Arcane detective, p.5
Arcane Detective, page 5
Regina came back with a journal. “It’s her diary. Please don’t tell her I gave it to you.” She tightened her grasp, hugging it to her chest.
“That’s perfect. I’ll have it back to you later today.” Miller didn’t reach for it. He knew better that to grab at a precious thing. Love had a lot of power, and a mother’s love was one of the most powerful. Regina might be mundane, but right now she was radiating like a sun.
“Will it help you find her?”
“I hope so.”
She handed it over reluctantly. Her bright aura wobbled and darkened. Miller took his leave with a nod of thanks and headed back to the Stronghold. He liked thinking in the car. His mind could mull over things while he negotiated the crazy traffic that the city was famous for.
He hadn’t come to any brilliant deductions by the time he turned down the old road that looked in worse shape than it was. He drove through the worn wooden barrier that was simply an illusion. The land along here had been declared too polluted to develop by some shell company that Oleander’s predecessor had owned. The hulk of an old factory squatted on a disused rail line at the edge of the river. Keep-aways tingled over his skin until they’d tasted enough of him to give approval and let him through. There was the slightest sense of something out there as he drove through the freight yards. Something was looking for the bridge to the island. He slowed down so that whatever it was could follow him. There were all sorts of creatures that sought sanctuary on the island. The main wards would keep out whatever didn’t belong, but sometimes the keep-aways fooled even those who were welcome.
He bumped over the old stone bridge always a little awed at entering the grounds. As he came on to the island, the building appeared out of one of the most powerful look-aways he’d ever encountered. This place looked like a low pile of rocks from the shore but once free of the spells and wards, the building soared up with towers and gargoyles, flying bridges and arching walkways. It was so old it had stables, a forge and a bunch of outbuilding that weren’t always what they seemed. The gardens stretched out in every direction making it feel like the island was bigger than it was.
Miller parked by the stable and took Mattie’s diary into his office. He was going to cast a questing for her. There was one building specifically made for casting spells. They called it a Folly although it wasn’t too fanciful in structure. He checked the schedule to make sure it wasn’t in use. Then marked off a time for himself. There weren’t a lot of people who might use it, but it was a curtesy to let people know when it was occupied. He collected most of the items he’d gotten from Antonio. As he had suspected a few of them had disappeared elsewhere. He didn’t begrudge Weatherbee the shopping list. She took awfully good care of them.
Last night, he’d gone to the library to consult two different grimoires on the proper wording and placement of objects. He collected those notes then walked over to the Folly. It was constructed to look like a miniature church complete with bell tower. The interior was one large room with a dirt floor raked smooth. A simple fountain stood on one wall across from a fireplace — water and fire. The roots of a massive old tree came through the wall on the other side, and a large window stood opposite — earth and air. They represented important elements to bear witness to whatever was concocted here.
Boxes of minerals, bells, candles and incense in all sorts of scents were in various cabinets and cubbies scattered around the room. There were tools, logs for the fireplace and various arcane contraptions. Like his wonderfully accessorized office, everything he needed was usually at hand. He took a long-handled tool and scratched out the symbols he needed in the smooth dirt. He used them and the herbs he bought to place and anchor intent. This was a questing of the Light. He just wanted a location. He did not intend any injury to the target.
He wondered what he might have been able to do for the other missing person’s cases he’d worked on if he’d used magic. Being able to locate someone was more than half the battle, but the FBI would have wanted a trail, paperwork, some kind of correlation before they’d let him go haring off after a clue discovered by magic. Even if the magic was true. He pushed those grim thoughts aside. What-ifs could break your heart, and he needed a calm mind right now.
Mattie’s journal went in the center of the circle. It was a simple questing, a very elementary spell, but he still ran over the words in his head before speaking them aloud. Then he double checked the placement and alignment of everything. Assured it was all correct, he stood at the apex and sent power into the sigils as he recited the appropriate lines. The gentle tickle of the energy running through him was exciting. Power called to power, and he always had to fight against pulling more and more until it consumed him. It was the first discipline that Oleander had taught him. If he pulled too much, it would kill him.
The questing started out normally but went strangely sideways. There was an unexpected flicker and flash. Blue light arced across the circle. A bundle of lavender burst into purple flames. That definitely wasn’t right.
Fog spiraled up in the center of the circle. He could see Mattie, arms raised, fighting against his spell. She was in an old place with a brick wall behind her. Maybe a basement, he could feel the weight of age about the place. And Light, it was a good space. Wherever she was, she was safe. He dropped the questing knowing it wasn’t going to show him anything else.
That gave him more questions than answers. He scuffed out the symbols and cleaned up his mess. The bitter smoke of burnt lavender made him sneeze. As he raked the floor smooth again, he thought about everything that he had seen or sensed. She was in a sheltered place which had protected her beyond her own abilities. The room hadn’t felt familiar, and he knew almost all of the warded places in town. It might be out of town or a place he couldn’t access. There were some places that he was not allowed to enter. If it was a woman’s place, the elementals would never let him in. But at least he knew that she was still alive and safe.
Since he needed time to think, he took the journal back to Regina. It was a long ride but gave him plenty of time to think things over. He’d never seen blue lightning like that and needed to consult Oleander. Purple smoke, too. He thought the bundle had burst into flames because it was anchored to the sigil for earth, but wasn’t sure what that meant. He kept poking at the bits he knew and came coming up with more questions. When he got to Regina’s house the door opened before he’d come up on the porch.
“Did you find her?”
“No. But she’s doing okay.”
Regina closed her eyes for a painful second. As she huffed a harsh sigh through gritted teeth, her face flushed with anger, and she scowled at him. “Are you lying to me?”
“No. I’ll let you know when I get more information.” He walked away before she could demand any more information. He just didn’t have anything mundane to share, but telling her that was only going to hurt. He didn’t want to do that to her. They might be exes, but there weren’t any hard feelings on his end.
He decided to try the teacher again. The man was very predictable, and the structure of the school day kept him right on schedule. Since he need to kill some time, Miller stopped by an art supply store to pick up some new paper for Lulu. She was plowing through the crayons, so looked for some alternatives. He didn’t know anything about the different options, so he got some starter sets of colored pencils, watercolors and pastels.
She’d had a rough life so far and as a sibyl, it wouldn’t get much easier. He didn’t know if she was repressed, regressed or just odd, but she didn’t act her age. It took time for people to totally understand the safe harbor that the Stronghold offered. He hoped she’d get better the longer she was there.
After he’d finished his shopping, it was later than he’d planned, but as expected, Smith was standing at the smoking area right on time. Miller parked on the street and walked over to him.
He looked worried when he saw Miller coming. His stance shifted as if getting ready to run which was a bad choice. Miller kept pretty fit and was sure he could catch a smoker in a foot chase. He might not look like a powerhouse, but the indoor pool, jogging path and regular workouts at the Stronghold kept him strong and supple.
He pulled out the class photo. “Tell me about these kids.”
“I might not know them all,” Smith mumbled. “I’ve only been here for a year.”
Miller tapped the circled faces.
“Oh, well, um. Joshua’s dead. Freak accident.”
Miller didn’t like it when two unrelated people used the same language. And freak accident more than likely tossed that death into his ballpark. “What happened?”
Smith looked sad. “Kids were fooling around on an overpass. He fell against the guard rail, and it gave way.” He took a drag on his cigarette. “A long fall onto railroad tracks. His parents have been trying to sue everyone they can think of. He was an only child.”
“Do you think it was an accident?”
Smith’s mouth twitched in distaste. “I think Joshua was a bully and an idiot and wouldn’t be surprised if someone pushed him.”
“Someone like Amanda and Susan?” Miller asked.
Smith went pale. “And Charlotte,” he whispered. “The four of them were a nightmare together.”
“How so?”
“You know kids. They pushed each other into acting out, causing trouble. We got them shifted into different classes but somehow they always ended up back together. Oh.” Smith blinked at him. “Did she...”
“Did they have talent?”
“Charlotte did. But it was strange. It kept changing. I mean one day she had just a little, like me and the next day she was a powerhouse. I’ve never seen it happen that way.”
Miller knew that was odd, but there were a number of terrible reasons for that sort of thing to happen. “Do you know anyone who might hold a grudge?”
“I...” Smith looked scared. “Her death...was it...maybe not an accident? Do you think the other girls are in danger?”
“Maybe.” Miller had a feeling this was more of the tangential stuff. It kept skirting around Mattie in an enticing way. Another death that might be linked to these kids. “Which overpass?”
“The one they closed when they brought in the new highway,” Smith said.
He knew the place. County, city and state had been fighting over who should pay the expense of taking down that old bridge for decades. At some point a bright politician had tried to pin it on the railroad, but since they’d gone bankrupt in the middle of the last century, that wasn’t going anywhere.
Miller headed out to the old overpass. It was down a quiet road that few people remember was even there. Since the bridge was falling down and the city had closed it off, it was a natural magnet for kids to explore. A wooden fence blocked the entrance. Various official signs warned of fines and arrest for trespassers, topped with a flashing yellow light. The opposite side was similarly blocked.
He parked about a block away and approached it carefully. Bridges had their own magic from touching earth and air. An old one like this was layered with essences. It had been built when cars were a new thing, and the railroad was king. The tracks they crossed were rusty and overgrown with weeds; the new lines had gone underground. Standing at the bottom, he let the sensations flow over him like too many scents at a department store perfume counter. A couple of suicides, a proposal, some youngsters throwing rocks down on to the tracks, they all floated past him. But there was a Darkness here.
He walked up to the top. The iron struts were rusted and creaked in a sudden gust of wind. The elementals weren’t happy. He took a careful stance in case he’d need to dash for his life. The yellow warning lights flickered into an abandoned and leaf strewn street. The Darkness was stronger up here.
Anger. Something very similar to what he’d felt at the burned-out house.
Sex. But not the good kind.
Fear. A heart pounding, soul-shedding terror.
That all added up to rape in his book. And that gave him a possible motive for why Joshua had been pushed off the top of the bridge. If he had assaulted Charlotte, and Amanda and Susan had been witnesses, the girls’ fear combined could have linked into something very powerful. And if Charlotte had enough talent, she could have guided that power into defense.
There was a strong sense of magic up here. It had been used regularly for weeks, if not months. And all those emotions he felt here were laced with Darkness. He couldn’t pinpoint whose magic it was. There was a sense of it being tied to something else, something so Dark it gave him the shivers. There was more here than kids being especially nasty.
He hadn’t brought anything with him, but found a few things to do a purging. He’d let Oleander know, and she’d send someone more skilled. For now, he just needed to push back the Darkness a little, or it would remain a magnet for trouble. He gathered some fallen leaves, oak and maple. Her took a handful of dirt and tossed it into the wind with a small prayer to the Light. It spiraled upward in a dust devil. That was a good sign. He rolled the leaves into a tight coil and lit them. Then he trailed the thin smoke into sigils in each of the cardinal directions whispering the words for a cleansing.
The wind picked up, tugging at his hair and clothes. Last year’s leaves rattled past along the cracked pavement. A bird perched on the broken railing and sang. He knew he’d done enough.
Chapter Eight
LULU PEEKED OUT OF her fort. She appreciated that Oleander let her build one in her special safe room. It made her feel extra safe. Miller had helped her. He didn’t ask those scary questions that made her brain hurt. He had just come right in and helped her make a big blanket fort in the corner of the room.
He knew.
She could tell because he knew what corner she wanted. He could feel some of the things she could feel. He even put extra magic on her blankets. It made her feel even safer. She liked Miller, even if he was a man.
Something hurtful was walking the city. Something big and angry and nasty.
Lulu covered her face trying to force the images out of her brain. A person had hurt another person, and then got killed. She didn’t want to think about it. The image of falling and spattering blood made her feel ill.
“Three blind mice. Three blind mice. See how they run...” she sang. Sometimes she could make the images go away with a song.
“...She cut off their tails...” Oops. Wrong one. The blood was back. Drops of it spraying out into the air. So red in the sunlight.
“Cross patch, draw the latch...” her mother had taught her a lot of nursery rhymes. She liked them. They way the words were so simple. “Sit by the fire and spin...” That didn’t help. Spinning. The body was spinning. The bridge was spinning. Falling and spinning and the world rushing past.
She ran for the bathroom with nausea overwhelming her. She sat on the floor with her head against the cool tiled wall trying to think about nothing at all. Just blank. That was really hard. And Miller had said to think about washing an elephant. They were so big, but really gentle. He’d given her a book about them. And washing one would take a really long time. She’d need a ladder. And a lot of buckets.
A tap on the door meant Weatherbee had left her something.
Lulu waited. She counted to 126. It was a good number. One of her favorites. She opened the door a crack to the well-lit hallway. Even though it was a basement, Oleander made sure that it was a good place. The walls were painted a nice, bright yellow and the lights were always on. There was a tray on the table outside her door. The table had arrived not long after she’d built the fort with Miller. Then the first time she needed to come down here, trays with food arrived on the new table. It was some sort of Weatherbee code, but Lulu didn’t understand it all yet. Weatherbee always brought her exactly what she wanted even before she knew what she might like. That was the best kind of magic. She just knew that Weatherbee was the best invisible person she’d ever not met.
She took the milkshake off the tray and carried it to the low table in her fort. Miller had insisted on making a space for a chair and a table. At the time, she just wanted somewhere easier than crawling under the bed. Now she could see how smart he really was. She’d never been in a place like this where people understood her so well. She knew that Oleander was special the first time she’d seen her. There had been a lot of bad places in her short life and a lot of bad people. She was very glad to be here now.
A thrum and a twang came from the wards. They made strange noises when bad things were moving around. It made her head hurt, and her stomach flip again. She closed her eyes and thought about washing an elephant. She’d need a really big pail of water. And soap. But not the kind you used for dishes. Maybe bubble bath.
Her stomach stopped twisting, and she saw that there was a note on her tray. It was from Oleander and said that Miller was off on another mission and any new dreams might be helpful. She drank the milkshake and thought about that. If Miller caught the bad person maybe the visions would stop hurting her.
She took out the big pad of paper that Miller had given her. She could feel his touch on it. He was a good man with clean thoughts and kind intentions. Sometimes she held onto this pad just because it felt so nice. Sweet. Without any hidden cruelty. She’d never met a man like him in her short and rocky life.
Timothy was good, but not always nice because he was like her, and sometimes it was really hard to be nice. Yuli was good, but he wasn’t really a man, but he was nice, too. Timothy had told her that it was her job to help Miller. She’d never had a job before. But she wanted to stay here, and maybe she had to do her job, so she could stay.
She didn’t want to think about the bad things, but if she could help Miller then she surely would try. She wrote down the images trying to keep them from forming in her head again.
A cry, fear, clutching hands and skin and angry mouths.
The spray of blood, the arc into space, the falling, falling, falling down with drops of blood racing to the bottom.
