Dark Crossroads (The Templar Book 6), page 7
I heard Tremelay let out a long, very noisy breath. “Ainsworth, you need to go to the hospital. You could have cracked a rib. You could have internal bleeding.”
“If I start peeing or throwing up blood, I’ll go to the hospital,” I vowed. “In the meantime, I’ve got some caffeine deprived citizens that need a good latte. Text me where to drop the evidence. Bye.”
I hung up to the sound of his cursing, pulled open the door of the coffee shop, and got to work.
Chapter 6
“Your grandmother was walking down the street?”
“Great grandmother,” I corrected Petie. “And yes, she was walking down the street with a suitcase. Seems she left my sister’s house sometime last night and made her way by mysterious means to Baltimore by early this morning.”
This had been my excuse for being a few minutes late. Believe it or not, Essie was a far better excuse than explaining I’d been shot while out for my morning jog and was only alive because I’d happened to be wearing a bullet proof vest at the time. Unfortunately I’d had to give all sorts of strange excuses for switching shifts, being late, or leaving early in the last six months since picking up my sword and defending the pilgrims of Baltimore. An unexpected elderly relative descending on me in the early morning hours went over much better than yet another a-vampire-chewed-my-neck story.
“You never expect what grandmas are gonna do.” Chalese shook her head. “Girlfriend probably took an Uber to your house and they dropped her off a few blocks too early. Maybe that baby of your sister’s was keeping her up all night or something. A woman’s gotta have her beauty rest, you know?”
“Well, she’s not going to get any beauty rest at Aria’s with that hot boyfriend of hers hanging around every night.” Anna laughed.
Chalese shrugged. “I’d take a banging headboard over a baby crying any day.”
“She said she’s here to help me.” I looked down at the order on the cup Anna handed me and pulled the coconut milk out of the mini fridge.
“Maybe she’ll cook for you,” Petie offered. “Didn’t you say she was Hungarian? Man, I love their food.”
“Paprika chicken,” the customer at the countered chimed in. “And Goulash. Not that weird stuff they call Goulash up in New Jersey where it’s macaroni noodles and spaghetti sauce, but real Goulash.”
I hadn’t recalled Gran ever cooking anything when I was growing up, but then again we’d always had servants in our house. They either cooked, or Mom or Dad did when it was something special. I’d need to ask Essie when I got home if she could make me something Hungarian, because Goulash sounded really good about now.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Anna told me as I tamped the espresso down. “We’ve got game night at your place next week. We could roll up a character for her, or let her play an NPC. Or is your grandmother more of the bingo type?”
Essie was hardly the bingo type. Actually I could see her having fun in our game. Anna had a good idea. If Roman couldn’t come pick her up this week, maybe I could have her as a sort of temporary player next Wednesday. It would keep her from getting bored hanging around my house.
I knew what happened when Essie got bored. She ordered weird stuff off the internet, found herself in questionable chat rooms, and also found herself in questionable establishments all the way across town.
I finished up the iced coconut milk latte, and swapped places with Chalese as Anna got ready to clock out. Lately I’d been the one manning the machines, but I knew to step down to a higher level of expertise. Chalese made the best coffee, and I was happy to run the register while she worked her special kind of magic at the espresso bar.
Petie headed out with Anna, leaving me and Chalese for the afternoon crowd. Things slowed down after an hour and I was able to check my texts and make a quick call to my brother Roman. He and Hilda had taken the boys to Disney World and were in line for a ride when I called. It seems that not only had Athena not let our parents know that she’d lost our great grandmother, but she hadn’t informed our elder brother either. He was relieved that Gran was okay, and said he’d be glad to have her stay at his house—in two weeks when they got home from their vacation.
I told him to call when he’d returned and got back to taking coffee orders, wondering what the heck I was going to do to entertain Gran for the next two weeks. Actually, it was more about keeping her out of trouble. And what should I feed her? Half the time I didn’t even eat a real meal myself. Most of my actual nourishment came from when Dario took me out to eat, or from the leftovers I brought home. I guess I needed to start thinking about meal planning and ensure that I had things like sandwich fixings and microwavable entrees for when I was at work. It’s not like Gran could live off that giant bottle of Fireball under my sink and the random leftovers in my fridge.
Well, maybe she could. Although Gran was just as snobby about her booze as my mother was, and I didn’t know how she’d take to a liquor that was more cinnamon than whisky.
Things got unusually busy as the sun set. I got Dario’s wake-up text and quickly responded that I’d call him when I was off work, not wanting to get into an involved conversation about my new houseguest when I was busy. I especially didn’t want to tell him about being shot at via text either. The evening went by quickly, and I calculated how much time I’d need to wrap up here, drop off the bullet casings and bloody paper towel with Tremelay and, no doubt, file an actual formal report. Then I’d have Dario meet me at home, tell him about the day’s events, then get busy on a spell while he, no doubt, went out to try to track down whoever shot me and kill him.
Oh drat. Essie. Hmm, maybe I’d order something delivered by Door Dash, and tell her and Dario about the shooting over tamales and black beans. With any luck, I could be working on my spell before midnight. With any luck, either Tremelay or Dario would have caught the shooter before I could even light a candle. Tremelay had a bit of a head start, but if I were a betting woman, I’d put money on Dario finding the guy first. He had connections, a vampire’s keen tracking senses, and he’d be motivated by anger. I knew Tremelay would be personally motivated as well, but Dario took my safety as seriously as only a possessive master vampire would.
It was nearing closing time, and Chalese and I were about to start our clean-up when I realized the woman who’d bought a double espresso with a twist an hour ago was still sitting off at the corner table. She was a tall woman who looked to be in her mid-forties with auburn hair pulled up into a messy bun. I’d thought she was one of the white-collar downtown people swinging by for some caffeine after work from her navy-blue pants suit and heavy statement jewelry, but now I wondered. She didn’t have a purse, or any sort of briefcase. She’d had cash in her coat pocket, but I doubted she had much else.
The woman looked up and caught me staring. Her brown eyes held the authority of a high-powered executive, or a cop, or a Templar, although I hadn’t seen the trademark tattoo on her wrist when she’d paid.
I smiled, and the one she returned was stiff and artificial.
“You know that woman?” Chalese inclined her head, her mouth in a grim line. This was getting to be a regular occurrence. The first time, the loiterer was a Boo Hag trying to gauge where I stood on their race. The second time, it was a plague demon who’d left both my coworkers with a nasty case of food poisoning. Both times the person lingering long after their beverage was completed had been waiting for me, and I got the impression this woman was as well.
Deciding to take the bull by the horns, I left Chalese to clean out the pastry case and went over to where she was seated.
“We’re getting ready to close. Is there anything else I can get for you?” I figured I might as well be polite, just in case this was an actual customer.
“Are you Knight Solaria Angelique Ainsworth, Templar of the Baltimore area?”
Yep, she was here for me, but since she’d addressed me as a Knight, she clearly wasn’t from the Order.
“That’s me. Full-time Templar, part-time barista. Another double espresso in a go-cup, perhaps? Maybe a scone before we pack them away and you leave for the night?”
“What is your relationship with Haul Du?”
I froze, wondering who the hell this woman was. I’d thought Reynard had said Hellfire was a guy. Unless he had an amazing disguise spell, this wasn’t the rival mage.
“I studied with them less than a year, and they kicked me out when they discovered I was a Templar. So basically, I have no relationship with them.” Chalese banged an empty pastry tray, letting me know in her not-so-subtle way that she wanted a little help in closing prep. “Look, you need to get to the point or schedule some time to meet with me when I’m not working—preferably at a place where you’re picking up the lunch tab.”
The woman blinked at me, her face conveying obvious shock before she composed herself. Yeah, demanding lunch wasn’t exactly something a Templar Knight would do, but then again, I wasn’t a Knight. Although I’d probably end up being one by the end of next week if that Elder had his way.
“Where is Dark Iron?”
The woman’s question sent a spike of fear through my chest. What did she know? How? No one besides Dario knew I’d killed Dark Iron. Well, I had kinda told that priest, but I hadn’t named the mage and I couldn’t see him outing me, especially since it was kinda-sorta a confession.
Crap. If Chuck could kill a chicken and determine who owned an object, or who had handled it last, then maybe this woman had the ability to divine the identity of a murderer. Was she a necromancer like Russell who summoned Dark Iron’s spirit and learned what had happened?
Suddenly secrets weren’t so secret anymore.
“I’ve got no idea,” I lied. “I don’t exactly socialize with the guy.”
There. Hopefully I was either convincing enough or she believed that a Templar Knight couldn’t lie. All I had to do was be vague and pretend as if I didn’t even know the guy was dead.
“But you do socialize with Reynard,” the woman informed me. “He was seen at your residence last night.”
Another bang of the pastry tray saved me from having to respond, which was a good thing. I was shocked that this woman or her colleagues had been conducting some sort of surveillance on my home. Had she listened in? Probably not or she would have heard that I wasn’t a Knight, and would have known that Reynard and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms right now.
“I’m working.” I grimaced over a Chalese, waving to let her know I was on my way. “We’ll need to continue this discussion at another time. You obviously know where I live, so feel free to stop by during daylight hours. Or call me to set up a meeting.”
The woman knew my address, so I was betting she knew my phone number as well. Could she tap my phone? Listen in to calls? Not that I used the voice feature of my phone all that much, but I did send a lot of texts that I’d always assumed were private.
I left the woman and helped my co-worker clean up for closing, thinking about cybersecurity and wondering who the heck this woman was. Once we’d locked up, I walked Chalese to her car, sword in hand, then made my way up a level in the parking garage to my own vehicle. By the time I got to Tremelay’s house, I was beginning to think I’d jumped to conclusions about someone trying to kill me. Nothing had happened since this morning. Surely if someone wanted me dead, they would have tried to take me out heading to or from work. If they knew enough about my routine to know when and where I jogged each morning, then they would have known my work schedule as well.
Known my routine. Had it been that woman in the coffee shop asking questions? She’d most definitely been watching me and my house, but why shoot first, then ask questions later?
No, it was probably a gang initiation thing. I was freaking out and making a big deal over nothing.
Maybe, but I was still going to have Tremelay look into it, and I was still going to try my spell and see if I could identify who’d shot those bullets.
Tremelay took my statement and took both the casings and the bloody paper towel, then continued to insist I go to the hospital and get myself checked out. I barely made it out of his apartment without having him inspect my boob and stomach. I promised him I’d run by the emergency room or at the very least let the Balaj’s physician-on-call check me out if needed, then headed home. I’d need to order some food, see how Gran was doing, and text Dario. Then get started on my spell. The whole day was turning rather chaotic, and as I headed up the steps to my house, I peeked in my living room window and realized I had company.
Hopefully this company wouldn’t be staying for dinner.
Chapter 7
Opening the door, I found my great grandmother in the living room, sitting across from the woman from the coffee shop. Gaia was curled up on the rug. Fulk was nowhere to be seen. Gran was wearing a red and orange muumuu that made her look as if she were being burned at the stake, or burned on my couch. The woman sat in the most uncomfortable chair in the room as if she were on trial for capital murder, a coffee cup gripped tightly in her hands.
“There you are dear,” Essie said in a grandmotherly voice that was completely unlike her. “We have a guest.”
“I see that.” I turned to the woman. “This isn’t exactly daylight hours.”
What. The. Hell. I was immediately on guard, my hand going to the sword in its scabbard across my back. I stopped just before I drew it, realizing it probably wouldn’t be a good thing for me to skewer a woman in my living room.
It wasn’t myself I feared for, it was Gran. She sat across from the woman as if she were about to pick up her knitting or bring out pictures of her great-great grandkids. Gran was a powerful witch, but she was so old. Maybe her magic had faded with age. Maybe she was no match for this woman across from her. All I knew was that I needed to protect her at all costs.
“It was important that I speak with you tonight.” The woman went to lift her coffee cup to her lips, only to set it hurriedly back down on her lap. That’s when I realized her hands were shaking.
She was afraid. If interrogating me didn’t unsettle her, then I doubted the presence of my sword across my back would. No, I was pretty sure the woman was terrified of my great grandmother. What had Essie done prior to my arrival, because right now she seemed absolutely frail and helpless sitting on the couch with her delicate-boned hands folded in her lap.
“Go ahead then and ask your questions,” Gran said in that strange elderly voice. “One of us needs to be in bed, and one of us has a booty call on his way over. I’ll let you guess which one of us is which.”
I smothered a laugh and took a seat next to Essie. “You said you were looking for Dark Iron? Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you because I have no idea where he is.”
That was not a lie. I’d called in Dario and he’d taken care of everything for me. I really did have no idea where he’d disposed of the body.
The woman set her coffee cup on the table and leaned back in her chair. “See, I think otherwise. I think you know exactly where Dark Iron is.”
I leaned back as well, attempting to stall. “Before I consider answering any of your questions I’d like to know just who the hell you are.”
A muscle twitched in her jaw and she eyed my great grandmother from the corner of her eye. “Grand Magus Golden Hemlock, Justice of the Conclave of Mages.”
I tried really hard to breath evenly. A Justice. A Justice from the Conclave. The group that regulated mages wasn’t known for their speed in addressing matters, but once they got moving they were pretty much like the theoretical object in motion. The fact that they sent a Justice, a Grand Magus, meant they were taking this matter very seriously.
“And you’re here looking for Dark Iron? What did he do this time? Slander the wrong mage? Send a demon after someone? Steal another mage’s spell book?” I studiously kept my voice even, injecting a note of boredom into my tone.
She tilted her head, watching me in a way that made me think I’d completely failed at my little act. “Tell me about your interactions with Dark Iron—both when you were in Haul Du, and when you’d been evicted from the organization. That must have made you angry—him finding out who you were and removing you from the group.”
Crap. Double crap. What had made her suspect me in particular? I was sure there were other people besides me who Dark Iron had pissed off. Either way, I needed to move this woman’s suspicion as far away from me as possible—even though I wasn’t exactly sure what Golden Hemlock knew and didn’t know.
“Dark Iron was a self-centered, arrogant asshole, and I’m not the only person who thought so—both inside and outside of Haul Du. I only stayed with the group because I had become friends with a few of the members and I was eager to learn Goetic magic. As a Templar, it’s one of the few magical subsets that mostly lines up with my vows.”
“But he kicked you out, and forbade any of those mages you’d called friends from speaking to you, or associating with you, ever again,” she replied.
A wave of emotion swept over me. Sadness. Isolation. Feeling adrift and without purpose. Being ousted from Haul Du had hit me hard. Having Raven not return my calls had hit me harder. But Raven had come around, and I now had a purpose. And I was learning magic once more, although that seemed to be a rocky path for me to travel.
I shrugged. “It was one of their rules, and I broke that rule. I understand why they wouldn’t want to allow Templars into their organization. There’s too much room for conflicts of loyalty and interest. Dark Iron is an asshole, but I don’t particularly blame him for kicking me out.”
“But in spite of your being blacklisted from the group, you continued to contact one member—Raven.” Golden Hemlock lifted an eyebrow. “She died, and now her lover, Reynard, has been seen visiting you.”
