by Lauren Dawes
Spinning around in my chair, I dragged my keyboard closer, then clicked into the database that contained information of every supernatural being who had been arrested or questioned in relation to a crime. Since PIG was just a baby organization, the database wasn’t big, but maybe I’d find something in there about the red-haired witch I’d seen in Sharyn’s apartment. After scouring the reports from Thursday night until today, I found a whole lot of nothing, with the exception of the unfortunate incident at my apartment building and the remodeling of my car by Gremlins “R” Us.
When Sawyer returned ten minutes later, he was carrying a couple of cups of coffee. He handed me one, then sat. Perching myself on the edge of his desk, I watched as he opened up the ‘human’ log of arrests and responses to incidents. “What are you looking for?”
“The incident report for the death of Kailon’s niece. What day did he say she was murdered?”
“Thursday night.”
Sawyer scrolled through every single entry for that date and came up with a whole lot of nothing. The only incidents listed for that night were a couple of break-and-enters and a suspicious fire set in an old tire factory.
“I’ve already checked the PIG database, and there’s nothing there either.” Sliding off the edge of the desk, I flopped into my chair and started spinning myself around slowly. “How in the hell are we supposed to investigate a crime that didn’t happen?” I asked, thinking out loud. My desk phone rang, and I picked it up. “Yeah?”
“McKenzie, call on line one.”
There was a click, then I hit the button with the flashing light beside it. “McKenzie,” I answered.
“Cat McKenzie, how nice it is to hear your voice again,” Kailon purred into the receiver.
“Kailon?” I turned to look at Sawyer, whose eyes flashed with jealous anger.
“I was calling about tonight.”
“Tonight?” Sawyer shook his head and mouthed the word lunch. I gave him a funny look. He wanted me to go now? “Can we make it lunch instead? Today?”
He chuckled, the sound of his voice like barbed wire against my skin. There was something seductive about it, but I knew that one wrong move would cut me to ribbons. “Eager.”
“I need to speak to you about your niece.”
“I see you’re prepared to see things my way, then,” he mused.
Whatever. If that’s what he wanted to believe, he was welcome to.
“So, lunch?”
“Meet me at Silk at twelve.”
Silk? That was the restaurant across town, the one that required men to wear suit jackets and women to wear pearls. “I won’t be able to get in there dressed as I am, and if you think I’m going to get changed for you—”
“I own it. Twelve, sharp.” And with that last declaration echoing in my ear, he hung up. I placed the received down with a shaky hand.
“What time are you meeting him?”
“Midday at Silk.” After one revolution in my chair, I stopped it facing him. “You want me to go speak to him now?”
He nodded, then turned his gray eyes back to the computer. “Yes.”
“Why the change of heart?”
Gesturing to his screen, he said, “It’s clear we need to question him about his niece’s murder since there’s nothing in the system about it. Plus… you were right. I was letting my own issues cloud my judgment.”
A grin flashed onto my face. “Did the great Sawyer Taylor just admit that I was right about something?” I turned to Brax. “Hey, Brax, did you hear that? Sawyer said I was right!”
He flashed me a thumbs up, then got back to work again. I glanced around the empty office, wishing the other members of PIG were there so I had more witnesses.
“Are you quite done?” Sawyer drawled, amusement inflecting his voice.
“Not even close,” I replied, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
He redirected his eyes back to his screen. “Can we get back to the case?”
“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “But talking about how I was right is so much more fun.” When he didn’t take the bait, I sighed. “What are you looking for?”
“Any other crimes that have occurred in the last month that don’t make sense.”
“Don’t make sense as in?”
“The evidence doesn’t add up, or there’s something about it that isn’t logical.”
“You think magic covered up some of the scene?”
“Perhaps,” he murmured, his fingers flying deftly over the keyboard.
“But that’s a pretty slim chance of getting a hit on a crime that could’ve possibly been committed by our suspect and covered by magic.”
“Maybe but think about the scene. What would you note as something that the responding officer might miss?”
I thought about it for a minute. Aside from the destruction caused in my apartment building, the things that really stood out were the use of magic when those symbols were carved—which as far as I knew, no humans could feel or recognize—and the…
“The feathers. Raven feathers were spread out around the body.”
Sawyer tapped some more words into the search, then said, “Look at this.” He gestured to the screen. It was a report on a woman who was found dead in her apartment. The official cause of death was acute myocardial infarction, AKA a heart attack. “Look here, it says there was a single raven feather found under the body when it was moved.”
Scanning the report, I stopped when I got to the person who’d reported finding the body. It was the woman’s daughter.
Jesse Fitzpatrick.
Sawyer checked the time, then logged out. “Let’s go and see what we can find out before you have to meet that fae for lunch.”
Seven
Sawyer pulled his motorcycle up to a small house in a quiet dead-end street and cut the engine. Pulling the helmet from my head, I dismounted, scanning the street. I found nothing but mid-priced cars parked in driveways, winter-ready gardens, and picture-perfect houses. Nothing about this suburb screamed ‘there’s a witch living here’ but I’d learned that witches were adept at blending in.
Jesse Fitzpatrick’s Victorian home was set back from the road, the still green lawn bifurcated by an aged red brick pathway. A set of five shallow brick steps led the way onto a small, covered porch that was straddled by two huge topiaries in the shape of what looked like budding roses.
In the garden beds along the front, heavily blooming lavender and fuchsia shrub roses grew in orderly rounds, the branches not daring to spill out over the pathway that led around to a side gate.
Sawyer knocked on the door while I admired the flowers that shouldn’t be in bloom this close to winter. Reaching out, I touched one fat blossom, the contact making my opal flare with heat.
The door suddenly opened, and I scrambled up the steps behind Sawyer. “Jesse Fitzpatrick?”
The slender twenty-something woman using the front door as a shield nodded. The movement sent one strand of silky black hair over her shoulder. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“I’m Detective Sawyer Taylor.” Pulling out his badge from the inside of his jacket, he showed her his credentials. Gesturing to me, he added, “This is Officer McKenzie. Do you have a moment to talk?”
She nodded, tucking her long hair behind her ear and stepping away from the huge oak door. “Sure.”
Jesse led us into a living room painted soft lavender, complimenting the warm honey color of the hardwood parquet floor and the large area rug in the center. Around the rug was a loveseat in a darker shade of lavender and two armchairs upholstered in cream. Three of the walls were framed by botanical prints of roses and lavender. Below them were narrow tables filled with indoor plants—verdant and lush. On the fourth wall, three bay windows looked out onto the front garden and flooded the room with natural light.
Jesse sat on the lavender loveseat and folded her arms over her chest protectively. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
“About the death of your mother,
Sara Fitzpatrick.” Sawyer settled into one of the armchairs opposite her.
“If you’re here to make fun of me again…” Jesse began in a small voice, her jaw tight and her eyes downcast like she was afraid she was being rude.
“We’re not,” Sawyer told her. “We’re with PIG. Do you know what that is?”
“The paranormal unit?” She eyed Sawyer first, then shifted her gaze to me.
“I’m the human liaison,” I blurted out.
She nodded. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
The woman pulled her legs up underneath her, reminding me of how a young child being left in the company of strangers might act. “That’s fine.”
Sawyer pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. Leaning forward, he placed the device down on the table between them. “Can you tell us what happened on the night of the second of November?”
She swallowed roughly. “I went over to my mother’s house to help her with… something, and when I walked in, I found her body.”
“What were you helping her with?” Sawyer asked.
When Jesse hesitated, I said, “We know what you are. If your mother was a witch, then you are, too. It follows on the maternal side, right?”
Maybe I was going in blind with that assumption, but my opal didn’t lie.
She stared at me for a full minute. And when she finally spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch. So what were you helping your mother with?”
“We’re white witches,” Jesse said suddenly. “We don’t hurt anyone.”
“I never said you did, but I appreciate that you told us,” I replied.
“Jesse, can you tell us more about what happened the night you found your mother?”
She squeezed her hands together until her knuckles were white. “I went over to help her with a blessing spell. When I got there, her door was unlocked. She never left her door unlocked.” She sucked in a breath, met Sawyer’s eyes first, then mine. “She was lying in the middle of the kitchen, cut open from her throat to her belly button. Symbols had been carved all over her torso.”
“Where were the feathers?”
If she was surprised by my line of questions, she didn’t let on. “They were arranged around her body, the quills directed at her.”
“White witches are traditionally weaker, correct?”
Sawyer’s question made her bare her teeth. “We’re just as strong as any black witch. We have natural magic rather than stealing the life source from others like a black witch does. My mother was the matriarch of our coven. She was the strongest of us all.”
“You said you have natural magic. What was your mother’s?”
“She was a pyro. She could manipulate fire… create flames in her hands.”
Fire.
The witch who killed Sharyn had hurled fireballs at me. Could Sara have been the first victim killed by our red-haired witch? I looked at Sawyer and knew he’d pieced it all together too. With a subtle nod, he confirmed my theory.
“Was there anything else at the scene that struck you as odd?” Sawyer asked. “Maybe something the cops who investigated didn’t see although you could?”
Jesse swallowed and clasped her hands more tightly together. “They couldn’t see the markings, the feathers or the fact that she’d been… disemboweled. Their official cause of death was a heart attack. I tried to tell them what I saw, but they laughed and fobbed me off. Nobody would believe me.”
“Why in the hell were regular cops sent to this?” I asked Sawyer quietly.
“If the responding officer didn’t think it was magical in nature, they wouldn’t have called PIG. Clearly, some sort of cloaking spell had been used on Sara, shielding the truth from human eyes.”
“That’s messed up… just saying.”
He nodded and returned his attention to Jesse. “Did your mother speak to you about anything strange happening or people she’d recently met?”
“Nothing, no. My mother suffered from agoraphobia. All coven meetings were held at her house, and I regularly delivered provisions for whatever spell she was working on. She was much loved in the coven.”
“Who’s leading the coven now?” I asked.
“My Aunt Penelope, although be it reluctantly.”
Well, there went my theory of a power play. “What’s your power, Jesse?”
The witch looked around the room at the plants and flowers then back at me. “I can manipulate the growth and production of flowers and fruiting trees. Granted, there’s not much use for my particular power anymore, but a hundred years ago, my kind of magic was most important, especially in rural areas where farming not only brought money in, but often fed more than one family in the town or village.”
“And your Aunt Penelope?” Sawyer asked, sitting forward and reaching for his phone.
“She’s a Vreme… she can control climate and weather.”
“Were there any windows broken or doors unlocked when you found your mother?” I walked over to the middle of the bay windows and checked the mechanism.
“Not that I could see.”
“So maybe your mother knew this person and let them in?”
Jesse frowned. “I don’t know. She was incredibly security conscious. I can’t imagine she’d just let anyone she didn’t know into her house.”
Sawyer ended the recording and stood, pocketing his phone. “Thank you, Jesse. You’ve been a great help.”
Walking to the door, Jesse murmured, “Do you think you might know who killed her?”
Sawyer’s evasive reply was, “We’ll let you know as soon as we do.”
When I made it back to Sawyer’s motorcycle, I put on my helmet, then waited for him to get on before sliding on behind him. He kick-started the engine, the purr of the expensive engine humming through me.
“What did you think?” he asked, his voice sounding like silk through the speaker in the helmet.
“I think we need to figure out who this red-headed witch is, and soon.”
“Whoever she is, she uses death curses to steal the powers of other witches. So far, we’ve confirmed that she’s stolen from two witches… first, Sara Fitzpatrick and secondly, from Sharyn Wyatt. Their powers were pyro and seeker, respectively. She’s stolen a third power, though… we just have no idea what it is.”
“You mean Kailon’s niece’s power?”
“Right. You need to find out what that was over lunch today, Cat. I’ll drop you off at the restaurant on the way back to the station.”
Eight
I walked into the restaurant’s vestibule right at midday and immediately felt like I didn’t belong. Everything about this place screamed expensive, from the gold-leaf ceiling to the carpet that was so thick underfoot I could’ve curled up and taken a nap. The host looked at me from behind her solid gold podium, her eyes running down my body disapprovingly.
“Can I help you?” She asked the question in the tone of You are dog shit on my shoe, peasant.
“Ah, Kail––”
“She’s my guest, Amanda. Thank you,” a man said, coming toward me dressed in a black pinstripe suit. The suit was paired with a black silk shirt and tie. “I’m so glad you came, Cat McKenzie.”
I frowned. I didn’t recognize him, but he sure as shit knew who I was. He tried to lead me deeper into the restaurant, but I resisted. “Who are you?”
The man’s face seemed to melt away, revealing angular cheekbones and glowing green eyes. “Kailon?” I hissed, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed the miraculous transformation.
He smiled. “The one and only. Come now, Cat. You’re making a scene.”
“You think I give a shit about embarrassing you?” I shot back.
He chuckled, resuming the face of another man. “I really don’t.”
“Where’d you get the face? Did you kill someone for it?”
“No… no death necessary. I’ve just mani
pulated my appearance a little so I’m not recognized.”
“Yeah, exposing the world to the things that go bump in the night is a real celebrity booster.”
Laughing softly, he led me to a table in the back, somewhere private where we could talk. I took in the restaurant as he pulled out the seat opposite me. If I thought the front vestibule was glamorous, it had nothing on this. I had to squint with how much gold was on the ceilings, the crystal chandeliers winking and reflecting more and more of the lustrous light. More gold was on the balustrades that led patrons up and down the shallow steps. The restaurant was built on different levels, with the table Kailon had led us to being at the very back and on the very highest level.
“We’ll have our privacy here,” Kailon said.
“Said the spider to the fly.”
The fae’s eyes danced with laughter, but before I could open my mouth, a server appeared and snapped out the heavy linen napkin from beside my elbow, placing it in my lap. Jesus, I felt like I was a child who couldn’t be trusted to keep the food in its mouth.
“I’m glad you came, Cat,” he drawled.
“I came because you have information we need.”
“It bothers you that you need me, doesn’t it?”
“It bothers you that you need us just as much.”
That shut the bastard up.
I grinned at him. “Don’t be a dick today, Kailon. You need us more than we need you.”
He smirked, flashing his teeth. “Let’s discuss the arrangement I posed to you on Friday.”
“The one where we catch the witch so you can kill her painfully and without mercy?” I asked incredulously.
The air in the room seemed to still, then grow cold as he said, “Yes.”
“We can discuss that later. Firstly, we need to know what you know about your niece’s murder. We couldn’t find the report for her death.”
“She was murdered in Wonderland. That’s why you couldn’t find anything on it.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I said, throwing my hands up and pushing back from the table. “We don’t have any fucking jurisdiction in Wonderland. What do you want us to do?”
