I wondered if he did that for me or if that was simply how it was done. I wanted to know if it was illusion or Magick.
I wasn’t crazy; I wasn’t about to question the logistics.
As Raziel settled back into his mortal form, I released the Magick around us, allowing the glittery sheen to vanish in an equally unimpressive show.
“How much do you know?” Raziel asked as he lowered himself into one of my chairs.
I followed his lead and sat in my chair, keeping my hands where he could see them. “Sterling gave me a dossier. It detailed her family, closest friends, and where she worked and lived, as well as the fact her car was found in the park near the lake. The actual lake, not the duck pond.”
Raziel frowned, and I tilted my head to the side in silent query.
“I’m homicide, Catherine, but when a fae who’s in possession of a powerful item a necromancer would kill to get goes missing, I become involved.” The tiny smile on his face was probably meant to reassure me he was being friendly. Considering I’d just seen him go full-on-angel, I questioned its sincerity. He continued speaking, and I kept my thoughts to myself. “The car was originally seen going into one of the cemeteries not far from the park, but it didn’t leave through the main entrance. I made a few inquiries and learned she was actually kidnapped from the cemetery. Not the park.”
It was my turn to frown. “That would explain a few things.” I paused and stared directly into Raziel’s pale blue eyes, which reminded me of a clear afternoon sky. “So, the amulet is real? The Ilygad Amon isn’t a myth? It really is the captured eye of the demon, and a fae has been wearing the bloody thing around her neck for all to see?”
Raziel nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. For a brief moment, I wondered what he saw in their brown depths.
“Who in their right mind would do something so stupid?” I managed to sputter.
My question garnered a full, honest laugh from the angel. “An old, powerful fae witch who obviously believed she was indestructible and no one would realize what she was wearing.”
Snickering, I shook my head. “You may be on to something. The amulet…it really is all the legends claim it is?” Raziel nodded slowly, and I sighed. “I love my job.”
“There is one thing you may not know about Ilygad Amon. He has never stopped searching for his eyes, Catherine, and when the fae bound him, the Magick had a very…interesting effect.” I dipped my chin, and Raziel’s expression grew graver with each passing second. “Someone with enough power could choose to summon not just Amon, but any deity they desire.”
That was something you didn’t hear every day.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said quietly. “Why are you telling me this?”
The smile that spread across Raziel’s lips was anything but pleasant. “Because I want you to understand that every guardian and paladin who pledged his life or is in service to God will come knocking on your door if you acquire the amulet and do not return it to the Order of the Scepter. And their calls won’t be social.”
With that, the Angel of Mysteries stood and left my office, leaving me staring after him in stunned silence. Who knew that angels could issue not-so-veiled threats? Apparently it wasn’t just the Eye of Amon that was real. The Order of the Scepter was one of the mysterious secret organizations that were rumored to exist. It was the ultimate force controlling ancient Magickal artifacts and keeping the truth about Magick a secret. My father once told me they punished non-human criminals, appointed watchdogs to be their assassins, and created the laws we were beholden to.
I knew angels didn’t lie. They were probably the only truly honest beings. I wanted to know more about the Order. It seemed imperative I figure out how to contact it.
* * * * *
Chapter Three
Sitting around and worrying about threats and imminent danger wasn’t my style. I preferred staying busy and not giving in to fear.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been threatened before by celestial beings. Or hellish beings. Or pretty much anything that breathed. It was an occupational hazard.
The sound of movement outside my office reminded me a crime had been committed, and there was no point trying to do any work there, so I decided leaving would be in my best interest. The wards could wait until I was certain the police didn’t need to enter my office again.
Instead of summoning a gremlin from the Staunton police department like I usually did, I decided to take Raziel’s lead and run with it.
After double checking everything and reassuring myself the only thing that had been taken was the photo, I quickly left my office and the building. I could feel Raziel’s eyes watching me; it was an unsettling feeling.
I had two options, I decided as I headed for the parking garage and my car. I could go hunting for who I suspected was behind the attempt to steal from me as well as the hooker’s death. My other choice was to visit the cemetery and talk to a few ghosts.
Since it was before noon, I chose the cemetery, mostly because it was too early to start drinking.
There was also the fact I couldn’t care less who killed the strumpet.
Thankfully, Thornrose Cemetery was only a short distance away. Five minutes by car, ten or fifteen if I wanted to walk it. Considering Staunton was a city of hills that made a rigorous gym routine seem easy, walking wasn’t my first option. Or even my third.
I stopped my car just inside the main entrance and admired the beauty and architecture of the place. It was founded in the mid eighteen hundreds, and over the years, it had been built up into a beautiful, serene cemetery unlike any other in the area. Several narrow, paved roads led left, right, and straight from the gates.
The first thing I noticed was a stone bridge with what appeared to be a turret on one side. The other side ended on a bank. There were several mausoleums built against both sides of the bank before you reached the bridge. A gatehouse and a small decorative area were within the first few feet of the main gates.
To the right of the entrance were several beautiful, medieval-looking mausoleums and graves and monuments for those who died in the mid eighteen hundreds, the turn of the century, or recently. The tombstones ranged from works of art from centuries past to today’s typical, mundane ones.
Many people walked through the cemetery for the beauty and serenity. Not only was Thornrose a well-kept place of beauty, it was a place of historical value and intrigue.
It was also a place full of ghosts, a handful of demons, and two vampires. The vampires ignored me. The ghosts watched me and hid, ignored me, or came over and tried to initiate a friendly chat.
The demons, though, were probably my favorite. Known as hiiri, they were creatures of the lowest type found throughout the levels of hell. Most humanoid demons, those who walked among mortals or ruled Hell, saw the hiiri as little more than pests to be used, abused, and kicked around for entertainment. They reminded me of puppies or kittens wanting
someone to play with them.
Thornrose was a large cemetery, a bit over twelve acres, enclosed by stone walls on three sides; I decided to take the outermost road and follow it toward the back where there was a sort of look-out. It was made of white marble and had benches for people to admire the scenery.
As I drove, I noticed there were considerably fewer hiiri scampering about among the tombstones. It was odd—they weren’t confined to the cemetery—but I had more pressing business than trying to figure out where the demons had wandered off to.
Near the look-out, on the top of one of the taller hills in the cemetery, was a beautiful statue of a confederate soldier made of Italian marble. It watched over the 1,700 local Southern soldiers who died during the Civil War.
It wasn’t quite in the center of the place, but it was close to the lesser-seen areas where clandestine meetings occurred because no one from the streets could see it.
What better place to kidnap someone?
Since the narrow roads were only wide enough for one car, I pulled my Camry to the side between two small trees. The weather had been crazy, and the trees were starting to bud. I sighed, hating the idea of what a cold snap would do to them. It was inevitable, though, since it was still the first week of March. But I wasn’t a druid, so I couldn’t send them back into their winter sleep. Ah, well. Such was life, I supposed.
Turning, I trudged up the hill, smiling at a pair of squirrels chasing each other across the lawn and up a pine tree. As I neared the statue of the confederate soldier, I stared up at it.
Years of weather had taken their toll, but he still stood tall and proud. It was the age and strong feelings toward the war that would help me with what I needed to do. Hate, love, sorrow, fear, even dedication to the upkeep of the dead’s final resting place were powerful emotions. And all those emotions, along with a great many more, were strong in this cemetery.
Nodding respectfully to the statue, I turned my back toward it so I was facing the more solitary area of the cemetery. I knelt until one knee touched the ground, placed my palms against the cold, dead grass, and began murmuring the spell that would summon the ghosts to me.
The Fae's Amulet Page 2
