by Esme Addison
“I’m fine.” She pointed toward the ground. “Evelyn had a gun, but I was able to knock it out of her hands.”
Kamila retrieved the gun and looked at Alex, her brow furrowed.
Alex knew her cousin was trying to telepath with her and wasn’t getting through. A guarded looked came over Kamila’s face, and she looked around, trying to find the source of the blockage.
Alex touched her neck and then pointed to Evelyn when Jack looked away to give the officers orders to cordon off the area.
Kamila went to the woman and began to unclasp it, when Evelyn perked up, seemingly out of her coma of defeat. She looked at Alex and pointed a finger. “She’s one of them!” she shrieked for all the world to hear.
Alex stopped breathing when Jack turned and looked at her. “What?”
“Her,” Evelyn said again, tears running down her face. “She’s a Magical. She has powers.” Jack turned toward Alex, an uncertain look in his eyes.
Alex shrugged.
“I only stopped her because of my necklace,” Evelyn was saying, a hysterical edge to her voice. “Don’t let them take it away from me, or they’ll be able to do things. She’s probably not the only one. There’s more. This town is filled with them.”
Jack walked toward the woman and indicated that Kamila should continue taking it off. She did so and handed it to him. He opened his palm and stared at the string of black-blue spheres. “You think this is a magical necklace?”
“Yes,” she blubbered through her tears. Her finger pointed at Alex again. “And she’s got powers. She’s a witch. She’s a Magical. She’s—”
Jack looked at an officer watching the proceedings with a smirk on his face. “Take her away, please. And make sure this”—he handed him the necklace—“goes into evidence.” He turned back to the woman. “I know this is a strange town, but there’s no such thing as magic. Not magical beans. And not magical jewelry. And the sooner you acknowledge that, the better off you’ll be.” He nodded toward the officer, who grabbed her by the handcuffs and helped her down the stairs.
Jack went to Alex, his hands in her hair, on her face, pushing her chin up to look at her neck. Gently grabbing her hands and inspecting her arms. “You’re bleeding,” he said, commenting on the scratches on her arms Evelyn had inflicted.
“And I scraped my knee,” Alex offered with a grin, looking at her left leg. “But I think I’ll be okay.”
“No matter. We’ll get that taken care of, promise.” He pulled her into a tight hug, with his nose and mouth in her hair. He didn’t say a word, and Alex was stunned at the intense waves of love and affection that swept over her. She relaxed against his chest, allowing herself to drown in the emotion.
She made eye contact with Kamila, who stood behind him. Her cousin shrugged, then cleared her throat. “I’ll give you two a moment.” She nodded at Jack, who only had eyes for Alex. “Sir.”
* * *
When she was gone, Jack pulled her back, his gaze tender as he looked into her eyes. He didn’t say anything and pressed his lips softly onto hers for a kiss that lasted for a very, very long time. When he was done, he held her again at arms’ length and looked at her. “Let’s get you to the hospital for a more thorough check. You may feel okay, but I want to be sure.”
Alex was suddenly exhausted. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
With his arm around her shoulders, he guided her down the stairs.
Alex was fine.
Three days had passed, and she’d spent some time at the hospital and was then sent home with a prescription for rest and ibuprofen. Of course, Aunt Lidia had taken over healing her wounds, soothing her mind and clearing her body and aura because she’d come into contact with a mineral blend capable of blocking her magic. The existence of this mineral mix caused concern for Lidia, who said she’d take it up with the Council.
The last event of the festival, the celebration in the park, would begin in a few days, and Alex was ready for it to be over. Like Kamila had predicted, she’d just about had her fill of mermaids.
But not yet.
She was in the park, with the sun shining down on her, and she sat on the bench directly across from the mural. Athena lay at her feet after a leisurely walk, and Alex had some reading to do. In front of the mural seemed like the appropriate place to read Neve’s dissertation on the presence of mythological weapons in contemporary society. Pepper had finally been able to track down the thesis and had sent Alex a hard copy. She reached for her back sack and pulled out the yellow envelope that held the document.
But something still bothered her.
Although Evelyn pleaded guilty to her husband’s murder, she emphatically stated that she hadn’t killed Neve Ryland. And as Alex thought back to their fight, a lot had been said about Neve—that she deserved to die, that she’d probably been seeing Jasper as Celeste suspected, but Evelyn had never ’fessed up to killing her.
Someone had broken into the coroner’s office. Evelyn had said she didn’t do that, and Alex tended to believe her. After all, what would’ve been her motive? And Alex had been attacked by a Magical. Sure, the pieces lined up nicely, but Alex felt she was missing something.
What was it?
Before she could ponder all of the possible answers, her phone rang. It was Kamila.
“Hey,” she said without preamble, “remember when you asked me about Jack? If he was working on anything else?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I overheard him at work. On the phone …”
“What did you hear?”
“Not sure exactly. But he is working on something, a special case, only it’s not with the Bellamy PD. I had eyes on our chief, and Jack wasn’t talking to him. That’s all I got.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” Alex set the phone down, lost in thought. She’d known Jack was up to something. Now she just had to figure out what. Alex stopped musing when a shadow cast over her, and she saw a teenage boy wearing a sullen expression. He stopped short of her, hands jammed into the pockets of his khaki shorts, his gray eyes squinting in the sun.
It was Evelyn and Chris Robinson’s son, Tanner Robinson, she realized. This time in a black T-shirt featuring Spock from the television show Star Trek. She smiled at him. “Hey there. How are you doing?”
Sighing, he stubbed the toe of his white Converses into the ground. Eyes on the ground, he spoke in low, shy tones. “Pretty good, considering my mom killed my dad, and then she goes and tries to kill a real live mermaid.” He raised his eyes to meet Alex’s. “You are a genetic mermaid, right?”
Alex stifled a gasp, but he only laughed, coming closer to her as he lowered his voice. “I know, okay?” He smirked, revealing the cocky smile that only a teenaged boy could produce. “I’ve helped my dad with his blog since I was eleven. I knew everything he knew, and he kept a running list of everyone he thought might be a Magical in town. He was grooming me to take it over one day—and that’s what I’m going to do.”
She assessed the teenager. “You’re the Bizarre Bellamy Bay blogger now?”
His jaw jutted out. “Yeah, I can do it.”
“So you’re staying in town?”
“I’ll be just down the road with my grandparents in Swansboro. Still close enough to keep my eye on things,” he assured her. “It’s what my father would’ve wanted.”
Alex felt horrible for what the boy had been through, but hopeful his future would be better. “I’ll be rooting for you. But this list … my name is on it?”
“Not exactly. Your aunt’s and your mom’s names were on it. Only makes sense that you’d be one too. And your cousins.” He shrugged. “It’s genetics. Don’t worry—the list is in a safe place.” He tapped his head. “I have a photographic memory, and my dad swore me to secrecy. I won’t break my promise to him.”
“I believe you,” Alex said, feeling the sincerity emanating from the teen.
* * *
When he was gone, her gaze returned to the life-sized image of the Merma
id of Warsaw, and she couldn’t help but wonder … Was Neve trying to tell her—or someone—something? Her murals told stories, after all. They held clues, and Alex still hadn’t figured out what they were.
She felt unsettled. Alex took a swig from her water bottle and read through the paper. Neve argued the point that mythological weapons were real because the gods were real; that at one point myths had been believed as true histories, and the accounts were considered factual accounts of wars and battle and the personal and political intrigues among the entities in power. Descriptions of weapons, their abilities, and the results they produced were too detailed to simply be the results of storytellers around the world. No, Neve thought that somehow, someway, they were real.
And although the gods may have disappeared from our earthly realm, their weapons still existed and waited to be found. Neve explained how mythological weapons could now all be explained with science, some simple, some complex, and only explicable by off-planet technologies. She argued that soon companies would try to recreate and or reverse-engineer these advanced technologies for modern application.
Neve believed she’d found a way to locate them based on analysis of myths, examining local histories, reviewing current events in newspapers, and using satellite and other advanced technologies. She believed that these weapons, in the right hands, could be tools of peace, if they could be found and remained in the hands of men and women oriented positively.
She went on to list several mythological weapons that she believed were real, explaining how she’d discerned their probable location, how they had been used to suppress, but how they could also be used for good in contemporary society. She gave the general area where she thought they were located, along with her reasons.
She also made it clear that if it was ever proven that these weapons were real, they could never get in the hands of those who wished to oppress societies.
Alex closed the paper and stared at the mural. Neve had been an interesting woman. Brilliant. Imaginative. Intelligent. And Alex wished that she’d had more time to talk to her and learn all that she knew. Especially about the Mermaid of Warsaw.
Alex looked up at the mural. What if the painting wasn’t just a painting, as she’d thought. The mural was missing the newspaper and the clock, a code hiding in plain sight for someone to see. A missed opportunity to retrieve something. But maybe Neve had found the Warsaw Shield, and instead of giving it to her partner, she’d taken the information to her grave. Hadn’t she said she’d decided not to share what she knew?
Alex had assumed she’d meant information about the mermaid gene, but if mythological weapons were real, and she’d been touring the Wesley property that was rumored to hide the shield …
Neve had made it clear she considered herself in danger. And she’d come to Alex for help. Was there a clue to the killer in the mural? Neve had painted the mermaid prepared to battle the god of war. Ares, she knew from a one-off class on world mythology she’d taken as an undergrad, represented all that was bad about war and battle. Mars, the Roman counterpart was all shiny and beloved—bravery, valor, and patriotism. But not Ares. Almost the black sheep of the gods, to the Greeks Ares represented the lust for blood, the indiscriminate slaughter of men, the joy of the kill.
Did Ares represent the government? Or maybe the military? She put the paper back into her backpack and pulled out her phone to research Ares, something she hadn’t done before. She skimmed the god’s profile. Described as having a quick temper, being aggressive, and having unquenchable thirst for conflict, he was the son of Zeus and brother to Athena. Symbols associated with Ares were spears, shields, chariots, boars, dogs, vultures—
Alex stopped suddenly at one of the items on the list, and her breath caught in her throat. She looked at the mural and smiled. If she’d been looking for a clue from Neve, she’d found it. In plain sight, Neve had literally painted for all the world to see the person she feared the most. And Alex’s heart broke just a little because she hadn’t been able to figure it out in time to save her. But she could bring him to justice.
Standing, with Athena’s leash in hand, she walked toward the mural, finally understanding what Neve had tried to tell her.
Neve had known her killer, and it wasn’t Evelyn Robinson.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alex would make sure Neve’s killer was punished.
It was the least she could do for the woman who’d known her secrets and taken them to her grave. But first Alex needed answers, and because of the discreet nature of the subject, she’d handle it alone—or almost alone, and then she’d call Kamila.
There was one person who deserved answers more than she did, and that’s who she called before approaching the building. That plus it never hurt to have backup, even though she was pretty sure she could handle this Mundane.
Alex left Athena outside, tied to a bicycle rack, while she entered the building. Her dog met her eye, and Alex could’ve sworn her German shepherd’s look conveyed, You got this? You sure you don’t want me to come with you? She planted a kiss on Athena’s head and assured her she was fine.
The coolness of the building smacked against her skin as she navigated through the reception areas, the spacious rooms, and the hallway, heading to the offices.
He stood when she appeared, as if he’d been expecting her. And maybe he had.
As usual, she was annoyed by his appearance. “The mineral associated with the Greek god Ares,” she said in greeting, “is jasper.”
“Well, hello to you too.” The museum director grinned at her. “I see you’re feeling better after that vicious attack. It’s all anyone can talk about in town. Won’t you come in?” he said pleasantly. “And its red jasper, if we’re being particular.”
Alex noted with some distaste that today’s bow tie and suspender combination was a lemon yellow. She stood at the door, looking around the office. “Not only did Neve not want to tell you where the Warsaw Shield was, but she didn’t return your affections. That’s what you argued about, the night of the reception.”
The affable grin on his face disappeared.
She wasn’t afraid of this Mundane. She entered his office and settled into a chair. “When did you know she wasn’t going to help you?”
A scowl appeared on his face. He closed the door with a quiet snick before returning to his desk. His lips twisted in scorn. “When the mural was unveiled, I saw the date and time of the weapon acquisition hadn’t been encoded in the painting. I knew something was wrong.”
Alex thought back to that beautiful day in the park. Neve had asked everyone what they thought of the mural … and Jasper had responded first.
“I feel like it’s missing something,” he’d said. Not hiding his displeasure at all. And Alex felt sick, because it was on that day while they’d been at the park, enjoying the sunshine and drinking herbal tea, that Neve had signed her death warrant.
“She thought she’d go away with him, that blogger. And throw away everything we’d worked for.” He turned away from her then, gazing out the window behind his desk. “She always shared her findings with me. Hawaii, Japan. Boston … It was her job, after all, to find things for me. But this time … this time she refused. I tried to get her to change her mind—that night of the reception. I begged her, reminded her of all we’d done together—the traveling, the artifacts we’d discovered—but she laughed at me.”
“She didn’t want you.” His jaw tightened, and Alex knew she’d hit his weak spot, his emotional pressure point. “But you couldn’t force her to love you back. The law of free will?”
“That law will be the death of me,” he spit out angrily. “Of all of us.”
“Without it, your power and influence would run unchecked. It practically almost is.”
“Almost,” he conceded, “but not quite.” He looked pensive for a moment, stroking his chin, lost in thought. Then he locked eyes with Alex and chuckled. “She told me she’d rather die than help me again. So, I picked up my favorite
paperweight, and, well … you know the rest.” The cruelest of looks transformed his features into something hideous. His eyes were slits, his skin took on greenish tinge, and his tongue was long and forked. He was a shape-shifter?
Alex blinked, and the image was gone. Had she even seen it? She rubbed her eyes and took another look. He was all floppy blond hair and cocky grin. But fear coursed through her body. Jasper wasn’t a Mundane. Wasn’t a collaborator. It was he, not Montgomery, who was a Smok. A Dragon Descent.
A tremor ran up and down Alex’s spine. She’d thought she could handle a Mundane, but she had no experience with a Dragon. Could she do this alone? Alex wanted to leave the office then, wanted to put space between him and this vile creature. He was disgusting. A monster.
He grinned when he saw the expression on her face. “What? She had it coming.”
She wanted to wipe the smug look off his face, but she knew she’d need more than just his confession. “Where is the murder weapon?”
“You’ll never find it. I tossed it into the sea from whence it came. From whence I came.”
Alex recalled seeing Jasper’s memories. There was no murder. No ill will toward Neve. “How did you—”
“I can control my thoughts,” he answered before she could get the question out. “Thereby controlling what you see—or think you see.” He laughed. “I knew exactly what you were doing, plundering through my thoughts and memories. Shame on you. And I thought you mermaids had ethics.”
Alex almost felt sick. He was right. She shouldn’t have done it, but in this case he deserved to have his thoughts read and laid bare … and much more. She narrowed her eyes, watching him as he stood and began to pace the room restlessly. “And your relationship with Celeste … you wanted intel on her work with Wesley. Were you reading her mind, accessing her top-secret thoughts?”
“I knew Dylan was searching for the shield. And when I was a professor at the college and discovered Celeste was an intern at Wesley, I simply worked my considerable charms on her, and a romance”—he rolled his eyes as he spoke the word—“was born. “Unfortunately, the information I gained from her was negligible.” He gritted his teeth. “But I know that shield is here somewhere. And I’m not leaving until I find it.”
