Missing, Suspected Dead: Elisabeth Hicks, Witch Detective

by Rachel Graves

  “What are you doing?” I asked instead of saying hello.

  “The quarterly taxes for the spa. What about you?” Ted owned the only day spa in town, a very ritzy place named Serenity. He worked as a masseur, a job description that made everyone assume he was gay. Our love life proved otherwise, but rather than deal with gossip we kept things quiet.

  “Just finished a case. Well, not really, but the client’s dead and I almost got shot. I’m done for the day. How much longer do you need to work?”

  “Not much. I could be done by the time you get here, and by done, I mean finished, not shot at or anyone’s dead,” he joked.

  “Very funny.” I let the sarcasm drip off my words. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  2

  Ted’s development was on the good side of downtown, the opposite side of my office. Once the walk had cleared my head, but now I was aware of every noise and shadow. My perspective shifted after I was kidnapped by a deranged serial killer. Ted had saved me from her months back. So while we weren’t two perfect people in a perfect world who came together innocent and found our first love, our relationship was pretty damn amazing. He’d been in the war, too, in OPS. The Office of Psychological Services was the scariest group around; even the CIA left them alone.

  My squad cleaned out hotspots, fought bad guys, and brought in human traffickers. OPS tortured, maimed, and murdered until they got answers. While he worked, Ted—well, he’d been Edward then—could just shut down part of his mind. Tonight I was jealous of his skill and the way it gave him peace. My own dark memories haunted me. I needed a break. As soon as I was done kitten-sitting for LaRue, I was going to take one. Hopefully by the time the night was over, Ted would be willing to take one with me.

  “Hi there.” Ted opened the door for me wearing a smile and his work clothes. The chino pants and polo shirt embroidered with the spa’s logo didn’t accent his body, but they couldn’t hide it either. He took fitness seriously. One of his three bedrooms held enough weights to sink a small boat.

  “Hi back,” I said. I shut the door and moved close to him. I anticipated that first kiss, wanted it for a second and then had it. His lips were soft on mine, but still brought a sizzle of magic. Ted was thinking about me naked in his bed and the things we’d be doing later. I brought my hand to his cheek, enjoying the rasp of rough brown stubble there, and doubling the connection. My power let him know I was thinking about him naked in bed. For a few minutes we stood there kissing and trading ideas for the night.

  “So, how was your day?” I asked when we finally came up for air.

  “All right.” He held my hand as he led me to the couch so I knew he didn’t mean it. “Gina’s on the warpath, and the taxes are due. What about you?”

  “Client got murdered. Old guy pulled a gun on me. Garcia gave me a little trouble,” I dismissed my day. “What’s going on with Gina, now?”

  “Bridal shower games. Careful or you’ll get invited.”

  I groaned and buried my head in a pillow. My kid sister’s showy wedding to Hollywood movie star Jeremy Steel was driving me slightly nuts. It didn’t help that she’d already been legally married to him at the county courthouse months ago.

  “The whole place is filled with wedding talk, shoes, dresses, makeup.”

  “Dresses, again?” Gina owned three wedding gowns and twice as many bridesmaid’s dresses. Each week brought a different “perfect” dress. She was a bit of a brat that way.

  “This isn’t why you came over.”

  “No, I came over to talk about vacations.”

  “Just to talk?” He sat next to me on the couch, putting his hands on my shoulders to start a tender massage. Ted gave massages for a living. Unlike most men, he never scrimped, never rushed it. I melted into his touch.

  “To talk a little, not too much,” I promised.

  “Then talk,” he whispered in my ear. With his hand on my skin, my magic told me the conversation would be short. I stripped off my shirt and the gun holster to give him better access.

  “Come with me on vacation?” I planned to lead up to it better, but we were on the couch, and he was touching me. Why waste time with details? Unfortunately, Ted was a bit of a neat freak. He immediately began folding my shirt.

  “Like a beach vacation or Disneyland? What are we talking about here?”

  “I have no idea. Just some time off, someplace quiet.” Shirt finished, my massage started again. “Maybe camping.” The massage stopped. The inside of Ted’s head went blank. “Or not camping.”

  “I don’t camp.” His voice went as dark as his head.

  “Sorry, I should have guessed that. A city, somewhere? Maybe New York? I’ve never been there.”

  My massage started a third time but it took him a minute to let me back into his head. Most people couldn’t block a spirit witch but thanks to his time in OPS he did it without thinking.

  “New York in the Spring time?” He thought it over for a second, his hands dipping down lower over the front of my chest. “Your shoulders are tight, did your arm cramp up again?”

  I nodded, not wanting to change the subject. We shifted on the couch so my bare breasts were against him, our bodies lying on top of each other. Somehow he still got to my left arm and gently worked on the problematic muscle there. He told me once the metal bands crinkled under his fingers. I hoped someday he’d stop noticing it.

  “Maybe not New York but I’ve already seen most of Europe, so where do people go in the US?” With our bodies close it was hard to think. “What about the Grand Canyon? They have this huge lodge and I bet there’s lots of flowers to see and stuff.”

  “Flowers to see and stuff?” He laughed.

  “Give me a break, I’m a little preoccupied right now.”

  “Well, why don’t we take care of that?” He pulled me up to a seated position and then stood, offering me his hand. I took it, ready to head to the bedroom, but with my hand in his, taking the gun with us required a twisty maneuver.

  “You know there’s one in there, right?”

  “I know. I want mine.”

  Ted slept with a small gun underneath his pillow. It wasn’t normal but when a guy was kidnapped by werewolves you make allowances. By the time we made it to the bedroom, I put the gun by the side of the bed without thinking of it. Ted brought my shirt from the living room, setting it neatly on top of the dresser. I’d given up on breaking his habit for neatness but still teased him about it.

  “You going to fold these?” I stripped off my jeans and deliberately left them in a crumpled heap by the side of the bed.

  “You know I am.” His eyes stayed locked on my naked legs. As he knelt for the jeans, he put his hand on my knee, his warm touch starting the magic between us again. His hands were soft from being coated in lotion every day, but the sensations they sent through me were strong. I touch people all day long, random handshakes, brushes in gas stations, and I always get a flash of insight. From the man I loved and loved to touch, I got depth: his hunger for me, the way he wanted the release of our love, and more, the parts of his spirit that needed soothing.

  “Was there something else bothering you?” With his flat palms gliding along the outside of my thighs, I wouldn’t able to concentrate for long.

  “It’s not important. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Later I didn’t have enough air to talk. At least not just after we finished. In those moments, my magic kept us connected even though our bodies were spent. His mind opened to me, images of his day coming back to me as he started to doze off to sleep. A woman appeared, someone he knew but I hadn’t seen before.

  “Who’s she?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Chick with blonde hair, someone…” But as I spoke the words his head went blank. “Guess you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Not right now.”

  “But we talk about things that bother us.” It was the first and most important rule in our relationship. Ted insisted on it, and
after fighting him in the beginning I agreed.

  He sighed and moved away from me, breaking my connection to him. In the dark of the bedroom I could see his face was neutral. His training did that. I didn’t trust it.

  “It’s not that sort of thing. It’s just—” The phone rang in the hallway, cutting him off.

  “You wanna get that?” It was nearly eleven, people calling that late usually had a reason.

  “No, it’s nothing.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. Ted’s mother was psychic. Though he denied it I sometimes thought he’d inherited her gift.

  “Nothing important?” he tried. “Look, right now, I just want to fall asleep next to you. How about I tell you everything in the morning?”

  “Sure,” I said, not liking the way he sounded tired. “I love you.”

  He grabbed me in a long tight hug. “I love you, too,” he whispered. He kissed my forehead, his face close to mine. “I love you and I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I’ll keep you safe, too,” I promised back, my voice just as solemn. “Now go to sleep.”

  He followed orders like the good solider he had been. In a few minutes, his breathing smoothed out and his body relaxed into sleep. I took one last scan of the space, opening my magic, but no other souls spoke to me. His bedroom was a place of complete relaxation, decorated in balanced black and white, soothing red wood and green growing plants. In the corner, a fountain bubbled a pleasant white noise as I drifted off to sleep.

  I woke up sometime later, alert for no reason. Then I caught it. Ted moaning in his sleep, a low tortured sound like an animal being hurt. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, and most nights I woke him, hoping to save him from finishing the nightmare. Tonight, he looked so tired, like he needed sleep. I decided to end the nightmare, and since that was easier from the inside, I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I put my hands on his shoulders, breathing in, focusing on the feelings I sensed beneath his flesh. My consciousness was lost in an instant and I was inside the dream.

  The grass soaked through the bottoms of my jeans with moisture, my feet cold in the wet grass and earth, stinging with each step. The moon shone above me, fat and nearly full. Edward knew this place, and I pulled my mind away from his, trying to understand. The woods around us made a thousand sounds, things that made me jump because even with all that moonlight I could still barely see. The boys, Edward and… Jason—his memory supplied the missing details—knew where they were going. They were going out of bounds.

  “The hole’s been there forever, so they must know,” the boy said in a whisper. He looked twelve, maybe thirteen, a boy on the edge of adolescence. “Besides, in another month, I’ll be Pack. I’m practically supposed to be here.”

  Edward kept silent and we moved through the woods to a cabin, hidden behind trees. Constructed of logs with cement for mortar it looked solid but aged. There were no windows, nothing to see on this side of the square building but somehow Jason knew just what piece of cement to move. A silt opened up to us, not much more than eight inches wide and less than one high, but both boys pressed their face to it, trying to see inside. The sight made me stop, made me wonder if looking into someone’s nightmares was a good idea.

  The interior of the cabin splashed with candle light and light from a fireplace. Orange colored light reflected a girl with her hands bound behind her. She cried silently when a man stepped in front of her and started hurting her every way he could. Bites, scratches, punches, and worse, long licks over her wounds. He grew bored, casually pushing the girl to the floor as he walked away. She laid there, unable to get up with her hands bound, sobbing and gasping for air.

  “You ready?” the man asked someone in the back of the cabin. Another man, who could have been his twin with the same matted hair and filthy skin, laughed. He pulled the girl to the wall in the corner. Wrenching her hands over her head, he secured the rough rope holding them over a post. Edward looked away, terrified to find his friend watching with a smile on his face.

  “We can wait until they leave, then have a turn.”

  “What?” Edward’s memory filled with horror at the thought.

  “Lots of boys do, I heard them talking.”

  “But she’s… she’s…” Edward’s mind could barely grasp the thought and dreaming along with him, I agreed, revolted.

  “She’s going to be food tomorrow night anyway,” his friend shrugged. “It’s not like it’ll matter. Or are you too scared to get caught?”

  Edward shook his head; behind us an owl flew off, scaring both boys into a long silence. Jason went back to watching. I pulled myself out of the memory, trying to understand the scene. Two boys beside a log cabin wall, one of them pressed to a crack watching, the other, Edward, with his back against the wall, his heart racing.

  “I’m going back. I don’t want to get caught.”

  “Whatever.” The reply was a strangled whisper.

  “If they catch you, they’ll beat you so hard you won’t be able to hunt.”

  “They won’t catch me. They don’t care. We’re supposed to break the rules.” He spelled it out as if he was talking to an idiot, words dripping with disdain but Edward didn’t pay attention, he just took off running. He ran through the woods with skill or magic I’d never have, not tripping, not breaking twigs, or falling on the slick leaves. He was one with the forest around him, so aware of it he didn’t need to see to know where to step. The forest gave way to a path, and the path to a road, and then he stopped against a tree, panting, breathing hard.

  Across the street, the soft glow of fluorescent lighting revealed salvation in the form of a 7-11. Edward looked both ways before he crossed the street, a wasted effort on the back country road. We were in the middle of nowhere, no street lights to drown out the stars, the moon above us providing the only light. Edward went straight to the pay phone, abused and unloved on the dark side of the building. He dialed the number with shaky fingers, more scared by this than by what he’d seen with his friend, his heart pounding.

  A male voice answered, “Agent Vega.”

  “You hav’ta come tonight.”

  “Edward? Why?”

  “There’s a girl, she’s going to be part of the hunt. You have to come for her tonight. They’re hurting her.” The words rushed out of him.

  “Take a deep breath, we’ll be there in a few hours.”

  “No! She can’t wait, you hav’ta come now.” Edward’s voice was desperate, teetering on the edge of a breakdown. The man on the other end of the phone caught it and changed his tone, asking soothing questions, promising they’d be there as soon as they could.

  The memory wavered, grew dim, and then we were back in the woods, running again, moving like quicksilver, the forest parting beneath our feet. It could have been magic even if Edward didn’t. Maybe the old gods helped him. But that didn’t stop his fear at what he had to do. We stopped, the wet ground chilling our feet, as we looked at the back of that cabin.

  Jason had replaced the cement piece. The whole wall was smooth now, but after a few minutes, Edward found it. He took it off carefully, dirty fingers prying at the edges. Inside, the fire was dying, its faint light revealed the girl, still on that bed, her arms stretched above her head.

  Edward put the piece back, then circled the building, coming to the front door. His mind a sea of terror, he pushed it open. The door opened without a creak and shut behind him, sealing the room into silence.

  He found the girl, her arms tied, her face a mess of tears and blood. The sight made him want to vomit, but he steeled himself, stripping off his thin cotton shirt to wipe the spit from her. His emotions ran, dread and fear, but the words he said to the girl betrayed none of it.

  “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re going to be all right.” He repeated the same phrases over and over again softly as he wiped her face. When that was finished, he reached up to the knots at her wrists, trying to untie them.

  “Come ta take your turn, Edward?�
�� The thickly accented voice filled the memory with panic. “Caught Jason a few minutes ago. From him I expected it, he’s nearly a man. But I didn’t think you had the spine.”

  A match flared in the darkness and an oil lamp lit. A man who looked more like a bear loomed above us. He was covered with thick black hair, the hair on his head blending into the hair on his shoulders, his eyes black holes in a barely lit face. He was wearing a filthy pair of jeans and a belt with a large heavy buckle. The belt he beat people with, Edward thought. He moved in front of the girl.

  “Get over here and take it,” the man snarled.

  The scared boy refused to move from the girl’s side. He only shook his head no, too frightened to speak.

  “Just making it worse,” the man muttered. Without warning, the pain began, punches to the side of his head, the lashing of the belt against his back. I gasped, yanking myself out of the memory and pulling both of us awake.

  Edward, the adult who slept beside me most nights, was panting, his heart still racing at the memory of that long-ago horror. The room was still as our breathing came back to normal.

  “I’m sorry, I thought I could help.”

  “No help for that one.” He shook his head. I did my best to hold him in the darkness of the room. I hoped the press of my body against him would bring comfort but with that memory there might never be enough comfort in the world. The clock moved forward, five minutes gone, then ten.

  “Don’t you want to know how it ends?” he asked.

  “Not if you have to tell me,” I replied, without any hesitation.

  “No need for that.” He kissed me and the memory flooded back to me.

  I was there again, seeing it all: Edward on the dirt floor of that cabin, bleeding and beaten, the man above him and behind us, the girl, not moving, barely alive.