Murder by Magic

by Catherine Vale

  “Oh, wait.” She grabbed his arm, her voice rising. “So, it won’t have a title, will it? It would be just a book, untitled, a little battered, if they’d tried to tear it apart. But it would be just a book to us, an old book, without a title.”

  Before he realized it, he’d pulled her into a hug. “Yes. That’s right. Just a book.”

  She didn’t pull away for a moment, but then she gently disengaged from his arms. But that moment pushed aside the dark magic like a breeze, clearing out smoke from a room. For that moment, he felt the weight leave him, and realized just how damaging this evil magic was becoming to him, to his psyche, to his very soul.

  “Jessica, we need to find whoever is behind these murders. Not just to prevent the next murder from happening, but to keep whatever this is out of my world.”

  “Out of both of our worlds.” The look on her face said it all. Her statement was a simple one, but one that meant a lot to him. She cared deeply for him still.

  “Yes, both our worlds. There are forces behind those portals who would easily destroy this world, and mine, if it means having absolute power…if it means they could control both worlds.”

  “Is that what you think? That someone is trying to harness dark magic so that they can control both worlds?”

  “I’ve been going over this in my mind again and again… I think it’s someone who not only wants to be able to travel between worlds, but control both. I’m not sure why I feel that way, but I do.”

  “But I thought sealing the portals was to protect both worlds? That your people wanted it that way?”

  “We’re not exactly a democracy. The Elders made the decision, they created the grimoire, and sealed the portals. They chose Gatekeepers and posted them, and decided that was enough protection. And it has been, a long, long time.” He sighed deeply, running his fingers through his chestnut hair. “It took years to craft the grimoire, to create the spells, to make them so powerful that once cast, the portals would remain sealed for eternity.”

  “But that didn’t happen?”

  “Magic isn’t like concrete. It’s not a solid force. It’s permeable for those who were given permission to pass through, like Mixt…and myself. As Gatekeepers, we can pass back and forth from one world to another.”

  “So only Gatekeepers can pass through the portals?”

  “Yeah. We were given that ability. It’s encoded in us now, almost like DNA.”

  “And when you took me through the portal? You were able to do that because you are a Gatekeeper?”

  He thought he saw her shudder just a little at the memory. “That’s right. Gatekeepers can allow entry when guiding another.”

  “So it’s possible that a Gatekeeper is the one responsible?”

  Euros nodded, a deep look of sadness sprawled across his face. “Yeah, it’s possible, but I don’t believe the dark magic has made it into my world yet, so I don’t believe it’s a Gatekeeper. If so, they could cross back and forth, like I do, and not need the grimoire.”

  “Right, yeah. Why weren’t the portals just destroyed years ago? That would ensure your world was kept protected, right?”

  “Hope.” It almost hurt to say the words. “The hope that someday the portals could be opened, that the two worlds could learn to exist together again.”

  Jessica went silent, but she held his gaze. Then she reached out and brushed her hand against his, just for a moment. That simple gesture said more than words ever could.

  Finally, with a sigh, she glanced down at the list he still held in his hands. “So we really don’t need this. We could count the books, and know that one was missing. Whoever it was, took what they wanted. Am I right in thinking they used magic to know which box the body of the grimoire was in?”

  It was hard not to grin at her. “Yes. Exactly. This box has an essence of magic, faint, ancient. But it’s there.” He didn’t bother to explain it was overlaid with the dank feel of the dark magic, or that he couldn’t use his magic to see whether the body of the grimoire had ever been there in the first place. The dark magic was pressing against him, weakening his magic, moving in eddies around his feet.

  “You said there was going to be another murder. How do you know that?”

  “A book, and a buckle, remember? We know she probably now has the body of the grimoire, but there’s one more part that she would need. The binding, a leather strap that went around the book, and was held closed with a silver buckle.”

  Something tickled the back of his mind, something that seemed so obvious, he should know what it was. But the effects of the dark magic fogged his mind. He needed Jessica for this, needed her keen senses, and her ability as a detective.

  “What we need to do is look for something that ties Lansing and Parnell together. Some reason maybe that would have put both in the same place at the same time, or someone who had connected them. Someone who knew that both men had a part of the grimoire.”

  “You think the killer is someone they both knew then?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s a place to start. Wouldn’t you have done that anyway, if you were still lead on the case? Rule out, or rule in, one person who would have had a motive to kill both men?”

  Jessica frowned, then started pacing back and forth in the small storage area, ignoring the debris on the floor. “Okay. What do we know? Both men were politically active, so that gives us a huge list of potential suspects.” She looked at him, and it was clear from the expression in her eyes she was frustrated.

  “I’m pissed off that I’m off the case. I don’t have any access to anything they found here at Parnell’s, who they might have as suspects, forensics…” She ran a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the long strands. Impatient, she jerked her fingers free. “I’m such an idiot…”

  “You’re not. You’re good at your job. It’s simple office politics, and who knows whom, you know that. It has nothing to do with your abilities. You know that.”

  “Who you know…who they knew.” She stopped pacing, and turned to look at him. The intensity of her gaze made him want to almost back up a step.

  “Euros, can you remember who was in the photos in the hallway at Lansing’s? It seems to me that would be the logical place to start. Parnell knew everyone, and had his fingers in everyone’s business. But apparently, he didn’t feel the need to line his walls with photos of those people.”

  “Lansing was a public creature, both by nature and by the nature of his office. From the number of photos, I’d say that for whatever reason people came to his house, they expected to have their photo taken with Lansing.”

  “Most of those end up in the newspaper, or online. He’s generous with sharing them. I used to think he was egotistical for having his picture taken so often, but I’m thinking now it might be the saving grace to figuring out who this killer is.”

  “Do you want to go back there?”

  Jessica shook her head. “I want to look around here, see if there’s anything that might help.” She took the packing list from Euros. “Does anything else on this list mean anything to you? Or the name of the auction house?”

  “No. Not the auction house…” He glanced at the boxes stacked around them. They were all labeled with the same marker, in the same neat handwriting. “Did the man you talked to about the books know anything about the other artworks? The paintings and sculptures?”

  “I think you’re using the term art loosely. I can’t imagine anyone would pay money for this stuff. You see those statues in the hall? The public entrance has the same things.” She shook her head. “No accounting for taste, right?”

  He’d moved past her, scanning the boxes, reading the information marked on them. On several cartons, he recognized the name of the gallery, Galerie d’art Manifique. A thin layer of dust lay across several cartons. He ran his finger through it. Some of the boxes were relabeled with addresses of Parnell’s other properties.

  “Do you know this gallery? Anything about it, or the owner? I saw this name o
n plaques on some of the artwork. Parnell seemed to have a penchant for advertising.”

  Jessica crouched down beside one of the boxes. She traced a finger over the street name. “The address…this doesn’t exist anymore.” She turned to look up at Euros. “It’s one of the neighborhoods Parnell destroyed, to build his luxury apartments.”

  “Ah, so he’d been a patron of a gallery he then put out of business. I wonder how the owner felt about that.”

  Dusting her hands, Jessica stood up. “I can’t imagine they felt very happy about it. I don’t know who the owner is though. Do you?”

  He shook his head, then moved to a box that was open, one that carried the same gallery name stamped across the side. “One way to find out. Might be on a packing list.”

  They took a minute to rummage through one of the boxes marked with the address of the gallery. Jessica reached in, and pulled out a document. Glancing over her shoulder, he let his gaze move to the bottom of the page. In very feminine handwriting, so ornate it was almost unreadable, was a signature, along with a note of thanks that was more legible, but just barely.

  He read the name out loud. “Anastasia Kane.”

  “Think this is our girl, Euros?”

  He shook his head, his forehead creased in deep thought. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve seen this name somewhere before.”

  Jessica’s eyes suddenly went wide. “The photographs in Lansing’s hall. Some of them were signed…the one with the sports guy, and that woman. He’d autographed it… maybe her name is on one of the photos.”

  With a smile, he plucked the paper out of Jessica’s hand, folded it and stuffed into the pocket of his coat. “You up for another bout of magic?”

  She cringed, but shot him a smile. “Another magic transference from one place to another? Specifically, to Lansing’s house?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  She moved closer without prompting, and this time wrapping his arms around her felt natural, not forced, not something she didn’t want him to do. He closed his eyes, as she rested his head on her shoulder. The scent of her hair brought back more memories than he was prepared to deal with, but he welcomed them. He let them flood through him, let them push away the muzzy bits of darkness that clung to the corners of his mind.

  “Euros…”

  “Yes.” Her voice was soft, and he didn’t open his eyes, didn’t want to break the spell.

  “Your magic doesn’t seem to be working.”

  “It works. I’m thinking.”

  She shifted, and he opened his eyes to find her looking up at him, her dark eyes finding his. Her gaze was steady. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You do?” He willed his heart to slow down, to remain calm, but that wasn’t happening. Not with her in his arms.

  “Yeah. You’re pretty transparent at times.” She sighed against him. “It’s not the…”

  It was his turn to sigh. “I know.” He took a breath, the Latin and Gaelic words rising in his mind, ready to cast the spell, and end her telling him once again it wasn’t time. He wasn’t sure his heart could take hearing that right now.

  “But once this is all over…”

  The words died in her throat, the magic still swirling around them, chaotic and confused, but he held her gaze.

  She rose on tiptoe, and kissed his lips gently. The sensation of her mouth against his, her breath warm like a summer breeze. It was a brief kiss, but one that stirred so many emotions within. Looking deep into his eyes, so many words left unsaid, she could only smile. It wasn’t the time – their time – not yet.

  “Take me to Lansing’s. We have two murders to solve. And one to keep from happening.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Euros set them down in the back garden of Lansing’s house. The early autumn evening was chilly, the sky through the leafless trees, turning a deep indigo.

  It didn’t help that he’d done this to her before; the whole magic business, this sending them through space, it still made her queasy. She clung to Euros for a minute, letting the swirling inside her come to a halt. Eventually it did, but it was an uneasy feeling. It was like at any moment all her cells could just be flung into the air and never come back together. Like the glue that normally held her together, had turned to water.

  “You okay?”

  She pushed away from Euros. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. Is there a limit on the number of times I can go through that without there being some sort of side effect? Like my fingers are going to end up on the wrong hands?”

  Euros only smiled, and led the way under the trees, to the back door of Lansing’s house. “No need to worry. You’ll always have your fingers in the right place.”

  There were no lights on inside of the house, and Jessica wondered if patrol was still outside. They probably were, and by now, they all knew she’d been booted off the cases, and that she’d gone rogue that afternoon. Even if nothing official was put out, gossip spread faster than wildfire among patrol. Heading around to the front undetected, and getting through the front door, would take more magic than she thought Euros would be comfortable doing in public.

  “No, not the front door.”

  Euros’ words, more than his voice, made her jump. “Stop reading my mind.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder, still smiling. “Not reading your mind, Jess, but I know how you think.” He gestured with his chin toward the front of the house. “I can use magic, but the chances of someone seeing you, when I’m busy controlling another…well, it makes this a little riskier than last time. Besides…” She heard him trying the door handle. “I’ve always wanted to break into a building.”

  “You can’t break…” She climbed up the last few steps beside him, reaching for his hand.

  But it was clear he wasn’t listening to her. Eyes closed, he held the door handle. In amazement, she watched as the metal began to glow an eerie blue. Then, effortlessly, he turned the handle and the door swung open.

  “Entrez s'il vous plaît.”

  “Just because you say it in French doesn’t make it right.”

  With a grin, he held the door and she stepped over the threshold into the house. This was Lansing’s study, and she found herself standing behind his desk in the dusky light of the door open door. Euros quietly shut the door behind them, and the light faded. Fishing her flashlight from her pocket, she turned it on, letting the beam play around the room. To her right, was the wall where the torn page of the grimoire had been hanging, where Lansing had posed with the public.

  “Okay. So, we’re looking for photos with female names.” She pulled the call list from Parnell’s case out of her pocket, smoothing out the folds of the pages. Too many pages. “Hopefully, this isn’t going to take forever.”

  “If the pattern holds, yes, we only have a few hours to figure out the connection between the two.”

  Her enthusiasm for this bizarre adventure suddenly dimmed. “But that doesn’t mean anything as far as keeping the next murder from happening. If you could do your thing with magic, make time stand still…it would give us more time.”

  The look he gave her told her that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe there was a limit to what magic could do. He turned to the wall between the windows. “We might as well start here.”

  She stood beside him, as they looked over the photos. Not all of them were signed, but she recognized several of the people in the pictures.

  “This is the deputy mayor. Here’s Ross.” She made a face. “Lansing was instrumental in getting Ross promoted.”

  “Yes.” Euros’ answer was just a murmur. “I remember.”

  He would; it was part and parcel of the story that ran, like a muddy undercurrent in their relationship. With an effort, she pushed those thoughts down.

  The buzz of her cell phone startled her. Euros frowned, as she pulled the phone out of her pocket. The display was Derek’s number. With a shrug, she watched Euros’ frown deepened, as she lifted the phone
to her ear.

  Derek’s voice made her wince. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I need your help.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “You won’t tell me where you are, but you’re asking for my help? That’s ballsy, even for you.”

  In the background, she could hear sounds from the precinct. Fisher’s voice came to her loud and clear. It wasn’t hard to imagine him lumbering around the room, his face a dangerous shade of crimson.

  “Fisher’s having a meltdown, and for the first time ever, Ross has lost his cool. You’re in the deepest shit…”

  “Do you have the evidence list from Parnell’s? I need to know if they found anything out of the ordinary.”

  Derek’s silence didn’t give her much hope, but then the sounds in the background grew faint, and then were cut off by the clang of a metal door. Stairwell. Good old Derek.

  “Okay. I’m risking my career here even talking to you, much less telling you what forensics found. But I’m a fool, so here it goes. There was nothing out in left field. The cleaning staff apparently does a great job at what they do. There was very little trace at the scene, which is odd in, and of, itself.”

  Someone shouted Derek’s name, and then the connection went muffled. For a second, she was afraid her heart was going to jump out of her chest. Then Derek was back.

  “Very little trace. Just a few stray hairs in the bedroom, mostly Parnell’s. None other than the staff, nothing to indicate anyone was in the room with him. Certainly, nothing to indicate he’d put up a fight. No trace under his nails.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Just some fur from one of the coats in Parnell’s closet. He apparently gives them like candy to his lady friends.”

  Her heart, already pounding at a dangerous rate, sped up. “What kind of fur?”

  Euros moved closer, almost standing on her toes. She held the phone away from her ear so he could hear.

  “Standard. Mink, mostly. Did you know he has an actual cold storage unit in his penthouse?”

  “Mostly mink?” Beside her, Euros was practically vibrating. He motioned, nodded his head, but she shrugged. I don’t know what that means. “Anything else?”