Black Magic (Black Records Book 1)

by Mark Feenstra

  I followed him into the house. “Oh, you know. Same old same old.”

  “That’s not what I hear,” he replied, his lips curling in a mischievous grin before he turned and left me in the sitting room.

  I heard the whistle of a kettle and he reappeared so quickly with two cups and a pot of steeping tea that I knew he’d been expecting me. No matter how much time I spent around the fae, that kind of stuff always creeped me out a little. I mean, I could use magic to do a few things that would mess with your head if you weren’t in on the secret, but prescience is a rare thing even among the most gifted of magic users.

  “What do you know about an artifact dealer named Norman Weathersby?” I asked.

  “I know Mabel found her husband in a profoundly unpleasant state this morning,” he said as he poured the tea. “And I know you were there this afternoon because she asked you to look into his death.”

  “So do you know who dunnit?”

  I allowed myself the tiniest sliver of hope that I could shortcut my way through this thing.

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I only happened to come by this information when Mabel contacted me shortly after discovering Norman’s body. She had asked me to help her, but you know how I feel about going out there.”

  He waved absent-mindedly at the general direction of anywhere outside his house. Viktor was a complete shut-in as far as I knew, and that made it all the more frustrating that he was so well-informed about what was going on in the world around him. The guy didn’t have a computer or phone, but he was a lightning rod for every bit of gossip whizzing through the non-human community.

  “Let me guess,” I said, reaching forward to snatch a slightly warm oatmeal chocolate chip cookie from the tray. “You gave her my contact information, right?”

  “I thought you’d be up for the challenge. I hope I wasn’t wrong?”

  “That has yet to be determined,” I said. “Something did a real number on poor old Norman. The scene hadn’t been too disturbed, so I was able to get a good look at the residual magic in the area. It was seriously intense. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  “Hmm.”

  Viktor set his teacup down and folded his hands on his lap.

  “Hmm, what?”

  Viktor could be as cold and unreadable as a block of granite, but this time I could see something was obviously troubling him. That he didn’t bother hiding it made me nervous.

  “There’s a reason I wanted you to look into Norman’s death,” he said. “The rather odd thing about all of this is the absence of information about what happened. When Mabel contacted me, I had hoped to be able to sniff out a few leads by the time you had found your way here. Instead, I haven’t been able to learn a single thing.”

  I went for another cookie. For a guy who never left the house, he always had fantastic food waiting for me. What my no-sugar challenge buddy Chase didn’t know about this little lapse wouldn’t kill him.

  “What do you mean?” A cookie crumb fell from my lips and landed on my lap. I plucked it up and popped it into my mouth. “If I was going around killing people, I probably wouldn’t be talking about it. What kind of information did you expect to get? Eyewitness accounts of the bad guy leaving the building?”

  “It’s difficult to explain, but there’s a difference between a lack of information and a sort of obvious block of missing information.”

  He scratched at the stubble on his chin and frowned a little.

  “I suppose it’s like a black hole,” he continued. “Everywhere in space we see stars and planets. It is only by looking at the obvious dead spots that we can theorize the existence of a black hole absorbing all light and preventing anyone from seeing through what should by all rights be empty space.”

  “So you’re saying someone went to pretty great lengths to cover their tracks.”

  “I can’t accept that no one would be discussing such a macabre occurrence,” he said. “There are always whispers, however faint, but in this case I see nothing but darkness where there should at least be the tiniest glimmer of light.”

  “Great,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

  If Viktor had no clue who was tied into this thing, then I was going to have a hell of a time getting any information out of anyone. Whatever Viktor was, he was a damn sight more connected to the fae world than anyone else I knew. Tracking down a lead would be difficult, given that I didn’t even know where to start.

  “There is one thing I can tell you,” said Viktor. “There has been something of a ripple in the normally calm pool of rumors and stories floating through our city, and the pebble at the center of that ripple is none other than our Norman Weathersby.”

  “From before he was murdered?”

  “It appears he came into possession of a rather powerful artifact he was quite eager to rid himself of.” Viktor rubbed his hands together in an uncharacteristic sign of stress. “People were not happy to hear this artifact was once again in play. I was not able to discern the true nature of the item, but the impressions I did pick up lead me to believe very ancient and powerful magic is involved.”

  “This just keeps getting better,” I said. “Is there anyone I can talk to for information?”

  “There is one, but I don’t think you’ll like it.” He sipped his tea as a way of stalling.

  “Give it to me, Viktor,” I said. “Whoever it is, I can deal.”

  “Lorelai is back in town.”

  I cringed before catching myself. Lorelai and I had the kind of history you hoped you’d never have to repeat. I’d thought I’d seen the last of her a few years ago, but now here she was back in the city at the same time something big seemed to be going down. There was no way it was a coincidence. I supposed it was the lead I’d been looking for, but it hadn’t been the one I’d wanted to find.

  “I don’t like any of this,” said Viktor. “You know I’m not one to tell you what you should and should not do, but I am beginning to have regrets about giving your name to Mabel. You might be better off walking away from this one, Alex.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Viktor, but I think I can manage. I’ve faced trouble and come out okay before.”

  “I know you have,” he said. “I am not questioning your ability to take care of yourself, but rather urging you to consider the gravity of what is building around us. Strong forces are at play, and I am not too proud to admit that it scares me.”

  Had I been a little wiser, that would have been enough of a sign indicating I was about to get in over my head. Viktor was a man who made caution and conflict avoidance his religion, so it was easy for me to dismiss his concern. Despite the way I look and dress, I’d lived through some shit in my life. Much of my magical development had come from a need for self-defense during my young teenage years, and I was cocky enough to believe I could handle anything that came my way.

  “I’ll be careful,” was all I said.

  “All the same, I’d like you to have something.”

  Viktor got up from his chair and disappeared into his study. He came back a moment later carrying a rough hemp bracelet with an elongated white ceramic bead woven into the middle of it.

  “A friendship bracelet?” I teased. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

  Viktor’s eyebrows lowered and a frown wrinkled the corners of his mouth.

  “It is a life charm,” he explained. “Contained within the bead is enough life essence to help you survive an attack that might otherwise prove fatal. It will not save you from anything so drastic as full decapitation, but it might be enough to help you if this foul creature you are chasing manages to catch you first.”

  I stood up and kissed the old man on the cheek. He really had become something of a grandfather to me, and I was touched by his concern. Still, I think we both knew I had no intention of dropping this particular bone quite yet.

  “Thank you, Viktor. I’ll try to be careful, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

  “I always
worry about you.”

  I gave him a quick hug and turned to leave, snatching another cookie along the way.

  Now all I had to do was go find Lorelai. On the bright side, I’d probably be able to delay talking to her until tomorrow at the earliest. Lorelai never made it easy for anyone to track her down when she didn’t want to be found, although it was usually a relatively simple matter of following the chaos she left in her wake. Even if she was trying to keep a low profile, I knew I could count on her to cause at least a little trouble along the way. All I had to do was find the aftermath.

  Viktor probably could have helped me track down Lorelai a hell of a lot more efficiently than I would on my own, but like I already said, I wasn’t all that eager to face her again. It was early in the day for Lorelai to be out and about, but if she had already been in town for a few days, then odds were in my favor she’d stopped by her favorite bar. I didn’t necessarily expect to find her sitting on a bar stool sipping an appletini, but it was almost four o’clock, and that meant The Bolt-Hole would be open for me to have a drink in the name of research.

  A short SkyTrain ride dumped me close enough to the bar to put it within easy walking distance. The weather had cleared some. Although the skies hadn’t exactly become clear and blue, the rain had stopped, and the light blasting through the white billowy clouds was bright enough to make me squint. I hadn’t grabbed sunglasses because of the heavy rain thundering down when I’d left my apartment, but that was this city for you. Pouring and cold one minute; warm and welcoming as a postcard the next.

  The other annoying side effect of the brightness was near complete loss of vision after I ducked through the side alley doorway and into the dimly lit stairway that served as the front entrance to The Bolt-Hole. The place was so narrow it was basically a bar lined with stools, a row of two-seaters, and barely enough room to walk between them. Maroon Victorian era wallpapered walls sported a motley collection of antlers and oval portraits of people who’d died hundreds of years ago. Max capacity was about twenty people, making it the kind of place that felt tailored to exactly my tastes. It’s not that I’m completely antisocial, but bars like this did little to attract the sort of smarmy popped-collar jerks that seemed appear from thin air anywhere alcohol was served.

  Lorelai, of course, liked The Bolt-Hole for rather different reasons. She’d been in female form last time I’d seen her, and dimly lit bars were prime feeding territory for a creature like her. Not quite a succubus, Lorelai was a creature without name. As far as I knew, she was a random one of a kind being that mimicked traits of more common fae. The supernatural world was like that. Lorelai was only one of many beings that slipped past the notice of humans and even many other fae. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you much else about the woman except that she’d been a stone cold bitch when last I’d last had the misfortune of crossing paths with her.

  The Bolt-Hole had just opened a few minutes earlier, so only one lone familiar figure sat at the bar sipping a domestic beer and staring blankly at the rows of bottles behind the bartender’s back. Eddie was a reliable sort, and I’d have been surprised to not see him in his usual place at the end of the bar.

  Catching the bartender’s eye, I nodded, salivating a little when she took down a bottle of Maker’s to pour me a healthy double. I shouldn’t have wanted it that badly, but if there was ever a time to start drinking early, it was shaping up to be exactly that kind of day.

  The bourbon was as good as any pick-me-up potion I’d ever tried, and I had to fight the urge to slam the whole thing back in one go.

  “What’s up, Eddie?” I asked as I sidled up to him.

  I watched him take a small sip of his beer before setting it down in the precise center of his coaster. He didn’t land it quite as he’d intended, and he had to do it six more times before he got it right. Eddie had pretty severe OCD, and not the kind of fake OCD people always joke about. No, watching him touch the edge of the coaster ten times before being able to pull his hand away only to clench it tightly within the grip of his other hand, I didn’t think anyone would joke about having OCD if they’d spent a few minutes with someone like Eddie.

  The guy had a hell of a memory though. Creature of habit that he was, he’d be my best bet for information if anyone interesting had come through the bar lately.

  “Same old, same old,” he said, his jaw working in an obvious effort not to indulge in some repetitive linguistic tic.

  “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I was wondering if maybe anything exciting had happened around here in the last few days?”

  Taking his eyes off the neck of his beer bottle for the first time since I’d approached him, he looked at the bar in front of me and smiled a ragged toothy grin.

  “So happens that things got a little crazy in here last night,” he said. His arms spasmed slightly, biceps clenching and unclenching. I tried not to stare at his fingers tapping compulsively against the brass rail of the bar.

  “Oh yeah?” I said. “Anyone I know?”

  Eddie’s lip twitched and he actually looked me directly in the eyes. It was an unusual gesture, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel a little uncomfortable. Still, I did my best to hold and return the stare.

  “Matter of fact,” he said, “it was your old friend Lorelai. You remember her, right?”

  “Yeah, Eddie, I remember Lorelai.”

  After what she’d put me through, I couldn’t have forgotten her had I wanted to. There were more days than not that I wanted to do just that.

  “Things got a bit… heated.” Eddie turned his attention back to the rim of his beer bottle. “Even Jess was swept up in it all.”

  I shifted my attention to the bartender, who turned away too late for me to miss the flush that crept up her heavily tattooed neck. Jess was a tough girl who was well used to the kind of weird stuff that tended to happen in her bar. That the Bolt-Hole’s owner had not been able to maintain her usual detachment from whatever had gone down last night meant Lorelai had been in rare form indeed.

  Eddie ignored Jessica’s flustered reaction and continued his story.

  “Lorelai came in about ten o’clock if I remember it right. It didn’t take long for things to get wild. Jess here had her top off by eleven and by midnight she was—”

  “Hey,” interrupted Jessica, slamming a glass down on the bar. “That has nothing to do with anything. What Alex wants to know is if anything magical went down here last night, and other than a bit of heavy partying, I can attest that the pact was kept. No one stepped out of line, and nothing illegal happened here last night. As to what happened once everyone left? I couldn’t say. I locked up at three like I always do.”

  “Did Lorelai leave alone?” I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  “She left with two girls and a guy I hadn’t seen before,” answered Eddie.

  I took another sip of my bourbon. “Did she seem extra happy or anything? Celebrating, maybe?”

  It was tough to predict exactly how someone like Lorelai would react if she’d killed Norman and stolen an artifact, but I figured I knew her well enough to guess that it would either send her into hiding or kick her into overdrive. If she’d come here to celebrate, it might explain how even the typically resilient Jess had been caught up in the hedonistic fever that followed Lorelai wherever she went.

  Jess shook her head. “I don’t really remember last night well enough to comment on that. I wish I could help you, but everything after… well, you know, is a bit fuzzy.”

  Eddie looked from me to Jessica. I couldn’t help but wonder what depraved thoughts were running through that weird little head of his, and I had to suppress a visible shudder at the realization he was probably imagining what he might have witnessed had I been there for the party.

  I did my best to ignore his creepy grin.

  “Did you happen to catch if she was wearing any jewelry? Like a necklace or a pendant?”

  “Not that I saw,” said Eddie, f
ingers tap tap tapping on and off the edge of his coaster. “And trust you me, I saw a lot.

  “I didn’t notice anything either,” said Jess. “Lorelai did seem especially eager to instigate something last night, but she’d been gone for a while, so I could just be forgetting how wild she always was.”

  My jaw ached, and I forced myself to unclench it. Lorelai was easily the most powerful fae creature I’d ever encountered, and I couldn’t hold myself responsible for every bit of sexual havoc she wreaked. She’d never crossed the line into killing any of her playthings. Most humans she preyed upon were simply left exhausted and trying desperately to make sense of hazy memories of having indulged in things they’d previously only fantasized about. As much as I hated myself for falling victim to her allure, I couldn’t exactly condemn her as a vicious murderer.

  Going after Norman Weathersby felt out of character for Lorelai, but then again, what exactly did I know about her true nature?

  “Don’t suppose you know where Lorelai is staying,” I asked, hoping they’d tell me they didn’t have a clue.

  Jess only shrugged, but Eddie nodded and returned his gaze to his beer bottle. I waited for him to take a sip, replace the bottle, and then spend a full two minutes positioning it on his coaster in a way that seemed to finally satisfy him. When he was done, he gave me an address.

  “I think you know the place,” he added.

  “Yeah, I know it.”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills. Unfolding a ten from the pathetically small pile, I tossed it onto the bar and thanked Jess for the drink.