At the Behest of the Dead (8 page)

The place was qui
et. Music piped in that sounded like some Diana Kroll. It’s always a good idea to keep the caffeine addicts sated while they sip. Play some Metallica and there might be a riot.

Figures sat behind laptops, faces obscu
red while they surfed the free wi-fi or worked on the next great American novel. I have a friend named Jonathan that writes books. He said he camps out at a coffee shop four to six hours a day. I wonder what they would say if I came in here with my parchment paged books and drew in charcoal and blood for a few hours.

There were three people in line so I joined them. The person in front of me turned, looked me up and down, glanced at hi
s watch and then strolled out. Warlocks, chasing people out of coffee shops since 1993.

The woman asked what the guy ahead of me was interested in. He rattled off a complicated drink and she made marks on the side of the cup that would make an
arcanist proud. I took in the muffins and donuts in the glass enclosure.

When I stepped up to the counter
, I already had a couple of bucks in hand. The barista’s nametag said Ashley but the last three letters were struck out with a ballpoint pen. She tried not to stare but her eyes failed that little challenge and they drifted over the belt of potions, pouches, and instruments of witchcraft that adorned my robe under the unzipped leather jacket.

I had watched a documentary a few months ago about people that dr
essed up like superheroes and patrolled the street. They had complicated outfits complete with masks and tools. I looked at my gear and choked back a laugh.

“Um. Can I help you?” She continued to look my gear up and down. I sure knew how to impress the ladies.

“Thanks. I’m trying to get into a fraternity.”

“You look a little bit old to be in college.” She smirked.

“Okay. I’m a sofa repairman. I make house calls.”

“That I almost believe.” Ashley’s
hair was a shade of auburn that bordered on red. She had a dash of sprinkles across her nose. No face rings to speak off, no tattoos. What was a girl like this doing working at a Starbucks?

She continued to stare with the most amazing emerald eyes I had ever seen.

“Right. Tall Americano, but put it in a big cup. I’m flying tonight.”

“So you make
house calls in other states?” she asked as she wrote on the side of a cup.

She gently swayed to the music. It was customary to enter any coffee shop in Seattle and be greeted by either surly hipsters or college students with noses studiously buried in books. Ashley wasn’t eighteen. She looked young but her cool confidence had to put her closer to thirty.

I handed over a few bucks and she handed back some change. I didn’t want to look like a cheap ass so I dropped a dollar in the tip box.

“That’s right. There’s an emergency in Denver. A chaise lounge is in danger of being left in a previous decade.”

“Sounds thrilling. Do you have your own jet?”

Ashley bumped the male barista out of the way and arched her eyes at the cash register. He sighed and rubbed at his quarter inch of facial stubble. His hair looked like he’s spent half an hour making it appear as if he had just woken up.

“I do as a matter of fact. But it barely seats two.”

“Worst pickup line ever.
” She looked up from under her auburn curls.

M
y face flushed.

“No, I wasn’t trying to be smooth.” I tried to recover.

“Clearly.” She grinned and finished my drink.

“Pardon me?”

“Do you want room – in the cup?” She pointed at it and stared pointedly at me.

“I’m an idiot. Sorry.”

“I don’t know if you’re an idiot but you do dress … strangely.”

“Tools of
the trade.” I rattled my bandolier.

“I meant the leather. Were you in a motorcycle gang in the seventies?”

“You’d be surprised what I did in the seventies.”

“Right. Me too. I was a gleam in my mother’s eye. She probably wore
flowers in her hair and danced in meadows. Were your parents hippies?”

“More like gypsies. They had some stranger rituals.”

She laughed as if I were joking. I didn’t know who my parents had been. For all I knew they had been gypsies. She also had the wrong century in mind.

I sipped the coffee and burned the hell out of my lips
, but I didn’t take my eyes off her.

“The lid does have a little warning on top that the beverage you are about to enjoy is hot.”

“Maybe I can’t read so well. Can I sue? My lip is going to swell up like a plum.”

She chuckled and spun around to pick up a small clear plastic cup. She dumped a couple of pieces of ice into it and handed it to me. I stared at it for a second then took a piece and nursed my swollen lip.

“Not anymore. You have acknowledged the burn was your own fault by applying ice instead of calling a lawyer. Now, if you had called a lawyer right away and made a complaint maybe they could have helped. But I’m now a witness to the fact that you freely took aid and even smiled when I mentioned the warning on the lid.”

“You are good,
” I conceded.

“I should be. I’ve put enough money into my legal career to buy a house.”

She took a cup from “just woke up and forgot to shave” and read the side. The same hieroglyphics meant something to her because she squirted some kind of liquid into the cup and then hit it with espresso.

“Maybe we can work
together to bring down the man?” I suggested.

“I work for the man. Not a good career decision. So what are all those vials really for?”

“I’m a warlock.”

“The sofa repair
man was a better line of work.”

“You don’t believe me?”

She laughed. “I had a friend once that was into the occult. She dated a guy who claimed to be a warlock, but I think he was playing her. The only trick he could do was get her out of her panties, which were notoriously frigid.”

I sputtered as I took a sip of coffee.

“Warlocks have a few more talents, I can assure you.”

“Right. Well. I should get back to work now.”

“Nice chatting with you, Ashley.”

“Ash. I go by Ash.” She flashed me a smile then grabbed the next cup and ignored me. After a few seconds
, I decided that I didn’t look very smooth after all and walked out of the coffee shop.

There was something about Ashley – Ash
-- that I couldn’t get out of my head. Was it her confidence? Her easy laugh at my bad jokes? I should have gone back and continued to make an ass out of myself, but I had a job to do.

Chapter Four

W
ith picture in hand I was convinced I was at the spot of one of the murders. My tools came out and I repeated the spell again. This time I was in luck, but the form was nearly depleted, and when its corporeal energy was exhausted there would be nothing to latch onto.

“How goes it?” the voice of Detective Andrews interrupted my concentration. I was hunched over, studying a form, which was barely a wisp. To anyone else it
would have looked like the barest hint of smoke. More like a light mist rising off the ground on a warm morning. At least I got something more concrete this time. A few of the first locations gave me nothing.

I followed the direction it leaned
toward and marked a spot on the envelope. I was drawing the location of each body on a crude map while a suspicion formed.

“You following me?”

“Yes,” she said. “So how is the investigation?”

“I’m getting a little bit, a hint. I hope the next one tells me more. I started with the oldest murder
, and by the time I get to the newest one I should be able to triangulate the location. From there I use the oldest tool in the book.”

“A spell?”

“Wrong book. Intuition.”

“My ex had good intuition. He left me for someone that had their life together.”

Andrews looked better than she had earlier in the day and I guessed she’d recently had a dose of whatever she was addicted to. She had on a non-descript dark blue jacket that would probably look very official with SPD printed on the back.

I sipped the coffee as I studied her eyes. She glanced up and down the street and I could tell she was much calmer.
More relaxed and accepting. Maybe too relaxed. How much and what was she on exactly?

“Hey Phineas, I hope I didn’t say anything to offend you earlier. I’m really disturbed by the murders and
, well, I don’t normally turn to paranormal means to solve them. Okay, I’ve never turned to paranormal anything.”

“No worries
, and I’m not offended in the least. Walk with me,” I said and we fell into step together.

We passed several bars on the way up
Yestler Street to the next location. Revelers sipped beer outside so they could smoke, bundled up in thick jackets but laughing at jokes just the same. There weren’t many tourists this time of year but I marked one or two, probably here on business. The emerald city did have a reputation for the high tech.

“So you’re not married?” I asked.

“Was. He left and took the kids.” She didn’t sound bitter.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“So was I. I was even sorrier to learn he left me for another man. It’s okay now. We make better friends than a married couple.”

Jesus ..

“I saw that little move at the crime scene. Was it real?”

“Real enough.”

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“I’ve
seen ...”

“Some wild things in your time
, but you’ve never seen magic. I’ve never heard that one before. Bet you’ve never seen monkeys fly out of someone’s butt either. Doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

“Very funny
, smart guy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A cold breeze kicked up and threw my robe around my body. A blast flew up and rushed over my chest, cooling the pentagram there. The chill that followed sank into my bones and made my hair stand on end.

“Oh.”

I stopped in front of a nondescript green door. There were no signs, but I was familiar with it.

“The next location is in this alley, just around the …”
she said, stopping to watch me as I stared at the door. “You know where that goes, right?”

“I know
, and I think I know what our problem is. You ever seen a real angry changer go rogue detective?”

“Sometimes it’s like you’re speaking a different language. I’ve never seen a changer
, let alone an angry one.”

“They get too used to their ot
her shape. Maybe they kill a guy for no real reason except for the thrill. They get addicted to the blood and then they fall for the solitude. The part that was human is slowly leeched away and they become their other self.  Well I think that’s our problem, and I think he’s using this area as a base of operations.” It was the longest thing I had said to the detective.

She stared at me and her eyes seemed to grow together as she considered my words. The detective
was angry. That much was clear. There was a lot of prejudice against my kind, but it was worse when it came to the changers. Fear of the unknown peaked when humans were able to change into animals.

“You serious? A goddamn changer, here?”

“Changers are everywhere and most want to be left alone. We may have a unique one. I can’t remember seeing a changer go wild like this in a long time.”

“How long?”

“Maybe a hundred years ago. Might be a bit less than that. I’d have to check the records.”

“A hundred, huh?” Sh
e scoffed.

A couple of guys walked by holding red cups. Unless I missed my guess
, the cups were full of beer. If it was illegal to drink on the street, Andrews didn’t seem to care.

“I don’t trust them.”

“Why not? They’re people.”

“I don’t know. N
o one likes their kind.”

“Have you ever talked to one before?” I felt ridiculous standing outside the site of a potential murder investigation while we discussed the same old prejudices that have haunted the races for millennia.

A blob of white fell from the sky and slapped the ground next to the detective’s feet. I looked up at the top of the building and could have sworn I saw two massive hawk feathers slip over the side.

“Shit!” s
he said and jumped back.

She brushed h
erself off, as if the bird crap had touched her. That reminded me to ask Frank if he took a crap like a normal guy when he was his human shape.

“So, anything here? Can you sense it or something?”

“Not unless I do some fancy spells that will take a lot of time and cost the Seattle police force a lot of money.” Well, I had one sign and it was weak. I just had a gut feeling that something was up, especially since we were standing in front of the entrance to the subterranean passages that made up the Seattle underground. “It’s more of a feeling, I guess.”