Wild Card (6 page)

“You know why I’ve been awake; what’s been keeping
you
up?” I asked.

“Kidnappings.” A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Children.”

In my opinion, if heated spikes didn’t cover the floors in the part of the Lower Hells where they put people who took and abused children, there should be.

“How many?” I asked.

“Eight.”

I gaped. “Eight? But I haven’t heard—”

“Because we’re just now confirming that they
were
kidnapped.”   

“Uh, either they’re gone or they’re not.”

“Souls, Raine. The kidnappers left the bodies. They took the souls.”

There were acts too horrifying to contemplate. Stealing the souls of anyone, let alone children, was one of them.

The cries I’d heard last night coming from Sethis Mortsani immediately came to mind. Nachtmagi communicated with souls and helped them get to where they were going. I’d never heard of one being able to actually imprison one. That was an activity left to dark mages of the highest level.

“At first, parents thought it was some kind of illness when they couldn’t wake their children up,” Janek told me. “A lot of healers haven’t had any experience with missing souls. Two of them knew the signs and reported it to the watch. And we figured if two had been taken. . .”

“There were more,” I said.

Janek nodded. “We hoped we were wrong, but weren’t going to put out too much hope. We immediately got the word out to the healer community of what signs to look for.” He paused. “As of this morning, we have eight kids missing.”

“Did anyone see a cat sith lurking around?”

“This wasn’t your usual cat sith wandering over from the Daith Swamp looking for a late-night soul snack. The kids went to bed, and their parents couldn’t wake them the next morning. The doors and windows of the houses were locked; no one came in or out. The healers who’ve seen this before got together some clued-in colleagues. They’ve made the rounds to the affected children and put them in stasis.”

I knew what that meant. In cases of poisoning when an antidote isn’t immediately available, or medicine in the case of an illness, an experienced healer can put a patient under the effects of a temporary stasis spell to keep the poison or illness from progressing further. The process takes a hell of a lot of effort and stamina. The longest I’d ever heard of a stasis spell lasting was three days. After that you’d have two dead bodies on your hands—the patient and their dead-from-exhaustion healer.

“How long ago?” I asked.

“Two days.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Our only break is a cloaked and hooded man was seen near three of the houses where a soul abduction took place.”

“It’s cold at night; everyone’s wrapped up.”

“Traveling with a knee-high friend stinking of sulfur?”

“Sounds like a dark mage with a demon familiar.”

“That’s what we’re going with.”

“Janek, you can’t swing a dead swamp rat without hitting a dark mage in this town. Even the Conclave produces more than their fair share.”

The Conclave was the governing body for all magic users in the seven kingdoms. They were based on the Isle of Mid where they also had a college for students with exceptional magical talent. Most of those kids turned out just fine. Some didn’t. The Conclave prosecuted those who practiced black magic to the fullest extent of their laws. Speaking as a magic user who knew plenty of folks straddling the line between white and black magic, I’d seen the ugly results firsthand.

The Conclave laws saw everything—especially magic and its practitioners—in black and white, light or dark. But life and the people who lived it were mostly shades of gray. Just because you practiced white magic didn’t mean you were an angel, and occasional black magic usage didn’t mean you were evil incarnate.

Until a decade ago, those healers who’d placed those children into stasis would have been prosecuted as practicing black magic. The overturned Conclave law had said that to interfere with the natural progression of death once the soul had left the body was punishable by death.

If you prevented a death, you’d be put to death.

Oh yeah, that made all kinds of sense.

As to having a familiar, magic users of any stripe could have one. But a guy seen at three of eight houses where children’s souls had been stolen with a pint-sized accomplice stinking of sulfur?

If something looked like black magic and smelled like black magic, sometimes that’s exactly what it was.

“Okay, how do you know it’s a man?” I hated to speak ill of my own sex, but it’d been my unfortunate experience that women were capable of more evil than men, especially when it came to children.

“Height, shoulders, and movement.”

Made sense. “Skin color?”

“Too dark to see. Robe sleeves covered the hands, and the witnesses couldn’t tell if he was wearing gloves.”

There was a knock at the door.

A young watcher stuck his head in. “Nachtmagus Adler is here, sir.”

“Thank you, Tom. Send her in.”

I stood.

“Could you stay for this, Raine? I’d like you to meet Malina.”

I nodded once, tightly.

I really didn’t want to be in the same room with a nachtmagus right now, even the legitimate kind. They still dealt with dead people for a living. I’d heard that most undertakers had a wonderful sense of humor, but I didn’t want to be around them, either. I knew I was going to die one of these days, probably in a messy and violent way. I’d deal with it then; I didn’t want to look its handmaid in the eye now.

I tried to settle my face into a neutral—though open and welcome—expression. It probably looked more like a panicked grimace. 

Janek made the introductions.

Nachtmagus Malina Adler took one look at me and raised an eyebrow. “Mistress Benares, I assure you I left my scythe outside.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I hope you don’t play cards,” Janek said.

“Mainly, I leave that to my cousin.”

“Good. But if you ever decide to chip up, let me know. I’m always looking for a new mark to fleece.”

“Funny.”

“At least I’m trying.”

I had to admit Malina Adler didn’t look like the Grim Reaper. I didn’t know of anyone who considered robin’s-egg blue the color of impending death. 

That was the color of her eyes and her outer robe. Her hair was silver and was pulled up into a sensible bun that probably had nothing to do with avoiding the grabby hands of a newly raised zombie. And she didn’t smell like sulfur either, more like freshly baked sweet rolls.

Without consulting me, my nose took a confused sniff. I generally didn’t go around smelling people.

Malina Adler noticed and grinned as she opened the carryall strapped over her shoulder.

“I told Maira that you’re working a particularly bad case and she sent these over,” the nachtmagus said to Janek.

Once that bag was open, my nose knew that aroma sent from heaven anywhere. I’d just eaten two of them.  

Maira Takis’s sugar knots.

Malina Adler held up her hand. “And before you tell me that you can’t accept these because your men have been working just as hard, I left two bags in the squad room for them.”

That was all the encouragement Janek needed.

“And Mistress Benares, please help yourself. Janek tells me you will be helping us catch this soul stealer. And my sister would be disappointed if you didn’t have at least one. She thinks very highly of you.”

I didn’t know where to start from that list of surprises, but my indignation decided for me. I gave Janek a look that expressed my feelings before I’d said one word. “Apparently, Janek hasn’t gotten around to asking me yet.” It wouldn’t be the first time.

The chief watcher grinned sheepishly from around the sugar knot he’d just all but stuffed in his mouth. “I would’ve.”

“I’m sure. I’m working a case right now,” I told the nachtmagus, “but the souls of stolen children trump a stolen ring. I’m sure my client would agree.”

That brought up a thought. Malina Alder was a nachtmagus, and so was Lord Mortsani, though I hated to even remotely compare the two.

“Nachtmagus Adler, do you—”

“Malina, please.”

I smiled. “Malina.” I stopped, remembering what else she’d said. “You’re Maira’s sister?”

“I am. She married. I never did.” Malina grinned. “Working mostly nights never left much room for a social life.” Her expression turned solemn. “My profession is my life, though many of us consider it more of a sacred calling. We help lost souls find their way—and ease the suffering of those they leave behind.”

“Then you probably wouldn’t know the nachtmagus I’m investigating, though I’m certain you’ve heard of him. Sethis Mortsani?”

“A vile stain upon our noble profession.”

I nodded. “Vile stain. Sounds like him. You’ve met, I take it?”

“It’s been my distinct displeasure to cross his path on more than one occasion. Sethis Mortsani should be investigated, tried, and convicted on many atrocities. Which one has attracted your attention?”

“Unfortunately it’s nothing that’ll put him away, though my client’s extracurricular activities may have paid off in that direction. He’s stolen a ring of great sentimental value and my client wants it back.”

Malina laughed. “Bilking the dead must not pay as much as it used to.”

“You know?”

“My dear, everyone knows. The problem is in the proving. Though it is only a matter of time until he makes a mistake, either by calling up the wrong spirit or swindling the wrong family out of their inheritance. Problems like Sethis Mortsani usually manage to solve themselves. Others will merely have to scrape up the mess left behind when he does.”

Okay, that she worked with dead people still creeped me out, but I liked Malina Adler.

I gave her the basics of my case and Sethis Mortsani’s gambling problem.

“He’s been stealing his wife’s jewelry, presumably selling the stones and replacing them with fakes,” I concluded. “If he’s got creditors following him home, what I don’t understand is why wouldn’t he sell the big gems and pay them off? His wife just wants him stopped before he loses her grandmother’s ring. I followed him to Sirens last night. He had plenty of money to play with, and had the ring on him, but none of the fences in town who handle hot jewelry have seen the big gems.”

Janek gave me a look I knew only too well.

“Hey, if you have a case involving hot rocks, let me know,” I told him. “Otherwise, yes, I associate with ‘criminal elements.’ Nearly everybody in my family is a criminal element. It’s why I’m good at my job—I know people, people who trust me not to rat them out.” I gave him a smile. “Besides, if it wasn’t for criminals like them, you wouldn’t have a job.”

“I’d gladly find another way to make a living.”

“Compared to the hooded devil you have stealing the souls from children in their beds, these guys are choirboys.”

“True.”

“And small fry like them give us information that makes it easier to catch the big fish who actually hurt people.”

Janek’s silence told me he agreed, but he wasn’t going to validate my statement by responding.

We agreed to disagree. Friends could do that.

“Have there been ransom demands?” I asked.

Janek shook his head. “And there won’t be. The bastard’s not after money. He got what he wanted when he took those children. Most of the parents aren’t wealthy, but all of the kids are talents.”

With that, the situation took a turn for the truly twisted. A dark mage gathering the souls of magically talented children with the aid of a demon familiar likely meant the bastard was gathering them as offerings to do something truly unspeakable.

Even though I didn’t believe stealing and imprisoning souls was in Sethis Mortsani’s skill set, didn’t mean he wasn’t involved in some way.

I told Janek and Malina about the crying child.

“He felt me either sensing the ring, hearing the boy, or both,” I finished. “He got up, took his chips, cloaked himself, and got the hell out of there.”

“That was an overreaction if he was only guilty of having a stolen ring,” Janek said. “I’m with you, Raine. I’ve never heard anything like that before. Malina?”

The nachtmagus shook her head. “Sethis Mortsani can summon souls, and has the strength to hold them on this plane long enough to hold a conversation, but he should not be capable of holding one soul captive, let alone eight—in my professional opinion. That being said, I do not claim to know all of the mysteries regarding souls, but I do agree that the blackest of magic would had to have been involved.”

“Lady Kaharit’s been keeping a sharp eye on her husband lately,” I told Janek.

The chief watcher nodded in understanding. “I’ll send someone over to see if he alibis out—or not.” 

The sugar knots I’d eaten suddenly felt like balls of lead in my stomach.

Last night, I’d met the man who would know all about the blackest of magic.

*

Tamnais Nathrach had the strength and probably the ability to hold eight souls hostage, but I didn't think he was involved.

He'd done what a man who just wanted to start life over would do: move to another kingdom and establish himself as a respected businessman with a successful business. From what I'd heard, Tamnais Nathrach had been keeping his nose clean. There'd been no reports of illegal activity in, around, or in any way connected to Sirens or its proprietor.

Janek had agreed with my assessment. He'd agreed because we'd discussed it. And we'd discussed it because I was on my way back to Sirens to talk with Tamnais Nathrach. I'd learned through experience to let at least one person know if I was meeting someone dangerous, where, and for how long. I told all of that to Janek and Malina.

While I knew Tamnais Nathrach was plenty dangerous, I didn't believe he was dangerous to me—at least not the kind of dangerous that'd get me killed. At this time of day, Nathrach was probably asleep. Every other casino and nightclub in the city received shipments during the day, and I didn't see why Sirens would be any different. Since Lorcan Karst was an elf—and was awake during the day—he’d be the one I'd ask to see. As Sirens' manager, he'd be the gatekeeper to getting me in to see his boss. Whether he'd be willing to wake his boss was another matter altogether.