Unlawful possession, p.1
Unlawful Possession, page 1
Unlawful Possession
The Knox Agency Chronicles Book 5
An Urban Fantasy Series
C.L. Roman
Copyright © 2023 Leigh Roman
Brass Rag Press
All rights reserved.
Contents
Mixed Blessings
Photo Shoot
Blood Bar
Mind Prison
Stake-Out
The Eye
Targets
Trouble
Change of Plans
Cole Cursed
Brand
Shortcuts
Somewhat Banished
Hide and Seek
Tricked
Need to Know
Opportunity Found
Danger by Her Side
Crime Scene
Options
Gathering Reinforcements
Dangerous Research
Bait
Switch
Strange Magick
War
Claiming Georgia
Aftermath
Mixed Blessings
Char: Hawthorne, Florida
He has fae blood. Sasha’s comment inside my head made me raise my eyebrows, and the prospective client frowned, not knowing the source of my amusement.
I took a moment to study the slender male sitting across the desk from me in my office. Joseph Karfa had long, straight hair — black in most lights, forest green in others — that hung to his slim shoulders, huge green eyes, and an aquiline nose.
You think? I thought back, then spoke to my client out loud. “Mr. Karfa, I understand your distress, and you have my condolences for your loss. I have to admit, though, that I’m not sure how I can help you or why you want me to. The police are investigating already, right?”
His aura darkened from grief-stricken muddy blue to angry black. “If you want to call it that, yes, they are. But they are human, and the death of one parahuman at the hands of another is very low on their priority list.” He leaned closer, pressing preternaturally long fingers against the surface of my desk. “You are one of us. Zel told me about your work in Belfast and Tallahassee. You will find the thing that killed Saya and bring it to justice.”
I winced. Zel’s belief in me was a mixed blessing. Common wisdom suggested that any publicity was good publicity, but I had my doubts. Not that it mattered in this case. “According to the news, the police aren’t sure it was a murder,” I said.
He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “More evidence that I need a private detective. The killer slashed her throat and drained her blood, but they found very little at the scene. What accident causes that?”
“I admit it seems suspicious, but... Wait. You said you never saw the crime scene, and the police haven’t released detail one, even to relatives. How do you know how she died?”
“The trees see everything, Ms. Knox. You should know that already.”
“So, the trees witnessed her murder, and told you what happened?” Realization dawned on me and now that I knew, I was amazed I hadn’t tumbled to it sooner.
“Yes. But there are few in the area, and none of them recognized her killer.”
I told you so. Satisfaction dripped from Sasha’s comment in fat, wet drops.
“What is a dryad couple doing in the Upper Realm?” I asked, genuinely curious.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Saya and I aren’t... Our trees are different species. Our families did not approve of our union. No one in the Lower Realm would allow us to plant near them. So, we came here hoping for something better.” Tears welled, spilling over his eyelashes and down his face. “We did not find it.”
His grief was palpable, etched on his face like a message carved in bark, and my heart clenched. “Very well, Mr. Karfa. We’ll take the case. I’ll find out who killed your wife.”
I pressed the call button on my office phone. “Lena? Can you pull up a new contract for Mr. Karfa? We’re going to take his case.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be right in.” My sister’s voice was coolly professional, and I was grateful, not for the first time, that we’d stopped pulling pranks on each other.
I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Sasha said. She never got you back for the bugs in her cereal.
She’s the one who said we should stop, I replied, my worry escalating a notch.
Temporarily, while you were teaming up to fight gargoyles and museum toadies, sure. But I wouldn’t get into any beds before checking under the covers until you verify that the cease-fire is permanent.
Shut up, Sasha. You are imagining things, I replied as Lena came in and I stood. “Lena will help you fill out the paperwork, Mr. Karfa. I have another meeting, so I’ll have to go. You two can use this office.”
I shook Mr. Karfa’s hand again and made myself scarce. There was no client meeting, but I did have a lunch date with Zel. I exited the room and sighed. When did my circle get reduced to relatives and proselytizing coven leaders?
Grabbing a sweater, I tucked Doirsain under my shirt and headed out of the house into the cool September morning. Northern Floridians had a different definition of cold than anyone living above Georgia’s northern border. Here, anything below sixty degrees required outerwear.
As I moved, I started thinking about what Karfa said about his wife’s body. Vampires were the only parahumans who drank human blood. Once upon a time, they hadn’t minded where they got it, or whether they killed their food source, either.
The Philadelphia treaty, put in place by the Tri-Kingdom Council nearly one hundred years ago, had changed the rules. Now a vampire was required to obtain consent before they fed, and killing sentient prey was a serious no-no. The council then instituted a bad ass paramilitary unit that ensured compliance. The TKC enforcers took no prisoners, gave no quarter.
Given the odds against them, most vampires abided by the new rules, whether they liked them or not.
In the century since the treaty’s passage, the number of human deaths by vampires had dropped drastically. In the modern era, it was almost unheard of, besides being illegal on both the human and parahuman sides. These days, vampires usually feed on animals or have a stable of ghouls on their payroll.
If there was a rogue on the loose, the sooner he or she was staked, the better.
I walked into Sacred Things and took a quick scan. The three tables were all occupied, and two other patrons were browsing the shelves.
Nicole stood at the counter, ringing up a third customer. She waved me to the back, and I pushed through the beaded curtain into the still room where Zel spent hours compounding her spells and charms.
She had already tidied up. The long table in the center was clean, the stove empty of cauldron and skillet alike. Even the countertops were spotless, no left-over potion ingredients.
As I entered, Zel placed a jar in the cupboard and closed it. Hearing the silken slide of the beads, she turned with a welcoming smile on her lips. “Charlotte, I’m so glad you’re here. Where did you want to go for lunch?”
The topic on my mind wasn’t suitable for a public conversation. “I was kind of hoping we could order in,” I said, and Zel frowned.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure. I just... I have a new case and I need information.” Disappointment tipped the corners of her mouth down and I hurried to explain. “It came in this morning, after we had already planned our lunch.”
“And you think I might know something that would help?” A subtle tension tightened her shoulders as she squared them.
“Let’s face it, Zel. Nothing happens in this town that you don’t know about. Nothing that has to do with parahumans anyway.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s put in an order to the Tasty Grimoire and we can eat here.”
I pulled out my phone and a moment later placed the order while Zel fussed over the old-fashioned stove, putting on the kettle for us.
I sat down, and a moment later, Zel took the seat opposite mine, putting the table between us.
“Might as well talk while we wait,” she said. “Ask away.”
“Joseph Karfa came to see me today,” I said after a moment, and Zel’s eyes darkened.
“His wife.”
I nodded. “He believes she was murdered.”
“He ought to know. Trees are wonderful gossips. They see everything, and no one ever pays them any mind.”
It was a bit like the cauldron calling the kettle black, but I didn’t point that out. “You knew he and his wife were dryads?”
“Of course. Didn’t you?”
I ignored the question in favor of the next thing I wanted to ask. “From his description it sounds like the killer is a rogue vampire. Any idea who that might be?”
A hesitation, a momentary shadow passing through her eyes. Zel knew something.
“No,” she said. “Not a clue. We don’t have many vampires in Hawthorn, let alone rogues.”
Lunch arrived; we discussed what little I knew of the case so far, and ate. But by the end, I was no further ahead than I had been before. The momentary hesitation, and its accompanying shadow, came back to me as I was leaving.
I turned at the curtain and looked at her. “Zel, you’re sure you don’t know any vampires who might be capable of something like this?”
Her gaze was steady on mine. “Char, if I knew a vampire I thought capable of going rogue, I would have staked him myself a long time ago. This isn’t the Enclave,” she said, naming an infamous vampire brothel where eve
ry human who entered was hoping either to die or be turned.
“How can you be sure?” I asked.
“One hundred percent? I can’t be. But I do know this.” She sighed and dropped the remains of our meal into the trash, keeping her eyes on her task rather than facing me. “The few vampires in Hawthorn are law-abiding folks, most of whom were turned against their will. Even if that weren’t the case, none of them would risk a visit from the enforcers just for kicks and giggles.”
As far as I knew, Zel had never lied to me. Never even tried to mislead me. But something told me that had just changed.
Photo Shoot
Georgia: Dublin, Ireland
Georgia Tyler flipped a lock of obsidian hair over her shoulder and pretended to laugh at the photographer’s lame joke. Jaret was a genius behind the camera, but he was far too enamored of his reputation as a dashing Latin lover for her taste. If he made one more pass at her, she was going to have to bring the hammer down.
Still, it wasn’t all bad. Ireland was beautiful in September, and she got to work with Jenna Davis, her best friend. The vibrant red head caught Georgia’s eye and pressed a hand to her lips. Probably laughing because Jaret was totally professional with her. As far as Georgia knew, he’d never once made a pass at Jenna.
Jenna never asked for an explanation, but the man had provided one within two minutes of meeting her anyway. “Red heads are not my style, amiga. No offense,” he’d said.
Georgia wished he felt the same about brunettes. The flirtatious looks and innuendos had been nonstop since they landed in Shannon three days before. The man couldn’t seem to get it through his thick skull that she wasn’t interested. The drive to Dublin had been torture.
“All right, mi tesoro, that is enough for today,” Jaret said, his eyes taking in the flowing lines of the peignoir she wore for the lingerie ad. “We’ve lost the light and I am hungry.”
His treasure, my great aunt Fanny. The guy was jumping hard on her last nerve. “All right. Thanks Jaret. I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re shooting at Temple Bar, right?”
“So bright a light should be shown off, so yes! Shall we find a nice little pub and get some dinner? I find the evening light here to be so...” He skimmed an assessing look over her. “Revealing.”
Maybe she should explain again that she was a lesbian. And engaged to Jenna’s sister back home. She had a feeling that repeating herself would be like trying to empty the ocean with a teacup. She’d already told him several times, and each time he acted as if he hadn’t heard.
The truth was, even had she been cys, Jaret wouldn’t have interested her. She just didn’t like smooth operators who thought they were god’s gift, regardless of gender.
“No, thanks. I have other plans.” She didn’t, but the lie didn’t bother her in the slightest.
Jaret opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, but Georgia turned toward the tented changing station set up at the far end of the shoot area. The heavily lined canvas tent had a corridor down the middle with individual rooms on each side. There were eight other models in the group besides Georgia and Jenna.
The line they were modeling was stored in a dedicated room at the end of the hall, easily three times the size of the smaller changing areas. Each model had her own space — one room each. As Georgia reached the tent, she could hear giggles and conversation coming from several of the rooms. Other models who had already been released for the day.
Once Jaret settled on her as a target for conquest, she had been the last one released every day. Another reason to be irritated with him. This was her first time in Ireland, but she hadn’t been given much time to explore.
It didn’t take long to change, and Jenna was waiting for her when Georgia emerged from her room. They exited the building and to Georgia’s consternation Jaret was waiting, a determined smile on his face.
“Mi tesoro, you must reconsider. I have—”
Jenna looped an arm through Georgia’s and offered the photographer a bright, plastic smile as she interrupted. “Sorry, Jaret. Georgia is all mine tonight. I’ve booked us a tarot reading at Madame Siobhan’s. She’s a witch, so her reading ought to be especially accurate.”
Jaret’s face darkened with temper. The models he pursued didn’t say no to him often, and based on his expression he wasn’t enjoying the sensation.
The two women walked arm in arm to the make-shift changing room, emerging ten minutes later in their street clothes. Georgia caught several seething glances from Jaret, but she didn’t respond. They got in their shared rental car and drove off, leaving Jaret to vent his frustration on his set crew.
As they slid into the compact rental car, Georgia turned to her friend. “Did you really make an appointment for us with a tarot reader?”
Jenna giggled. “No. But it shut Jaret up, didn’t it? You know he has a thing about para-humans.”
“My agent mentioned he would only work with ‘normals’ as he calls regular humans. I don’t know any, but if Phylicia Jordan is anything to go by, the elementals at least are gorgeous,” Georgia replied, referencing a water elemental and world-renowned prima ballerina who had recently branched into modeling.
She put the little car in gear and headed back to their hotel. “Well, you’ve claimed me for the evening, and I kind of wish you really did book us a reading. It sounds like fun.”
Jenna’s eyes lit up. “Really? I wasn’t sure you’d be into it, but the bartender at the hotel said there is an occult tea shop not too far from our hotel. I’ll bet we can get a reading there.”
Georgia shot her friend a look. “I’m down if you are.”
They arrived at their hotel and hustled up to the room. A quick shower and change of clothes later, they were on their way to the tea shop.
“I think they serve food there, but even if they don’t, we have time before we get too hungry,” Jenna said. Excitement shone in her blue eyes, amping up Georgia’s anticipation. “Have you ever had your cards read?”
Georgia shook her head. “No. I’ve always wanted to, but my folks are ultra conservative. Anything even vaguely related to the occult was a big no-no.”
“Did you tell them Tarot started as an Italian card game and it has a LOT of Christian imagery and symbolism?”
“Why bother?” Georgia’s laugh took on a bitter edge. “They forbid me to read the HP series. I had to sneak the books from the library.”
Jenna hooked her arm companionably through Georgia’s as they walked to the elevator. “But you did read them.”
A nostalgic grin lifted Georgia’s sour expression. “All seven, every single page.”
“And they did let you go to summer camp where you met Jo and me.”
“Sure. Because I told them it was a church run youth camp. You should have seen my mom’s face when I got back, and she saw the activities schedule included...” Georgia widened her eyes and lowered her voice to a faux-shocked whisper. “Herbology!”
“Wait till you tell her about this little adventure, then.” Mischief danced in Jenna’s eyes.
“Are you kidding? My father would have a coronary. Not that they’ll ever hear about it. They haven’t spoken to me in weeks. Won’t even take my calls.”
Jenna’s laughter faded. “Oh, Georgia. That’s awful.”
“Is it?” Georgia turned a moody glance on the lobby. “To be honest, it’s almost a relief. And it isn’t as if it was unexpected. I seem to make a habit of disappointing them. They made their disapproval clear when I left dental hygiene for modeling. Taking this gig to model bathing suits and lingerie was the last straw.”
“I’d have thought...” Jenna trailed off. “They must have lost their minds when you came out. At least in private. You never said anything I just assumed they were fine with it.”
“Oh, they were OK with me being a lesbian. In fact, they still wear their tolerance like a badge of honor, but modeling pajamas? That, apparently, makes me a harlot.” Bitterness stung at the back of Georgia’s throat. She cleared it and forced a laugh. “Enough. I hate talking about this crap. It doesn’t change anything, and I don’t have the energy to waste on a lost cause. Let’s go have some fun.”
She tugged Jenna through the hotel doors and out onto the street. Jenna glanced at her friend’s face. “Are you sure?”
