Blood And Stone: A Novel in The Atalante Chronicles Page 4
“You’ve got talent, James,” I told him. “It’s growing. Odds are you’re not the first in your family. This tends to follow along family lines. Might skip a generation or two. Might not even show up in everyone in the same generation.”
“Did yours? Did your magic come from family?”
I chuckled. “There have been wizards in my family as far back as Rome.”
“Is that why you speak Latin?”
“Kinda. My dad trained me to use Latin for magic. It’s a silly language and I don’t really speak it well.”
James gave me another quizzical look.
“We think in language and images,” I said. “Spell languages were developed around the world, depending on where a wizard hailed from. It became tradition to perform magic using those languages. My father taught me to cast spells using Latin because his father taught him the same way, and so on back through our family line. My mother used Russian to cast spells.”
Twitch jumped down from James’ lap and made his way over to me. Once he was in my lap, he rolled onto his back and started absently playing with my fingers.
I asked, “Do you remember anything from the last few days?”
He shrugged. “Some.” He stared at my phone for a few silent moments. “I can’t go home. Mom hasn’t spoken to me since last night. Uncle Terry thinks I’m some kind of monster.”
“Yeah,” I said. “He seems like that kind of asshole. Running away ain’t gonna fix anything. Your mom cares about you. She called someone she didn’t know to come save you.”
The teenager wiped the tears from his cheek. “Will you teach me magic?”
I raised a hand and said, “Hold on a sec, kid. First, we need to get you home. Last thing I need is your uncle to file a kidnapping charge against me.” I eyed his stuffed bag. He’d obviously thought this was a one-way trip. A voice in the back of my head informed me I was about to make a decision I’d probably regret later. Then I turned my gaze to James. Stuck with a zealot for an uncle and a mother who would never understand what he was becoming, he didn’t have anyone he could turn to for help.
I also knew he wasn’t going to stop delving into magic. He’d probably stashed some books away to study, the kind of stuff you’d find at your local book store in the spirituality section. He’d continue to experiment. Through trial and error, he’d figure out how to use his magic. Or worse, he’d find someone whose idea of ethics involved pacts with demons. Odds were that James’ next mistake wouldn’t be a botched summoning. More than likely, he’d get someone killed.
“Tell you what,” I said, finally. “I’ve got something I’m working on right now. As soon as that’s done, I’ll come out and talk with you and your Mom. We’ll see if we can’t work something out. For now, you need to go home.”
James smiled at me and I couldn’t help but return the expression. He was a good kid. His smile could slay a thousand hearts. The last thing I wanted to deal with was a hormonal teenage dark wizard with delusions of grandeur.
“Want something to eat before you go?” I asked.
He nodded. I made a phone call then went to the kitchen to make some sandwiches. James and I ate while we waited for his ride to show. We were finishing up when my phone rang. I answered, “Malcolm?”
“Outside at the gate.”
“Be right out.”
I grabbed James’ duffel bag and we walked out. Malcolm was indeed waiting on the other side of the fence, his car running. I helped James stow his bag in the back seat. The kid got into the passenger seat and gave me a hopeful smile. I offered him the same and walked over to Malcolm.
“Thanks for coming by on short notice.”
He nodded and offered his hand. I shook it.
“Will James be all right?” asked the pastor. Worry lines crossed his forehead as he spoke.
“I don’t know, Malcolm,” I said. “He’s been through a wringer. Not much we can do now but wait. You hear from his mother?”
“Uh-huh. She called me first, then Terry.”
I winced. Terry would surely have called the police thinking I’d kidnapped James. “That’s not going to end well.”
“Terry’s been through a lot recently. He’s just on edge.”
“I wish I could believe that,” I said. “But he’s going to be an issue, for James.” I looked at the kid. “I’ll check in with them tomorrow. Have his mom call me when she’s up.”
“Sure thing.” Malcolm gave me a toothy smile, all gleaming white teeth. It was infectious, despite my concerns. I watched them drive away.
When I walked back into my home, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Sitting in my recliner was a woman about my age.
“You were far kinder with the boy than I remember you being in the past,” she said, an airy tone in her voice.
Standing up, she was only an inch or two taller than me. Most of it was toned legs. She was fit and curvy in all the right places. Her face held the kind of beauty that would capture the attention of anyone in a room. Almost bronze-red hair fell down to her shoulders in short curls. Laid across her lap was a wand made from a gnarled tree branch. One hand deftly stroked the handle.
“Seph,” I said. “What’re you doing in my home?”
Persephone Blalock, Sentinel for the Scarlet Assembly of Wizards, looked at me with cold blue eyes.
“I’m here to judge you,” she said.
Chapter 4
I stood dumbfounded for a hot minute. Persephone seemed to enjoy my discomfort. “How’d you get past my wards?” I asked.
“You left the door open after James entered.”
“Christ on a cracker,” I said, throwing up my arms. “You were shadowing him?”
“Last thing I need is for one of your wards to flatten me,” she replied. Seph stretched languidly, resting her feet on the edge of my coffee table. It took a considerable amount of willpower not to remind myself what those legs felt like wrapped around my waist. “I’m here to talk about your mistake last month in Ybor City,” she said.
I sat on the edge of my couch opposite her and exhaled slowly. A month earlier I’d been hired for a job by Detective Sergeant Oscar Cardenas from Tampa PD. A dozen people had gone missing in downtown Tampa. Oscar called me when the remains of one were found. The victim had been gnawed on. Eventually I’d determined that a gargoyle was summoned from Sideways by... someone. It had been abducting people and eating them. The reason for its ravenous appetite was, as I’d mentioned to Blackwell, that it was pregnant.
“Why’s there a problem?” I asked. “You all got the eggs, didn’t you?”
Persephone nodded. “Yes. And the Assembly’s most grateful for that. We’ll train them once they’ve hatched. They’ll make excellent guardians.”
“So, this is what, exactly? Thanks for the guard dogs, but next time don’t execute their parent so publicly?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice clipped. “Your continued disregard for the first law of the Assembly is causing problems. Some of the other Sentinels want to bring you in.”
“For fuck’s sake, Seph,” I said, rising to my feet. “It’s not like the world’s the same as when the Assembly was created.” I grabbed my glass from the end table next to her and went to the kitchen. Having this argument while sober would be far too taxing. I rinsed out the glass and poured myself another vodka on the rocks. I took a long swig from it.
My kitchen is sparse and small, but it’s functional. The wall closest to the entryway into the living room is where the industrial fridge sits, a holdover from the previous owners. It’s one of those two-door refrigerator/freezer deals. Damn thing’s hardly filled most of the time. The island in the center of the kitchen has a wood top I use mostly as a cutting board and way station for grocery bags. On the opposite side from the fridge is a double sink with a garbage disposal. The sinks are deep enough to hold four- or five-days’ worth of dishes. Don’t ask me how I know that.
The stove sits on the wall to the left of the entryway with a connecting count
er top to the sinks. There’s a door to the pantry where I keep my dry goods. Overhead cabinets run the length of the walls. Right above the sink is a single window to let in some sunshine in the mornings.
Persephone followed me into the kitchen and took up a spot on the other side of the island. I had my back to her as I looked out the window.
“You’re operating in public. The Senate will have to intervene at some point, Nico.” Her voice had softened somewhat. “It’ll be my job to bring you in. Or there’s the other option.”
“They’d invoke the Rite?”
“As far as they see it, there’s only two options.”
I shook my head and took a large gulp of my drink. The vodka didn’t have the effect I was hoping it would. I turned to face her, placing the glass on the island so I could lean forward. “Short-sighted bastards.”
The expression on Seph’s face told me she didn’t entirely disagree.
“What do they expect me to do, Seph?” I asked. “Lure the monsters into the woods every time a fight has to go down?”
“The Veil exists for a reason,” she said. “None of the supernatural nations want the mortal world to know we exist.” She set her jaw. “I have to uphold the laws of the Assembly.”
“I pulled an incubus out of a fifteen-year-old kid last night. Last month I took down a gargoyle someone brought over from Sideways. And today I found out there might be a serial killer from our side of the fence running around.” I finished off the vodka and stared at her. “It’s easy to be a saint locked away in a tower. When’s the last time the Senate actually looked at the world outside their stronghold in St. Louis?”
Her expression didn’t change. “That’s not the point. The Senate makes the rules. The Assembly follows them. Like it or not, you’re a member of the Assembly.”
“You follow them, lover,” I reminded her. “The rest of us have to make a living. Not everyone has access to old money.”
“You lost the rights to your father’s estate when your mistake cost him his life.”
My upper body tensed and I grabbed onto the island. I could feel the color leave my face.
You ever make that one mistake in your life? It’s that one moment that you know your entire life is built around. And you just know that if you’d made a different decision, the trajectory of your life would have been vastly different. My father’s disappearance was one of those moments.
“He’s not dead. He’s just... gone.”
“As far as the Assembly’s concerned, your father is dead,” she said. Persephone leaned over her end of the island. “It’s an open secret in the Assembly. People know what you did. There’s never been a formal inquiry. I’ve done what I can to keep you alive. You certainly don’t make it easy.”
“I need the money, Seph,” I said. “Police pay well. Supernaturals pay better.”
“For what? This place?” she asked, her eyes wandering around the kitchen. “How did you come to own it?”
I couldn’t even muster the nerve to smirk, though I wanted to. “Previous owners had a bad run of business.”
“Owning property does get expensive,” she said. Seph clicked her tongue and edged closer to me.
“I have my own home. It’s better than the last time we saw each other.”
“That apartment in New York should have been condemned,” she said.
“It was. I was squatting.”
Persephone cocked her head to the side and gave me a curious look. “Is it worth it to help the police? Expose our world to them? Is it worth the Rite of Charon?”
“Anything you can do to stop them?” I asked.
She sighed. “The only reason you haven’t been given the Rite is because of my advocacy.”
I looked up and stared into her eyes. They were cloudier now, less harsh than when our conversation started. I pushed away the memories of what her eyes looked like under candlelight. “You’d give me the coins?” I asked.
“If I have to,” she answered. There wasn’t any malice in her voice, just cold precision. “I want to avoid that. You need to stop using your magic so publicly.”
Regaining some of my lost bravado, I finally managed that smirk. “Slink off into the shadows with the rest of you? Let the world pass us by? Not my style.” I stood up straight, squared my shoulders, and gave her a stern glare. “Tell the Assembly, the Senate, and the Sentinels to bite me. I’m doing what wizards used to do. And if I make some bank along the way, more’s the better.”
My old lover’s face flattened with resignation. I knew I was putting her in a tough spot. Part of me felt bad for her. But I wasn’t a lapdog to the Assembly or the Senate. Deep down, Persephone knew I preferred what I had been doing since I’d been cast out into the world. There weren’t too many wizards or witches that took an active role in protecting people from supernatural beings.
“You choose your fate, Nicodemus,” she said. Now she sounded detached, feigning neutrality. “I’ll give you the coins if I have to. And you’ll deal with the consequences.”
“Death will have to take a number. I’m busy.” I pointed in the direction of the door. “It was good to see you again, Seph.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and walked out. I stood in the kitchen and waited to hear my door open and close. Once I heard that, I emptied the melting ice cubes in my glass into the sink. My conversation with her had killed whatever buzz I was building up to, leaving me the wrong kind of sober. I went to my phone and called my voicemail service.
A few messages had been left for me. Two were from Patricia, sounding quite frantic as she tried to reach her son. One was from the bank, reminding me a payment was due soon on the property. The last one caught my attention.
An automated voice said, “Job opportunity. One day only. Address provided at the end of this message. Eyewitness lives at address. Meet recruiter at location. Complete before sundown.”
I grabbed the pen and paper near the phone and jotted down the address. Once the message finished, I deleted it and hung up. A few minutes later I’d grabbed my gear and was out the door.
It was close to mid-afternoon before I reached my destination, the Grant Park subdivision off 50th Street. The drive was pleasant, cool enough to keep the window down. The streets of Tampa can get hectic when the sun is up. There are at least a dozen accidents in the Bay area every day. With a mix of retirees, urban professionals, and young people, driving styles are going to be mixed. Afternoons in the midweek aren’t too bad, but it’s only the calm before the evening rush. If I managed to get this job done quickly, I would probably be able to make it home to prepare for Angela.
I stopped the Jeep across from a beige house. The house must have been erected in the sixties or seventies, during one of the suburban growth periods Tampa experiences at least once a decade. It had seen better days. The paint was peeling in several places. The roof needed new shingles. If there wasn’t at least one leak, I’d be very surprised.
There was a porch under a metal awning at the front of the house. A weathered rocking chair sat next to a swinging bench. One of those plug-in rotating fans stood next to the seats. The other end of the porch was covered by a high bush. Parked in between the two trees on either side of the house was a Tampa Police Department squad car. Leaning against the driver’s side door was a uniformed patrolman I’d worked with before. My stomach turned when our gazes met.
After shutting off my car, I grabbed my cane and got out. The police officer waited for me to cross the street before extending a hand to me. He was a wiry man, with lean, hawkish features. He had coal-black eyes and a nose that would make a cokehead paranoid.
“Paul,” I said, taking his hand in a firm grip. “You catch the call, or did you take it?”
“Took it,” replied the cop. “Call came in last night. Told the guy who caught it that I’d cover it. He’s an old-timer who likes easy rides and single-malt.”
“Is this a removal or simple wipe?”
“Removal.”
Vamps tend to foster allies in the mortal world. Whether by coercion or collusion, they make sure to have people in the world who will watch out for their interests. Paul’s abilities made him perfect for making sure certain memories had been removed. That removal was performed by someone like me. Having a cop who pays attention to witnesses reporting unusual activity comes in handy for the vamps.
Paul escorted me to the door and knocked. I was sweating like crazy despite the cool weather. Part of me hoped no one answered the door, that whoever had made the call the night before was at a friend’s house or out getting groceries. There was no car parked next to the house.
An old woman answered the door. She was north of seventy, with liver spots on her bare arms. To call her frail would be an understatement. It looked like her skin was barely hanging onto her skeleton. She wore a billowy night gown with floral patterns in purple and blue.
“Ms. Joyce Brucker?” asked Paul. He put his warmest, most cheerful smile on his face. I tried to mimic him, but it felt like my face was made of plastic.
“Yes? What’s this about?” asked the old woman.
“You called last night about some strange activity,” said Paul. “We’re checking up on it.” His smile ratcheted up a watt or two.
Ms. Brucker turned her attention to me. Nothing about me screams police. Muscle for hire or NFL castoff, sure. “What about him?” she asked.
“Mr. Atalante is a private detective,” he said. “He’s been working a missing person’s case. What you saw might help him.”
Still wary, she moved away from the door and allowed us to enter. Her home was sparse but comfortable. We entered the living room first. Everything was done in light blues and purples. A coffee table with pictures on the ends sat between a sofa and love seat. To the left of the door was a small shelf filled with DVDs and a large flat-screen TV. The kitchen was to the right behind the dining room. Beyond that was a long hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathrooms.