Banshee Hunt (8 page)

Many men suffered betrayal and divorce. He knew he was no different to them in that. And many men reacted badly to the divorce. Searching out younger girlfriends and buying sports cars. Having their own versions of mid-life crises. But not many men had had their wives come to them out of the blue and tell them they were leaving them for their little brother. Not many had then been completely character assassinated in court by their soon to be ex-wives while their little brother looked on laughing. Not many had the supposedly impartial judge swearing at them in court and even locking them up for contempt when they hadn't actually said anything. And none had then had their ex-wives sell their eight year old daughter to a white slaver ring for twenty thousand dollars, simply so that their little brother could have a little spending money.

Against that abomination he thought his character flaws could be understood. Even considered minor. His car was expensive but old and not showy. His apartment was modest. And there was no twenty year old bimbo running around half naked making a nuisance of herself. If he was a little distant and suspicious they could deal with it.

Unfortunately Will didn't seem to agree.

“Honestly some days I don't know why I bother.” Will sighed. “You're the hunter. You're supposed to lead and inspire your team. Instead you're like a black hole sucking the life out of the office.”

“That seems harsh.” Though not as harsh as he wanted to pretend it was.

“Is it? Is it really?” Will fixed him with a stare. “You know you're letting everyone down. You're letting yourself down too.”

“I have my reasons.” James tried to defend himself though he knew he shouldn't.

“No. You had reasons. Emphasis on had. Past tense. It's been five years now. You could have learned to lighten up a little. Let a few things go. Instead …” Will gestured at the apartment. “… look at this place. It's like a vacuum as far as personality goes. No art. No colour. Nothing of interest. Boring furnishings. A complete triumph of sterility.”

He was right James knew, though coming from a man dressed up as a cowboy it seemed like an unfair criticism. The apartment was boring. James kept it that way deliberately. After the end of his marriage and his brother's betrayal, he'd felt the need to get rid of anything that reminded him of his old life. And then he'd never replaced what he'd thrown away with anything new.

“I like to think of it as tidy.”

“Oh it's tidy alright. Mausoleums usually are!”

“In fact now that I think of it –.” Will waved an arm and suddenly the table had a new centre piece. A peace lily in a clay pot. “That looks better. A little colour can always help. Call it a belated house warming gift.”

That was the cowboy's magic. He was a summoner, able to grab small things, often living things, and simply deposit them wherever he wanted them. He could also send them away as well. It was a useful skill in some ways. But it was also theft. James had no idea at all where the pot plant had come from, but he was sure that somewhere out there someone was missing their peace lily. At least it wasn't their pet cat.

“I've been here seven years.”

“I said it was belated didn't I!”

James was saved from having to respond by the sound of the kettle boiling. So instead he busied himself pouring the hot water into the plunge pot and carried it and a mug out to the dining area. He didn't bother with milk or sugar. Will didn't touch them. They weren't the sort of things cowboys liked. Their coffee was always strong and black. At least in Will's world.

“So, no new case?” James tried to turn the conversation back to more comfortable topics.

“Not at the moment. Intelligence thought for a while that we might have a rogue elementalist. But it turns out that lightning really can strike the same person twice. Especially if he's stupid enough to play golf in the middle of a thunder storm.” Will managed a wry smile as he said the last, as if there was something amusing in the thought of a man being struck by lightning.

“Besides, you don't have time for a new case. You need to give your report to the elders on Monday morning first thing. And there will be questions asked.”

James didn't bother asking what questions he was talking about. He knew them already. He'd heard them a hundred times before. Why hadn't he kept them updated on his investigation? Why hadn't he called for backup? Why had he confronted the witch alone? Why didn't he ever answer his phone? Did he not understand how dangerous a rogue witch could be? So instead of asking he just grunted his understanding at his boss. It was enough.

He hated going before the elders. Though in some way they seemed just like normal people – executives in a boardroom in their own private building – the truth was that they were anything but. They were some of the most powerful of the magical community around. They had explored their gifts and studied their magic until they could do things others could only dream of. And he was fairly sure most of them could kill him with a thought. But despite that they always treated him politely and even expressed concern. That confused him.

“Matti's doing well I hear.” Will changed the subject to something less annoying.

“She is. I just got the latest reports from her teachers. She’s apparently doing well at school and is getting her magic under control. I got an email from her this morning. They're talking about her and her class going on a biology camp. She's really looking forward to it.”

The Liberty Academy might cost a small fortune, but he figured it was worth every penny for the work they did with their students. And they sent him her school photos too. He'd kept every one of Matti's photos. One day he thought he might even frame them. If he couldn't actually talk to her over the phone or visit her, they were at least something to value. She was doing very well. But more important than that she was making lifelong friends with the other kids at the boarding school.

That was the part he cared about. It was good that she was doing well in school. Better that she was showing signs of having her gift under control. But that she was happy was what really mattered. And maybe he hoped, having friends would help keep her on a good path in life. To steer her away from the path Francis had chosen.

Maybe it helped that her gift was what they called animus magic. Life magic. If she applied herself the teachers said that in time she could make a great doctor. A doctor with a secret ability to help her patients. That was his hope anyway. Of course, he knew after five long years of hunting the magical down that every form of magical gift was open to abuse. All magic had a dark side. So a mentalist could counsel people with psychological problems or mentally enslave her patients. A blood mage could create precious elixirs or steal vital essence. And an animus witch could cure her patients or kill them. The elders claimed it wasn’t a case of the magic being bad. They said it was about the power that magic offered. The temptation. Still, he liked to think of her only walking into the light.

He couldn't stand to think of her taking Francis' dark path in life. And he didn't know what he would do if she did start down it. He didn't even understand why some people took that path. Francis had been a well-loved child, though perhaps that had been in part his magic at work. He could make people love him. Maybe that was what had made him go bad?

Everyone said that there were certain gifts that tempted people more than others. And that Francis’ gift of fascination was one of the most difficult to withstand. It was hard for a child to grow up straight when he could get anything he wanted simply with a word. Still, what he had done spoke of more than just a spoilt child growing into a rotten man. It spoke of some deeper sickness within him.

There was the coldness for one. His complete lack of care for his own family – except for James of course who Francis had hated with a passion. He probably still hated him – from prison. But long before that Francis had drained their parents dry financially, not giving a damn that they simply didn't have the money. He could have taken from anyone. He could have spread his theft about to ease the burden. But he hadn't. He had set out to completely destroy their parents. And he had very nearly done so. Why? James still didn’t know.

Next, Francis had gone after Sheryl. Not because she was an attractive woman – she was but James would never be so stupid as to believe that that had anything to do with it. Francis could have had any woman he wanted thanks to his gift. He had had a lot. In fact from the time his power had manifested fully he had become a true sexual predator. He had had his way with half the women in the neighbourhood. Whoever had caught his eye. And now there was a real possibility that he had a dozen or more children – not that he knew or cared. Going after Sheryl though had been Francis' way of striking at him. James was his older brother and the only one who had ever said no to him. Apparently Francis hadn’t taken the word “no” very well.

At that time James had had no understanding that magic existed. He'd never understood that Francis could make people do anything he wanted with a word. That that was even possible. And his parents, already well under Francis' spell, had not told him the truth about how bad things had become. That they were broke and practically homeless. That Francis had been destroying happy homes across the entire neighbourhood. Getting straight A's on his report cards without even going to school or doing any of the work. Stealing too. He'd actually had a bank manager empty out his own bank and bring him the money.

So while he'd been away from home, studying, becoming a cop and then a detective – a husband and a father in time – Francis had been slowly growing up into a monster and destroying everyone around him. Purely for his amusement. He'd also been nursing a grudge, one that had grown in him like a noxious weed. A grudge based purely on one thing – that James could say no to him.

Ultimately Francis had taken Sheryl away from him, destroyed her, and then turned his wife into a weapon to be used against him. And all while James had stood there helplessly, wondering what was happening. How could his then eighteen year old little brother have not only seduced his wife but convinced her that she loved him? And then gone on to convince her that James could not be trusted to even see his daughter? Those had been two hellish years.

But even that wasn't enough for Francis. There was never enough vengeance. Even after he'd destroyed his family and stolen his home from him, Francis had still been dissatisfied with his revenge. So he had gone after James’ baby daughter. It was the ultimate means he had of hurting him. And that was when everything had gone horribly wrong for all of them.

Francis hadn't stood far enough back from the storm he'd created. His need to see his vengeance carried out had ultimately been his undoing. It had cost him his looks, his power and his freedom. But it had also cost James his career and very nearly his liberty. It had cost Sheryl her sanity. And it had very nearly cost Matti her life. Only the Illuminati had been able to put things back together, however imperfectly. And there had been a price. He was still paying it.

James still worried about his daughter. He tried in his court permitted weekly emails, to make sure that she understood that. At his monthly court appointed visitations too. But she was a thirteen year old girl. He didn't know what she understood. And he had to be so very careful not to overload her with emotional baggage she wasn't ready to handle. Children needed to be allowed to grow up as children.

“Sheryl's not doing so well.”

“I heard.” James was non-committal about his ex-wife. He always was. After what she had done to him he had to be. Because in the end he didn't know whether any of the betrayals she had committed were down to her or only to Francis. When his brother had developed into what they called a fascinator with the ability to completely sway minds with barely a word, it became impossible to know anything. Had she dumped him, her husband of a decade or more and gone with Francis simply because he had willed it? Or because she had wanted to? And had she given their daughter away to child slavers simply because Francis had wanted the money? Or was it partly Sheryl's decision too? James could never be certain. All he really knew was that he could never look at her again.

Especially when even after he'd rescued Matti and Francis had been locked away, she'd still maintained the fiction that he was a violent drunk who needed to be kept at arm’s length from his daughter. True she didn't know what he'd done. But Francis' control should have worn off in time.

“They're talking about another stay in the hospital.”