by T. G. Ayer
It was all too much for me. The horrors of what I’d seen, the fear that it was real, the fatigue of my possessions, the stress of my physical recovery after being beaten up. I began to scream.
And laughter spun around me as the man cackled in my ear, the sound rippling through my body as if it were a living breathing entity.
Chapter 15
I woke screaming.
This time, thankfully, both Nerina and Drake were there. Nerina flew toward me, sinking beside me her arms going around my shoulders. She squeezed me tightly, and I just sank into her embrace, shivering and shaking and sobbing. Blood leaked from my nose, and I swiped it away.
I heard voices, Nerina and Drake talking about something, and then a moment later an envelope of tissues was handed to me.
I wiped my nose and looked up, finally feeling a little less crazy.
Drake stared at my face, then pointed at my eyes with the tissue. I gave him a rueful smile and wiped my tears then let out a shocked squawk when the white tissue came away bloody.
“Fabulous,” I said in a shaky voice. “I’m crying tears of blood. What more could I ask for?”
“So what the heck was that dream about?” asked Drake, his forehead split into creases. He was pacing the wood floor while I stood at the window, staring down at the herb shop across the street.
I swallowed back the bile and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure exactly. But one thing I do know is it was nothing good.”
Nerina was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. “It could be premonitory?” she offered, earning her a hard look from Drake.
I sighed, feeling my stomach turn. “I’ve never been the type to see the future.” I took a deep breath and leaned my forehead against the tinted glass. “Still, it’s entirely possible given the circumstances.”
Drake stopped pacing. “Could be you’re close.”
I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. “Close?” I suspected where he was going with this. It was a thought I’d been turning over and over in my mind.
“It’s possible that you’re so close to him now that your unconscious thoughts are overlapping his.”
Nerina got to her feet. “As much as I may not like the idea, I believe it might be the case.”
“I’m assuming your people couldn’t help?” asked Drake, his features neutral, emotions all masked now.
Nerina shook her head. “They have nothing. Whoever this warlock/sangoma/necromancer is, he hasn’t crossed paths with any DeathTalkers, or at least none that are willing to divulge that information.”
“And there will be many of those,” Drake commented, his tone cold.
I frowned, but decided that for the moment, I was going to let it go.
Nerina seemed to be ignoring him too. She was staring at me, her head tilted to the right, but her eyes telling me that her thoughts were elsewhere. “I think…I wonder if he’s hiding, but not in the physical world.”
“You mean in a demon world or some other plane?” Nerina seemed to be of the same thinking as Natasha.
She shook her head. “No. I think it would be a parallel dimension, something in between.”
“Which would explain why it’s been so hard to track him down. Natasha’s tried a bajillion different spells in the last few weeks. Nada.”
Nerina nodded. “And it would explain why spells can’t track him. He’s here, but he isn’t. So tracking spells will get confused.”
“Is it possible that the stronger he gets, the stronger the poltergeist gets?” asked Drake, pacing again. His skin had begun to swirl with dark tattoos of the gargoyle race, his normally dark complexion hovering somewhere between metal and stone. He was definitely agitated to have such a response, especially with Nerina as witness.
Drake was usually more aware of revealing his true form. That got me wondering again about the kind of history the two of them had.
“What really gets to me is the body parts,” I said it so softly, mostly to myself but they both heard me.
“It’s likely your subconscious throwing things out of proportion. It will take a bit of finessing to understand exactly what the dream means.”
I shrugged. “Chances are whatever we assume it to be will be wrong.” I inhaled slowly, feeling as though I hadn’t breathed in hours. My chest hurt as my lungs inflated.
Then I stiffened. Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I scrolled through my emails and tapped on the one from Carter at the Elite Agency.
Opening it up, I scrolled through the details, the pit of my stomach turning hard.
“What is it,” asked Drake, moving toward me even as Nerina got to her feet.
I glanced up. “Carter wanted me to look into a case while I was here. It’s possible it’s connected.”
“How so?” Drake came to stand at my side and peered over my shoulder as I flipped through the images in the police file.
As I scanned the horrific crime scene photos and studied the horrors of what the victims had been subjected to, I acknowledged the sick feeling that rose within me. The girls had been mutilated, body parts—mostly sexual organs—removed in an almost ritualistic fashion.
I closed the file and scanned the rest of the email. Carter had provided the contact details of the local cops. I texted the number, gave my details and asked for access to the crime scene.
“Right,” I said as I looked up at my two friends. I filled Nerina in—she hadn’t invaded my personal space to read the email over my shoulder, and she needed to be apprised of what I knew. “Now, we wait.”
I was sliding my phone back into my pocket when it buzzed to indicate a message had arrived.
“Apparently we won’t wait.” Drake smirked.
I swallowed a sigh as I read the message. A new body had been discovered that morning, and the NOLA police would be happy if I could consult.
Chapter 16
Though we were all ready to head out, I had to make one stop first.
Lorin had promised to check her books for me, and I figured I’d better drop by and see if she had any information. I’d barely thought about what she could offer, mainly because I had a feeling she’d come up with nothing that would help.
What could she possibly know that would shed light on the identity of the person who’d gone through all that trouble to sic the tokolosje on me? And the chance of her actually pointing me in the direction of an address was near impossible. A warlock like my persecutor was unlikely to have left a trail.
The doorbell clanged as I entered and, strangely enough, I felt relieved to find Haram wasn’t around. Lorin smiled at me, her toothy-grinned cheer a welcome change from all the blood and gore I’d been steeped in these past few days.
“Hey.” She beckoned me closer with an elegant wave of her hand. “I have something for you.”
“You do?” My eyebrows rose, but I quickly forced them to behave.
Well, then. That was a surprise.
Lorin passed me a folded piece of white paper, surreptitiously giving my talisman a dark look. Strange—I’d seen her eye my bracelet before which led me to wonder if she’d recognized it, or was somehow familiar with the kitsune’s magic.
Then she straightened, the movement visible as she drew herself up to her full height. “I found two addresses for you,” she said overly brightly. “I was hoping you’d come by. You didn’t leave a number.”
There was a tiny hint of accusation in that sentence, as if she felt hurt in some way because I’d forgotten to give her my contact details. I brushed it off and took the slip of paper. “Thank you. I’m sorry, Lorin, but I’m afraid I have to run. I have an errand I need to attend to, but I do want to chat again. Can I come by later?”
Lorin’s face darkened. “Oh, yeah. Sure. I’m here all day.”
I gave her a wave and hurried back out of the shop, wondering what was up with the girl. She seemed upset that I was running off so soon. Which was odd since we barely knew each other. Her behavior had been strange from our first mee
ting.
Was she some strange stalker obsessive type? I hoped not. Especially not when she was surrounded by the means to create dark magic.
Grabbing the note from my pocket, I scanned the two addresses. I’d check them both out with Drake and Nerina later on.
Giving a delicate shudder, I headed back across the street to the loft where the contentious pair were waiting, the silence between them tense and almost palpable. Whatever they had going on would need to be sorted sooner rather than later. I didn’t want anything jeopardizing our mission.
We headed out together, turning in the opposite direction of Herbs & Things.
My thoughts kept going back to Haram, my gut telling me that it was all too possible that he was the snitch. Someone had to have told the sangoma that I was in town, otherwise, how would he have known where to send his zombie assassins?
Drake made us wait near a shopping strip filled with high-end stores. In his absence, Nerina and I chatted about what she’d been up to since we’d last spoken, and how Kai was handling the dramas that life seemed to constantly hurl at her.
Nerina had always struck me as the silent type, the kind of person who had either surpassed the need for unnecessary social interaction, or was so messed up that even a simple conversation could turn out to be painful.
Ten minutes later, Nerina had just begun describing an attack Kai had experienced a few weeks back—something about a shadowman assassin out in an east coast town—when Drake drew up in a rental car, the sight of which made me raise my eyebrows. “A rental?” I asked, still not sure why he’d hired one. “Why would you even bother when you or Nerina can jump us around when needed?”
Drake gave me a look that said he felt like he was talking to an imbecile. “This sangoma…he’s powerful. If he’s really a necromancer/warlock/witch-doctor, then he’s someone to be reckoned with. He’ll be smart. And a smart guy would know how to track you. Even if he doesn’t have access to your blood for a scrying spell, he does have an evil spirit attached to you. How do we know that the poltergeist isn’t giving this warlock access to you at all times?”
“Right.” My lips formed a thin line.
Drake smiled.
“Wait,” I said as I scrounged inside my jacket pocket. I thrust the charm I’d gotten from the Kitsune sorcerer at the gargoyle. “I’m pretty sure this was also meant to protect me from the sorcerer who sent the poltergeist.”
Drake looked relieved even though his argument had been ground into oblivion. He never liked being overridden, but he always took his beatings with grace. “Well, we have the car, so we may as well use it. We can play the part of tourists better this way.”
I nodded and climbed in with Nerina. We took the back seat leaving Drake to act as chauffeur up front. With GPS directions, we got to the crime scene faster than I expected. Drake pulled up in front of a double-storied house that had been converted into a church. A large iron cross had been fixed to the front façade, and every window bloomed with flowers.
The soft hum of organ music filtered toward us and I glanced at Nerina who responded with a raised eyebrow.
The double doors to the church were wide open, but a glance around the side of the building confirmed that whatever horrible thing that had happened here, had not occurred within the holy building. Drake remained inside the car and used his glamor to go completely invisible. He nodded for me to keep the door open, allowing him to slide out before I closed it.
A narrow drive ran along the left of the house, and we headed up past a gaggle of reporters who were in the process of inching a foot closer to the police line every few minutes. We passed them by, receiving a combination of curious, envious, and hateful glares.
The cop closest to us—one of three who were talking amongst each other at the yellow line—turned and faced me, hands on his hips, elbows wide. His attempt at intimidation didn’t work.
I lifted my phone up to his face so that he could read the message I’d received by text that had guaranteed my entry. Only, he frowned and looked over his shoulder before shaking his head. “Sorry. That’s not going to get you in. I’ll have to go check before I give you access.”
I frowned back, but knew better than to challenge the guy.
“What the hell?” asked Drake, staring after the cop. “Thought you got access?”
“Keep your voice down. And apparently, it’s not enough.” I stared at the cop who approached me, a taller man in a dark coat who stood at the entrance to the forensics tent the crime scene people had erected. The sky didn’t even hint at rain, but the tent would certainly maintain privacy for the techs and the cops. Good plan considering the rabid reporters still clamoring for a comment and a few photos.
The darker man—I was betting FBI—followed the cop and made his way toward us, his forehead scrunched. His skin could rival obsidian for darkness, and he moved with the grace of a panther.
Okay, then.
I glanced over at Drake who from the tightening of his jaw seemed to have picked up on something from the suited agent.
“What is he?” I asked.
“No telling. Not yet.”
“Is he gargoyle?”
Drake shrugged. “If he was, I wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at him. If his glamor is strong enough, he could hide it from everyone easily.”
I faced the agent as he closed in on us, and though irritated at the holdup, my face remained serene and pleasant.
“Mel Morgan, from the Elite Agency over in Chicago,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand, finding myself very disappointed that his eyes were hidden by the dark glasses.
He responded with his own pale blue latex-gloved hand and said, “Derek Asher. I’m consulting for the FBI on the case. It’s no longer New Orleans PD jurisdiction.”
Good goddess the man was a fine specimen up close.
Retrieving my hand, I shook my head. “Look, I was sent over by my superior from the Elite Agency. I’m not with the CPD. We’re concerned that this case may cross over with ours.”
Asher nodded gravely, his generous lips forming a thin line. “I’ll be more than happy to help with that,” he said, his response uplifting my spirits until he continued, “Go ahead and send me the files and I’ll have a look. Tell you if there’s a connection.” He flicked a card at me, seemingly out of thin air, making me wonder if he was a warlock.
I raised an eyebrow. “I guess we’re done here. I’ll inform my superior of the situation. He can decide how best to proceed.” I stared at him, a glimmer of hope flaring that he would smile and let us through, claim it was just a test.
Instead, he inclined his head, and removed his shades to reveal a pair of steely gray eyes so bright they were almost silver. “I’ll be only too happy to respect interagency cooperation if the higher-ups insist. Let your people talk to my people. We’ll see then.” With that, he smiled and returned to the forensics tent.
I sighed. “How can I possibly be angry with him?”
“I know. He was very very polite,” said Nerina with a sigh to match mine.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Drake growled, though he kept his voice low.
“That man…” I said turning to address Drake while pretending to speak to Nerina, “You’d only understand if you swung that way.”
Drake lifted a brow. “I don’t. And I’m not saying that I wouldn’t find him…pleasant enough were I to swing that way, but he just blocked our investigation. How can you two be so nice about it?”
Nerina arched an eyebrow. “It’s like being dumped, and the apology is a luxury trip to the Maldives. How could you possibly be angry with that?”
“So the dude is a trip to the Maldives?” Drake snorted. “I just don’t understand women.”
Nerina and I both heaved a second sigh in unison. Then I turned on my heel. “We’re done here. But we still have to get access to the body.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” asked Drake.
“We’ll wait and follow the
coroner back to the morgue. Then jump in and speak to the victim.”
Drake smiled. “I like the way you think.”
Chapter 17
I dialed Carter as we tailed the coroner, drumming my fingers on my thigh because for some reason I just couldn't remain still.
“Agent Morgan?”
“Sir. I have a quick report on the case here.” When he grunted, I continued, “I was stonewalled by a Derek Asher. Consultant for the FBI. The case is no longer New Orleans PD jurisdiction.”
“Well, that is a bit of a roadblock.”
“What would you have me do?” I feigned reluctance to become further embroiled in his case.
“Is there any way you can ferret out details? Perhaps gain access to the NOPD’s case files?”
“Don’t we have everything already?” I asked.
“Everything that Chief Kellen had access to until now. If the FBI had had any interaction with them, as a means of identifying if the murder is related to their own case, then I’m hoping they would have parted with some information to encourage cooperation.”
I nodded. “I can try, but it looks like Asher and his men have a tight net around the details.”
“Whatever you can get me will help, Morgan. This case…it’s not something we can ignore or treat lightly. We need to find this particular killer, or we will find ourselves with a much bigger problem down the line.”
“I understand, sir,” I said and rang off moments later.
As soon as I cut the call with Carter, I dialed Steph.
“You still alive?” she asked, her voice partially hurt and partially curious.
“Sorry. It’s been a bit insane here. We tried to get into a crime scene and got tossed out by a big bad FBI agent.”
“Sounds like you had it rough. Is he still alive?”
I snorted. “Yes, Steph. When I left him, he was still breathing.” Despite Steph’s comment, there wasn’t anything about Asher that had tempted me to deal with him in a violent manner. In fact, the man’s presence seemed to have encouraged cooperation and good manners.
