I agreed with Dane, then added, “If what you say is true, you do know that if I get my hands on him, he’s toast. Right?”
He looked me hard in the eyes. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
My lips formed into a tight line, “Good. Just so we’re clear.”
4
We had working theory and we even had a suspect, thanks to a small favor owed to Dane by a fellow incubus in the NSA. What we didn’t have was proof, and that was why I was standing in front of the administrative building of Elena’s college. Under the guise that I was a student in need of an education, I was going to poke under a few rocks and see if I could turn myself up a snake.
Professor Malcom A. Shiller, purveyor of antiquities and esoteric pseudo-science manuscripts, had quite the transient job history. A dozen teaching positions over the last 15 years. He’d been employed by the colleges each missing girl had attended at the time of their disappearances, and had moved on to another location within six months like clockwork.
“Does that mean what I think it means?” I’d asked Dane when he showed me the connecting timelines.
He’d agreed. It looked like the good professor had kept each girl alive for months, or until he’d used her all up, then left the area shortly after they’d died, just to be safe.
Elena had been missing for almost two weeks. Long enough that it was likely she’d already been harmed, used, but short enough that Dane hoped we’d find her alive.
My phone vibrated and I checked the screen. Clive again. I couldn’t ignore him any longer, so I took the call.
“Hey, what’s up?” I said.
I could hear the frustration, laced with relief, in his voice. “Quinn, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“I’d say you have nothing to worry about there, Step-Deady dearest.” I said.
“Nice. Now are you going to answer my question?”
“I’m still here. Grabbed your package and decided to explore a bit.”
He grunted. “At least tell me you’re looking at colleges or something that will put your mother at ease.”
I couldn’t help it, I snort-laughed.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” I said, looking around the campus. “I take it she’s told you all about her drop-out daughter?”
“Of course. She tells me everything and I’d like to be able to do the same.”
“Message received.” I said, waiting to see if he had something else to say.
He didn’t respond right away, and I found myself watching a clearly awkward boy trying to talk to a girl reading on a bench. She was obviously trying to be polite, but really wanted to be left alone to continue reading. And rightly so. What is it about an open book that says: feel free to interrupt, I’m not doing anything important.
“Well, let me know when you’re on the way back here. And talk to your mother, okay?”
“Fine. Later.” I cut the call and walked into the administrative building.
Ten minutes later, I exited the building with a map of the campus and a handy little visitor’s lanyard. Quickly locating the humanities building, I hoofed it to the other side of the campus and stepped into the building as a volley of students hustled to their next class.
I didn’t know where Shiller’s office was, so I spent the better part of the next half-hour wandering the halls, checking for names on the doors. Finally, when I was just this side of getting grumpy, I located the closed office door with his name painted on it.
Scanning the halls to be sure that I was alone, I crouched down to work my magic on the lock, literally. I didn’t need lock picks, just my two little pointer fingers and a bit of my power, carefully finessed against the tumbler system. The lock clunked and I was in.
I stepped inside and left the door slightly ajar so that I could hear if anyone came down the hall. The office was dark and stuffy, and a little depressing in its sparse décor. Without already knowing Shiller bounced around frequently, I would have guessed it by his lack of personal touches.
A shelf of textbooks beside the window. A desk and chair in front of the far wall, with a second chair for students set well away from the desk. A brown, dented filing cabinet beside the door. Nothing to say who the office belonged to, save one thing.
A photo of the professor and what I assumed was his family sat on the desk beside his computer monitor. I lifted it and turned towards the window to get a better look. An arrogant Shiller, a sullen blonde wife and two teens that favored their father—dark haired with a smattering of freckles and anime eyes. One boy, one girl. A normal family portrait, if you glossed over the haunted expression on the wife’s face.
Did she know what her husband had been up to? Had he threatened her in some way? I made a mental note to consider chatting up the Mrs.—who knew, it might give me valuable intel. It was something to mention to Dane at any rate.
I set the frame down and quickly searched his desk. Other than the typical things you’d expect in a college professor’s office: schedules, rosters, and department memo’s, I didn’t find anything helpful. I eased the shallow middle drawer shut and sighed.
“Can I help you?” a woman’s voice said from the doorway.
I jumped a little and turned around. “Yes. Maybe,” I giggled.
Smiling, I crossed the distance to the door and stuck out my hand. “I’m Andi. I’m supposed to be meeting with Professor Shiller, but he doesn’t seem to be around. I was looking for a pen and paper to leave him a note.”
The woman, in her late sixties and wearing the thickest glasses I’d ever seen, squinted as she patted my hand. “Dear, you must have your dates mixed up. The professor is lecturing now and won’t be back in the office until this afternoon.”
To stab home her point, the woman pointed to a laminated sheet stuck to his office door. I cringed and thanked my lucky stars that she seemed to be buying my thin story without further scrutiny.
“Oh, gosh. It seems I do. I’m so embarrassed.” I put my face on my hands and shook my head.
She smiled and walked me out into the bustling hallway. “You just wait till you’re my age… you won’t remember your name half the time.”
As she escorted me from the office, politely at least, I smiled and laughed in all the right places, while mentally cursing myself for not snapping a pic with my cell phone of the family portrait. I’d have to try and double back after I lost the old bird.
“Thank you again,” I spied the ladies room and motioned to it. “I have to make a pit stop, but you have a great day.”
I left her standing there, ducked into the bathroom and waited for her to wander off. While I killed time, I took a minute to revisit Professor Shiller’s college page, noting the classes he was teaching that semester. I wanted to find his current class and pop in for a bit to size him up. While not nearly as good of an empath as my mother, I could still read many things from most people if I focused on it.
Pulling the door open a crack, I scanned the hallway. It was all clear.
I made my way out and down the long corridor. heading over the side of the building that housed most of the lecture halls. It took six failed attempts for me to find my target. At lucky number seven, I eased the door open slowly and slipped into the back of the cavernous room. Thankfully it was packed and my chances for remaining unnoticed were better than I’d anticipated.
Shiller stood down at the front of the room, pointing at a map being projected on the wall. He wore a rumpled corduroy blazer, tan slacks and a haircut about two weeks past it’s prime. What he lacked in appearance he made up for with passion about his subject. The discovery of a cache of medieval parchments describing alchemical recipes and purposes, many of which had no place in modern society, had his focus that morning.
Professional interest or fanaticism? Such a thin line separated the two.
I stood in the shadows of the alcove leading to the door and cleared my thoughts. Closing my eyes, I tuned everything out and opened my mind first to the general room; I sought out magic
wherever it might be. Other than a tiny flicker or two from students who probably weren’t even aware of their natural born gifts, the only person I found who was decidedly not normal, was the dear professor himself.
Whether he was a natural born witch (or the like) or he’d stolen that magic from an assembly line of succubi, well that was anyone’s guess. I couldn’t prove he was guilty yet, but at least I wasn’t able to rule him out either.
I scanned Shiller once more, quickly, before I left to see if he was leaking any strong emotions—he wasn’t—and I headed back out the way I’d come. I hurried down the hall, keeping an eye out for granny all the while. A quick capture of Shiller’s family photo and I was done with my little field trip.
Stepping out into the warmth of the sun, I fished out my phone and called Dane. I had another little excursion in mind, but didn’t want to go it alone this time.
“Hey, do you have the address for Shiller’s home? I was thinking we could go poke around for a bit. He’ll be in classes for a few more hours, his kids shouldn’t be home either. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the wife will be out too.”
“She should be. My guy tells me that the wife, Dawn Shiller, volunteers every day at the local library. Seems to be quite the local authority on historical documents.”
“Huh, well. Fingers crossed. We need to get into that house.” I walked back across the campus, over the grass instead of the sidewalk. Because I’m a rebel like that.
“Okay, I’ll text you the address,” he said. “Meet you there in fifteen?”
“That works.” I disconnected the call and walked the last few minutes in silence, formulating a plan.
I pulled my car to the curb several houses down from the Shiller’s address. The neighborhood was just outside of the city center, and consisted of tiny square houses and postage-sized lawns. Not the best, but not the worst, and certainly a good fit for a family who never stays in one place very long.
It was doubtful we’d find Elena within the small footprint of the house, though. There probably wasn’t anywhere to hide her away from his kids and wife. Either that, or the systematic abuse of women was a family affair. I prayed that wasn’t the case.
Just a few minutes later a gray sedan passed by my parked car, slower than necessary. I tensed, followed it in my rearview mirror. The driver parked ten feet behind me and the door swung open. Dane got out, casually walked to my passenger side door and climbed in.
“Any movement?” he asked, nodding to the Shiller’s house up the street, on the right.
I shook my head. “Nope. No car in the driveway either.”
“Good. So, how’d your back-to-school morning go?” He smirked and I resisted the urge to punch him in the arm.
Did everybody know I’d dropped out of school? Hells.
“Not a complete waste of time. I didn’t find anything in his office but this,” I pulled out my phone and showed him the family portrait. “The wife looks weird, right?”
He took my phone and studied the picture. “Yeah, she does. Depressed, or something maybe. Or pills… isn’t that the new thing for housewives these days?”
I took my phone back and shot him a look. “How the hell should I know? Do I look like a housewife to you?”
“Well, I can picture you in a little apron and heels.” He winked, growled a little.
I did punch him in the arm then, hard.
I wasn’t sure if I was irritated that he was flirting with me while we were trying to find his… his Elena, or if I was mad at myself for the reaction my body had to the tiniest bit of his charm, released.
“What the hell, Dane?”
His smile dropped away. “Sorry, I’m hungry. Makes it harder to control my persuasion. Or maybe it’s just you.”
I ignored the hell out of that comment.
“Shiller’s office was generic. I’d hazard a guess that he doesn’t plan on sticking around. Otherwise, nothing helpful there. I did pop in and take a gander at the man himself though. That was a bit more interesting.”
He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, “And?”
“He has magic. I’m not sure if it’s natural born talent or something else.”
“Okay, noted.” He looked back toward the house. “So, how do you want to play this?”
I scanned the area and shrugged. “I’m not sure. There isn’t much cover for the B&E part, but if any neighbors are home we can’t just walk around to the back door. We’ll have to be quick and seamless at the front.”
He sighed and opened his door. “Okay, let’s do this.”
I met him at the front of the car and we crossed to the sidewalk, kicking leaves up in our wake. For several seconds the only sound was boots on pavement. Then he threw me off-balance just for funsies.
Dane took my hand in his and dammit, my legs quivered. My body flushed and a sigh escaped my lips.
“We’re just a couple, out for an innocent stroll,” he explained, like that made everything better.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just focused on the front door of the Shiller’s house and put one foot in front of the other. When we reached it, I extracted myself from Dane and knocked on the door. Listening for sounds through the paneled wood, I sent out a quick scan to see if I could pick up anything on the other side as well. The house appeared to be empty.
I had a thought, a bad one admittedly, and I decided to go with it before I chickened out. If Dane wanted to play, it was my turn.
I stepped closer to him, pulled his face to mine with one hand and snaked the other around his back. Then I touched my lips to his, softly, then not so much. His lips parted further and pulled me in, and for a second I forgot the whole point of the ruse.
“Push me up against the door,” I panted in between the tongue olympics we had going on.
He grunted and did as told, then returned to devouring my mouth, my soul.
Focusing was damn near impossible.
The heat of his lips on mine, the press of his body, the roaming hands. He had to know it was pretend, but either he was a very good actor or he was actually into me. Or maybe he just needed a power bump.
Either way, thinking cleared my head enough to do what was needed.
While his tongue worked its magic, I worked my own on the door lock. The tumbler clicked into place and I pushed Dane away with two hands on his chest. But I so didn’t want to. Holy fuck that boy could kiss.
I pushed the door open and pulled him inside. Closing the door, I avoided looking in his direction. “I’ll take the second level.”
Upstairs and blessedly alone, I found three bedrooms and a small bathroom. In the kid’s rooms I did a quick check, but I wasn’t really expecting to find anything there. Next up was the bathroom, a pink-tiled specimen straight out of the fifties. The only thing interesting there was a prescription for sleeping pills, prescribed to the Professor.
Magic is a fickle beast, and because of that you won’t find many witches that mess around with drugs, prescription or not. They dulled the senses, short-circuited power and could even cause nasty magical misfires. It was odd that Shilling had them.
But maybe he didn’t take them. Maybe he’d gotten them for the wife? Sleep issues could explain that vacant look on her face. I shut the medicine cabinet and checked behind the shower curtain—I don’t know why, it’s not like I expected Elena to be chained to the towel bar or something. She wasn’t, by the way.
I moved on to the master bedroom. White walls and mismatched furniture, but everything orderly and neat, even the closet. Nothing jumped out and screamed “clue!” at me, and I checked everywhere. Under the bed, in the back of the closet, the nightstands. Like Shiller’s office, his room was surprisingly devoid of anything more personal than his underwear drawer.
I circled the bedroom one more time before I realized what I was doing. Avoiding Dane like a boss. I rolled my eyes so hard that I checked out my own ass, then headed to face the incubus.
I found said sex-monkey in the study downst
airs. He looked up as I entered. “Anything?”
I shook my head and circled behind the desk where he sat. “You?”
“Not really. Just regular stuff. Bills, insurance stuff, bank statements—completely normal by the way—and phone statements showing the Shiller’s mostly just call each other.”
“Well, shit.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “We need to get a move on. Regroup back at your place?”
He eyed me with a slight grin, stood and followed me outside. Carefully locking the door behind me, I turned to leave and ran head-first into Dane’s solid chest.
“Ow,” I rubbed my nose.
He smirked, bit his lip in that I’m going to say something naughty way. “Round two? You know, for the neighbors.”
I looked up into his smirking face, and just couldn’t help myself. I stood on my tip-toes, putting my face inches from his. “If you’re hungry, stop for takeout on the way home.”
I left him standing there, mouth agape, as I took my leave.
5
Back at base camp, a.k.a Dane’s house, I waited impatiently in my car for him to arrive home. Seems he took my suggestion to pick up something—or someone—to eat on the way home quite literally. That irked me, though it shouldn’t.
I decided to call in a favor while I waited. Or rather text in a favor.
Years ago, my mom met a promising young hacker just when she needed his services the most. With his help, she took down a dark web clearing house and liberated a bunch of trafficked children. They also liberated the bank accounts associated with the fuckers and while most of the money went to the victims and their families, a small portion (really not that small, considering) was invested into a shell corporation to bankroll HackerTee and his future endeavors.
Because magic and fangs might be nifty weapons to have, being able to scour the web for information, unfettered, is priceless.
Me: Prof M. A. Shiller. Full tilt. Expanded. Slutty.
My phone pinged almost immediately. I wasn’t surprised. He barely left his brownstone these days and was always connected. I bet he even carried tech into the shower with him.
Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection Page 201
