by Lisa Edmonds
Unsurprisingly, the person Esther Aldridge and the others knew as Joseph Kendall didn’t really exist—not on this plane of existence, anyway. The Joseph Kendall tied to the Social Security and SPERA registration numbers this man used belonged to a man who died in Indiana five years before. The mage claiming to be Kendall had stolen the dead man’s identity.
Cait’s attempt to identify the con man using facial recognition software had turned up several additional cases of identity theft that placed him in Dallas, Boston, and Denver in the past four years. In each of those cities, there were probably a half-dozen victims just like Esther Aldridge who had retained the services of someone like me to look into the thefts instead of notifying law enforcement. At this point, the con man had to have a small flock of private investigators and other less-legal hunters hot on his trail. He might have eluded justice up to now, but those chickens were going to come home to roost sooner or later.
So far, Cait hadn’t connected the con man, who I’d creatively dubbed John Doe, to a real identity, but she was looking into it. In the meantime, she was also digging into his known associates in the city. I wondered if John Doe or one of his agents found new B&E-slash-safecracking crews in each city or if he had a team he worked with who came in to commit the burglaries, then left again.
“I’d like to pass this info on to Cyro,” I told Sean. “I want to see about hiring him to get John Doe’s phone records.” Cait was a great researcher, but she stayed on the good side of the law. Black-hat hacker Cyro was firmly on the dark side.
He took a burner cell from his duffel bag. He sent off a text, then set the phone on the counter to finish his lasagna. A few minutes later, the phone rang.
He answered. “Maclin.”
My ears weren’t as sharp as his, but I could hear an electronically altered voice on the other end offering a terse greeting.
Briefly, Sean outlined what I was looking for and what we knew about John Doe. When he was done, the voice spoke again. Looking surprised, Sean held out the phone. “He’d like to speak to you.”
Startled, I took the phone. “Alice Worth.”
“Ms. Worth, this is Cyro,” the voice said. “I understand you would like to employ my services.”
I tried not to be creeped out by the strange computerized voice. “I would, assuming you’re available. If the fee will be similar to what you charged the last time, I have the funds available in my business checking account for immediate transfer.”
Cyro quoted me a price for John Doe’s home, office, and mobile records. “I’ll give you an account number. I’ll begin the work when the funds are received.”
My retainer from Esther would easily cover that amount. “Give me the number.”
Cyro’s mechanical voice relayed the number, which Sean wrote on a piece of paper.
“How soon can I expect a reply?” I asked. “Just so I have an idea of the time frame.”
“I have a few jobs ahead of this today,” Cyro said. “It depends on the difficulty of obtaining the information, obviously. Later this evening is probably the earliest I’ll be able to send anything back. Tomorrow morning is more realistic.”
“That’s perfect. Thanks.”
“Goodbye.” The call ended.
I handed the phone back to Sean. “Wonder why he wanted to talk to me.”
“It makes sense, if he’s working for you directly this time.”
“I guess,” I said dubiously.
My phone rang and I answered. “Hey, Phil. Got some news for me?”
The fence’s voice was gruff. “I sure do. You gonna come do me a favor?”
Sean’s brows drew together. I mouthed Wards at him and his scowl faded.
“You know I will,” I assured Phil. “My schedule’s tight because I’m on a case, but I’ll get it done ASAP. What do you know?”
“Got a line on a sparkly hand mirror.”
My pulse sped up. “Who’s selling it?” I took Sean’s pen and pulled a notepad over.
“It’s already been sold to a woman named Dora Quinn. She co-owns an antique shop just east of the Heights called Walsh & Quinn.”
“Did she buy anything else?”
“My friend said no, just the mirror. He was glad to be rid of it, he said. Not sure what that means.”
Considering the mirror’s ability to show forgotten memories, I had an idea of why he’d been glad to get it off his hands.
“Rumor has it she paid three thousand for the mirror,” he added.
“Good work, Phil. Keep your ears open and let me know if anything else interesting comes on the market. Also, if you hear anything about the whereabouts of a shady mage calling himself Joseph Kendall, I’d like to know.”
“Will do.”
We hung up. Sean looked up the antique store’s website. The proprietors were two women who looked to be in their early forties. The store specialized in high-end “one-of-a-kind” collectibles, which was often a code for magical objects. Judging by the website and the photos of the store, their clientele were more nouveau riche than the kind of old money represented by Esther Aldridge.
“What’s the plan?” Sean asked.
“I go in as a customer. If the mirror is on the premises, I’ll probably be able to locate it unless it’s behind wards. Once we know if it’s there and I get a read on Dora Quinn, I’ll decide which recovery method makes the most sense. Meanwhile, I guess I’m going to need my other good suit. Tell the mobile team we’re rolling out in ten.”
An hour later, I strode into Walsh & Quinn, exuding the haughty confidence of Audrey Talbot, the persona I’d created for just this sort of reconnaissance mission. My skin buzzed with the obfuscation spell that disrupted the security camera’s view of me. Sean was two steps behind me, radiating menace and wearing a Secret Service-style earpiece that connected him to Jack and Karen, who were in their SUV. He was taking his role as Audrey’s hired muscle very seriously.
I didn’t sense the mirror in the store, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t here, tucked away in the kind of warded safe that Esther Aldridge should have had.
One of the owners appeared from a back room and approached us. She wore a black short-sleeved sweater and slim black slacks with heels, her shoulder-length blonde hair held back in a silver clip.
She took one look at Sean’s glower and her blue eyes widened. “Good afternoon,” she said, holding out her hand. “Welcome to Walsh & Quinn. I’m Dora Quinn.”
“Audrey Talbot.” I shook her hand briskly. “I’m looking for a special gift, and I understand you might have something unique.”
“We specialize in unique gifts.” Dora’s smile was wide, but her eyes were calculating. “Can I ask how you heard about us?”
“A party, of course. I think it was the opera gala in March.” I waved my hand as if the details were unimportant. “I heard your store is a place to find something special.” I took a step closer and lowered my voice. “The gift is for my fiancé’s mother. She has a small collection of one-of-a-kind items. We’re…not close, but I hoped that if I could find something to add to her collection, it might smooth the waters. The wedding’s only two months away, and I don’t want her to cause trouble.” I let my eyes water a bit, then bravely blinked away the unshed tears. “I love Dean so much.”
“There, there,” Dora said, patting my arm as she glanced at the large fake diamond engagement ring on my left hand. “I might have a few possibilities. What kinds of collectibles does your future mother-in-law like?”
“I haven’t seen her collection,” I sniffled, following Dora back toward the counter. “Dean’s told me about it. That’s what gave me the idea. I want something really special, something thoughtful.”
“Wait here. I’ll bring a few options out to show you.” Dora disappeared into a back room.
Sean sidled up to me and lowered his head so that his mouth was near my ear. “Who’s Dean?”
“Just some guy on a TV show,” I murmured, my lips barely moving.
His fingertips slid over the small of my back, making me shiver. “Good,” he said softly. He stepped back.
Dora returned carrying a small black velvet box. She set it on the counter in front of me. I sensed magic trace, but it wasn’t from the mirror.
She opened the box and folded back a linen wrapping. I gasped. “Oh.”
It was a statement necklace, made of swirling silver vines and diamonds. Fire magic danced along my senses. “Oh,” I said again, my eyes wide. “What does it do?”
Her eyes sparkled with humor. “I haven’t worn it myself, but I understand that its previous owner never left a party alone while wearing it.”
A lust spell, then, held in the red crystal near the top of the necklace. “It’s beautiful,” I said, then shook my head regretfully. “My mother-in-law doesn’t strike me as the sort who would wear it, though.”
“She might like it simply as a collector’s piece,” Dora suggested. “Perhaps an item she could loan out for special occasions.”
“Maybe,” I mused. “She’s very old-fashioned. Everything she has is antique. She even has one of those vintage dressing tables, like they had ages ago.” I wrinkled my nose, showing my disdain for such a bizarre item, and hoping she’d take the bait and bring out the hand mirror.
Dora wrapped up the necklace. “Let me look and see what else I have.” She closed the box and headed into the back room again.
We waited. This time, when she returned, she was carrying another flat box, and this one emanated familiar magic trace. She set it on the counter, lifted the lid, and unwrapped the mirror.
A sheet of tissue paper covered the mirror’s reflective surface. “It’s gorgeous,” I breathed. “Why is it covered?”
Dora held out to her hand. “Don’t get too close. It’s—”
Without warning, the ground heaved beneath our feet as a wave of magical energy washed over us and an earthquake shook the shop.
Dora stumbled back with a startled shriek as items fell off the walls and tables. Everything on the counter slid off and fell. I grabbed for the mirror, afraid of what would happen if it shattered on the floor and released its magic.
The tissue paper fell away, revealing my reflection in the mirror. I tried to look away but it was too late. I felt a surge of magic and the shop and everything else faded into soft darkness.
I woke from a familiar nightmare, my heart pounding. I whimpered into the darkness of my room in my grandfather’s compound. I expected my mother to come in to comfort me as she usually did, but she didn’t appear.
I crawled out of bed, clutching Bernie, my stuffed rabbit, and crept down the hall. I could sneak into bed with my parents and they would hold me until I could fall asleep again.
As I approached their room, however, I heard voices. My parents weren’t asleep and Mom sounded upset. I paused outside the door, trying to figure out if I should go in.
“She told me he made her do something that killed two people yesterday,” my mother sobbed. “He’s made her a killer, John. She’s a baby.”
I pressed my face against Bernie. Why did my mom call me a baby? I’m not a baby, I thought resentfully. Grandfather says I’m not a baby.
“We’ll get her away from here as soon as we have a chance,” my dad said. “I’ve been setting something up with some people from Paris. We’ll get her out of the country, but we have to wait until the right time, until we know we can get there without leaving a trail. I know it’s hard, Moira. You’ve got to hang on.”
“I want to protect her from him, but I can’t.” My mother’s voice was tight with pain. “Everything I’ve ever done, I did to keep her safe, but it wasn’t enough. I can’t even tell her who her father is, because if my father knew the truth he’d kill us all.”
“You know you can’t tell her, not yet,” my dad said gently. “She’s a child. She’d never be able to keep that a secret. Someday, once we’re away from here and she can understand, you can tell her about Daniel.”
Mom took a deep breath. “I’ve never forgiven myself for not telling him, but he was getting out, leaving this nightmare behind. He bought a bookstore in California. He never would have left if he’d known I was pregnant.”
“If he’d stayed, you’d all three probably be dead.” The bedding rustled. “Maybe she can find him when she’s older, if she wants to. In the meantime, I love her like she’s my own. You know that. She’s my daughter and I’m her dad. And I swear I will get us all away from here just as soon as I can.”
“I know.” My mother started to cry again.
My dad made soothing sounds. My mother’s crying was muffled, as if she was weeping against his chest.
I tiptoed back down the hall to my room and slipped into bed, squeezing Bernie tightly. My parents’ conversation didn’t make sense, and I resented that my mother had called me a baby. Magic sparked on my fingertips as a breeze blew through my room.
I fell asleep, still frowning, the whispered conversation between my parents a fading fragment of a memory in the mind of a child who, at age six, had already killed on the orders of her own grandfather.
I found myself huddled on the floor of Dora Quinn’s wrecked antique shop, clutching the hand mirror so hard that my fingers were cramping. Someone had wrapped it in a cloth to cover the glass.
Sean was crouched next to me, his hand on my shoulder. “Audrey? Can you hear me?”
The memory was already fading, but I clung to pieces of it.
I can’t even tell her who her father is, because if my father knew the truth he’d kill us all.
Someday, once we’re away from here and she can understand, you can tell her about Daniel.
He never would have left if he’d known I was pregnant.
I love her like she’s my own.
I let out a strangled sob.
Sean gently pried the mirror out of my grasp, put it in the box, and closed the lid. He slid it over so that it was next to him, then folded me in his arms. I trembled so hard that my teeth chattered.
Dora Quinn appeared, looking shell-shocked. I dimly recalled an earthquake and realized she was probably reeling from the damage to the shop’s inventory.
“I have to call our insurance company and my business partner,” she said shakily. “So many things are destroyed. I’ll take this.” She reached for the box.
Sean snarled. She jumped back with a frightened sound.
“That mirror is stolen property,” I rasped. “You bought it from a fence. I’m returning it to its rightful owner. Be thankful the owner doesn’t want to press charges. Receiving stolen property is a felony.”
Dora’s face turned beet red. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I have never—”
“Ms. Quinn, this is the best offer you could hope to receive under the circumstances,” Sean said. “Now, why don’t you go into the back and make those calls and Ms. Talbot and I will leave.”
Dora took one look at Sean’s golden eyes and made the right decision. “Fine,” she snapped. She turned and stomped into the back office, slamming the door behind her.
Sean nuzzled my hair and held me. “Alice, whatever it was you saw, I’m sorry.”
I shivered as a dozen emotions clashed inside me. How could I have forgotten something like that? I had other memories from when I was six; why didn’t I remember that I’d heard my parents talking about my real father?
A thought occurred to me: was the supposed “lost memory” even real, or was it a cruel trick by the magic mirror? I’d been thinking about family lately. I’d encountered a lot of magical objects and many of them had had a mind of their own. Some were kind; others were malicious. The mirror might have plucked a real memory from my head, combined it with my longing for family, and generated a false recollection.
“We need to leave,” Sean told me, interrupting my thoughts. He kissed my temple. “Can you walk?”
“I can walk.” My voice was hoarse. “Get that box, and let’s get the hell out of here.”
&nbs
p; 9
On the way home, we found out the earthquake was the result of another magical attack. This one destroyed two buildings only a mile away from the antique shop. Earth mages had taken out one of Darius Bell’s smaller holdings. There was little structural damage to other buildings, but a lot of broken store windows and loss of shop inventory in the Heights.
When we returned to my house, I carried the box inside, holding it like it was full of angry bees. While Sean let Rogue in from the backyard, I took the box down to the basement, locked it in one of my cupboards, then went upstairs to my room to change.
When I came out of the bathroom in jeans and a T-shirt, Sean was waiting in my bedroom, standing at the foot of my bed. We stared at each other.
The tension in his shoulders and worry in his eyes told me he wanted to ask what I’d seen, but he didn’t.
I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t. The secret was too big and too dangerous.
Was this what it was going to be like for as long as we were together? Secrets, half-truths, and lies? I tried to imagine how I would feel if our situation was reversed and it was Sean who refused to tell me anything about himself, who radiated guilt and anger, but wouldn’t explain why. Would I be as patient as him? When would his patience run out?
Before he left for Seattle, Special Agent Trent Lake of SPEMA had figured out I wasn’t who I claimed to be. He’d seen enough to know he didn’t want to know any more than that. How long before Sean came to the same conclusion? He’d already inferred that I’d been a killer before I came to the city. It wasn’t much of a leap from that to realizing my whole identity was a lie.
I looked at him and wondered―would there be a point when I’d trust him enough to tell him the truth? And if not, what was I doing having dinner with members of his pack and making him think there was a chance for something long-term between us?
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
I took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m not sure they’re worth even that much.”
