Shadow's Blade, page 7
At last the Trejos turned back to me.
“The best we are hoping for,” Marisol said, “is that Engracia decided the children needed some time away from Phoenix. Leaving their father was hard on them. Perhaps she took them camping. They like to camp. Or maybe she would like to find a new place to live. She has spoken of moving to Tucson. Our other daughter is there. Rosa. We have spoken with her, and she has heard nothing from Engracia.”
Eduardo said something else, but Marisol merely glanced at him and shook her head.
Facing me again, she said, “Our worst fear is that Neil has them and is . . . is hurting her as revenge for leaving him.” Her voice broke, and a tear slipped from her eye.
“Neil is her husband.”
She nodded. “Neil Davett. Engracia took his name, as did the children.”
“And where does he live?”
Marisol gave me a street address in the North Mountain section of Phoenix.
I wrote that down, along with Neil’s full name and a few other things I wanted to remember from our conversation.
“Is Neil a weremyste, too?”
She hesitated before nodding. “I think that’s how they met.”
“Is it possible that any of this has something to do with magic?”
Marisol frowned, clearly puzzled by the question. “I don’t understand. Do you mean did someone use magic to make her disappear?”
“No, I—” I shook my head, unsure myself of what I was trying to say. I didn’t want to alarm her or her husband by bringing up the murders by the interstate. I caught Amaya watching me. He shifted his gaze back to Missus Trejo, but I had the distinct impression that he knew exactly what was on my mind. In the past, I had been shocked, and more than a little bit appalled, by his knowledge of what went on inside the PPD. Chances were he had known about the killings at the burger place before I did.
“What I’m trying—”
“Jay wants to know if your daughter has felt threatened by her husband’s magical abilities, or perhaps those of his friends.”
Actually, that wasn’t what I wanted to know, though it was an interesting thought. It made me wonder how much Amaya already knew about Neil Davett.
“Not that I know of,” Marisol said. “I suppose it’s possible.”
Amaya stood. “I think Jay probably has enough to start his investigation. Don’t you, Jay?”
His tone carried another warning. Standing as well, I said, “Yes, I believe so. Does your daughter have a cell phone?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Marisol asked, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “We’ve tried the number all day, but she hasn’t answered. I believe she has it turned off.”
As I would, if I were running away and didn’t want anyone to find me. “Can I have the number anyway, it might come in handy at some point.”
She gave it to me and I added it to my notes. “Does she have a passport, and more to the point, do the children have passports?”
Marisol’s cheeks blanched. “I don’t know. I don’t believe so, but . . . I’m sorry.”
I chanced another quick look Amaya’s way. He didn’t appear pleased. “It’s all right,” I said. “Thank you both. If I have additional questions I’ll be in touch.” To Amaya I said, “I take it I can reach the Trejos through you.”
Marisol and Eduardo got to their feet, both of them frowning, perhaps at the abrupt ending of the conversation.
“Mister Amaya, you know that we don’t have enough money to pay Mister Fearsson. We can’t even—”
Jacinto took her hand, the kind smile on his face completely at odds with the glower he’d given me moments before. “It is my expense, Señora,” he said. “Jay has worked for me in the past.” His gaze flicked in my direction. “And no doubt will again in the future.”
“But we couldn’t—”
“Of course you can. You are in need; Engracia may be in trouble. It’s the least I can do for you.”
She smiled, though she seemed to be on the verge of tears. “Thank you, Mister Amaya. God bless you.”
He kissed her cheek, then shook hands with Eduardo and wished him a good night in Spanish. “Paco,” he called.
Paco loomed in the arched entrance to the living room. He could have been Rolon’s twin—in size as well as appearance—except for the goatee and mustache he had grown since last I saw him. He nodded once to me before turning his attention back to his boss.
“Will you see the Trejos home?”
“Of course.”
“Use one of the SUVs. Take Rolon and check the house before you leave them. Understand?”
“You got it.” He smiled at the Trejos and led them out of the house.
Even after they had left the living room, Amaya said nothing to me. Only when the thump of the front door’s close echoed through the house did he remove his suit jacket and say, “Drink?”
“A beer, please.”
He walked to the wet bar near the bank of windows, took two bottles of Bohemia Stout from the refrigerator, and opened them both. Returning to where I stood, he handed me one and clinked the top of his against the top of mine.
“Sit,” he said, lowering himself into the leather chair once more.
I sat as well.
He sipped his beer and loosened his necktie. “I would have preferred that you not frighten her quite so much.”
“There were questions I had to ask. Otherwise I can’t do the job you’ve hired me to do.”
His expression soured, but he didn’t argue the point. “So, what do you think?”
“I think you know a lot more about what happened to Engracia than you’re letting on.”
Amaya glared at me, offering no reply for several seconds. “Gracie,” he said at last.
“Excuse me?”
“Her parents still call her Engracia, but she goes by Gracie. Gracie Davett.”
“That doesn’t sound very Latina.”
“How about that?” he said without a trace of humor. “Now answer my question.”
“How much do you know about the husband?”
“Very little. I’ve met Gracie once, and that was a few years ago. Marisol teaches Spanish at the school my daughter attends. She’s one of Chofi’s favorite teachers—that’s how I know her. I saw the magic on her and was interested to know more. I learned that she uses blockers and hasn’t cast a spell in years. I don’t think Eduardo approves of magic, although he and I have never spoken of it.”
“But Gracie casts, doesn’t she?”
He drank more of his beer. “You tell me.”
“She’s wanted for murder.”
His eyes widened enough to tell me that he hadn’t known this. “Thank you for not mentioning this in front of her parents.”
“Why would dark sorcerers be after her?”
“Because she’s not one of them. That’s all the excuse they need.”
“Is her husband one of them?”
“An interesting question. One you should check into as part of your investigation.”
I took a swig of beer. It wasn’t my favorite, but it was richer than most Mexican beers, and Amaya seemed to like it a lot. It was the only beer he had ever served me.
“I was wondering when we’d get to that. I take it you want me to find Gracie Davett.”
“And her children,” Jacinto said. “You’re to bring them here.”
“That might not be possible. If she’s wanted for murder—”
“Who did she kill?”
“The police don’t know yet. He wasn’t carrying any ID.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “In your experience, is that often true of the virtuous and blameless?”
“That’s not the point, and you know it. I can’t get in the way of a murder investigation without making myself an accessory.”
“Do you really think that a mother—at least any sane mother—would commit a murder in front of her young children?”
I’d been arguing the same point with Kona only a few hours before. So why did I resist agreeing with the man? Probably because he already felt like he controlled me, and because I felt that he did, too. And I didn’t like it. Still, I couldn’t deny that he had a point. “No,” I said. “But the fact remains, she’s wanted for murder, and the Phoenix police are going to be searching for her. Anything I do to get in their way is going to land me in a lot of trouble.”
“Then I’d suggest you prove her innocent.”
I should have known he’d say something like that.
Another thought occurred to me.
“What do you know about an older weremyste?” I asked. “Silver-haired with a trim goatee?”
“He and I have never met, but I’ve heard others speak of him.”
“Do you know his name?”
Amaya glanced down at his beer. “I don’t.”
I tried to decide if I believed him, not that it mattered at the moment. I wasn’t about to call him a liar to his face. “Did these others happen to mention that he could kill simply by laying a hand on someone?”
He raised his gaze to mine. “Yes, they did. You might want to avoid letting him touch you.”
CHAPTER 6
I left Amaya’s house a short time later, once we had worked out the details of our business arrangement. He didn’t like my new rates, but we both knew that with all the high-profile cases I had solved in recent months, I could charge pretty much anything I wanted. And it wasn’t as though Jacinto could plead poverty.
Once I was outside, one of his guards gave me back my Glock. I walked to my car, slowing as I gazed up at the moon. A week until it waxed full, six days until the phasing began, and already I sensed it pulling at my thoughts, like a cat unravelling a ball of yarn.
I opened the car door, but continued to stand there, staring up at the face of the quarter moon. Something about that silver-haired man had bothered me since the moment Kona first mentioned him to me. Something other than the ease with which he could kill. But only now, bathed in moon glow did I realize what it was.
He was that rarest of magical beings: an old weremyste who seemed to be functioning and sane. How could that be?
I knew that Saorla had protected the weremancers who worked for her from the monthly effects of the phasings, and I wondered if she had been guarding this man from the moon’s influence for enough years to preserve his sanity. I had also learned from Namid that the more skilled and powerful a weremyste became, the more he or she could resist the worst of what the runemyste called “the moontimes.” Perhaps the sheer might of the magic this man wielded was enough to keep him from losing his mind. Either way, I wasn’t looking forward to meeting him, particularly if that encounter didn’t happen until the phasing began.
I climbed into the car and started back toward Billie’s house.
I was about halfway to Highway 101 when I figured out I was being followed. Whoever was behind me didn’t have much experience tailing people. I could tell, because I had a ton of experience. He was following too closely, maintaining a short distance between us.
No doubt it was another of Saorla’s friends.
I continued past the on-ramp to the highway, figuring I would be safer on surface roads if my shadow decided to attack. I steered myself onto Scottsdale Road, and followed it through the heart of the town. It made for slower going, but I was fine with that. I even took a few extra detours onto side streets, each time making my way back to the main road, so that I could be certain the guy in the trailing car really was following me.
He made every turn with me, sometimes idling at red lights right on my rear bumper. Eyeing him in my rearview mirror, I could nearly make out his features. I knew he was alone, and though I suppose it was possible that this was the silver-haired weremancer, I somehow doubted that such a dangerous enemy would prove to be this much of an idiot. Whoever it was drove a Hyundai sedan, late model, metallic green. Not exactly a muscle car. I probably could have shaken him if I tried. But I wanted to talk to him.
At the next side street, I made a sharp right, accelerating through the curve and speeding down a narrow residential lane. The Hyundai came after me. I made a second right onto another residential street. It was empty except for a few parked cars. I hit the brakes and spun the wheel so that I came to a stop blocking both lanes of the road. Moments later, my shadow slung around the corner and, seeing me, slammed on the brakes. He threw his car into reverse, but I’d had enough of this.
Three elements. His tire, my hand, and a long, sharp knife. I heard the tire blow, watched as the car swerved and slowed. When it came to a complete stop, the driver’s side door opened and the man inside got out. Despite the dim light, I could make out the smudge of magic across his face.
I warded myself and climbed out of the Z-ster. For the moment, I kept my Glock holstered.
“You were interested in speaking with me?” I asked. “Or do you just tail strange cars at night as a hobby?”
He was about my height, light brown hair, handsome in a non-descript way. He might once have been an athlete, but he had developed a small paunch that his flannel shirt couldn’t quite hide.
“I want to know where my wife and kids are.”
I nodded, knowing that I should have expected this. “Neil Davett.”
“That’s right. Who the hell are you?”
“You followed me without having any idea of who I was. That’s pretty dumb, Neil.”
“Screw you! I can take care of myself. Now where are they?”
“I had been planning to look you up and ask the same question,” I said.
He scowled. “I don’t believe you.”
I took a few steps in his direction, muttering an attack spell to myself, in case he threw a casting my way. He had some power; I could tell that much from the amount of blurring on his features. And clearly he didn’t lack for confidence. But I didn’t believe he was much of a threat. Unless, of course, I managed to tick him off.
“So first you follow me, not knowing who I am, and then you call me a liar. You’re not the brightest bulb on the marquee, are you?”
“And that’s the second time you’ve called me dumb. Now, I’m going to give you one more chance to answer my questions. Who are you, and where the hell is my wife?”
“My name is Jay Fearsson. I’m a private investigator, and I’ve been hired by Eduardo and Marisol Trejo to find your wife and children.”
He had been coiled, readying himself for a fight. But he straightened at that, his brow furrowing. “They don’t have the money to hire a PI.”
“No, they don’t. But they have a friend who does.”
“Amaya.”
Maybe he wasn’t quite as dumb as I’d thought. “That’s right. They say that you’ve been abusing Gracie. They think that’s why she ran away.”
His jaw bunched, and I thought for sure he’d throw a spell at me. But he kept his temper in check. “That’s between Gracie and me.”
“All right, then tell me this: do you have any idea why dark sorcerers might be after her?”
“What makes you think they are?”
I stared back at him, keeping my expression neutral. If he didn’t know about the confrontation at the burger place I wasn’t going to tell him. But his bearing had changed, becoming guarded, wary. He wasn’t bristling with testosterone anymore. If anything, he appeared scared. Talking about Gracie and the kids was one thing; he didn’t like the turn our conversation had taken.
“Answer me!” he said, sounding more whiny than threatening.
“I have my reasons,” I said. “You been playing with blood magic? Maybe getting Gracie involved in stuff she shouldn’t be doing?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. And you don’t know anything about Gracie. She doesn’t—” He stopped himself and leveled a finger at me. “I don’t care what you’ve been hired to do. You keep away from my family, and you stay the hell out of my way.”
I’d had enough. I released the attack spell I’d allowed to build inside of me. I figured that Neil had warded himself, but I also thought that my crafting would be more than enough to get his attention, even through his magical shield. I was right on both scores.
The spell I cast was the equivalent of a fist to the gut, if that fist happened to belong to a magical Rocky Balboa. Neil doubled over with an audible grunt. A moment later he dropped to the ground, landing on his butt.
He raised his eyes to mine and gritted his teeth, giving me warning enough to brace myself. Magic charged the air and his spell hit me full in the chest, knocking me back on my heels. I had hit him in the gut rather than the face because I didn’t want to risk drawing blood that he could then use to enhance his casting. Even so, his crafting was more potent than I had expected.
A second spell hit me, much like the first. But though the impact staggered me, my warding held.
“All right,” I said. “We’ve proven to each other that we can cast, and that our wardings work. What now?”
He reached around to his back and the next thing I knew, something in his hand flashed with the cool glow of a nearby streetlight. I grabbed for my weapon and leveled it at him.
“Don’t do it, Neil!”
He hesitated, the knife blade hovering over the back of his hand. I didn’t want to see what he could do with blood magic.
“You’re not going to shoot me.”
“I will if you draw blood for a spell. I won’t have any choice, will I? And now that you’re holding that knife, I can claim it was self-defense.”
Doubt crept into his eyes.
“I used to be a cop. I know how these things work.”
Still he hesitated.
Three elements. His hand, his knife, my hand. It had been a while since I had worked on my transporting spells, but I’d pulled off a complicated one earlier in the day, and this one was as rudimentary as such a casting could be. One moment he was holding the blade, and the next minute I was. His eyes went so wide I almost laughed.
As a precaution, I warded my hand and pistol. I didn’t want him using the same spell against me.
“When was the last time you saw Gracie?” I asked him.
Nothing.
