Gray witch, p.17
Gray Witch, page 17
“We’re not here about the power.” Asa prowled up behind him. “We’re here about a long-term guest.”
“Shit fire and hold the mayo.” The man spun, found Asa in his personal space, and puffed out his chest. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”
“Agent Montenegro, with the FBI.” Asa held his badge an inch from the man’s nose. “We need to ask you a few questions.”
“Yeah.” He ruffled his hair. “I knew this would bite me on the ass.” He gestured us back the way he had come. “Let’s do this in the office.” He let us in and sank into a chair behind a small desk. “Hang on. I’ve got flashlights in here somewhere.” He produced four, turned them on, and set them at the corners of his desk. Their shine bouncing off the ceiling did a decent job of lighting the room. “Okay, shoot.”
“What do you know about—” Asa consulted his phone, “—Johnathan Smithfield?”
“He works in IT,” the man said. “He travels a lot for work. My boss has strict policies about long-term renters. He’s against it. Doesn’t want any squatter problems down the line, you know? But this guy, Smithfield, he paid me in cash for the month.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Plus a little extra.”
“Your boss doesn’t know about him, I take it.” I watched him. “Or the kickbacks you’re taking.”
“Kickback,” he insisted. “I’ve never broken the rules, not until now.”
“What made this offer special?”
“I don’t know.” He scratched his chin through his beard. “I told him no, that a week was as good as I could do, but then…” He frowned. “He came back, made the same offer, and I took him up on it.”
A light persuasion spell or charm was nothing compared to the complexity of the magic the summoner was already using. There was a chance this guy had stuck to his guns but that our black witch swayed him with magic.
“Did you see or talk to him otherwise?” Asa asked. “Did you interact with him after that?”
“No.” He jiggled his leg. “He had food delivered, but that was it. He never left his room that I saw, but I keep weird hours, mostly catching up on maintenance crap. This place is falling down around my ears, but the boss don’t want to hear that.”
After he finished venting, we encouraged him back on topic, but he didn’t have much to add.
Most of their bookings were handled online, through the same app as the others. Smithfield had shown up in person. He also paid in cash, so there was no ID or credit card on file. Effectively, he was a dead end.
Once that lead was exhausted, I made our goodbyes, and we climbed into the SUV where I called Clay.
“Tell me something good.”
“The crunchy outer edge of a brownie.” He made a dreamy sigh. “Makes me crave your brownie brittle.”
“I’ll bake some when we get home,” I promised, “but that’s not what I meant.”
“Old Man Fang’s handler is more powerful than the others.” He quit joking. “He used a spell to come and go without being seen at the hotel, but Colby found the one time he couldn’t disappear himself.”
“At check-in?”
“Yep.” Clay’s glee was tangible. “The hotel was at two-thirds capacity with lots of pool activity. He had to play it safe and let himself be seen. He made multiple trips to his car to bring in his luggage, a seriously nice desktop computer setup, bags of junk food, and boxes of energy drinks.”
“The maintenance guy says the owner has a limit on how long he allows guests to stay at the motel, but he awarded Smithfield an open-ended stay anyway. His confusion, paired with what we know so far, leads me to believe Smithfield used persuasion on him.” Smithfield had to appear in person for that to work, which was dicey, but it kept his identification off the books. “That lends weight to your theory that he’s more powerful than the others.”
“Ladies and gents,” Clay announced in a booming voice, “we might have found our ringleader.”
As tidy as that would be, I had my doubts. “Unless the sequence of summonings is meant to escalate.”
“I prefer my idea,” he grumbled, sinking into the certainty things would get worse before they got better.
“Can your necromancer buddy explain how Smithfield is controlling Old Man Fang without burying his remains on property he owns?”
“Who says he didn’t?” Clay crunched on a snack in the background. “Shorty has a theory.”
“For starters, Johnathan Smithfield isn’t his real name.” She snorted. “Who uses John Smith as an alias?”
Silence was the only answer, given I hadn’t put it together.
“It’s Bernard Lacky,” she chattered on without noticing my pause. “He’s a black witch.”
As usual, I found myself asking my little moth girl, “How do you know these things?”
“She hacked the Kellies and used their proprietary facial recognition software to identify him.” Clay steadily munched. “Using the screengrabs from the surveillance footage, she found a match.”
“I located a deed to a property in his name.” Colby continued to amaze. “It’s three miles from your location. It’s family land. Inherited. He’s never lived there, and there are no structures on the property, but it’s near a cemetery.”
“That sounds about on par with where Derry took us.” I checked with Asa. “Where we found the note.”
“Note?” Clay quit snacking. “What note?”
I slid my hand into my pocket, fingers caressing the crumpled edge, but I couldn’t make my voice work.
“Lacky claims to have access to Vonda Winterbourne’s bones.” Asa rested his hand on my thigh. “Rue has already had Aedan contact—”
“Saint,” I croaked. “We shouldn’t use his name.”
Ears were everywhere. Eyes too. Dad was safer if we got in the habit of using a nickname for him, and Mom had given him the perfect one.
“We haven’t received word from Saint or Aedan,” Asa continued, “but if Saint believes the threat is credible, then I can’t imagine he won’t come.”
“And if he does,” I predicted numbly, “there will be a bloodbath.”
“Aww, hell, yes.” Clay whooped in the background, eager to see action. “Colby and I are packing up and heading your way.”
Colby sucked in a sharp breath at his swearing, but I could hear the thrill in it.
Given my earlier lapse, I let his go without fussing, earning me a raised eyebrow from Asa that I repaid with a shrug.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Asa’s brow pinched. “Having Colby so close to…?”
“…a black witch,” I finished for him. “Dad won’t hurt her.” I made myself believe it. “But I don’t want to wave her under his nose either.”
“Shorty will be fine.” Clay made it a promise. “We’re bored sitting here with nothing to do.”
“I have dragons to raise,” she said loftily, “but Clay is driving me crazy with his pacing.”
“Rude.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “I thought we were besties.”
“We are,” she said, “but I can’t cook, or eat what you cook, and those are your top two hobbies.”
“We do have a surplus of croquembouche.” He sounded sheepish. “I made a fort.”
Uncertain I heard him right but afraid I had, I asked anyway, “You made a croquembouche…fort?”
“Choux pastry puffs make surprisingly good building blocks, and caramel is the best glue.”
“Okay.” Torn between fear of Clay being unsupervised in a kitchen and dread burning me up from the inside whenever I thought about Mom, I caved to his request. “I could use the moral support.”
“I must have leftover caramel in my ears.” Clay whistled. “That almost sounded like a plea for help.”
“If that’s what you heard, then you do have caramel in your ears.”
“We can be there in a few hours.” Clay clapped his hands. “Don’t have any fun without us.”
Leaning across me, Asa ended the call then kissed my neck. “Do we wait for them?”
And hope Dad caught up to us? Or not? I couldn’t decide which would be worse. “I don’t know.”
“Then I vote we get a room in a hotel without a resident black witch and nap.” Asa smoothed his fingertips under my eyes. “You need rest to face this.”
Sleep wouldn’t help. Nothing would. Except if the note were a cruel prank.
A text from an unfamiliar number lit up my screen, and I braced for the news.
>>Did your daemon leave anything behind in the mausoleum?
The mausoleum? Oh. This must be Marita’s number.
>No?
>>The coffin the guys raided for their throw toy was a concrete box in the center of the structure.
>>It was also chockful of random religious paraphernalia that smells like roadkill.
>>One piece has been smashed to bits, but the base is intact. A vase, I think. Not sure if the guys did that or if it was already that way.
Hope we had discovered the Boos’ cache made me grateful I had asked Marita for the favor.
>That’s evidence in our case. Can you lock it up, maybe put some guards on it?
>>Sure thing.
>Thanks. I’ll pick it up soon.
Soon might be a slight exaggeration. I didn’t trust anyone else to secure the items, the worst of which would end up in my care, but I couldn’t circle back yet.
Impact rattled us in our seats, and we flinched at the massive dent in the roof above our heads.
Wand in hand, I leapt out the door and pivoted to see what manner of monster had found us. “Dad?”
He vibrated with rage that should have burned hot but turned him stone-cold. For a beat, there was nothing in his eyes when he looked at me. I don’t think he knew me or registered anything except a threat to the mate that was beyond needing him to defend her.
The black wings I saw him with last fanned out to either side of him, hidden from human sight, but not from me. He stepped off the roof and landed on the asphalt before me, his eyes dark and fathomless. A muscle twitched in his neck, and his gaze flipped down to where the pendant hid beneath my shirt.
For a heartbeat, two, I forgot how to breathe in the face of his all-consuming fury.
“Where?”
That was all he got out before his locked jaw caged any further conversation.
“We don’t know.” I hated admitting that to him. “A suspect we have reason to believe is already in control of one onryō left me this note.”
Dad snatched the paper out of my hand and skimmed it, cruel darkness billowing around him.
“My wife.” He crumpled the threat in his hand. “They would dare?”
The ball erupted into black flames that smelled of old blood and dirt, and Dad blew the ashes off his palm. Rather than disperse, they glittered with a spark of that same ember and caught a ride on a nonexistent wind toward the street.
“This will lead us to the person who wrote the note.”
He didn’t spare us another thought before prowling across the road in pursuit of the trail.
Asa and I exchanged a look then trotted after him. I let Asa guide me as I texted Clay a warning. If we were still out with Dad when he arrived, I didn’t want him to get Colby anywhere near us. Not until I was certain I could trust Dad. With the pendant heating against my skin, I had more than a few doubts.
Dark artifacts want to be used for their intended purpose, they crave it, and Saint was all potential. If the grimoire was to be believed, Saint contributed to its pages. Above any other, it would long for its original masters. Any one of them would do, but it falling into Dad’s hands would mean the book hit the jackpot.
As much as I wanted to believe Dad possessed a daughter-seeking radar, I couldn’t discount the possibility it was the grimoire’s power signature he traced to me. The choker, assuming the pendant/grimoire hadn’t destroyed its intent, protected me from Stavros. Not him.
With punishing strides, Dad devoured the ground between the motel and where we found the note. He located the animal den and stuck his hand in without hesitation. Tension strung him tight when he withdrew, and he showed us a delicate finger bone on his palm. A distal phalange, if I wasn’t mistaken.
“My love,” he breathed across the fragment, closing his fist, “they will pay for this in blood.”
Agony streaked his features as he pocketed the bone, but I couldn’t shake its miraculous appearance.
“That wasn’t here earlier.” I turned to Asa. “You would have scented it.”
“A distraction.” He cut his eyes toward Dad. “Lacky wants to slow Rue down.”
Again, I heard Finch in my head, and again I couldn’t shake the sensation of a target on my back.
“Parish gave us a heads-up you were on your way.”
“My team, you mean.”
Finch delighted in correcting me. “I mean you.”
Why had Parish specified me?
Had he known about Mom? Had he hoped Dad would intervene? Was I working a case or acting as bait?
“We lost the spell,” I realized as the area grew darker. “Can we get it back?”
“No,” Saint rasped, “but I can catch it.”
Faster than I could ask how, he vanished into shadow, leaping from dark pool to dark pool in pursuit.
“I have it,” a cold voice whirled around me. “Follow the spark.”
A sizzling pop ignited in front of me, and the spastic glitter of a floating orb shot off in the direction Dad had gone. The whole thing reminded me of tales from those who followed will-o’-the-wisps into midnight forests and were led to their doom, but I had brought Dad here. He was my responsibility.
Asa and I rushed again, almost losing sight of the spark, but its explosion as it returned to Dad lit the way to him. The burnt-black magic from earlier fluttered onward, and he tracked it with purpose. Its edges glowed red, as if igniting, and then extinguished in a huff of smoke.
“We’re here.” Dad reached for his wand. “Be on your guard.”
As usual, Colby’s reports were correct. This was a barren tract of land that might have once been a homestead, but all reminders of it had been reclaimed by tangled vines and thorny bushes. There were plenty of places to hide, if you didn’t mind getting poison oak or ivy, but I doubted our summoner was hiding under one of the wild blackberry bushes, where his hands would be limited in their motions.
Entering the woods from this direction, I couldn’t decide if this was where Old Man Fang attacked Derry. Then again, it didn’t have to be. I could have checked the pin I set earlier, but his bones had been relocated. The summoner couldn’t have moved them far, but he owned several acres. Needle in a haystack, anyone? Thank the goddess for Dad’s quick spell.
A frantic buzz in my pocket left me certain things had somehow managed to get worse.
Asa touched my arm to reassure me he would watch my back while I checked my cell.
>>Answer your phone.
The number was unfamiliar, but there were teams in every city with three to five agents in each.
>In the field.
>>Fine.
>>Check your email.
A beat later, I had my answer as to the identity of the mystery texter.
Parish.
We had another case.
13
“We’ve got another onryō.” I reread the email. “Parish wants us in Plantersville ASAP.”
“That’s just down the road.” Asa checked the address given for the incident. “Southeast of our location.”
The space around my father exploded into darkness as his wings unfurled, and he jettisoned into the sky.
“Losing sight of him can’t be good.” I did my best to steady my nerves. “We have to go after him.”
“Any word on who was summoned this time?”
A hard lump formed in my throat. “She has yet to be identified.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s your mother.” Asa rubbed my back. “It could be anyone.”
Without warning, the daemon burst into crackling existence, ripping Asa from me.
“What’s wrong?” I grabbed for his arm, but he shook me off. “What is it?”
He circled the area, sniffing the air, then swung his head toward me with a deep and abiding sadness.
“Rue come.”
Following his hunch, we crashed through the underbrush until he located a dilapidated chimney that was little more than a crumbling stump of handmade brick.
“Rue mom dead.”
“Yeah.” I fought the tightness in my voice. “For years now.”
“No.” He came to me, took my hands gently in his, and tugged me forward. “Rue mom dead here.”
Across the way, sitting on the damp earth with her back to a tree, was my mother. I recognized her in the foggy way you recalled a photo you had seen too often to be sure if you truly remembered or if you had only fabricated a recollection based on that captured moment.
Sixty seconds.
That was how long it took the daemon to locate her.
That was how long it took for my world to jerk to a grinding halt.
“You should run.” She kept her head down, gaze locked on her feet. “I mean it, baby.”
“Mom?” I searched for her summoner. “Where did you come from?”
Based on the pattern of our assignments, I expected the next onryō to be in Plantersville with its summoner.
“He brought me back.” She glanced up, and her eyes were soulless pits. “For you.”
“Mom?” I rocked forward onto the balls of my feet. “You can understand me?”
“Run.” A sob broke free of her chest. “I can’t hold back much longer.”
Desperation blazed a path through me, and I saw a way clear of this standoff.
Whispering the enchantment under my breath, I began summoning the grimoire. Not far enough to let it out. Just far enough I hoped its fluctuating magic would catch Dad’s attention.
Had he been tracking me via the book, he would pick up on its signature in a heartbeat.
