by Ponce, Jen
“Two pieces of trash who deserved to die.”
I paced away from him, removing myself from the temptation of his closeness. “Will they find anything on his body to implicate me?”
“Why do you think I would let that happen to you?”
“Because you don’t have a soul. Because you threatened to hurt my kids if I didn’t do what you said, remember that? Because you bring out the evil in me and it scares me.”
He turned away from me and it hurt, it physically hurt to see it. I kept myself from going to him, just.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Go. If I find Ellison, I will let you know.”
I left before I could make a gigantic mistake, like forgive him or forget the person I was—or tried to be.
***
Danni and I were met in the lobby of the police station by an officer and escorted into the bowels of the OPD. A few dozen twists and turns led us to a small room crammed full with bookshelves, desks, and cop. The detective stood, nodding at the officer who’d accompanied us, then waved his hand at the chairs in front of his desk. We squeezed in and I immediately felt claustrophobic. Thank heavens there was a window, or the room would have been turned into an insanity maker.
“Thank you for coming, Ms. Crawford. I’m Detective Warwick. I just have a few routine questions for you.” He nodded at Danni as if she were a little kid about to get a shot that he was reassuring. ‘Just a pinch. You’ll hardly feel it.’
“Harrison was an awful man, but he didn’t deserve to die that way.”
Detective Warwick nodded and opened up a notepad. Then he pulled a black digital recorder from his middle desk drawer and laid it on a stack of papers between himself and Danni. “I’ll record this interview and take notes.” He said it as a statement, but I held up a finger.
“She doesn’t have to consent to it, right?” He leveled me with a stare that made me want to curl up in a tiny ball and never say another word. ‘Neutria? Can you lend me some menace?’ The spider inside me chittered and moved forward in my mind. Whatever he saw in my eyes made him lean back a fraction of an inch.
“No, she does not. And may I ask your name, ma’am?”
I glanced at Danni, wondering if she would be angry if I refused to give it to him. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to avoid it, but I did. Unfortunately, I didn’t think I had a choice. “Devany Miller.”
His eyes narrowed as he thought about it. I wondered if it would spark a memory with him. Tom’s death in the park had been big news, especially since his murderers had seemingly vanished into thin air. He didn’t say more, just picked up the recorder and flicked it on with a thick, yellow nail. “This is Detective John Warwick.” He rattled off the current date, location, and our names. Then he set the recorder down again and picked up his pen. “Tell me a little about your relationship with Harrison.”
It was a rough hour but I was pleasantly surprised at how good he was with Danni. He knew when to pause, when to back off. He drew answers from her as skillfully as a gardener plucks weeds from between the rows of veggies, and I found myself leaning in more and more as he asked and she answered.
To my inexpert ears, Danni was totally innocent. I knew she hadn’t killed her husband, because Tytan and I had done so. But still, hearing the answers to his questions made me assured that there was no way they could believe Danni would do something so heinous.
When the questions wrapped up, the detective time stamped the interview again before shutting off the recorder. Then he took a few notes, leaving me to pat Danni on the shoulder and tell her she did well. When the silence dragged on, I cleared my throat, trying the polite way to get him to acknowledge us. When that didn’t work, I asked, “Are we done now?”
“Just a moment, please,” he said and kept writing.
I wondered if this were some sort of test and if we were passing or not. I somehow doubted it. I stood, unwilling to play the game. “I’m tired and have to get home to my kids. Danni? Let’s go. I’m sure the detective can write without us here.” I didn’t usually get so pushy but honestly, who the hell did he think he was, anyway?
It got his attention. He stood as Danni did, lines of unhappiness forming around his lips. He held out his hand to Danni and when she took it, covered her hand with his other. “Thank you for coming down to speak with us. I appreciate your candor.”
She nodded and pulled her hands away, looking like she wanted to wipe them on her blouse. I held the door for her and stepped close behind her so he couldn’t crowd her. I wasn’t sure what the sudden change was all about. Perhaps he didn’t like that I’d chosen to ignore his authority.
I walked slow enough to delay him as Danni hurried out to the lobby. Zech hadn’t come, all of us deciding that it might not be a good idea for a guy without any papers and a distinctive face to lurk around a cop shop. Probably they wouldn’t even notice him, but better safe than sorry, right?
“Ms. Miller, a word, if I may?”
He’d caught me going out the door to the lobby. I stared after Danni, wishing I hadn’t walked so slowly after all. “Yeah?”
“How long have you known your friend?”
“A few years. Why? You don’t think she did this, do you? Because I can tell you she didn’t. She’s too—” I’d been about to say timid, which was true but felt disloyal. “Nice,” I finished lamely, and wished I’d just said timid.
He narrowed his eyes as he studied me and I knew he was trying to place me again.
“My husband was murdered a few months back. Is that what you’re trying to remember?”
The moment I saw his expression, I realized he’d been playing me. He’d known who I was the moment I walked in. “Right,” he said. “Another murdered husband. And the second one to escaped from jail and be horribly murdered.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. This was too much like a bad detective movie. “Goodbye, Detective Warwick. Thank you for taking care with Danni.”
“So there’s no relation between the deaths?”
“Well, Danni and I know each other. Both of our husbands were murdered. But my husband wasn’t abusive and hers was. And that third?” I shrugged. “I have no idea.” If he’d talked to Marcos’ wife, he’d probably know she’d been helped by the Caring Shelter, and he’d know I worked there. Anything else he’d have to get a subpoena for and usually our lawyer got those quashed. “Maybe you should find the guys that got Harrison out and ask them what their intentions were when they decided to help that sadistic bastard escape.”
He didn’t say more, so I slipped out the door, and left him standing there staring after me. Did he think I murdered Tom? Or Harrison? I pushed through the front doors and cast about for Danni.
She was hunched on the corner by an ATM, her face pale.
“Hey, you did great,” I said, moving in close to block her from the curious eyes of passerby.
“It was awful. They think I did it, don’t they? Oh my god.” She covered her eyes with her hands and stood with shoulders shaking for a long moment. I let her cry and didn’t say a word. She didn’t like people seeing her cry. When the shaking stopped and her shoulders dropped, she lifted her face. “I wanted him dead and wished him dead so many times. Now he’s gone and all I feel is sick that he was tortured.” If anything, her face paled even more. “You don’t think Zech did it, do you?”
“No, he hasn’t left your side. How could he have murdered Harrison without you knowing about it?”
“Magic? He could have hooked like you do.”
I shook my head. “No. He doesn’t have a lot of power here, even with the lodestones. And only Skriven can hook like I do.”
Her lip curled, her teeth bared through her grimace. “Like that man who was in the shelter and helped you move the soul from your body to Lucy’s?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t him, though.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“I didn’t like him.”
“I know. Come on, let’s go.”
S
he nodded. “I hope I didn’t make you late.”
“Arsinua is home. I left her a note letting her know I might be late, no worries.”
We walked to the car in silence, then she stopped dead. “Zech and I can go out tonight. Without worrying Harrison will show up and kill us.” Her face sagged. Then she smiled. “I’m free. I’m well and truly free of him, Devany.” She threw her arms around me and we stood there hugging for a long time.
SEVENTEEN
When I got home, Arsinua and Bethy were in the living room, practicing magic. They were growing flowers out of plastic cups, big, beautiful flowers that grew at tremendous rates and died just as quickly. Cheeseweed was attacking a wilting sunflower with a ferociousness that I hoped would someday extend to mouse-hunting. I was proud to note that my daughter’s flowers were bigger and bloomed faster than Arsinua’s. “Way to go kid.”
“Mom!” She ran over and hugged me around the waist. “Arsinua showed me how to boil water with my magic. It’s awesome. I can do it in like a second!”
“Sweet. That means you are the family’s official macaroni and cheese maker from now on.” I planted kisses on her head until she squirmed away from me and returned to her lessons. I was guessing her homework wasn’t done and that it would come in dead last in comparison to magic. “Where’s your brother?”
“In his room.”
I sighed and stripped down to my bare feet, tossing my jacket over a kitchen stool. Arsinua hadn’t made supper, which was fine. I don’t know why I’d never considered using magic to make cooking faster. What the hell had I been doing? Certainly not focusing on my priorities. I dug out frozen enchiladas and used my control room to heat them—it took a minute. “Damn,” I said softly, too softly for Bethy to hear and chide me for it.
I got out the dishes and spooned food on each one, adding magically-heated vegetables and some canned fruit. Because what was more magical than getting already sliced peaches from an easy-to-open can, I ask you?
I trudged upstairs to change into grubby clothes, pounding on Liam’s door as I went by. “Food, dude.”
He didn’t answer, but it wasn’t uncommon. I stripped and pulled on sweats and a t-shirt, then went back down, hammering on his door again. “Food!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said from inside.
I grinned and jogged downstairs. The food was still steaming, which was kind of weird. I looked at it with my Magic Eye and saw green crackling energy all over it. I waved it away with my mind and when I pulled back into the real world, the steam lessened. Hmm. I needed to fiddle more to figure it out. I took a tentative bite of mine, expecting lava outside and ice-brick inside, but it was warmed through.
“Food, guys.”
Bethy skipped out to the counter and dug in, chattering a mile an hour about the magic. Arsinua took her plate and Travis’ and went downstairs, not looking me once in the eye. That woman could hold a grudge.
Liam slumped down ten minutes later, looking like he’d been taking a nap.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
The defensive snap made me frown. “Because I care about you. What’s up?”
He shrugged, forked a big bite in his mouth and chewed forever. Unluckily for him, I had the patience of an annoyed mother. I stared. Drummed my fingers. Coughed. Finally he got the hint and said, “I’ve been trying to find Sharps. She won’t talk to me.”
“Oh.” That’s why he’d looked sleepy—he’d been trying to Dream, to reach his friend, who was pissed and not open for conversation. I looked at both my kids and realized they each held traits from their grandparents. Bethy had Dad’s witch side. Liam held Mom’s Wydling genes.
Had they gotten any Skriven from me? I hadn’t even been Skriven when I had them. Had I? Had Ravana’s meddling given me Skriven … parts? Or had she only made it possible for me to be born? Hell if I knew.
I eyed them, as if they would suddenly start ... I didn’t even know what. Stabbing each other? “Awful.”
“What?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just talking out loud. How was school?” This set off a conversation I knew well and gave us all a safe place to retreat to for a little bit. When all was said and done, I discovered that Bethy hated her math teacher and Liam thought the new football coach was in love with his English teacher. “So?”
“She’s married, Mom.”
“Well, let’s hope neither of them act on their urges. Shouldn’t you be studying and doing work, instead of gossiping about the teaching staff?” Perhaps I needed to make a call up to the school. It was a mundane task that felt very life-affirming to do, weirdly enough.
“Mom,” he said, in tones that implied I was a moron. “I have eyes. I see stuff.” He didn’t add ‘duh’ but it was there, nonetheless.
“Okay.” At his look, I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay. Fine. You’re observant.”
His lips twitched but he held back the smile. “You’re just saying that.”
I gave him the pointy-eyed stare and he gave into the smile. I ruffled his hair, which he hated, and proposed a popcorn and movie night which, surprise surprise they both agreed to. We found a dumb movie on SyFy and talked all through the show to complain about the acting, the poor decision-making on the part of the characters, and the bad special effects.
It was awesome.
When I was finally able to tuck them into bed, I was more relaxed than I’d been in ages. I was already in my sleep shirt and shorts when someone knocked. I sighed and crawled out of bed. When I saw the look on Arsinua’s face, I knew something bad had happened.
“Your father is in trouble.”
“What do you mean? How do you know?”
She came inside without asking and shut us inside my bedroom. “I’ve been talking with Marantha. It hasn’t been easy since the Anforsa is watching her, but we’ve been able to get a few messages back and forth.” She looked at me a little hesitantly. “I hope you don’t mind but I asked her to keep an eye out for your father.”
Who was this new timid Arsinua and what had she done with the real witch? “Of course I don’t mind. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“He’s in jail. On trial for crimes against the Witch Council, according to Marantha.”
I formed a hook. “I can just hook him out of there like I did you.”
“No.” She grabbed my arm, then dropped her hand away. “The Anforsa has him in a Skriven-proof cell. You can’t get in and he can’t get out. He’s going to have to answer for his crimes.”
I tossed my hands up in the air and let the hook collapse. “What crime? Falling in love with a Wydling? They are people too,” I said, glaring at Arsinua since I knew her feelings about the subject.
“He was wanted years ago for trying to get the witches on the borders to rebel against the order of things. He wanted to stop regulating magic. He advocated the destruction of the Omphalos.”
Nice, Dad. Way to leave out some important parts of your story, I thought. “What are they planning to do? I mean, what happens if he’s found guilty?”
Her eyes gave me the answer. But she had to say it anyway. “He’ll be sentenced to die.”
***
Deep breath in. Let it out. It was all I could do to keep from hooking to the Witch’s Council and rip them all a new one. “I’m not letting them execute him.”
“You won’t have a choice. If they make the decision, it’s final. He will die. Devany, you cannot take them on. They have some of the most powerful magic users on Midia.”
I leveled a glare on her. “I’m an Originator, Arsinua. Not some chicken shit witch hiding behind laws and rules and order.”
Her face paled but she didn’t back down. “Please. At least wait to see what the outcome of the trial is. Perhaps they will forgive his youthful indiscretions.”
“My mom was not a youthful indiscretion, Arsinua!” I paced away from her to the window and thumped the wall with my fist. “I won’t let him die.” She didn’t answer. Pe
rhaps she was afraid to, afraid of me. Way to shoot the messenger, Devany. “What does Marantha think?”
“That they will find him guilty. There have been more attacks on the borders by Wydlings. People are scared. Packing up and moving further inland and away from the Anwar.”
I shook my head. “That’s bullshit. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’d bet you a mint it’s not the Wydlings. What they need to be asking themselves is who would stand to benefit from a country-wide panic?” I turned. “Well?”
She shrugged. Then her eyes found mine. “The Theleoni.”
“Bingo. They’re getting desperate. Kroshtuka and his people are spreading the information about domar berries protecting humans. They are breaking up the slave markets. The Theleoni will only get their way if the witches are so scared of losing their orderly magic that they allow the harvesting of humans. It always comes back to those human-trafficking bastards.”
“I don’t see how this changes anything. Your father’s deeds were his own and he’s not denied a single one.”
Would it be wrong to snatch her hair and smack her? Of course it would be. I wanted to anyway. “Of course he hasn’t denied a single one. Did you read his book? I mean, I know you did, but did you get it? Did you actually listen to his words?”
She flushed and the color only darkened as I continued.
“You were saying how much you admired him. That your group was inspired by him. And because he married a Wydling woman, he’s only good enough to be inspiring but not good enough to defend?”
“I thought you’d want to know,” she finally said and left my room, the door snicking shut behind her. I flipped off the door, which wasn’t satisfying.
Your temper is slipping from my grasp.
Which meant what? That I was going to go nuclear if I didn’t calm down? “I’m going to walk into that damn Council and kill them all if they don’t let my dad go.”
I cannot stop you from it. But I can tell you it would destroy you.
I didn’t care. Shit. I did care. “Mother fucker!” I whispered furiously to the room, remembering at the last second the kids might not be asleep. Or wouldn’t be if they heard me in my room cursing. I crossed the room and dialed Danni’s number, my foot tapping hard on the floor as I waited for her to pick up.
