The Reluctant Renfield, page 9
“Since you’ve hardly shared the details of your investigation, I’m assuming you’re asking if there’s anyone else in the community tinkering with bindings. And the answer is no, not that I know of. But then, I wouldn’t necessarily. Not unless they’d run into problems and reached out for help. We don’t exactly have a membership list or a newsletter. The community’s about personal connections and close contacts.”
I thanked her for her help, and Alex did the same.
As she walked us out, Alex once again made an effort at small talk. It was interesting to watch. He asked about her children (both in college and doing well) and her ex (as annoying as ever but untouched by magical revenge—so far). That got us to the front door, which was a shame. I was enjoying learning about this woman who’d once had a fling with Alex, painted pictures with magic, and seemed as human as any person I’d ever met in the enhanced community.
Minnie paused with her hand on the doorknob, head tilted. “I would love to do your portrait, Mallory. You’re…different. Fascinating, actually. Let me know if you’re ever interested. The painting would be yours to keep. I don’t keep portraits of living subjects.” She grinned. “The witch you were admiring is actually a ghost.”
Alex had gone stiff next to me as soon as she’d thrown out the idea of a portrait.
I touched his arm as I thanked her. I didn’t see me taking Minnie up on her offer any time soon. The last thing I needed was a physical testament to the oddness of my magic, even if it was securely locked away in my own home.
As the door closed behind us and we made our way to the car, my phone rang.
I didn’t think twice, just answered. I didn’t even bother to check the caller ID.
I was expecting calls from Bradley and Star. They both knew that Alex would be driving, so they’d update me with new information knowing Alex and I would be in the same place.
But it wasn’t Bradley, and it wasn’t Star.
It was Cornelius.
“I tried Alex’s phone first,” he announced without any greeting, “but it went to voicemail.”
Because Alex’s phone was in the car. He didn’t usually leave it behind, but this time he had.
Without waiting for a reply, Cornelius continued, “Victor Smalls’s body has been found.”
11
THE MAGICAL GODS OF MAGIC
I wasn’t shocked by Cornelius’s announcement.
Not that Victor was dead, nor by the fact that his body had surfaced in a morgue with a Society contact on staff.
And I certainly wasn’t surprised by the fact that the body was missing a lot of blood. Not shocking considering how much of it had been left on his living room floor.
On some level I’d been expecting to hear about Victor’s death. I hadn’t believed that we could change the future. Not really.
Investigations took time. We had to speak with people in person. Read their reactions, apply pressure in the form of guilt, sympathy, or consequences to get them talking. Witnesses didn’t just volunteer information, not usually. Everyone had something to hide or a reason not to speak. In this instance, reluctance to discuss the practice of a previously shunned form of magic. But that was in addition to all of the usual suspects: dislike of emergency response, protecting others, hiding one’s own secret or the secrets of others, hesitance to provide information that could lead to negative consequences. So many reasons.
As for tech support, Bradley was fast, but there was only so much he could do at once, even with Michael’s help.
And evidence collected at the crime scene would take even longer to process. Star was probably still at Victor’s house collecting what she could.
Anton might or might not still be searching Victor’s office, but either way, that evidence would also have to be sorted through—by Bradley using his technical expertise and by Alex with an eye for alchemic clues.
Time was a limiting factor on all fronts of an active case, and it was unforgiving.
How much time had we wasted? Had we cost Victor his life with our bickering at the start of the investigation or with our inefficiencies?
And by we, I really meant me.
I’d been off. Working with Bitsy had me at less than my best.
“Mallory.” Alex stood next to my Jeep, the passenger door open. He was waiting for me to get inside.
It seemed that shock and extreme disappointment worked in similar ways. I’d been oblivious to the remainder of Cornelius’s call. Even to the fact that Alex had taken my phone from me or that we’d continued our walk to the car.
I needed to be in the here and the now. We had a murder to solve.
But before I moved to the present, I had one pressing question about the past.
“Did Cornelius know when Victor died?”
“Last night. Not long after his initial injuries. Quite possibly even before Bitsy’s dream.”
Instead of the relief I expected to feel—because nothing we could have done would have changed Victor’s fate, no matter how quickly we’d done it—I was angry.
“What’s the point of the stupid visions then?” I jammed my seat belt fastener closed. “If she’s not even getting them before the crime’s been committed, then what’s the point?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s just terrible. To be given hope like that, to think maybe, just maybe, you can have an effect, you can change the future, but then—no, just kidding. The universe was just playing a joke. They didn’t really mean it with the warning vision. It wasn’t really a warning at all. Just a tease. The magical gods of magic just thought they’d tease the mere mortals.”
Alex listened to me rant for a few more minutes. Most of it not very coherent, because magical gods of magic? But he didn’t say a word as nonsense erupted from my mouth.
When I eventually stopped, he said, “Feel better?”
“Not really.”
“Ready to talk about the case?”
“Yes, please.”
“I trust Minnie’s evaluation of Marc, but he’s just around the corner. We’re almost to his house. Earlier, while you were, ah, not yourself, I asked Cornelius to have Bradley or Anton verify that Avery Nielson was out of town and also to have Bradley do a workup on Ellis.”
“That’s good.” At least one of us hadn’t ceased to function. “And as for Marc, that makes sense. Since we’re not as time pressured, you thought you’d scratch him off the list.”
“Yeah. You okay with making this stop? We’ll be quick.”
“Yes. Let’s meet the straightest straight arrow in the enhanced community. I wouldn’t have thought that was a thing, but I suppose to every rule there’s an exception.”
“I know him but only by name. He’s a witch.”
Alex dropped that bomb, then cast a quick glance in my direction for a reaction.
I blinked, because—what the what? I started with the slightly less weird part of that comment. “I thought most witches were women.”
“True, but not all of them. About one in five are men.”
I’d heard that number before, but almost all of the witches I met were women so I’d forgotten that seemingly false statistic.
“So this Marc guy is a male witch who happens to be a rule-follower.” I wasn’t really seeing it. But since we’d started to weave our way through a suburban neighborhood, I was guessing I didn’t have long to wait before seeing this anomaly firsthand. But what I really wanted to know before we arrived… “Do a lot of witches practice alchemy?”
I felt like not, but then, Star was the only witch I knew beyond a passing acquaintanceship, and I didn’t think she did. But then, how would I know?
We asked for help with investigations, magic happened, and our requests were filled. What kind of magic hadn’t really come up; I’d just assumed as a witch she was doing witch magic.
Although I did have a vague memory about her “potions” being more akin to complex alchemic solutions than kitchen witch potions, but that hadn’t come from her. My old buddy Albert had said something along those lines, and he’d sounded a little snobby about it at the time. Like a kitchen witch was a lesser being.
“Most witches don’t do alchemy. No money in it. It’s difficult to monetize a forbidden magic.”
I looked at him to see if he was kidding. “Uh, have you heard of the black market? The dark web? Forbidden just means more risk, which means more money.”
“Not really how it’s worked in the magical community. You start selling forbidden magic and you risk turning the community against you.” He pulled into the drive of a small ranch house. “Have you forgotten who we’re talking about? The enhanced loved a good lynching, literal and metaphorical, and witches are businessmen and -women to their core.”
My skin crawled. He wasn’t kidding about the lynching. I’d found individuals within the community who were stand-up folk. Also, the times were changing; what had been acceptable behavior in the past wasn’t tolerated in Cornelius and Alex’s part of the world today. But I’d met some intensely unlikeable, amoral, and dangerous people since I’d been turned.
I almost argued that alchemy was no longer forbidden, so really, lynching shouldn’t be an anticipated result, but now wasn’t the time to argue the timeline of alchemy’s acceptance in the witch community.
“Come on,” Alex said. “Let’s knock on the door before he sees us and decides to start calling around to find out why emergency response is on his doorstep.”
“If he’s even home.” But I was already out of the car. Witches were good at perimeter alarms. Star set them up for us all the time, so I knew Alex was right.
“He works from home. He should be here.”
How did Alex know that? He didn’t even know the man personally, had just heard his name.
I shook my head. The magical community may have a lot of fluidity due to concerns with aging out and a general tendency for some toward a nomadic lifestyle, but at heart, it was a tiny village with everyone in everyone else’s business.
Alex knocked on the door, and his little brother answered it.
Okay, not actually Alex’s little brother. He didn’t have one of those.
But this guy could have passed as a relative. He was all rumpled with messy hair, wearing a well-worn T-shirt and faded jeans. He certainly shared Alex’s sense of style (or lack thereof). He was leanly fit, his hair a shade lighter than Alex’s, and he was maybe an inch or two shorter. But it was more than that; there was something in his features, as well. The shape of his nose, the line of his jaw.
“How can I be of service to the Society today?” he asked. Not facetiously, oddly enough. “Alex Valois and…” He paused, then said, “Mallory Andrews?”
A lot of the enhanced crowd were pretty. I’d gotten used to it, mostly. But I found it especially annoying at the moment.
Not that it was Marc’s fault for looking like a guy born hundreds of years before him.
“That’s right,” I replied. I might have overcompensated for my initial annoyance with a too-friendly smile if Alex’s scowl was anything to go by.
“We have some questions for you relating to an ongoing case.” Alex looked pointedly past Marc’s shoulder.
“Would you like to come in?” He didn’t attempt to disguise the humor in his voice.
“Please.” This time I toned down my reply to mere politeness.
He walked us past some toys strewn on the ground that looked suitable for young children, then led us to his living room. After he’d taken a seat in one of the armchairs and Alex and I had claimed the sofa, he said, “My wife’s at the store with my daughter, so if you can get this wrapped up in the next fifteen minutes or so, that would be helpful.”
He was polite and low-key friendly. But that touch of impatience he showed had me believing he was genuine. Just a guy who wanted to help the police, but didn’t want to upset his wife.
What I didn’t get from him was an uptight vibe. The way Minnie had described him, I’d assumed he was a straight arrow. He was coming across more as a regular guy.
Except he wasn’t. He was a witch practicing alchemy.
“Alchemy,” I jumped right in, since Alex hadn’t. “You practice it?”
He raised his eyebrows. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that. So his knowledge of our identities at the door was likely due to some witchy warning of magical peoples on his doorstep rather than a call from either Damon or Minnie. “I do, though I don’t advertise it. I’m not sure why that has emergency response at my house. It’s no longer forbidden. The new guard even claims it’s not frowned upon.”
Alex inclined his head in agreement.
Looked like I was leading the way this time, so I stuck to the script thus far and skipped any mention of the particular crime and focused on the heart of the matter. “We’re specifically interested in the work you’ve been exploring with alchemic bindings.”
“None of your business.” His tone and expression were just as polite as before.
“Ah… You’d be helping out with our investigation.”
He shook his head. “Wish I could, but what I’m working isn’t for public consumption.”
I was so confused. This wasn’t at all the response I’d expected based on Minnie’s comments. And even though he wasn’t cooperating, I believed him when he said he wanted to.
Alex wasn’t thrown by Marc’s response. “You’re working on a new product.”
Marc grinned. “Might be.”
That was a clear yes.
“How about you help us out with some elimination,” Alex said.
“I don’t think so. My wife’s due in three months with our second. I’d like to get us into a place with more room. I work from home, and having an active toddler, a new baby, and a wife with a crafting addiction isn’t going to work well in a thirteen-hundred-square-foot house. I start telling you what I’m not working on, and you learn just as much as me telling you what I am focusing on.”
I still wasn’t quite understanding. Thinking out loud, I said, “You think answering our questions will result in information about your new product leaking out into the witch community?”
Alex jumped on that. “You think Mallory and I will leak it.”
He sounded a little growly about Marc’s lack of trust in our discretion.
I wanted to jump up and down and say, “We’ve got a dead man’s murder to solve! Forget your stupid invention!”
I didn’t. Rational me recognized that belittling this man’s work wouldn’t help our cause.
Marc rubbed the back of his neck. “Everyone knows you’re tight with Star. She’s the only other witch I know of who’s integrating alchemy with straight witch work.”
“Okay, so I don’t even know where to begin with your assumption that we’d immediately run to Star with whatever it is you’re concocting. Star doesn’t need to steal to create innovative magical goods, and we’re dealing with weightier matters than magical product espionage.” I narrowed my eyes. “Does this new invention of yours involve binding spirits, elementals, or demons?”
He groaned like I’d struck a nerve, which was exactly when his wife walked in.
His very human, visibly pregnant, completely adorable wife. With his equally adorable toddler-aged daughter on her hip.
“Marc?”
“I’ll explain everything, hon. But can you just give us a minute?”
She gave him the look of a woman who would not be put off. “It’s the blood thing, isn’t it? Did that get you in trouble? You tell these people that you’re sorry and you’ll stop messing about.”
If she hadn’t mentioned blood, I’d have almost found her comments funny. Marc thought he was working on a cutting-edge innovation and his wife thought he was messing about.
But she did mention blood, and that was a problem. Blood was always a problem, seeing as how it had to come from somewhere. But it was even more of problem, because we had a crime scene that indicated a victim with an injury that had bled profusely.
Granted, most of Victor’s seemed to have landed on his floor, but still—injured man, lots of blood, guy who was experimenting with blood. Not good.
“So, Marc, tell us about the blood.” My stomach didn’t even wobble. I gave a head nod to all the desensitization I’d worked on in the last few months.
“This isn’t about the bottled blood, Ariana.” He frowned in my direction. “You’re a vampire. You have to know how much Star is making with her proprietary stasis bottles. I tried—briefly—to come up with an alternative solution. But—” He turned to his wife. “I gave up on that project a while ago. I told you I wasn’t working on that anymore.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t keep up. It’s always something.” She set her daughter on the floor, waiting until she was steady on her feet, then let go. “You’ve always got some project you’re working on, usually instead of tidying or mowing the lawn.” She looked to us for support, as if Alex and I would agree with how ridiculous it was of her husband to prioritize a silly hobby over house and yard work.
Not gonna happen, lady. That silly hobby, aka magic, was a focal point in our lives.
“You knew how much I tinkered before you married me,” Marc replied. “My projects are important to me.”
I really didn’t want to become a part of what was devolving into a marital squabble. Also, Marc was right. He needed a bigger place where he could innovate—or tinker, depending on one’s point of view—out of his wife’s hair.
Alex had the look of a trapped man. He could best almost anyone in a sword fight, but marital squabbling had him at a disadvantage. Come to think of it, we didn’t squabble. Or bicker. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. I couldn’t see Alex bickering with anyone. He wasn’t the sort.
Marc’s daughter toddled up to him and said, “Papa’s ’mentals?”
He groaned again, this time much quieter and with the beginnings of a reluctant smile on his face. He swooped her up in his arms and said, “That’s right, pumpkin. Papa’s project with the elementals.”
