I balled my hands into fists, wishing there was a better way to release my tension. Punching someone would be nice, and Olivia Lee’s face came to mind for having dragged me into this mess.
“All that means is the people had F in them when they died, right?” I asked. “That’s not exactly shocking.”
Anna brought up another slide, this one covered with the complex lines created by another type of scan. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
She looked extremely pleased about something, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “See, here’s where it gets interesting. See this and this?” She pointed at various spots on the scan that meant nothing to me. “All the victims showed this same pattern, but I’ve never seen magic like that associated with F before. I don’t know what it is, but it was something seriously strong.”
I hoped my sigh of relief wasn’t too obvious. “So the F didn’t kill them?”
“I wouldn’t make that assumption at this point.” Anna turned off the slides, and the lights came back on.
Andre had a laptop open and was taking notes. “What about the envelopes you found in the trash? They had F in them.”
“Yeah, but just residue.” Anna sat down. “There wasn’t enough to get a clear reading off it.”
Brian rubbed his hands together. “And no other evidence of magic was found on the bodies or at the scene?”
Andre shook his head. “Nothing, but those people had been dead for at least six hours before we got called in. If there was another weak source of magic around them, it could have dissipated before we got there.”
“Or been removed.” Brian paged through his papers. “Who found them again?”
“Michael Stacy’s father. According to his statement, he was dropping off his son’s golf bag that he’d borrowed. Newton PD claims he was in serious shock.”
“No wonder,” Brian said. “It seems unlikely he’d have tampered with anything if he didn’t try to cover up the scene itself. But it can’t hurt to do some digging at this stage. You might turn up more ideas. In the meantime, the most likely explanation is that additional magic trace Anna found came in on the F. There’s a good chance we’re dealing with someone selling contaminated drugs.”
I frowned. “Contaminated? Why would someone purposely add extra magic to them?”
“Could be a lot of reasons,” Andre said. “Preds will often throw extras into the charms they sell to humans, or outright lie about what they’re selling. It’s no different when the charm comes in the form of a magical drug.”
Anna yawned, stretching out on her chair. “Nope. It’s actually not that different than a human dealer cutting their non-magical drugs with cheaper drugs or other chemicals. Sometimes it’s harmless. Sometimes it’s not.”
Great. I had heard about that sort of thing happening, and Andre was right. It wasn’t uncommon at all. The Gryphons, as well as various government agencies, often put out PSAs, reminding people why they should only buy charms from trustworthy sellers. Of course, such sellers never included preds, and F wasn’t a legally produced spell in the first place.
Brian cleared his throat. “All right, here’s how I’m suggesting you approach this. Andre, you should do some digging into the victims’ backgrounds. We need to rule out other motives or possible causes for their deaths. Jess, this case is going to exemplify why Director Lee thought you’d make a valuable consultant. You’re going to need to use your connections in Shadowtown to help us find out about the F.”
I shifted in my seat. “I don’t exactly have connections in Shadowtown.”
Brian appraised me, his gray eyes hard through his glasses. “You have stronger inroads there than we do, as evidenced by the satyrs helping to protect you. The satyrs—or certain satyrs—will be the ones who produce F.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Then I need you to use your connections with them to see what you can find out about the producers, or who their dealers are.”
“There are a few hundred satyrs in Boston,” I said, pulling a number out of the air. I didn’t actually know, but it seemed like a reasonable guess. “The ones I’m on friendly terms with all work at or own legitimate, legal businesses. They’re not drug dealers or F producers.”
“You sure about that?” Andre asked. “You’re friends with Lucen, aren’t you?”
I spun my chair to face Andre, my stomach twisting unpleasantly. “Yeah, but he owns a bar.”
Andre raised an acutely skeptical eyebrow. “We can’t keep track of all council members, but we do our best with the inner triads. We know Lucen is number three on their Dom’s council. How does a bar owner legally get enough powerful addicts to bump him to that sort of position?”
Obviously, the answer was he didn’t. I’d pretty much known that, but I didn’t think Lucen’s not-legal methods included making or selling drugs. I’d have seen evidence of that by now given all the time I’d been spending in his company recently.
Saying as much, however, would lead to more uncomfortable conversations. These people didn’t need to know how long I’d known Lucen or how close we were.
If we were. After all, I’d only discovered Lucen was Dezzi’s number three a few weeks ago. I was out of my depth with Lucen, the satyrs and the Gryphons. The more I learned on all ends, the more I realized I didn’t know.
So instead of admitting anything, I deflected. “That’s a good question, and I’m not friendly enough with Lucen to know the answer. But it also means he’s not exactly going to share whatever information he has with me.”
“That’s why we want you to do some digging,” Brian said. “You’re obviously a clever woman. I’m sure you’ll think of something. If nothing else, you can ask questions and see what sort of answers you get. You’re more likely to get their cooperation than we are.”
I raised my hands in defeat. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make promises. I assume you have some leads on dealers or something I can use to get a start?”
Brian, Andre and Anna all looked at each other, and it was Andre who responded. “Not really. Busting illegal magic operations is tricky. When it comes to F, we can pick up the lowest of the low-level dealers, but working up the chain is problematic unless we’re dealing with stupid preds.”
“And whoever produces F within Boston,” Anna added, “isn’t stupid.”
“How so?”
“They use a variation on a compulsion spell,” Andre explained. “It’s not uncommon in this type of situation. Any time we reach a human dealer who might know something, we find they’ve had the compulsion put on them. They can’t tell us anything about the F or who they get it from.”
Interesting, and nope, definitely not stupid. Compulsion spells didn’t wear off the way charms did. I’d only had a single experience with one, and its effects lingered.
Devon, or one of his employees, had set one up at the club Devon owned, and I’d tripped it. The spell had tried to prevent me from entering the club’s basement. Possibly because I was part satyr and the spell had been intended for a full-blooded human, I’d managed to overcome it. Yet despite my ability to fight off part of the spell, I’d been unable to talk about it afterward, even to Devon himself. In fact, that I remembered what I’d seen at all had seriously confused Devon.
But just because a spell didn’t wear off, didn’t mean it couldn’t be broken, and I asked about as much.
“We can’t break the compulsions on the dealers,” Andre said.
“Why not?” The satyrs had given me a crash course on charm-breaking once. I was no expert, but I figured a Gryphon ought to be.
“Well, can’t might not be the best word, but it’s tricky. If the person who put the spell on the dealers knows what they’re doing, they could tie their spell to another spell that would cause serious harm to the person. There have been cases when the compulsion spell is r
igged in such a way as to destroy memories rather than block them if attempts are made to break it. In most cases, we’ve been unwilling to take the risk. Frankly, when it comes to search-and-destroy missions for dangerous magic, F is very low on our priority list. There are far worse charms and curses being peddled.”
“The bigger dealers are usually lust addicts, as well,” Brian said. “That adds another layer of complications when breaking spells because addicts have so much pred magic in their blood. This is why your role is going to be important, Jess. We’re glad to have you on board.”
Three faces looked at me expectantly. Andre smiled.
Crap.
The meeting broke up soon after, but I continued to talk to Andre for a while. He filled me in on more of what to expect with the case and simply more in general about work schedules and my day-to-day activities. He also promised he’d send me files on everything they knew about F dealings in the area, although he wasn’t hopeful I’d get anything useful out of them.
I tucked my notes from the meeting in a drawer in my new desk and stared at the computer. Since I’d yet to log on, someone from IT had helpfully left me instructions and a temporary password to use my first time. I considered trying it out, but as curious I was about the limited access I’d been given, I wasn’t in the mood to poke around. To go digging, as Brian had phrased it.
The one thing I wanted from the Gryphons—knowledge about what was in those stolen files—I was unlikely to have access to. Nonetheless, Steph’s comment about seeing what I could find out on my own had stuck with me. Was there a way?
Footsteps approached from behind me, and I set IT’s instructions down.
Olivia Lee clasped her hands behind her back. “I was in the office and wanted to check in to see how you’re faring.”
I wanted to ask her how she expected me to be faring. “Okay, I guess. Nice case to ease me in on. Nine dead people in a creepy situation? Very gentle on the newbie.”
Her smile might have tightened a touch. “Considering the nature of their deaths and your relationship with a certain pred race, it made sense. I didn’t doubt you could handle it.”
“I like to think there’s not much I can’t handle.” Except, maybe, coming to terms with what I was and telling the truth about it to the people I cared about. But that went above normal, day-to-day kinds of situations and into the territory of the absurd. It shouldn’t count.
“I’m sure there isn’t.” Olivia nodded in a satisfied way. “Good then. If you have questions about getting settled, make sure you talk to Agent Pagan. He’s been instructed to help you in any way necessary.”
She’d started walking away when a new idea came to me, and I decided to seize the opening I’d been left. “Actually, there’s something I was hoping you could help me with. It’s not related to this case specifically, but I’ve been thinking it would be a good idea if I could get a better grasp on my abilities. You know, it might help me handle things that could come up while working here.”
I could taste the Director’s suspicion. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense. I’m not sure how we can help though. Perhaps once we get your analysis back from the lab we’ll know more.”
I’d bet they would, and I didn’t want to dwell on that. Nor did I want to bring up the stolen files. I’d had another idea. “I’d like a chance to talk to Victor Aubrey.”
Olivia had stepped away again, but my comment froze her mid-stride. “Why would you want to talk to Aubrey?”
“Well, we do have a similar ability.” Actually, we might have several similar abilities, but I honestly didn’t know if that was the case. Victor had claimed to feed on negativity like I did, but whether he could also create addict-like bonds with humans, or reverse a pred’s bond remained to be determined.
Those talents aside, we also had one more thing in common—our names on the stolen files. That was what I really wanted to talk to him about.
Olivia was sucking on her bottom lip and feeling foolish for not seeing the connection immediately. “Yes, of course you do. But I’m not sure how useful you’d find talking to him to be.”
“Just because we used our gifts for different purposes doesn’t mean he might not know things I don’t. He was a fury addict for a while. It’s possible his master told him things.”
Olivia smoothed her black hair. “Aubrey is going through withdrawal. I’m not sure how cooperative he’ll be with you. He’s not cooperating with us.”
“I’ve heard, but I’d like to try. In the beginning, before he framed me, he was very interested in meeting someone else with his ability. He might be open to talking.”
I could taste Olivia’s emotions churning inside her. She was a soup of anxiety, suspicion and dislike in my mouth. I wondered who the latter was for—me or Victor or both. “I’ll look into it,” she said at last. “Because you’re one of the witnesses, getting in to see him might be problematic. You know what happens once lawyers get involved.”
I’d figured that might be a problem, so I tried not to be disappointed. “Thanks.”
“Anything else?”
I ran a hand over the computer. “Actually, since you asked. I get this and a desk. How about a uniform for when I’m out on Gryphon business? The cops were suspicious of me yesterday. It would make things easier if I looked official.”
Most importantly, I could wave the uniform in front of Lucen. He was not going to be any more pleased by my first assignment than I was, but maybe I could lessen the sting. Or at least distract him temporarily.
Olivia’s phone buzzed. She checked it then stuck it away. “We might be able to supply you with a jacket to wear on official business, yes. That makes sense.”
I grinned as she left, but the expression faded quickly as the floor descended into silence. Sitting on my desk, I replayed my meeting and the conversation with Olivia in my head. Uncovering information about F would require subtlety. As my talk with Olivia made abundantly clear, subtlety wasn’t one of my strengths.
Even armed with a Gryphon jacket, how in the world did the Gryphons think I’d learn anything useful from the satyrs?
Chapter Seven
I was not the only person to suffer from a lack of subtlety. With my head full of everything I’d learned this afternoon, I’d forgotten all about my roommates’ request to talk.
Alas, they hadn’t, and they’d given up on vague notes and cryptic conversations in the kitchen. No sooner than I’d shut the apartment door behind me, Val darted out from the living room and Geoff from his bedroom. I was trapped.
Geoff positioned himself in the middle of the narrow hallway. “Jess, we need—”
“To talk. Yeah, I know.” Resigned, I dropped my bag to the floor. “Were you waiting for me this whole time?”
Geoff stared at his bare feet, and Val tucked her hair behind her ears. I didn’t need to taste their emotions to see how uncomfortable they were. Also, nervous. This was going to be bad.
Valerie slinked back into the living room and moved her knitting off the sofa as if inviting me to sit there. I didn’t. “It’s Sunday afternoon,” she said. “It’s not like we had anywhere else to go.”
I let the comment pass though I knew it wasn’t true. Geoff spent most of his weekends with his girlfriend, and Val enjoyed the sort of social life I’d never had even before my gift had turned me into poor company. She was always out and about, either with friends or her guy of the month.
So yeah, this was a total ambush, and that meant it was time to rip off the bandage and get the unpleasantness over with. I collapsed on a chair. “This is about me and what went down with the Aubrey murders, right?”
I didn’t see what else it could be. None of us were exactly friends, but friends didn’t always make the best roommates in spite of what TV claimed. We were three people who’d managed to tolerate each other, and that was a lot. Or it had been until recently.
Val put her knitting on her lap like the yarn brought her comfort. “We just don’t really understand the part you played in all of that, and…” And? I waited, but Val had run out of words.
“I know you’d like me to tell you more about what happened, but legally I can’t talk about a lot of it.” That was partially true. Mostly, though, it was simply none of their business, and I wasn’t about to share with them the things I wasn’t ready to share with actual friends. “You know I had nothing to do with the murders. I didn’t even know Victor Aubrey until he decided I’d make an excellent patsy.”
“What I don’t get is why,” Val said. “Why you?”
There was no way to explain that without explaining more than she should know. So I shrugged. “Bad luck. Look, you’ve already grilled me on this. What else do you want me to say?”
Val resumed knitting, presumably so she didn’t have to meet my eyes.
Geoff paced in front of the window, obviously realizing it was up to him. “We don’t need you to say anything, Jess. But when the lease is up next month, we’d like you to move out.”
I stared at him, air sticking in my lungs. “What?”
Val’s face crumpled. “Jess, we’re sorry, but everything that’s happened…it’s making us uncomfortable.”
I bolted to my feet, shock turning to anger. It blocked out whatever Geoff and Val were feeling and made my bones buzz with excess energy. “You’re uncomfortable because I was framed for murder? For the love of dragons, do you have any idea how stupid that is?”
“Jess.” They said my name in unison.
“I was living here before either of you moved in.”
Geoff quit his pacing. “That’s hardly fair. All three of us have our names on the lease. You don’t get special privileges for that.”
Val pulled her knees to her chest. “It’s nothing personal. You’re a nice person. But if you’ve been targeted once, you could be again.”
Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) Page 7
