by Naomi Clark
I wasn’t taking it though. Rhian died in her apartment and I had evidence that they knew each other. Tamsin had been out of contact since Rhian was found. That made her the prime suspect, and Anna would want in. I slid my phone from my pocket and called her.
Chapter Ten
“Are you driving and using your phone at the same time?” Anna demanded when I told her what I was doing.
“Yeah, but we’re going about five miles an hour, so it probably doesn’t count.”
“Where are you going, exactly? And why? How did you find Searle in the first place?”
I thought about that last one before answering. I didn’t need Anna knowing about my little problem. I went for a half-truth, since Anna would find out about Tamsin’s secret identity anyway. “She’s a practicing witch. I tracked her down through one of the girls at Hush and had to trump up some reason to get an appointment with her.”
“Really?” Anna sounded amused. “What did you tell her?”
“I’ve been suffering from insomnia.” That was true. “So, are you going to come check her out?”
“Do you have an address?”
I acknowledged that I hadn’t. Caught between the Voice and the witch and whatever ulterior motives they both had, I hadn’t asked Tamsin where her working space was. I felt pretty certain it wouldn’t be her apartment. “We’re heading down Port Road…just turned onto Russell Street.”
“Right. Not entirely helpful.”
“Well, see if she has another address under the name Salome Giovanni,” I said irritably, swerving the car to avoid hitting an idiot on a bike. Mutt yelped and stuck his tongue in my ear to scold me. “You’re the detective. Detect!”
“You’re also a detective, Banning,” Anna reminded me. “Keep me updated, okay? Text me once you know where you are and we’ll take it from there.”
I hung up and concentrated on driving again. Tension sliced down my spine, and the Voice pricked at the inside of my head, telling me to turn back, stay away. It was similar to the way it had acted before the exorcism, but there were no threats now. No promises to make my life a living hell if I didn’t do what the Voice said. This was more like…bargaining.
“It’s not too late to turn back–let the witch go. She’s full of malice.”
“Did she kill Rhian and the others?” I wondered aloud, wiping sweat from my forehead. “Why would she? What’s the motive there?”
“Who cares about those pathetic whores? She’ll kill you. Carve your heart out and eat it, if you give her a chance.”
Well, that was nothing the Voice hadn’t threatened me with itself. I recalled how desperate and agitated it had been before we met Walker Moss. This was the same–the cacadaemon, or its essence or whatever was inside me, felt scared. Out of its depth, and that scared me.
The fact that I was using the demon to assess dangerous situations? That scared me as well.
Tamsin slowed down, which was an impressive feat in itself, given how slow we drove to start with. She pulled in, in front of a small, red brick bungalow. It was nice–the whole street was nice. Russell Street was on one of the new estates that had sprung up at the edge of the town as it expanded. On the other side of the road from us, I saw a beauty salon, a used book store, and a wedding dress boutique. Not a witchy neighborhood. Normal.
I didn’t like it. I’d be far more comfortable if she’d taken me to some fog-wreathed graveyard or whatever. At least then I’d know I was in the shit. In this nice, normal neighborhood, who knew?
I pulled in behind Tamsin and let Mutt leap out of the car so he could piss up a lamp post. Tamsin frowned at me. “What?” I snapped. “Better there than in the car.”
“You’re not bringing that creature into my working space,” she said.
“Don’t go in there alone!”
I twitched at the Voice’s command, hating how much I agreed with the demon. Nothing about this felt right to me. “I thought you witches were all down with nature and that shit?” I asked Tamsin.
Her lips twitched, not quite a smile. “I’m not that kind of witch.”
“Well, he can’t stay in the car,” I said, catching Mutt by the collar. He sat by my feet, staring up at Tamsin. “There’s no shade out here and it’s way too hot for him to be locked up in there.”
She pursed her lips, nodded, and led me and Mutt into the bungalow. As tense and wired as I was, I braced myself for some weird gothic dungeon. But when we stepped inside, the first thing I noticed was the cleanliness of the place. Not just in terms of housekeeping, but everything. It looked light and airy, lots of windows and mirrors. Normal again. No candles, goats’ skulls, or bubbling cauldrons anywhere. Just once, I really wanted to meet a supernatural creature who abided by the clichés.
Mutt curled up by the front door, keeping well away from Tamsin. I didn’t know if that was significant or not; he hadn’t made much of a fuss of Anna either. A one-man dog. I felt like it was significant, like Mutt sensed something in Tamsin that he didn’t like.
“I’ve only just moved in here,” she said, ushering me to the sand-colored sofa. “It’ll take me a while to get it up to scratch for magic-working, but it’ll do for an initial consultation.”
“It’s not what I pictured,” I admitted. “I figured there’d be more pentagrams.”
She laughed breezily. “Well, this room won’t be the work space. I’m converting the basement–that’s where we’ll be heading.” That said, she drifted through to the kitchen, off the side of the lounge, all gleaming marble counter tops and pale tiles. “Make yourself at home,” she called back through to me.
I paced the lounge, taking the opportunity to text the address of the place to Anna. I wondered if Tamsin had moved her base of operations here before or after Rhian’s death. After all, just because she owned the apartment, didn’t mean she’d been using it. She could have been renting it out. Someone could have been squatting there.
A few pertinent questions from me, and Tamsin could clear that right up and get back to solving my demon problem.
I wasn’t sure how to raise the subject though. I’d found that people get pretty upset when you start slinging words like “dead hooker” and “missing kidneys” around.
Tamsin returned from the kitchen with two glasses–one obviously full of orange juice, one full of a cloudy bluish liquid that reminded me of dirty washing-up water. She handed that glass to me. I eyed it and her dubiously and she chuckled. “Drink up. It’s harmless.”
“No offense, lady, but I had a really nasty experience with home-brewed cider when I was a kid. I don’t drink anything if I don’t know what’s in it.”
“It’s to help you relax,” she said evasively. “A lot of people find it difficult to relax the first time magic is worked on them, and it makes them less receptive to my abilities.”
I took the glass and sniffed it. “What exactly are you going to be doing to me?”
“Ripping your spine out through your stomach,” the Voice growled at me. “If you’re too stupid to walk away, you deserve it.”
She stepped back from me, and her frown told me I’d spoken aloud. “I certainly won’t be doing that. Look, this is a perfect example of why I need you relaxed. The more tense and nervous you are, the more likely it is the demon will take control. Drink your tincture and we’ll get started. The sooner we get started, the sooner your problem gets solved.”
I sniffed the tincture again. It smelt kinda fruity, non-threatening. Didn’t mean it was safe, and the Voice was pretty sure it wasn’t. What does that mean though? The Voice wanted me to rape Anna and kill myself–what does its opinion really count for?
Tamsin didn’t know anything about me. As far as she was concerned, I was a genuine client here for a genuine consultation, a man she’d just met. A man who knew her only as Salome Giovanni. So, even assuming s
he was involved in Rhian’s death, she had no reason to harm me. Who knew, she might actually be able to help me.
I knocked back the tincture. It tasted better than it looked, like blueberries. I wiped my mouth and waited for sparks to flash before my eyes, or little green men to pop out from under the sofa or something. Nothing happened though, except my tongue got sort of tingly.
“There, see? No poison,” she said lightly. “Now, is your dog going to behave himself if we leave him up here alone?”
I glanced at Mutt. He glanced back forlornly, and I couldn’t help but think that if he could talk, he’d be warning me just like the Voice. Well, no, not just like the Voice. Mutt would say something like, “Well, Ethan, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”
“He’ll be fine,” I told Tamsin. “He’s fully house-trained.” He’d never pissed on my carpets, anyway.
She cast Mutt a warning frown and beckoned me into the kitchen. Next to the fridge-freezer was a sturdy-looking wooden door that I guessed led down to the basement. My unease returned as I remembered the last basement I’d been in. Back in Shoregrave, chasing down a child-killer, I’d wound up locked in a basement with a hungry ghoul. The whole experience had been pretty traumatizing. So I hesitated before following Tamsin down the stairs.
“Ethan? You okay?” She paused in the doorway, one hand on her hip. It was a seductive pose, especially combined with those soft lips and dark lashes. Some of my tension lifted. Really, it wasn’t like going down to a basement with a hot chick was going to end badly, right? I had my gun. I’d be fine.
“You’re an idiot. You deserve to die.”
The Voice sounded fainter than usual, pushed to the back of my head. A result of Tamsin’s tincture? I did feel kinda…looser, calmer. “I’m peachy,” I assured her as I followed her down the stairs.
The basement was a bit witchier, a bit more clichéd. A red light bulb swung from the ceiling, casting a bloody light around the room. The walls were painted black, with silver pentagrams and crescent moons. I saw a few shelves on the walls, lined with jars of various sizes. In the red light, it was hard to tell what was in the jars–they were just weird shapes. There was a chalk circle on the pale stone floor. The circle had a pentagram in it too, with a candle at each of the five points of the star. One red, one blue, one green, one yellow, and one white. It looked a little fluffy-Wiccan to me, but the energy of the place felt real.
It thrummed in the warm air, dark and wicked. The red bulb made the small basement feel smaller, claustrophobic and sticky. I could imagine people dying down here, sacrificed and chopped up. The Voice stirred, telling me again to run, but it sounded far away and felt sluggish. That was quite nice, actually. I could almost remember what it was like not to have the demon in me at all. I didn’t like the heavy drowsiness settling over me, though, turning my body to lead. “What was in that tincture again?” I asked Tamsin as she set about lighting the candles.
“Fruit and herbs, mostly. Stand in the circle, please. Don’t smudge the chalk.”
To my surprise, I stepped into the circle without debating it. The air snapped around me, like a door slamming. I was vaguely aware that I didn’t like that, but I couldn’t decide what, if anything to do about it.
Tamsin smiled at me, that predatory, calculating look back on her pretty face. “Give me your gun,” she ordered.
I handed it over without a thought. Even as I did, I knew I shouldn’t, knew I’d regret it, but I couldn’t have refused. The instinct to obey her was as natural as breathing. I was in big trouble. I knew I shouldn’t have drunk her home-brew shit.
“And your phone,” she added, and I handed that over just as meekly.
I’d always had this idea that I’d know if I was being hypnotized. That it would be like a hand reaching into my skull, or a pressure behind my eyes, warning me someone was invading my mind, but I didn’t feel a thing except the desire to do as I was told. Maybe I was just used to not being alone in my head, so I didn’t notice Tamsin’s magic tincture taking effect. The only real clue I had was that the Voice fell utterly silent.
I figured the fact that that scared me meant I was totally fucked.
Tamsin placed the gun and phone on an empty bookshelf, and paced around me, studying me with sharp eyes. I moved with her, not sure if that was my choice or hers. We did a full circle before she spoke again.
“Demon-infused blood, demon-infused bones and organs...I can’t believe you just walked through my door!” she laughed.
I tried to speak, tried to say something pithy and witty, but she snapped her fingers and shook her head. I couldn’t open my mouth. Crap.
“Take off your coat and shirt,” she ordered. I obeyed mindlessly, wondering if this was where all the zombie myths of Haiti came from. I felt like a zombie, dead-limbed and doped-up. I dropped my coat and shirt on the floor, and she hissed at me.
“Watch the chalk!” She snatched the garments up and tossed them aside. Then she reached out to lift my arm up, running her nails up and down my skin. “Traditionally a Hand of Glory came from a hanged man,” she told me, “but a demon-infused Hand of Glory should be more than adequate.”
I found myself staring at the jars on the shelves again. My eyes had adjusted to the weird light down here, and it was now impossible to mistake the contents for anything other than what they were.
Organs.
I couldn’t put a name to them all—I flunked biology after an argument with my teacher over who the biggest cock-sucking moron really was—but I felt pretty sure I stared at kidneys and hearts mostly. My stomach lurched and with a massive effort, I forced a single word from my stiff lips.
“Rhian.”
Tamsin smiled sadly. “Poor thing. She was so miserable, so messed up. It was a mercy killing really.” She let my arm fall and scooped up my jacket to rummage through my pockets. She pulled out my wallet and laughed when she saw my PI license. “I should have known. I heard Baxter ranting about hiring an investigator, but I figured he’d drop it.”
I was dimly aware of Mutt barking at the basement door. Tamsin glanced that way too, frowning. “We’ll have to deal with that mongrel too, I guess.”
I felt a little stirring from the Voice then, moved by the threat of violence. Funny that Tamsin muttering about chopping off my arm didn’t get the demon excited, but the thought of her butchering my dog did. Bastard demon.
Tamsin went to one of her shelves and plucked a fuck-off huge knife from next to a jar of what I really hoped weren’t eyeballs. She grabbed a piece of black velvet too, and wiped the blade down before returning to me. She acted so fucking calm and cool, it chilled me. She’d done this before, plenty of times. Not just Rhian, but the other girls Anna and her team had found. I guess I could take some comfort in knowing I was going to be chopped up by an expert.
She trailed the point of the knife down my chest lazily, smiling at me. “I should siphon off some blood first, I guess. Demon-infused blood will give my potions a real kick.”
I tried to say something else, but she shook her head and my tongue froze in my mouth. My gaze fixed on the blade, and it was all too easy to imagine it dripping with my blood. My stomach twisted and the Voice stirred again, like an echo down an alleyway. It gave me a weird flush of hope. I’d learned in Shoregrave that the demon let me take a hell of a lot more punishment than I could handle on my own. If I could find a way to shake off Tamsin’s compulsion, I might stand a chance of escaping here with all my organs intact.
Of course, I had no idea how the hell to shake off the compulsion, and I wanted to figure it out before she started hacking pieces off me.
With a swift motion, she slashed the blade down my chest. Blood welled at the cut. I wanted to swear in pain, but silence still locked me in. The pain sent a jolt of life through me to the Voice, bringing the demon closer to me, like it moved through my he
ad to stare out through my eyes at what Tamsin was doing.
What she was doing, I realized was carving a pentagram on my chest with slow, deep cuts. The pain turned to agony, and all my nerves burned. The Voice found the sight of my blood sliding down my skin pretty enticing though.
“Luscious. Like sweets.”
The Voice sounded foggy. I guessed as messed up by the compulsion tincture as I was in its way. I felt a sudden kinship with the demon. Probably a sign I was about to die a violent death.
“I can feel the demon in you,” Tamsin told me as she carved her symbol. “I can’t decide if it’s for or against this though.” She took a step back to look me in the eye. “I’ve never done this before,” she added.
I wanted to ask which part, but it was obvious what she meant. It struck me that she was a little scared. Under that calm surface, beneath that happy slasher exterior, Tamsin didn’t really know what to do with me, didn’t know what to do with the demon.
I tried to think of a way I could use that to my advantage. I hadn’t thought of anything by the time Tamsin shrugged off her doubts and started slicing me up again.
Upstairs, Mutt now dug at the door. His claws raked at the stone floor, and his frantic barks echoed through the wood. Maybe he’d do a Lassie and run for help, or crash through the door to rip Tamsin’s throat out.
Tamsin finished carving her pentagram and swore as Mutt began howling. “He’ll have the whole neighborhood knocking the door down,” she muttered. “This is a no pet rental.”
So pets were bad but human sacrifice was okay? I made a mental note to avoid this neighborhood when my own lease was up.
Tamsin poked me in the chest, at the center of the pentagram, twisting the tip of the blade in. A driving pain shot through my heart. I gasped for air, wavering on my feet and wishing like hell I could punch the bitch in the face. She smiled at me and snapped her fingers. “Lie down. I’m going to take care of your damn dog.”
I collapsed to my knees, pain racking through my body like a heart attack. Once I was on my knees, it was easier to keep going than stop, so I ended up in a fetal position on the floor. I wrapped my arms around myself as if I could suppress the pain that way.
