by Frank Hurt
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Were your parents disappointed that Evan was gay?”
The girl shrugged. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I guess they were. They were more disappointed that he didn’t like being a changeling.”
“Evan didn’t like being a changeling?”
“Yeah, I guess. He was embarrassed or ashamed or whatever. He didn’t like to shift, preferred to stay in human form.”
“What about you?” Ember attempted to lean forward, but the vinyl squeaked noisily. She remained cradled awkwardly, not wanting her movements to be a distraction to the girl. “Are you ashamed of being a changeling, too?”
“Not really. I mean, I wish we were Malverns. Or, like, just regular humans.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, Dad is a Malvern, and he gets all kinds of respect. All mages do. More than changelings get anyway.”
Ember looked back at the Korn poster. “Your mother is a changeling, and she’s respected in the Druwish community, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, but that’s just because, like, she’s married to my Dad.” Brittany looked over at Ember. “Why is it, that when a Malvern and a changeling hookup, they can only ever have changeling kids? Why never mage kids?”
“It’s genetics. Malvern characteristics are recessive. Just like when a Druw has a child with a NonDruw, their baby always ends up being NonDruw.”
“So, like, Malvern genetics are superior to changeling genetics, which are superior to regular humans, right?”
Ember ran her fingers through her hair. “Kind of, but I wouldn’t call it ‘superior.’ Just recessive.”
“Yeah, ok, but like, we learned about genetics and alleles in Biology, right?” Brittany swung over so her legs hung off the edge of the bed as she faced Ember. “Even in cases where there are, say, two parents with brown eyes, they can still have a slight chance of having a baby with blue eyes.”
“It’s more complicated than that. I’m not a geneticist and it’s been a long time since Secondary School, but the way it was explained to me was that Druwish genetics are more like mutations than just simple traits like eye color.”
“So, it is a question of superior genes?”
“Not superior, just a mutation.” Ember shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m really the right person to explain this.”
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Jackie leaned in. “Duncan wants to wrap things up. We’ve got a visitor downstairs. The Viceroy.”
“The Viceroy? Here?” Ember hefted herself out of the clutches of the beanbag chair.
Brittany shrugged. “Yeah, my Dad and Mr. Roth are buddies I guess.”
“Thank you for talking with me, Brittany. Want to come downstairs now?”
“Not really.” Brittany picked up the remote and started turning the volume back up. “Close the door behind you.”
“Find anything out?” Jackie’s susurrant tone couldn’t have been more different from the distorted voice of Disturbed’s lead singer growling from the stereo on the other side of Brittany’s door.
“Not much.” Ember glanced back at the door to ensure it was shut. “Just the usual family drama. We can debrief on the drive back to Minot.”
She had never met the Magic City colony’s Viceroy, but if someone would have asked her to imagine a businessman-turned-politician, the man seated at the head of the table would have fit the definition perfectly. He was dressed in a dark navy business suit, a long, black tie loosened around his neck. His unblemished skin was deeply tanned and his receding hair was dark and salted with silver strands. His flinty grey eyes borne a somber expression for the occasion.
The Viceroy was a powerful mage, both in physical stature and his aura. The man’s energy was strong, coursing brightly around him.
He’s a Sixth Level Elementalist. Ember recalled from reading the summarized biography of the personnel files when she arrived in Minot. Elementalists were the least common of the Mage Tracks, and to meet someone of this highest level was rarer still. There was, perhaps, no more than one or two other Level Six Elementalists alive in the world.
“I’ll be expecting regular updates from Senior Investigator Heywood,” Mr. Roth was saying. “You can be sure, Curt and Cathy, that I will keep you both in the loop.”
Cathy offered a weak smile. “Thank you, Will. How long will it take to catch our son’s…our son’s murderer?”
Duncan tapped his yellow plastic pencil against his cleft chin. “Mrs. Davies, it’s really hard to say. To be perfectly honest, there’s no guarantee we even will be able to identify the killer. These sorts of cases are statistically difficult to solve—”
“What are you saying?” Curtis glared at Duncan. “Are you telling me you don’t expect to find out who killed our son?”
“I wouldn’t say it quite that way.”
“Then which way would you say it?”
Duncan sighed. “Evan and Brandon were killed while in animal form. As such, we can’t turn to the regular law enforcement agencies. We can’t interview his NonDruw neighbors and coworkers without raising suspicions. As it is, we will need to discuss the coordination of efforts to avoid having a missing persons report filed by any of their friends or their employer.”
The Viceroy placed his hand on Cathy’s arm. “Cathy, Curt. It’s very important that we seek justice for your son and his friend. As you know, there’s also the imperative of preserving the secret of Druw existence. This mandate supersedes everything else—even including the quest for justice for any one individual.”
Cathy choked back a sob. Curtis nodded slowly. He muttered, “I know, Will. Dammit, we know that. It’s just…dammit, Will, it hurts so bad.” The man’s bottom lip quivered and he shook his head.
“We will find justice for your son. We will find the man who killed Evan, I promise you.” Ember scarcely realized she was speaking, until her voice touched her ears. All faces in the room looked at her then. She closed her mouth so quickly, her teeth clacked together.
“Who’s this, now?” The Viceroy’s flinty eyes studied Ember’s face.
“Associate Investigator Wright,” Duncan answered. “She’s on loan from Malvern Hills. She was assisting Investigator Roberts when they recovered the bodies.” He glared at Ember. “Investigator Wright has more enthusiasm than she has insights.”
Ember felt her cheeks burn. “I…I’m just convinced that—”
“The enthusiasm of youth,” The Viceroy nodded. “Where would we be without it? I want you to know, Duncan, that anything you need for this investigation, you tell me, okay? Anything at all.”
Duncan recognized he was being dismissed. He stood up and tucked his notepad and pencil back into a chest pocket. “Thank you, sir. Mr. and Mrs. Davies, I am once again so sorry for your loss. We will be in touch.”
The three Investigators left the house, while the Viceroy continued visiting with the Davies.
As they walked to the car, Duncan growled. “Roberts, you drive back. Get the car started. Wright and I need to talk.”
“Dang, you done messed up, rookie.” Jackie flashed Ember a pseudo-sympathetic look before she continued to the vehicle.
Duncan pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. He took a long drag and blew the smoke from his nose as he watched Jackie walk away.
“Duncan, listen, I didn’t mean—”
Duncan held his index finger up. “Wright, I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen. Is that clear?”
Ember swallowed and nodded once.
“What you just did in there was off the script. You’ve just disseminated false hope to grieving parents.”
“I just—”
“Listen,” the man growled through clenched teeth. He took another drag and looked around, verifying Jackie was still in the car and everyone else was in the house. “I know Livingston thinks highly of you, and I realize you’ve got a special…ability. Don’t think I don’t appreciate what y
ou’ve done for me. But do not think that grants you some sort of special privileges. Whatever you may think about how special you may or may not be, do not think that you can just disregard the chain of command.”
The Senior Investigator puckered his lips around the cigarette and drew another long breath as the white paper glowed cherry red. “I would take you off this case right now if it wasn’t for what Jackie told me. She gave you full credit for finding the second victim, for figuring out the details of how they were killed. Roberts was never a top Investigator, but she’s been lacking lately. Even she knows that she wouldn’t have uncovered any of what you did if she would have been there by herself.”
Ember dared to speak. “Sir, with respect, Jackie’s competency is being hampered by the Deference Spell. Let me lift it from her, and maybe we’ll have a better chance of finding out why these two young men were killed and who did it.”
Duncan shook his head and blew out a column of smoke, this time from his mouth. He fixed his olive drab gaze on her. “Dammit, you just don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Sorry, sir, but quitting has never been a strength.”
“Request denied. You know how the Viceroy was just explaining to two grieving parents—his friends mind you—that the rule of law demands secrecy of our existence above everything else? Well, so too does our situation.” Duncan again glanced around warily. “We aren’t going to risk showing our hand to Higginbotham and whoever is working with him. Not even in the quest for justice on a case that would likely never get solved, even if our hands weren’t tied.”
“So then, what, we just let a killer roam free?”
“No. We work the case. We keep our eyes opened and our ears to the ground. Maybe we get lucky. But we do not give families false hope and we do not jump the gun before we know who is working with Higginbotham. Understood?” Duncan dropped the spent cigarette and pressed his sole against the butt on his way to the car.
“I understand,” Ember muttered. She scowled at her supervisor’s back as she followed a few paces behind. I think I liked you better before I freed you from that spell.
13
I Think I’m Being Stalked
She almost didn’t hear the ringing coming from her purse. Ember had exited the Parker Building and was met on the sidewalk by the bracing sounds of downtown Minot. A portion of the concrete sidewalk down the street was being broken up by a pneumatic jackhammer. The clatter ceased just long enough for her to realize someone was calling her.
The call was coming through on her Tracfone—the prepaid phone she reserved for her personal and private use. She recognized the number, flipped the phone open, and held it to her ear. “Hey Anna, how are you?”
“Oh good! I was starting to think I wasn’t going to catch you. Is this a bad time? It sounds like you’re in a war zone.”
Ember turned away from the jackhammer and walked around the street corner to First Avenue. She pressed a finger to the tragus of her ear opposite of the phone in an attempt to block the street noise. “I was just taking a lunch break, heading out for a walk to clear my head. It’s been a rough 24 hours.”
“Is everything alright?”
“I’m just on a tough case that’s hit a brick wall right out of the gate.”
“Well, that’s a bummer. You’re still on for tonight’s concert, right?”
“I’m not sure.” Ember leaned against the brick wall of the Parker Building. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin as the sunlight kissed her face. “I was thinking maybe I should stay late at work tonight, search for more leads.”
“Not you, too!” Anna sighed. “Arnie and Rik already had to cancel. They have a welding job at a drilling rig by Keene. Stephanie and I were looking forward to hanging out with you though.”
A shadow briefly blocked the sun as it passed by Ember. She opened her eyes in time to see a slim man walk past. He had the aura of a Malvern. The man paused at the curb to pull a silver cutter from his pocket, which he used to chop the end of a cigar. His thin hair was combed over and appeared to be held in place by hairspray. The man’s skin was pale and pockmarked, and as he turned, she noted the trimmed mustache above the cigar now held between his lips. He glanced back at Ember, his thick, dark-rimmed glasses magnifying taupe eyes as only a farsighted prescription could. Something about the way he looked made goosebumps form on her arms, despite the blazing July sun. His aura was dark, unhealthy—but it wasn’t coated with a Deference Spell. This man’s aura was ashen all on its own. His eyelids narrowed and he gave her a single nod before turning on his heel.
“Ember? Are you still there?” Anna’s voice broke through.
Ember watched the slim man walk with a slight favor to his right foot. He turned the corner and disappeared into the alley. “Uh…yeah, yeah I’m here. Yeah, Rik missing out tonight, that’s a pity. It would’ve been nice to see him. He mentioned something about making hay while the sun was shining. That’s too bad they’re going to miss the show.”
“It is. And I’ve got two tickets now. All of my friends who want to go, already are. Do you know of anyone who might want the tickets? I’d give ‘em to them, no charge.”
“No, I don’t…actually, you know what, I might know two people. I’ll see if they are available tonight.”
“Great. So that means you’re coming? You know it would do you some good to get out of the office, to clear your head. Nothing like good friends and good music for your emotional health.”
Ember chuckled. “You’re quite the saleswoman. Okay, yes, I’m in. Why don’t you and Stephanie meet at my place at six? I’ll pick up some pizza and beer and we can have a nice chin wag before we head to the Fair Grounds together.”
“Awesome, this’ll be fun! Get ready to get your Boot Scootin’ Boogie on!”
“Brilliant. I have no idea what that means, Anna.”
“What do you mean you’ve never been to a concert before?”
“I just haven’t, Stephanie.” Ember shrugged. “My parents weren’t big into pop culture. I mean, we went to symphonies, which are technically concerts I suppose—”
“Technically, schmecklically!” Anna plugged her portable CD player into a wall outlet. She and Stephanie had arrived early and brought a Compact Disc of the band whose concert they were attending at the North Dakota State Fair in a couple hours.
The album cover featured an image of the bleached skull of a longhorn steer, with text proclaiming “Brooks and Dunn: #1s…And Then Some” on the jacket. Anna selected one of the two discs from the sleeve and popped it into the player.
“This is a collection of their greatest hits,” Anna explained. “This way you’ll recognize the songs that you’ll hear tonight. You won’t go in as a complete virgin at least.”
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Ember laughed.
Ember’s other guests arrived with a knock on the door. Josette gave Ember a hug and walked in. “I think I’m being stalked. This strange man followed me into the elevator.”
“Har-dee-har-harr.” Cooper mock-laughed. He embraced Ember casually and pointed at the curly-haired woman next to him. “I held the door open for her, and she says I’m stalking her? I think it might be the other way around.”
“Keep dreaming, Detective.” Josette held her wrists together in front of her. “You’re not going to slap cuffs on me, are you?”
“No, but I did bring beer.” He pulled a cold Coors Light bottle out and handed it to Josette.
“Oh! Don’t open that yet.” Ember half-hopped to the refrigerator and produced bottles of Shiner Bock. As she gave each of her guests a bottle, she said their names, by way of introduction to one another.
Anna twisted the cap off her bottle and held it up with a grin. “I see Rik got to you, too, huh?”
“He did. He’s every bit the salesman that his little sister is.”
Stephanie held up two of the foil plastic bags resting on the countertop next to the unopened pizza boxes. “Where in the world did you find th
ese? Walkers’ Salt and Vinegar, Prawn Cocktail, Worcester Sauce, Pickled Onion. Are these for real?”
“They’re crisps, and of course they’re for real! My sister Cyn sent them as a care package. They’re positively scrummy. Go ahead and try some.”
“Scrummy?” Stephanie picked up a chip and sniffed it. “They look like potato chips, but these are some strange flavors.”
“They’re crisps, and they’re made from tatties.” Ember did her best Hobbit impersonation. “You know, Poh-tay-tohs. Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew.”
Cooper flashed a grin. “Taters, Precious.”
Josette mock-coughed. She held her open hand vertically against the corner of her mouth. “Nerd alert!”
“Was that a shagadelic Austin Powers reference?” Cooper pointed accusingly. “And you call us nerds?”
“You’re all nerds, nerds.” Anna made the declaration and began opening pizza boxes. “You three can do your weird impressions of sci-fi creatures. I’m gonna stuff my face.”
“Technically, it’s epic fantasy,” Ember corrected. “But I’m willing to make peace where pizza and crisps are concerned.”
Everyone dished themselves up, cradling the paper plates on their laps as seating was found in the kitchen and living room. Anna was educating Ember on the finer points of the duo whose concert they were going to be attending. She unfolded the album jacket and pointed at a photo. “So, this is Kix Brooks, the one in the black felt cowboy hat. The other one is Ronnie Dunn.”
“Dunn has hair kind of like Rik’s,” Ember noted. “Shaggy, parted down the middle.”
“I keep telling him he needs to cut it.” Anna enunciated around a mouthful of pizza.
“I kind of like his hair.”
“Anyway, this is their farewell tour. Last chance to see Brooks and Dunn in concert.” Anna got up and changed the CD player over to the second disc. “After two decades, they’re parting ways.”
“Oh, that’s sad.” Ember looked down at her plate. “Hey, that song! I know this one. It was playing the first time we met. At the bar.”
