by Lisa Edmonds
I rose and the others followed suit. “Headed home to talk to your ghost?” Mark asked me.
“Yes. If he’s in, I’ll need a location on West so I can drop off our spy. Do we have eyes on him at all?”
Mark smiled. “He’s at his office now.”
Sean made a snarly sound. “I don’t like this.”
Mark dropped the sub rosa ward and opened the conference room door. “Watch your back if you do meet up with Rachel,” I told Sean. “If she figures out who you are, you might have someone come looking for you. She already probably sicced someone on Danielle.”
“I’ll ask her to meet me somewhere to talk, see what I can find out.”
“To talk. Okay.” I patted his arm. “Have a good talk with Rachel, Mac.”
Mark snorted and walked down the hall. I started to follow but Sean’s hand closed gently on my upper arm, halting me.
“To talk, Alice,” he told me quietly as Mark disappeared around a corner. “And that’s it. I have no interest in anything else.”
“Judging by the way she was looking you over earlier, I’m pretty sure talking is going to be the last thing on her mind.” I shook off his hand. “You don’t owe me any promises.”
Sean crossed his arms. “Maybe not, but I’m giving you one anyway.”
I took a step back. “For the record, what you do and who you do it with is none of my business, and vice versa.” I turned and walked away. He didn’t follow.
Unsurprisingly, despite the danger, Malcolm jumped at the chance to spy on John West. He’d been grumpy about being sent back to the basement the previous night and feeling left out in general, so the promise of some action had him flitting around the basement in excitement.
When we’d first encountered West a month ago, Malcolm had been reluctant to go near the blood mage. In the interim, my ghost sidekick had gained a lot of confidence and layered masking spells. Still, it was a risk for both of us, and I wanted to make sure he understood he had a choice about whether or not to shadow West.
“I understand what I’m risking and I want to do it,” Malcolm said firmly. “You said it yourself: odds are even if West does sense me nearby he won’t think anything of it.”
“There’s something else.” I filled Malcolm in on Felicia Lowell’s kidnapping and Sean’s subsequent involvement in the case. “As if things weren’t complicated enough in my life right now.”
“You ask me, you could use some werewolf complications.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on,” the ghost said impatiently. “The day after the furniture fight, you basically climbed inside a whisky bottle and have been there ever since.”
I scowled. “That had nothing to do with him.”
“It was mostly from the construction site stuff, sure, but Sean was part of it, too, and don’t try to deny it.” Malcolm floated closer. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to tell him to hit the bricks if he wants to talk. You two had a nice thing going there for a while. He’s good for you. And you can’t very well blame him for trying to take care of you. He’s an alpha. It’s what they do.”
Time to change the subject. “How about we talk about important things, like how you’re going to keep an eye on West without him noticing you’re there?”
“I got this, Alice. Just tell me where he is and I’m on it.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Mark. Got a 20 on JW?
MDI: Home since 1800 hours.
Me: Headed there with M to surveil. Alert if 20 changes.
MDI: 10-4. Good luck and be safe.
I stuck my phone back in my pocket. “If you sense trouble, get out of there and jump here behind the wards. Don’t try to jump to me; protect yourself first.”
“I got it,” Malcolm said. “No heroics.”
I headed for the stairs. “Then let’s roll. You’ve got a blood mage to spy on and I’ve got some working girls to talk to.”
I dropped Malcolm at John West’s house with a final reminder to be careful, then went back home for some peace and quiet before I went down to the Stroll. I treated myself to one glass—and one glass only—of my good Glenfidditch as a reward for having to spend the day with Sean and sat out on my back porch, sipping my drink and not wondering if he’d met up with Rachel.
I was too troubled to enjoy either the much-needed break or the whisky and ended up going back inside to read Amanda Bailey’s notes on the missing women. Needless to say, my reading material did nothing to improve my mood.
I arrived at Ninth and Elm just after ten o’clock. When I drove past the convenience store, I saw the doors had been repaired and it was open for business, but the clerk inside was not Mario. Unwilling to roll the dice on getting my car towed or stolen, I ended up parking up the street in front of the Midnite Café and ordering a coffee and cherry turnover to go.
As I headed down the street toward the Stroll, Malcolm’s comment about Sean being good for me kept rattling around in my head. In moments of honesty, I had to admit I was afraid of the intimacy that had developed between Sean and me and the metaphysical link we’d temporarily shared that allowed us to sense each other’s emotions. The problem was, even knowing where and how I’d gone wrong, I had no idea what to do about it.
I’d finished the turnover and most of the coffee by the time I reached Tenth and Elm where Zara was waiting. Tonight, she was wearing a clingy purple dress, her braids tied back with a scarf.
“Hey,” the tall woman said as I approached. “I was wondering if you were coming.”
“Sorry I’m late. I stopped for coffee.”
“Don’t worry about it. Some of the girls have left with customers, but we can talk to the ones who are here.”
“Have you seen Danielle? I’ve got a lineup for her to look at, to see if she might recognize the driver of the BMW who picked up Missy Daniels on the fifteenth.”
Zara shook her head. “I haven’t seen her.” She studied me and frowned. “Should we be worried about her?”
“Maybe. I stopped by her apartment earlier today and her neighbor said she didn’t come home this morning. I left messages for her to call me and haven’t heard anything. Her phone is off.”
Zara’s face crumpled and she turned away, fighting back tears. “Damn it,” she swore, her voice breaking.
I stayed quiet.
Suddenly, she spun to face me. “No one’s going to care, are they?” she spat. Tears streaked down her face. “Nobody’s going to look for her. She’s just going to be gone, like all the others.”
“Mark and I are looking. There are others looking too. We’ll find them.”
Zara shook her head. She sniffed and carefully wiped her eyes with her fingertips.
“When did you last see Danielle last night?” I asked.
She closed her eyes and thought. “It was probably around three. I got picked up by a customer, and she was at Twelfth with a couple of other girls. When I came back about an hour later, she was gone.”
“Who was with her?”
“Shonda and Rachel.”
Anger flared at the mention of Rachel’s name. “Is Shonda here tonight?”
She peered down the street, then pointed. “There she is. I haven’t seen Rachel yet, but she’ll probably be here.”
We walked silently down to Twelfth, then crossed the street to where Shonda was standing with Sarah.
As Zara and I approached, Sarah dropped her cigarette on the sidewalk and ground it out with her boot. “Who is it this time?” she asked tonelessly.
“Danielle, it looks like,” Zara said.
Shonda sucked in a breath, and Sarah swore.
“Zara says you saw Danielle last night around three,” I said to Shonda.
She nodded somberly. “We were talking, me and her and Rachel. Somewhere around three thirty, a red car came up and waved her over. She went with him. I had a customer not long after that. I didn’t see her when I got back. I figured she got another client or she went home.”
I pulled out my notebook. “Do you remember anything about the car?”
Shonda thought for a minute. “Two doors, kind of sporty. New-looking. I didn’t get a look at the guy.”
I wrote down the information. “And this was around three thirty?”
“Yeah, give or take.” She looked around. “I don’t see Rachel, but she was down here, too, last night, talking to us. Maybe she saw Danielle after that. You could ask her.”
“I will if I see her.” I kept my voice carefully neutral. “Can you ask around and see if anyone else saw Danielle last night after you did?”
“Sure,” Shonda said. Sarah nodded.
“I’m not sure if this is related, but a substance abuse counselor who does outreach down here has recently gone missing,” I said. “Do any of you know Felicia Lowell?”
“Felicia’s missing?” Sarah asked.
“You know her?”
Sarah gave me a jerky nod. “I see her sometimes. She does free counseling.”
I didn’t want her to have to reveal anything personal in front of the other women, but they didn’t seem surprised to hear Sarah was talking to a substance-abuse counselor. “She apparently went for a run two days ago and never came back,” I said. “Her family has filed a missing-persons report.”
“Could it be related to what’s been happening down here?” Zara asked.
“I don’t see how,” Sarah said. “What made you ask us about her?”
“We have a mutual friend. He told me she’s been doing some outreach work in the area. I figured it was just a coincidence, but I thought I’d ask and see if you guys know her.”
“It has to be a coincidence.” Sarah lit another cigarette with trembling hands and took a deep drag.
Shonda glanced over my shoulder and waved. “Hey, here’s Rachel. You can ask her about Danielle.”
I turned. Rachel was walking toward us from the direction of Ninth. She wore a leopard-print miniskirt with a black off-the-shoulder top and platform Mary Janes.
“Hey, girl,” Zara said. “How was your date?”
Rachel grinned and tossed her hair. “Mac was fantastic. Funny, gorgeous, so hot. How are you not dating him, Alice?”
Hearing her talk about Sean made my teeth clench. “He’s not really my type,” I managed to say.
Shonda checked her makeup in a small mirror. “You had a date? Where did you go?”
Rachel waved her hands dramatically. “We went to the Carousel Bar. He bought me wine and we talked for hours. It was so romantic. I thought for sure we were going to end up back at his place but he got a text from work and had to leave. Next time, he’s not getting away so easily. I’ll tie him down if I have to. I could tell he’d totally be into that.” As Zara and Shonda laughed, Rachel glanced at me. “Hey, sorry. You probably don’t want to hear that about a coworker.”
“Yeah, I really don’t,” I said tightly. And I could have told her there was zero chance Sean would be into that.
Sarah looked at me as if she could sense I didn’t want to be having this conversation. “Alice says Danielle is missing.”
“Oh my God,” the blonde said, clapping her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening in feigned horror. “What happened?”
“I was hoping you might know,” I said.
Rachel stared at me, fear in her eyes. “Why would I know anything?”
“You were talking to her last night, you and Shonda, when she got into a red car around three thirty. Did you see her after that?”
Rachel shook her head. “No. I had a customer too not too long after that and I didn’t come back here afterwards. I had him drop me off up on Ninth and I went home.”
I was willing to bet Rachel was lying and the driver of the red car was someone affiliated with the harnad, sent to snatch Danielle before she could identify West as the man she’d seen taking Missy.
I gave each of the women one of my cards. “Call me if you hear anything about Danielle or anything else that might help. If you see Danielle, please have her call me.”
They promised they would. Rachel stepped away from the group and lit a cigarette, avoiding my gaze. I put my notebook back in my bag, said goodbye, and headed back toward the café.
I wondered what on earth Sean and Rachel could have talked about for hours. I could not imagine two people who were more different. I hoped he’d gotten some useful information, at least.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my bag and stared at the screen. Wolf Calling. I swiped the green button and resumed walking. “Hello.”
“Alice, it’s Sean.”
The sound of his voice made me feel warm. “Hey. I’m down on the Stroll. I just got done talking with the girls and I’m headed back to my car.”
“Want to meet somewhere and go over what we know?”
“I don’t have much to report except Danielle’s last customer last night drove a sporty red two-door and picked her up at Twelfth and Elm around three thirty this morning. Maybe Cyro can find some traffic cam images of the car, get a license plate.” I hesitated. “You get anything useful from Rachel?”
“Not yet.”
“What did you do?”
“I put a tracker on her car.”
“Mark is going to be pissed.”
“She helped kidnap Felicia,” Sean growled. “I’m thinking about putting a bug in her house, Dunlap be damned. You don’t know how hard it was to sit there and smile at her and pretend to flirt when all I could think about was whether or not Felicia is dead.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t have—” I began.
Icy fingers touched the back of my neck. I gasped and spun around, only to find the sidewalk empty.
A familiar mocking laugh drifted toward me from the direction of an alley off to my right. The poltergeist was back. “Alissssssssss…”
Cautiously, I followed the sound, my phone forgotten in my hand as I stepped into the shadows. “What do you want?” I demanded. “Show yourself.”
No response, but I could feel the poltergeist nearby. If it knew my name, this was no random encounter with a passing spirit.
“Alice!” Sean shouted.
With my eyes on the dark alley in front of me, I raised the phone to my ear. “Gotta go, Sean. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
He spoke quickly. “Do you need help?”
“No. Good night.” I hit the red button and stuck the phone in my bag. “What do you want?” I asked again.
“Alissssssssss…”
The sound came from my left. I turned and slowly lowered my bag to the pavement. “I’m in no mood for games. Either show yourself or—”
Something hit me in the stomach and I doubled over. The same unseen force picked me up and threw me sideways into the building. I hit the wall and dropped to the pavement like a sack of dog food.
Dazed and winded, I managed to roll to my hands and knees just as the poltergeist cackled and slashed my face. My cry of pain was cut off by an icy hand closing on my throat. It dragged me to my feet and smashed my head against the brick wall. Stars exploded in front of my eyes. Hot blood ran down my neck and the gashes on my face burned as the spirit dug its fingers into my throat.
Slowly, the poltergeist appeared. Unlike Malcolm, who looked fully human, she was so close to going wraith that it was difficult to see her features. A female face framed by long, pale hair, with crazed dark eyes, hovered inches from my own. I didn’t recognize her.
“Alice,” she hissed. “I must kill you.”
I finally got enough air to ask, “Why?”
“He says you must be punished.” Her fingers tightened on my throat. “He will give me your body and I will live again.”
I wanted to tell her it didn’t work that way and she’d been lied to, but I doubted I’d have much luck reasoning with her. “Who is he?” I croaked. “Who sent you after me?”
She cackled again. “I’ll sleep with your man.”
She must have seen Sean with me today at Danielle�
�s apartment. Whatever was going on, I didn’t want him dragged into it. “He’s not my man.”
She squeezed, cutting off my air. “Die, Alice. Die so I can live.” Her grip tightened and I felt a sharp pain at the base of my skull. I’d let her manhandle me in hopes of finding out why she was attacking me, but I wasn’t going to let her snap my neck.
The blood magic I’d been spooling since the moment she’d grabbed me burst from my hands. It coiled around her like a cage, holding her in place before she could disappear.
She screeched and let go of my throat, thrashing against the magical bonds. The roiling blood magic made my skin feel like it was on fire.
“Tell me who sent you,” I commanded.
“Die!” She clawed a deep slash across my collarbone. A few inches higher, and she might have severed my jugular. My anger fed the coils and she went berserk, fighting to get at my throat.
I doubted I’d be getting any answers from her now, not in this state. I lowered my shields, looking for a clue as to who sent her after me. Within her, I found a slim black thread, a trace of magic that was dark and powerful. It was also vaguely familiar, as if I’d encountered its source or something like it recently, but couldn’t remember when or where. It was not the same as the demon who’d come to my house posing as a city utility worker, but the magic was dark and sulfurous.
The demented spirit flailed against my magic and launched herself at my face, opening another gash on my forehead and barely missing my eyes.
“To hell with this,” I snapped. I raked my fingers through the poltergeist’s noncorporeal body and tore her apart.
She should have simply dispersed like smoke; instead, the spirit thrashed wildly and let out a piercing shriek that stabbed my eardrums like icepicks. Warm blood trickled out of my ears as her form disintegrated. It seemed to take forever until her scream faded and what was left of her vanished.
When she was gone, I snuffed out my blood magic and slid down the wall as my heart pounded and my ears ached. I’d discorporated more than a dozen poltergeists, but never one who was self-aware enough to feel pain and fear. She was unusually strong and at least moderately coherent, able to agree to attacking a living human on someone else’s orders, tracking that person, and understanding the reward she was offered for doing it.
