True Colors (The Demon's Apprentice Book 6) Page 3
“I don't know, baby,” I told her. We took a couple of steps away, and I whispered “Traho,” with an underhand gesture to close the doors.
“You’re my gothi,” she said, the waver in her voice making her smile a lie. “You’re supposed to know everything.”
“What I don’t know,” I said, “I can find out. We’ll find who did this. And we’ll rip his heart out.”
We sat on the bench outside the lodge, and when Collins got there an hour later, we hadn’t moved. Truth was, I had to check my phone to see how much time had passed. Lucas’s Barracuda pulled in behind him, and Wanda’s red VW filed in after that. Collins got out of his car and took a quick look around before he stepped out from behind the car door and shucked off his light gray suit jacket. Without the jacket, his shoulder holster was in plain sight, the black leather straps wrinkling his white shirt. After another look around, he pulled the round badge from his belt and tossed it into the car. Behind him, Wanda, Lucas and Monica got out of their cars.
“Don’t get up,” Collins said when I started to move. “You’ve both been through enough. I’m sorry about Tyler, kid.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Sorry won’t bring him back,” Shade said. I put my free hand on her shoulder, drawing a look from her.
“We already took a look before you got here,” I turned back to Collins. “But we didn’t go in the room.”
“You get anything?” His eyes went from Shade to me and back again. I shook my head. “Okay, so how do you need to handle this?”
“Like a crime scene,” I growled. “Whoever did this managed to mask themselves magickally.”
“So you need forensics and legwork to catch them,” Lucas said. He’d changed into jeans and a sleeveless black t-shirt. Monica was in a black satin corset over a fluffy, white blouse with off-the-shoulder sleeves and black leggings. Even though the blouse was oversized, it still stretched tight across her chest. The gravel crunched under her boots as she walked past him and came straight to Shade and me.
“Guys, I’m so sorry,” she said, her hands reaching for ours. Eyes brimming, she held our hands in hers for a moment before letting go of them. Only when we broke contact did I realize the absence of the weight in my chest. It had been there from the moment we knew Tyler was dead, and it had been slowly weighing me down. But now, the lethargy in my limbs was absent, only noticed because it was suddenly gone.
“Monica, whatever you did,” I started, then took a breath.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” she said before I could go on. She was looking over her shoulder to Lucas, though. He came to her side and put an arm around her shoulders.
“I don’t think they mind this time, babe,” he said with a reassuring smile.
“I’m kind of empathic,” Monica said. “It just started happening a few days ago. It comes and goes, and sometimes, I just start…”
“Projecting,” Lucas finished. I felt Shade tense beside me, and squeezed her shoulder to get her attention.
“I’m really sorry, guys,” Monica said. “I don’t mean to do it, and I know it’s really rude. I just-”
“It’s okay,” Shade cut her off, her words tense and clipped. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“No way, Ms. Cooper,” Collins said. She stood and faced him, her lips tight and her hands balling into fists. “You’ve already been through enough today, and there’s no way I’m letting you work a scene when you have a personal involvement. You either, Fortunato.”
“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Shade growled.
“I know, kid,” Collins said, his voice softening a little. “You may be Shade, badass alpha of the pack and all that, but right now, you need to remember that you’re also a teenager who just lost someone you care about. Your headspace is all fucked up right now. The best thing you can do for Tyler is let someone with a clear head work this scene, so we can find who did this for you.”
For a second or two, Shade looked like she wanted to punch him, then her shoulders slumped a little and she bowed her head. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “Do what you need to.”
“We will,” Collins said, his own face going blank. “Wanda, Lucas, you two glove up. Wanda, photograph the scene. Lucas, you and me bag and tag after her.”
“Can I do anything?” Monica asked. Collins turned toward her, then his eyes narrowed.
“You’ve got no forensics training,” he said slowly. “But...you got that empathy thing going on. Does that just work with people?”
“I don’t know,” Monica said. “Usually.” Collins pulled Monica toward the doors, and Wanda came up to us. Her clothes were hidden by a pair of black coveralls, and she carried a bulky toolbox with both hands on the handle.
“What about after?” Wanda asked. “I hate to ask, but I’m pretty sure this is the last place you want to be officially declared a crime scene.”
“We’ll….figure something out,” Shade said. “I need to talk to Sinbad, first. But we’ll take care of Tyler. He was Pack. Just...get me something, help us find who did this so I can rip his throat out.”
We watched our friends go into the crime scene, neither of us wanting to leave, but neither really wanting to get elbow deep in things. I led Shade to the parking lot, and we watched as Monica came out and threw up after a few seconds, then straightened and turned around, heading back in with a determined look on her face.
“I hate this,” Shade said after a few minutes. She laid her head on my chest. “I hate not being able to do anything. But I can’t just leave.”
“Then we stay,” I told her. “We stay as long as it takes them to get what they need. Dr. C would probably call it standing a vigil.”
“Sounds better than just sitting around and waiting.”
“Yeah, we’re standing around and waiting with a purpose.” She gave a single soft chuckle, then fell silent.
Eventually, we heard Sinbad’s bike. He rolled up beside us and took his helmet off, setting it on the gas tank in front of him.. “You guys got this?” he asked.
“No,” Shade said without moving. “I don’t know what to do about...about Tyler’s…”
“We have people who can handle that,” he said, his voice gentler than I had ever heard it. “What’s with the cop and the junior detective brigade?”
“Whoever did this masked their aura and their wolf,” I said. “So we’re using good old fashioned detective work.”
“I didn’t ask you, boy,” Sinbad said.
“Well, I didn’t answer you, old man,” Shade pulled away from me and turned to face him. “He’s my gothi. He speaks with my voice on this.”
“They ain’t pack.”
“They’re part of my pack, even if they aren’t wolves. They’ve fought beside us, they’ve shed blood with us, and they’ve kept our secrets. Or did you forget that they stood beside you against a horde of demons a few months ago?” Sinbad’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the demon attack on prom night. He’d lost a few of his pack before we had given the order to retreat.
“That wasn’t our fight,” he growled.
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” I said. “If they had gotten what they wanted…” I stopped as he came off the bike with his arm drawn across his chest like he was going to backhand me. He, in turn, stopped when Shade stepped in front of him with one hand on his chest and the other drawn back in a fist.
“Are you here to help out, pick a fight, or just be a dick?” she asked through clenched teeth. “Because I’ve only got patience for one thing on that list.” Sinbad glowered at her for a few seconds, then stepped back and offered Shade a wry smile. I lowered my hand, my shield spell still ready.
“That’s the alpha bitch your pack needs,” he said.
“If you had hit him...” Shade growled, not willing to let it go.
“He would’ve had to let me, girl,” the old man laughed. “I’ve seen you two fight. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell I coulda laid a
finger on him. So, let’s say I’m gonna let them work this. What’s your game plan?”
“Let’s say I give a damn about how you want me to track down the asshole who killed one of my pack. The plan is to get a lead, find the bastard and rip his throat out.”
“And you think, what? He was a local?”
“How should I know?” Shade asked. “For that matter, shouldn’t you know?”
“If it was, I would’ve known, but I don’t recognize the scent. This is no wolf I’ve met this side of St. Louis, that’s for damn sure. And that complicates things.”
Shade narrowed her eyes at him and took a step into his space. “How?” she demanded, her voice barely carrying to me.
“If it isn’t one of mine,” he sighed, “then we need to get the Conclave involved.”
“I thought you didn’t want outsiders,” I said.
“I didn’t say I wanted the damn mages involved, I said we need them.” He leaned back against the seat of his bike, pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a Zippo. The lighter closed with a clink, and he exhaled a stream of gray smoke before he spoke again. “Back when I first set up here, packs used to get a little...ambitious. They’d raid hunting grounds, stampeding cattle and horses, things like that. I let packs handle things on their own, mostly, but after the War Between the States, I’d get some of those damn blue bellies down here, and we got damn close to all out war a couple of times. The clans back in Beantown tried to make a case to take over, saying I was too close to things, that I didn’t have shit under control. So I made a compromise with the Conclave. Local packs handle their own problems, but when there’s an outsider, the Conclave gets involved. Neutral third party and all that shit.”
“What if it’s something between two local packs?” I asked.
“I handle it,” Sinbad said. “Just about every local pack split off from mine at some point. But this? This ain’t local. Which means we gotta get the wizards involved. That means you got a new job, kid,” he told me.
“Messenger boy?” I said.
“Liaison has a nice ring to it,” he said. “Kinda French and pompous. Yeah, I like liaison. So, you go talk to Corwin, tell him what went down here, and let him know I’m formally asking the Conclave to get involved. Shade and I will take care of things here.”
“Are you sure you want me to-” I started to say.
“She’s got this,” Sinbad threw my own words back at me. Shade glanced at me and nodded with a half-smile, then put her arms around me and kissed me.
“Love you,” she whispered.
“Till the sun never rises,” I answered. Junkyard moved over when I opened the door, but he put a paw on my leg as soon as I pulled it shut. Always the sucker for his sad face, I rubbed behind his ears for a moment, watching Sinbad lead Shade back toward the lodge. I wanted to stay and it burned in my gut to have to leave her there. Still, it was what she needed me to do. That thought gave me a little comfort when I started the Mustang, but it didn’t keep me from watching in the rearview mirror as I pulled away. The drive back to Dr. Corwin’s place felt like it took forever, but I felt like I’d only just left the camp when I pulled to a stop across the street from his front door. Junkyard followed me in, and I could hear people talking from the kitchen. The sounds of silverware on china reached me, and I took a quick detour into the small sitting room off the foyer. The door clicked shut behind me, and I dropped into the chair by the window. Junkyard sat beside me, pushing his head under my hand.
After a few minutes, I felt the cooling trails of tears on my cheeks, but even that seemed like something distant. I could feel the weight behind my eyes and in my throat, something wanting to get free. But it wouldn’t move from its hiding place.
My thoughts went to Tyler, the peacemaker, the first one who had extended a hand instead of throwing a fist. He’d been the one to help me get through Phys Ed., the one who helped me pass Drivers’ Ed with a B, and the one who was always at Shade’s side to back me up when I spoke up. The first time I’d gone to a gathering of the pack after Shade had chosen me as her gothi, he’d been the first one to step up and greet me like a fellow member of the pack. I remembered the second week of school, after I started wearing the few new shirts I had, him taking me out to the lodge to give me a bag full of clothes that he said he’d gotten the rest of the pack to donate. There had been some truth to it, because I’d seen about half of the shirts in the bag before. But all of them were the right size, and he’d missed the price tag on one of them. I remembered the way he’d tried to lie about it, saying he’d just never worn it because he didn’t like it. But Tyler wasn’t a very good liar, and I liked that about him. Seeing him laid out on the table, his chest torn open, his face set in a mask of agony wasn’t right, and my brain rejected the image as hard as it could, trying to replace it with the memories of my friend at his best. His was another name on the growing list of people I cared about who were dead, people who made my world a better place. Hell, they made pretty much anyone’s world better.
“Chance,” I heard Dr. C’s voice, and I started. The shadows were almost across the room, and my mentor was at my side, looking worried. “Your mom is going to have my ass if she hears I let you skip dinner.” His tone was light, but it didn’t hide the concern.
“You’re not my babysitter,” I said.
“That’s true,” he said, moving to sit in the chair across from me. “But your well-being is still important to me. Both as a mentor and as a friend, Chance. Someone close to you just died. That can’t be easy to cope with.”
“I’m handling it,” I lied.
“No, you’re not.” He shook his head and leaned back in the chair. “You’re paralyzed. You’ve spent nearly an hour in here, staring out that window with tears running down your face. That isn’t handling it.”
“What do you expect? Should I just bawl my eyes out or something?”
“That’s one way to go,” he said. “Personally, I think how you handle this isn’t so important just now. What is important right now is that you can function. So, why don’t we start with what’s on your mind?”
I looked back out the window for a moment to get my head back into the place it had been for the past hour. “I was wondering when I was going to stop losing people. If I was ever going to stop mourning people who didn’t deserve to die. Mr. Chomski, Desiree, now Tyler. I keep wondering, keep asking myself why it was them instead of me. I’ve seen the face of the Divine, Dr. C. I carried her Gift to Wanda, and I brought Her wrath to Etienne. She’s talked to me. Why? Why do I keep on living and better people keep dying? Why won’t She tell me that much?”
“I think I actually know this one,” he said with a knowing smile.
“Don’t you even try telling me it’s because there’s some mysterious plan for me.”
“No,” he laughed. “I mean, yes, I think there is a plan, but it isn’t so mysterious. Look at it logically. King and Etienne are dead, Talbot wishes he was dead. In fact, everyone who has hurt or killed someone you care about is either dead, crippled or in jail. People who threaten your family and friends don’t tend to live very long, either.”
“Still not seeing the plan here,” I grunted.
“Then let me spell it out for you,” he said. “You get results. You said it yourself, you bring the Wrath. It’s one of the less fun things about being a mage. Sometimes, we’re called on to balance the Universe when it needs a nudge in the right direction. Whether we like it or not, we become the agents of karma.”
“Why us? Why me?” I asked.
“Because we’re given the ability to alter reality itself,” he said, leaning forward, eyes almost glowing. “That power isn’t given lightly, and not without cost. You survive because magick protects the wielder. Because you serve magick as much as it serves you, and the more powerful you become, the more will be expected of you. And right now, whoever killed Tyler still has to answer for that.”
“And that’s supposed to be on me?”
Chapter 3
~ Fate is fickle. ~
11th Oracle of Delphi
New York City was at its hottest the next day. Because of course, the day we needed to wait the longest to see the senior members of the Council was the day we picked to show up. All of them were scheduled in some kind of meeting or another until around two that afternoon, and of course, the line to see them after that was a long one. We were lucky enough to get a place near the front, but it was still a bit of a wait.
“So, we can leave the building,” I said to Dr. C while I tried to keep up with him. Dodging New Yorkers was almost as hard as dodging spells. “But we can’t leave the city?” I wove my way between a knot of tourists and a news stand and caught up to him. My back would have been soaked if the sweat wasn’t drying in the heat.
“We can leave the city,” he corrected. “We just lose our place in line if we do. Hurry up. We only have about ten minutes.” The light changed, and the knot of people at the crosswalk surged forward, taking us with them. We stayed in the middle of the crowd for a few yards after we got back onto the sidewalk, then ducked to our right in front of our destination.
Babylon Tower wasn’t quite hidden from sight to most New Yorkers. That would have taken more magick than even the Council could muster. Instead, it just seemed to blend in. The technical term for it was an odiosis enchantment, which I just called boring as Hell. Looking at it with the enchantment intact, it was a beige stone building with nothing to set it apart. Square, uniform and slightly shorter than the buildings on either side of it, it didn't stand out in any way. To my mind, it screamed of the world’s most average accounting firm. Looking at the front, I knew that the name was illegible, but it came across to my conscious mind as being utterly forgettable. Dr. Corwin compared it to reading something in a dream, where you somehow knew what it meant but not what it said.