Gray witch, p.3
Gray Witch, page 3
“How could I forget?” Clay explained to Asa, “They did talk shows, local news, commercials.”
“That’s how they came by the catchy moniker Boo Brothers. A talk show host forgot their names during a live broadcast. He blurted that instead, and it caught on. You could tell it wasn’t an act for them. They were true believers.”
“Totally cuckoo,” Clay agreed. “Viewers loved it.”
“There was cosplay. So much cosplay.” I chuckled recalling it. “Really, they were minor celebrities.”
“That will work against us,” Asa pointed out, “if they seek shelter with their fans.”
Prove to their rabid followers they spoke the truth, and we kick-started a full-scale witch hunt.
One that spawned yet another wave of talk shows, news coverage, and televised specials.
Basically, the worst of all possible outcomes, given how far technology had come since their debut.
“You’re not wrong,” I agreed. “This has the potential to out the paranormal community globally.”
Huh.
Maybe Parish hadn’t let us off as easy as I first thought.
“What happened to them?” Asa leaned forward, fully invested. “How did they disappear?”
“The Boos vanished at the start of filming a special on how to hunt demons. Everyone blamed a publicity stunt, but then word got out that the much-anticipated series was canned. Fans were not happy.” Clay pointed at his chest. “To save face, the network aired a special on hunting the Boos instead. Their disappearance was all over the news by that point, so they cashed in with everyone else to recoup their investment.”
“Conspiracy theorists were convinced demons killed the Boos to keep their weaknesses from becoming common knowledge.” I shifted on Clay’s lap, but my butt was falling asleep fast. “No one knows what really happened to them.”
Our job, it seemed, was to figure that out and then put a stop to their latest whackadoodle scheme.
“The director allowed this?” Asa rubbed his jaw. “He let them spread that much propaganda?”
“They were an overnight sensation,” Clay explained. “One day, they were just everywhere.”
“The other thing to remember is, they were really, really bad at their job. The artifacts would have killed paras in droves, if the brothers used them instead of wasting time on religious ceremonies they invented for the sake of ego. They also ‘redeemed’ more humans than paras, so they went to jail for breaking and entering, kidnapping, and aggravated assault. Their victims were branded as nonbelievers, of course.”
Yet the Boos always slipped those charges. The brothers were Teflon. Another gift from their patron.
“The director was choosing his moment to strike,” Clay added, “but they vanished before he gave the order.”
“The timing pointed toward them having an informant inside Black Hat. A high-ranking one.” I couldn’t help but add that to the reason for Parish’s assignment. We had been working rogue cases. This was starting to fit the profile. “The director was furious, but he never found a source. Not as far as I know.”
A shiver coasted down my spine at how Asa was staring at me, a glimmer in his eyes I couldn’t pin down.
“Granted,” Clay fussed, drawing my attention, “they could have taken master classes from Rue.”
“Yes, yes, I know I’m a terrible friend and unworthy of you or your wig collection.”
“Hey, you said it.” His lips hitched to one side. “Not me.”
“The director was content with that resolution?” Asa scooted forward. “He didn’t verify their deaths?”
“The downside to commercializing their work,” I said, wrapping up Asa’s debriefing, “was people viewed their disappearance as more of a series finale than an actual missing persons case. Hardcore Boo fans let their freak flags fly, but the average viewer? They flipped the channel and moved on with their lives.”
Quicker than a heartbeat, flames erupted in a fiery aura around Asa as the daemon claimed his skin.
Mid-transition, he lunged, glee bright in his eyes, his clawed hands grabbing for me.
A clash of titans might have been fun to watch, had the titans not clashed in the living room.
With me stuck between them.
“Rue mine,” the daemon bellowed as Clay leapt to his feet and dodged his lunges. “Give back.”
“Rue was mine first.” He held me over his head like I was a surfboard. “You’ll have to take her.”
“Rue is going to murder you both,” I wheezed, “if you don’t put her down now.”
“Uh, guys.”
The guys paused their game of hot potato to crank their heads toward Colby.
“Aedan found a message in a bottle in the creek.” Her antennae quivered. “Can we open it?”
Behind her, on the monitors dedicated to property surveillance, Aedan waved to the camera.
“Yes.” I cradled the excuse with both hands. “That’s a great idea. Let’s go do that.”
The daemon slumped with disappointment, and Colby soon mirrored his posture when he told her game time had been postponed. I’m sure orcs the world over heaved a sigh of relief for a momentary reprieve. Good thing they bled pixels. Otherwise, the faction would be facing extinction via bloodthirsty moth-girl.
Clay, thankfully, had the sense to prop me up while feeling returned to my extremities.
“It’s like the new pirate expansion pack for Mystic Realms.” She fluttered. “What if it’s a treasure map?”
“Don’t think I didn’t hear the emphasis on new, smarty fuzz butt. Christmas was two months ago, and we don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.” I sighed over Clay’s sharply indrawn breath. “What? We wait until the day after then stock up on cheap chocolate and cute plushies. We’re not total heathens.”
The reminder of the upcoming holiday broke me out in a cold sweat when it hit me that Asa was my first boyfriend/potential mate. He might have expectations for the day that were different than mine.
Thanks, fascination, for hitting me with a holiday tailored to emotional paranoia.
“Phew.” Clay clutched his chest. “There for a second, I thought you had forgotten all my teachings.”
“The point I was trying to make is this. You’re going to have to spend your coin if you want to upgrade.” I noticed her worrying her hands. Never a good sign. “What did you do?”
For her to be dropping hints so hard they crushed my toes, she must be in dire financial straits.
“There was this sale on dragon eggs…”
“Colby.” I swear my heart stopped a beat. “You spent hundreds of real dollars on virtual dragon eggs?”
Granted, I had given her most of the money, and I had agreed to let the guys give her the rest, but still.
Mystic Realms developers must be rolling in cash. Actual money they skipped to an actual bank to deposit.
“They’re a good investment,” she argued. “They just take time to mature.”
“She can resell them for four times what the eggs cost her.” Clay came to her rescue. “The catch is, it will take months to hatch them.” He offered her a commiserating glance. “Until then, her coin’s not liquid.”
As hard as it was for me, I put my foot down. “Then you’ll have to wait for it to liquify.”
Hands clasped in front of her, she turned her pitiful face toward Clay.
“No, ma’am.” I slapped a hand over his eyes. “You’re not suckering him into it either.”
Slowly, she turned her face toward the daemon, searching for an ally.
“Nope.” I marched over to the daemon. “Don’t count your dragons before they hatch next time.”
“Fiiine.” She launched into a glide in a sulk. “Can we go check the bottle now?”
“Yes.” I flicked a wrist toward the front door. “Let’s go.”
The daemon lumbered after Colby, the pair discussing pirate ship names, while Clay walked with me.
“You’re good at the parenting thing.”
“Yes, well, I was lucky.” A hoarse note crept into my voice. “I had a fairy golem father to teach me.”
“Aww.” He slung an arm around my neck and reeled me in for a kiss on the cheek. “You love me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shoved him off me with a laugh. “You already knew that.”
“Still nice to hear it.” He bumped shoulders with me. “How many nieces and nephews should I expect?”
“Why are you so obsessed with me procreating?”
A shudder rippled down my spine when his comment reminded me of Stavros’s offer.
“Mostly, I’m curious how much weight you could gain. Like, is there a record we could beat?”
We?
There was no we in stretch marks, labor, or postpartum weight loss.
“You want to use me…to break a record for the most pounds gained during a pregnancy?”
“Or maybe I just want to do this and not get caught.”
Wary, I cut my eyes toward him. “Do what?”
“Tag.” He thumped me between the eyes. “You’re it.”
Using his head start, the jerk took off at a sprint, cupping his hands to yell to the others, “Ahoy there.”
“I’m an aquatic daemon,” Aedan said dryly, “not a pirate.”
Devious Clay might be, but he was a lot of golem moving at a high rate of speed on a downward slope.
Hot on his heels, I tripped him, and sent him sprawling. He shoved up on his forearms, spitting grass as I stepped over his legs to join the others at Camp Aedan to inspect the peculiar bottle in Aedan’s hands.
An odd aura surrounded it, giving it a faint rainbow sheen. “You found that in the creek?”
The glass was thick, handblown, and a deep azure like the vintage kind locals stuck on bottle trees.
“Yeah.” He handed it to me. “Water would void any nasty spells on it, right?”
“In most cases, yes.” I shut my eyes and rolled the glass between my palms. “There’s something…”
“Smash for Rue?” The daemon, still high on adrenaline, looked hopeful. “I like smash.”
“I know you do, big guy, but there’s magic in there.” I sniffed the cork. “Ah.”
A pungent whiff of copper and decay told me who sent it, and it spoke volumes about Dad’s power that its trip down the creek hadn’t washed away all traces of his signature.
“Rue safe?” The daemon’s fingers twitched, eager to snatch and crush. “I smash?”
“I got it.” I bit the cork—like a lady—and yanked it out with my teeth. “What in the—?”
A coin too wide to fit down the bottle’s neck popped out of the opening and landed in Aedan’s palm.
“That’s gold.” Colby’s eyes rounded. “Like real gold.”
“Pirate booty,” the daemon agreed. “Like Mystic Seas expansion pack.”
“I just had an out-of-body experience,” I told Clay. “I thought I heard a commercial fall out of his mouth.”
“You’re laying it on thick, Shorty.” He wiped the smile off his mouth. “You heard Rue.”
“I didn’t say anything.” She blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence. “I was admiring the coin.”
Most of the time, I could forget Colby was—or had been—a ten-year-old kid prior to her death.
And then she pulled something like this.
I ought to nip it in the bud, but I was too grateful she still had that spunk and sass to punish her for what kids the world over did to their parents and guardians. She was testing me, pushing her boundaries. She was proving the bright spark that saved her life burned brighter than ever within her. So what if I wasn’t traditional mom material? What Colby and I had defied labels, and that was okay.
“Go read.” Clay nudged me back toward the house. “We’ll catch periwinkles and give you a minute.”
Visions of daemon crabs danced in my head. “What are those?”
“Tiny aquatic snails with spiral shells.”
“I have those?”
“Most creeks do.”
Nodding my thanks, heart a knot in my throat, I trudged back to the house and plunked onto the porch.
The parchment crinkled in my hand as I withdrew the neat roll. I broke the thick wax seal, opened it with care, and blinked away the black motes sparkling in the ink as the letter shed the magic used to create it.
Dearest Daughter,
I dare not write what concerns press on my mind, but I promised you letters, and this is the first.
Forgive me for my clumsy attempt at reconciliation. I was wrong to involve your cousin. Your mother was the diplomat. I preferred to stand at her side and intimidate people into giving her what she wanted, not that she required my assistance. No one could say no to her, least of all me.
I will keep this missive brief out of concern your wards prevented you from receiving it. I enclosed a payment for your cousin, for his service. It is my understanding he lives on your property. It was him I hoped would find this and carry it to you. As you trust him, so will I.
If you find a spare moment, write back to me. No expectations. We can go—or not—from there.
All my love,
Your Father
“Are you all right?”
A discreet distance away, Asa waited for my reaction to this first contact.
“Nothing earth-shattering.” I handed it over. “More of a trial run for his delivery system.”
“A stamped envelope is too conventional,” Clay said, joining us. “Hiram is a master of the black arts.”
And he had used that talent to send me a message in a bottle, as if I were still a kid who would fish it out of the water with a squeal of delight and rush to the smudge that remained of Mom in my memory for a hand with the cork. It was…charming. More than that, it was whimsical. It made me wish I could tell if he and I had exchanged secret notes this way when I was a child. If this was a test, I had no hope of passing.
The director had stripped me to the bone, stolen every memory his grasping fingers could pluck from my head, the better to mold me in his image. Impressions lingered, vague sensations, but nothing concrete.
I never hated him more than when I struggled to recall anything of Mom or Dad but found nothing.
Nothing beyond the stories I had been told, the pictures I had been shown, the memories I had spun from wishes and slivers of truth.
“He paid Aedan in gold for sitting in the creek, really?” Clay’s eyes bulged as he read over Asa’s shoulder. “Forget Black Hat. I’m buying a float, tethering it to a tree, and saving up those coins for retirement.”
As if the director would ever cut him free.
But it would take someone crueler than me to remind him of that.
“You’re already filthy stinking rich.” I admired his financial savvy, though at his age, it would be a shock if he hadn’t managed to amass at least a modest fortune. “How about save some for the rest of us?”
“You’re going to mate a daemon prince, who will one day be king. I don’t want to hear it, Princess.”
Acid burned a path up the back of my throat, but I locked down my muscles to avoid flinching.
“Would I look sexier on a red float or a gold one?” Out came his cell, and Clay started shopping online. “I have a red wig that’s to die for, but it’s so hard to color match online. Yellow isn’t my best color, but you know I’m a sucker for a theme. I could always use that shimmery bronzer, the one with a hint of mica.”
“Now that we’ve solved the mystery—” I cut Clay off as he used voice controls to search for speedos, “—we should get packing.” I reclaimed the note. “I’ll update Aedan, if you guys want to get a head start.”
Happy to wander off, nose to the screen, Clay made his way into the house.
The last mutter I caught was gold lamé, and that was traumatic enough for me to ignore the rest.
“You guys are leaving again?” Aedan met me halfway. “You’re barely home these days.”
“Re-upping has been like clearing a backlog of cases after a vacation.” I rubbed my face. “A long one.”
Ten years’ worth, not to split hairs.
“Is it always like this?” He tried for a joking tone. “Or are you guys just special?”
“We’re something, all right. I’ll tell you what after I figure it out.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I don’t have to know.”
“It’s mostly family drama,” I attempted to explain then stopped myself. “Not your side of the family.”
A wide smile blossomed when I included him in my family grouping, and I hated we came from people or situations that made even the most tenuous connection swell our hearts with gratitude to finally belong.
“You mean your dad.”
“Yeah.” I wished he wasn’t burdened with the knowledge Dad was alive, but there were no takebacks in the information game. “I’m still absorbing the latest implications, but I’ll share more when and if I can.”
“Almost forgot.” He flipped me the coin. “That’s worth about two grand. Keep it. For room and board.”
The coin, having been spelled to pay Aedan, flipped itself right back to him.
“I think it likes you.” I chuckled. “Besides, you don’t owe me anything.”
“Your dad sent this to me, right?” He smoothed his thumb over the design. “For playing mailman?”
“That,” I allowed, “and I think he feels guilty about the whole kidnapping thing.”
“Can you ask him not to pay me again?” He closed his hand over the coin. “We’re family too, right?”
That I expected nothing from him in return for allowing his continued existence, let alone that I provided him with supplies to camp on my property rent-free, had been a revelation to him. That’s what family does, I told him, and it was a lie. I wanted it to be true. I knew, for a lucky few, it was. But not for him. Or me. Be that as it may, the person I wanted to become felt that family, blood or chosen, wouldn’t set a price on their help when it was needed the most.
