by Lisa Oliver
“What do you think, young Stefan?”
Brutus’s question pulled Stefan’s attention back to the matter at hand. Fortunately, one of the first things Gaston had taught him was to listen with one ear. “It’s clear this Technic you seek is using his magic illegally which means the only way to track him is through his magical signature. Any claimed sightings of him from witnesses would be flawed as he’s probably altered his appearance and depending on his power levels, he may even influence others to look like him as a diversion. Did your information come from a seer or magi-mech means?”
“Magi-mech?” Brutus scrunched his brow. “I didn’t even know tracing a person using tech like that was possible. All of our information comes from seers.”
Taking care not to dislodge Garrick, Stefan reached inside his waistcoat, pulling out a small beetle. He held it up in his palm, showing the two interested men. “People can be bribed, persuaded, seduced, or can sometimes read information from visions incorrectly.”
He looked up from under the brim of his hat. “I mean no disrespect to your seers. But the advantage of mechanical traces is that they are completely autonomous. They stay focused on the task they’re given and can’t be dissuaded by anyone or anything. If you have somewhere that you know this Technic has definitely been, it is possible to program something like this beetle to follow the magical signature.”
“The workmanship is excellent.” Lucifer plucked the beetle off Stefan’s palm, examining it closely. “Where did you get it? Is this something of Gaston’s too?”
“My father taught me to make them when I was young. It was how our family realized I had magical leanings.” Stefan smiled softly. “My father almost had a heart attack one day when one of my dragonflies flew.” Then conscious of his audience, Stefan pushed one of his happier memories away. “I tinker in my spare time.”
“You have wonderful talent, my new young friend,” Brutus said gravely taking the beetle from Lucifer and handing it back. “We are heading to Technic’s last known sighting now. Perhaps we can pick up something there that might be of use to your little beetle.”
“We’ll pick up food first,” Lucifer said brusquely. He tilted his head as Stefan looked at him. “I said I’d look out for you. I get immersed in a case if I’m following a hot lead and forget about the basics. Darwin would pull me up on it, but I don’t expect you to be comfortable enough with me to do that yet.”
In other words, you haven’t eaten yet. Stefan nodded, while Brutus looked at the pair of them in interest.
“Your partnership is new?”
“This is our first case together, but I trust Stefan to be a quick learner. He has extensive experience as an anchor.” Lucifer turned, rapping his hand on the window that separated the men from the driver. Rattling off orders in Arabic, when the window lowered, Lucifer turned back in his seat as the window went back up again. “What damage did Technic leave? What made you aware it was him?”
“He left his calling card.” Brutus looked grim. “Two demon sightings just outside the city and when we went to investigate, we found a dead body – drained like the others.”
“Drained?” Stefan’s heart dropped. “Drained in what way? Blood? Are we dealing with a vampire?”
“I wish it was a vampire, my young friend. No, in this case their magic was gone to the point their heart stopped beating.” Brutus shook his head. “This one was just like the others – barely eighteen years old, left for dead in the desert with no clothes, ID or anything on him.”
Stefan latched onto the pronoun and considered where they were. “So, the magic was siphoned with spells – were there markings on the body?”
“Technic doesn’t use spell craft,” Lucifer said grimly. “He drains them as he fucks them. Stupid fools. Sex magic is older than time itself, and still these young idiots blithely follow someone older and more powerful, convinced they’ve found their forever just because the older guy says it’s so. And then they end up dead, leaving a magic user like Technic stronger than ever and harder to catch.”
“It’s not the victim’s fault.” Stefan felt as though he’d been slapped. “Maybe, if older magic users weren’t so damn cocky, running about with impunity, never considering that their increased power levels should actually come with a sense of responsibility, honor, and duty of care to younger magic users, then nothing like this would ever happen.”
“Your anchor is right, my scornful friend. This was not this victim’s fault, or the fault of any of the other young men taken and abused in this fashion. The fault rests firmly on the perpetrator and no one else,” Brutus admonished firmly. “Not enough care is taken with our young as they move into the world of magic, with all it’s dark corners and temptations. But enough about this for now,” he added as the car slowed to a stop. “We will eat, respect the customs of this country and then I will take you out to where the young man’s body was found.”
Oh goodie. Stefan refused to look at Lucifer, his mind still swirling with the images of a dead man, who years ago, could have been him. He would find this Technic, whoever he was, and then if Lucifer didn’t do his job as the wielder of the magic sword, then he would, and to hell with any consequences.
Chapter Five
“Your anchor is a mysterious young man full of spunk and fire.” Brutus leaned over the table, keeping his voice low as Lucifer finished his plate of stew. “I find I like that. Are you sure…?”
“Stefan is young and still needs to understand how the world works, which is not something I need you to teach him.” Lucifer pushed his plate away, a nagging irritation in the pit of his stomach ruining his thoughts of food. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but he strongly suspected it had something to do with how Stefan hadn’t spoken to him, or even glanced in his direction since they’d left the car. “I can applaud his sticking up for the victim. It shows he has a kind heart. But the fact remains, a sexual liaison between Technic and the victim would have been dangerous for a start. Where was this man’s parents or extended family?”
“Until our victim has a name, we don’t know.” Brutus leaned closer. “But you know how it is here. These are religious people, with strong family ties and honor. The Quran itself specifically speaks against magic, and that extends to magic users. If this poor man was also attracted to other males, then it’s possible he has been cast out, with no one speaking of his name. He might not have even been reported missing by his family.”
“You think that’s why Technic’s here, in Egypt?” It made sense to Lucifer. Egypt was a country steeped in pride for its heritage and strong religious belief. While homosexuality wasn’t illegal, any people caught engaging in intimate acts with another person of the same gender risked being charged under morality laws, with the punishments harsh. Keeping to the shadows is what kept homosexuals and magic users safe in Egypt, even if they were more widely accepted in other parts of the world. “Has there been any problems, with your agency I mean?”
Brutus shook his head. “The government accepts us, even if they don’t disclose to their people what we actually do. There are many here that still have verses from the Quran displayed in their homes to ward off evil spirits or the lure of the djinn. Our agency is seen by most as an extension of the government and aren’t harassed as a rule. Why do you think I use the car with the fancy flags on the front?” The big man grinned, but then just as quickly turned serious again.
Lucifer felt a prickle of magical awareness and looked up, noticing Stefan coming back from the bathroom. He stood out, his pale features so at odds with the dark swarthy looks of other patrons and Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as a few people made furtive signals as if to ward off evil.
“Your friend will need protecting,” Brutus said urgently. “He stands out, not only for his looks but his air of innocence too. While I don’t doubt he can protect himself, especially seeing as you’ve taken him on as your anchor, he needs to watch his back. There are people who would make assumptions about his sexual orientat
ion without asking questions first, purely by the way he dresses and carries himself. That could be dangerous in some places.”
“You know sexual orientation isn’t important to magic users.” Lucifer took a quick sip from his cup, before putting it down and standing. “We trust in the Goddess and the Fates to determine our matings, as strongly as any practicing Muslim believes in Allah and his prophet Mohammad. There are far worse things that go on under the cover of darkness, than who a person chooses to share their body with. But let’s get out of here, before I do something that’ll have people chasing me out of here, mistakenly believing I’m a djinn.”
“You could never be mistaken for a djinn, my friend,” Brutus said loudly and in Arabic. “You haven’t got the dress sense, for a start.”
There were a few chuckles from the patrons, but Lucifer’s concern didn’t ease until Stefan was with them, and they were walking towards the door. He was pleased to see Brutus engaging with their host, heaping praises for the lovely meal, keeping things light and respectful while he and Stefan pulled on their boots. But his agitation didn’t ease completely until he rested his hand lightly on the middle of Stefan’s back. Stefan went rigid under his touch, but he didn’t move away. Their magic crackled between them, so bright it was almost visible. And while Lucifer’s agitation disappeared completely from that tiny bit of contact, another niggling worry started gaining ground in Lucifer’s head. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been too used to Darwin’s magic… or…
/~/~/~/~/
Why does his touch affect me so much? Stefan hadn’t meant to flinch when he felt Lucifer’s big hand on his back. Touch was a crucial part of being an anchor. In fact, the main part of an anchor’s job was bleeding away the excess magic a more powerful user exuded naturally when they used their magic in any way. Touching that person and keeping a connection with that person was a crucial part of the job.
Stefan was considered highly gifted when he was first tested – his ability to handle seven different kinds of magic considered unique among his peers. And through the years, after Gaston died and the lesson-inducing incident with Jordan, he’d bounced from one magic user to another, never being affected by a person’s touch, male or female beyond the bounds of his magic.
Now, it was as though Lucifer was crowding him, stripping the air from his lungs and causing flutters in his belly. It must have been something I ate, he thought stubbornly, even though Stefan knew that wasn’t the case. His intermittent bouts of homelessness meant he could eat anything, anytime. He was glad to pick up Garrick as he got into the car, the familiar’s presence soothing him as it always did.
There was a sense of urgency in the car which wasn’t helping. Brutus and Lucifer weren’t even talking and the tension in the car thickened as it sped along a dusty road. Fortunately, their destination wasn’t far, but even so, Stefan felt for the phone buried deep in his pants pocket, his nerves tingling. It hit him, all at once, the precarious nature of his current situation. He was in a strange country, with two strange men – make that three including the driver – being driven to somewhere remote. A crime scene no less, where a young anchor had been stripped of his powers to the point of death.
The car stopping was a welcome relief; more so, when Brutus and Lucifer leapt out before the engine had been turned off. Stefan followed more slowly, taking the time to grab his coat out of his bag. While the temperature in Egypt was warm enough, Stefan knew that in remote areas, the wind at night could chill the air. In his hands, the coat looked like it would belong on a doll, but as he stepped out, Stefan sent his magic flowing through his hand, causing the coat to enlarge to its regular size. Letting Garrick take to the skies, Stefan shrugged his coat on, and walked over to where the two men were huddled by a small stone shack, taking note of his surroundings as he did so.
Remote. That was the first word that came to mind. The lights from the city were visible on the far horizon, but where the car had stopped was silent except for the clicking sounds of the cooling car engine and the whistle of the wind through rocks that towered above them. Stefan shivered as he stepped up alongside Lucifer who was peering into the dwelling.
“Did you want to see for yourself?” To Stefan’s surprise Lucifer stepped back. “What does your magic tell you?”
Is he testing me? All anchors had varying levels of clairvoyance, and again Stefan’s was higher than most. But there was something almost challenging in the way Lucifer spoke. Ignoring the prickle of cold that ran across the back of his neck, Stefan stepped inside the building.
The air was cool, and while Stefan knew that was probably due to the two tiny windows, he was still glad of his coat. There was no furniture – only a ragged carpet square, a broken bed frame and an overturned table. Unwilling to touch the bed, no matter what Lucifer might have wanted, Stefan stepped over to the wall the bed frame sat against, and cautiously pressed his hand against the stone wall, opening up his magic.
Sensations bombarded every one of his senses. Stefan held himself up through sheer force of will. Screams assaulted his ears, and he knew that the man hadn’t come to the hut willingly. The scent of blood was thick in the air, along with a cloying scent of cloves, mixed spices and sulphur. Stefan pushed through, forcing himself to focus not on the poor victim, but the man behind him.
Clothed in a black floor-length cloak with a long hood, the only thing visible were his hands and … Yeah, Stefan didn’t want to dwell on what the man was doing. He searched for details on the hands, gripped as they were around the victim’s hip and neck… Long pale fingers, short clean nails… a ring… Stefan squinted in his efforts to see… a thick chunky wedding band, but there was something under it…
“Damn.” Stefan cursed as he was pulled away from the wall. Shaking his head, he panted, trying to reorient himself. “Why did you do that?” He yelled at a stoic looking Lucifer. “I was searching for clues.”
Lucifer held up a white handkerchief. “You’re bleeding.” He pointed down and Stefan noticed his hands were dripping red from the gouge marks caused by his own fingernails. Taking the handkerchief, Stefan noticed his knees were shaky and his hands trembled as he tried to stop the blood.
“I didn’t want you contaminating the crime scene,” Lucifer added.
“Of course.” So much for being concerned on his behalf. Stefan pointed to where he’d seen the rapist standing. “Don’t go near there. I’ll see if I can get a magical trace in a moment. What happened to the blood?”
“There was no blood, young anchor.” Brutus shook his head. “This scene, what you see now, is where the body was found. There wasn’t a mark on the young man.”
“No. No. That’s not right.” Stefan paced around the small room, taking care to avoid the area where the magic user had stood. “The air was thick with it. The victim wasn’t here willingly. He was screaming loud enough to wake the pharaohs.” He thought back to what he’d seen… something was off… something...
Stefan looked down. Now, he knew what was different about the room. When the crime took place, the rug wasn’t there. “The rug,” he said quickly, bending to move it. “It wasn’t here when the man was killed.”
Lucifer put his hand out, pulling back on Stefan’s coat. “You don’t want your hands getting dirty,” he said brusquely, pointing at the handkerchief now streaked in red. “Where do you need the rug moved to?”
“It wasn’t in here at all.” Stefan stood back, watching as Brutus and Lucifer rolled it up, pushing it to the corner of the room. Emblazoned on the stone tiles beneath it was a crudely drawn pentagram, a knot of symbols etched into the center of it. “Don’t touch it,” he said quickly, as Lucifer bent down, finger outstretched. “This was drawn in blood.” He pointed to the pentagram. “This was etched in spunk.” Stefan held a hand up to his mouth as he pointed to the knot. “The spit will be there too, although it’s probably dried by now.” He looked up, meeting twin grim expressions.
“Technic has bartered his soul to a demon,” Lucifer
said hoarsely. “That means the demon had to have been here when the victim died. Think. Think about what you saw. Did you sense any other presence in the room?”
“I didn’t think to look.” Stefan searched his mind, but all he could see was the vicious act for what it was. “The violence… the victim’s screams… I can…” He waved at the opposite wall.
But Lucifer shook his head and even Brutus didn’t seem amenable to the idea. “You’ve done enough, my young friend. You need to sleep. At least now we know why no one sees Technic when he takes his victims. The demon could be transporting them anywhere.”
“Only within ten or so miles of here.” Lucifer waved at the pentagram. “Technic might have bartered his soul for a new mode of travel, but the demon is now limited in his powers during the course of the deal. A strong demon might be able to stretch that out to twenty miles, but no more. Until he claims Technic’s soul, neither one of them will be going far.” Shaking his head, Lucifer said, “Come on, let’s go.”
“Wait.” Ignoring Lucifer’s snort, Stefan tiptoed carefully over the lines of the pentagram, making sure he didn’t come into contact with any of the biological material on the floor. Hovering his hand over the pale whitish outlines, he felt a tug and looked at the knot design more carefully, trying to make out the individual symbols. Hearing a loud caw from Garrick, Stefan held up his arm, the bird’s weight a familiar comfort on his hand.
“You see it too, don’t you?” He said softly. “This tie doesn’t go down. It’s contained, self-perpetuating, a never-ending circle.”
