Witch for Hire (9 page)

I sat on the warm hood of the car. It was the perfect temperature to keep me warm while I watched the officer call extra policemen back to their cars. Each car had a child shoved in the back, with the parents left over. White volunteered to drive the adults since we weren't needed here.
 

It was a much quieter drive back. The radio wasn't as busy and none of us talked. White and I didn't want to talk about the case in front of possible suspects, and they didn't want to say anything that we could later use against them.

Back at the office, I checked on the spell map right away. Most of the glowing circles had disappeared, but there were still more than seven. I counted twenty-three circles. It was showing more than trolls, but twenty three was much more manageable than over a hundred. I couldn't be sure what was closer to trolls than humans, but several giants, dwarves, fey, centaurs, and satyrs lived in the area. There were a few dots not far from the chicken farm I'd just visited. I talked to a sergeant, who gave everyone at the crime scene a heads up.

Tilting my wrist, I discovered that it was nearly four in the morning. I might as well stay up at this point and catch a nap later. Besides, their information could be useful. After leaving a note for Jones, I settled in the viewing room and listened in on the interview of the older guy.
 

"What time did all of the kids arrive at the house?" the investigator asked.

The guy (Robert, I was informed) ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair as he sighed. "About six."

"What did they do?" Detective Smith questioned.
 

"They made a pizza for dinner. Then they hung out in Lee's bedroom for a little bit. I think they watched a few movies. After that they went on a walk around the property. I'm not sure how long they were gone—forty minutes—an hour—when my wife and I heard the explosion. It startled us awake. We ran outside and saw the kids running back to the house. I asked where Ben was and they said that he had gone home when they went for a walk. Lee had picked him up earlier in the evening, but he lived a mile away so he walked back to his house. We went back inside and I asked them about the explosion. They said one of the old silos that we didn't use had gone up. I called the police and the kids stayed in the house until you showed up. You know everything else."

I turned to the room where the wife, Regina, was being interviewed by White. She said the same thing, but in slightly different words. They both said they had spent the evening together. The kids on the other hand, all four of them said the same thing, with only the slightest change in verbiage. Lee, Carrie, Lisa, and Brian all agreed that Ben had walked home instead of going on the walk. They'd never seen the troll and saw the silo explode, but had been on the other side of the property. They didn't know anything else about Ben or the dead troll. They were all shocked that something had snacked a guy to death. They were all lying.
 

An officer on that side of town dropped by Ben's house. His parents hadn't seen him since he went to Lee's for the night. A picture from their house confirmed Ben was the deceased.
 

Brian and Lee were a bit deaf; we were assured they had perfect hearing. Everyone had a few soot stains, and no one had worn a winter coat. It was cold enough that the kids would've wanted something to keep the cold away if they were out for a walk.
 

A few lawyers and judges were awakened so the police could serve a warrant for searching the house while the residents were sitting in the police station. Funny thing, they found a stack of "Free the Troll" fliers, videos, and plans for releasing the trolls from captivity. By five, the sheriff was organizing search parties to look for trolls. He didn't want any more deaths, and there were several markers near the farm. I warned him the map was showing other people, leaving it in their hands. Trolls weren't magical; just big, and hunting for a place to hide for the day.

With nothing more I could do, a prisoner transfer gave me a ride home. Two hours squished in the front of a passenger van with rude criminals in the back wasn't much fun.

Happy to be home, I enjoyed a long nap before going down for a sociable lunch. The five werewolves were back, but there was a new tingle in the air around them. The older one, with a long mustache and a bald head, introduced himself as Bobby. The man the aura of power was centered around was Liam. He had a shiny carrot top and slight lilt in his voice to match the name. The remaining three, Westen, Roland, and Mitch, had few distinguishing features other than their docile nature. Not that werewolves were docile, but some were less aggressive and controlling than others. These three gave off some serious relaxed and chilled vibes.
 

Landa peeked in, as the last of us sat down, to tell us she'd be in her room. She also mentioned the rest of the guests and residents had other lunch plans. Left alone, the six of us fell into an easy conversation.
 

"Thank you for the charms. We didn't need them, but it was a relief to have healing aids." Liam bowed his head in thanks.

"No problem. Was the ritual a success?" I wanted to know what they'd been up to, but wasn't brave enough to ask.

"Indeed," Liam answered. "Under Bobby's guidance, I was able to pass the alpha trial."

"Congratulations. I'm told it's one of the most difficult to finish." Having natural leadership qualities or strength to rule others wasn't enough; the trial tested something deeper. Not being a wolf, I'd never been told what was tested, only the difficulty of success.
 

"Thank you."

"I wasn't aware pack members were able to guide others through the trial." The two of them exchanged a glance. "If you can't or don't want to tell me, that's fine."

After a pause, Bobby answered. "I'm the sage of the pack. I give them spiritual guidance and show them how to start the ritual and trials."

"Ah, thank you. I don't know much about werewolves." Which wasn't strictly true; I knew the basics of their culture. Book learning was valuable, but I always learned more about a culture from that people. Growing up, I hadn't known any werewolves.

"Few people outside the pack are knowledgeable in our ways."
 

Conversation lulled as we ate, before being picked up again by Liam. "Michelle, do you know much about the local pack?"

"Hmm. Not really. I've heard the current alpha is a good guy, but I don't know him. Why?"

"We're from a neighboring pack and heard there was a bit of turmoil." His answer was just a little too smooth for me to trust completely.
 

"They must have serious problems for other packs to hear of them." It wasn't common, but troubled packs had been taken over before. It was one of the ways packs could expand their territory. The one rule all races adhered to was that they could control their species in an area, but they couldn't rule others. A pack of werewolves couldn't take over a pack of werebears. If different species had disagreements, there were several ways they could resolve them after negotiations failed. Historically, there could be war, champions could battle, or a third party could arbitrate. Today, arbitration or lawsuits were the most common practices between disagreeing species.
 

"News travels."
 

"It has a tendency to do that."
 

One of the other wolves, Roland, I think, spoke up. "What's this thing with the trolls? I've heard part of the story, but not enough to understand."
 

"Oh, I can explain." Taking a moment to remember the public story, I continued, "There was an explosion at the preserve and several trolls made it through the breach. A few of them have been recovered." Dead trolls wouldn't be causing problems, and they were in police custody. "The police are closing in on the remainder."

"Do they know what caused the explosion?" Roland asked.
 

"I'm afraid I can't comment on that." Seeing their slightly puzzled looks I answered the unspoken question. "I'm working the case, so there are limitations to what I'm permitted to say."

"Is there anything else you can say?"
 

I answered in a deep, serious voice. "I'm not at liberty to say." The men chuckled and I giggled, breaking the tension the troll talk caused.
 

"Do you like living here?" Roland was a curious wolf.
 

"Very much. Landa's nice. She's an easy landlord, and my mom trusts her so she worries less. I don't have much time to cook, and I'm often running in and out at odd hours, making the meals convenient. And as you've noticed, they're astonishingly tasty. The only odd part is never knowing who will be at meals. Also, I'm never sure how many people are staying here."

"You're very fond of Landa."
 

"Yes. She's a great friend of the family and I love living here. I say family friend, but she's more of a second mother." Fondness, love, curved my lips in a smile.

Liam's eyes were locked on my face. "If you ever need a wolf's thoughts or help give me a call." He slid a business card across the table.
 

I picked it up, seeing crossed wrenches before reading Liam McNeil, mechanic, and a phone number. "I—umm, thank you. I don't feel like I earned this."

"Call it an Irishman's whim." He smiled and they filed out of the dining room. He paused at the door, "Have a lovely afternoon, lass."
 

I carefully stored Liam's number in my phone, tidied up my apartment, and changed into jogging clothes. I took a short run, basking in the fall glory. This time of year was brief; I had to enjoy it while it was here. I'd showered, but hadn't made it out the door when my phone buzzed. "Oaks Consulting."

"It's Jones. They couldn't find any trolls. There were signs of them living in the area, but even when they walked right over the areas the trolls should have been, they couldn't find anything."

"Let me guess, the boss is mad that the map isn't working?"

"No, but he wants you back here to fix the spell."

"I'll do some research, but there's nothing wrong with the spell. They could be hiding in caves or tunnels. I'll see if there's another spell that will work. I can come up on my own time in a day or two."
 

"Thanks, Michelle. You're great."
 

"I try." I hung up the phone.
 

Great. Just great. The last thing I needed was to get in trouble because the trolls weren't were the map said they were. I knew the spell worked. It should have worked without the constriction against human blood, but now it was a better spell. The only way to improve it was to have something that belonged to each of the missing trolls. Then I could make tracking spells for specific trolls. Tomorrow, after I'd done some research, I'd call Jones with some ideas.
 

Shrugging off the worries, I headed out to the car. I had more work to do before I could have fun. Twenty minutes later, I pulled in to the Cherokee County Sheriff's Department and went inside.
 

"Hey, Rodriguez, what'd you need me for?" Rodriguez was about my age, and still had a bit of a Spanish accent from spending his first ten years in Mexico.

"I've got some antiques, mostly junk, for you to look at." He was attractive with black hair, a classically handsome face, and lots of charm.
 

Laid out on the table were random bits of this and that. Some things were common household goods, other things less mundane. There was a set of tongs clamped onto a wooden block, a steak knife, two dinner plates, a standalone toilet paper dispenser, an office chair, a stapler, a glass vase, a pewter cup, and a wooden bowl.

"Which one do you want me to look at first?"

"The tongs. I just picked them up this morning. They had latched onto a nice old woman's nose at the secondhand shop. She was shopping for her granddaughter. I got there and unwound it enough to transfer it to a new object but I couldn't remove the spell. She was nice about it, but made me check everything else she was buying."
 

My smile matched his. I held my hand over the tongs to check them out. Rodriguez hadn't done a bad job, but some of what he'd done to get the tongs off the old woman's nose made it harder to remove the spell. It wasn't his fault; he was doing his job to neutralize the threat to the civilian. A few tricky minutes later, the spell was gone and the tongs were just tongs.
 

"They're normal now. Someone wanted them to hold salad without dropping any of it." I glanced over at Rodriguez; he had his head buried in his hands, stifling laughter. "Clearly, the spell was damaged. What's next?"

"It doesn't really matter. None of them should give you trouble, but watch out for the bowl and vase."

"Alright." I tested the steak knife next. It was spelled to be extra sharp and strong, able to cut through tile. Focusing my power through my wand, a nice sturdy oak, I slowly drained the power out of the spells. As the last spell fell off the knife, it disintegrated. I brushed my hand over the dust, feeling the remains of an illusion that had been masked by the other spells. Apparently, the knife had been spelled for a long time and someone had changed its look to something more modern because it was useful. Time had eaten away the original knife, leaving the spells to hold it together.

Finished with the knife, I moved on to the dinner plates. They were spelled to keep anyone who ate off of them at the table until they were given permission to leave. It was a complex spell but easily stripped away, and this time there were no surprises.

The stand-up toilet paper dispenser bit anyone who didn't put the toilet seat back down. I snickered as I stripped the spell off of it. There were a lot of wives who would pay for that spell. The office chair rendered you impotent for an hour after sitting. The stapler bit anyone who flirted. Someone had wanted their cheating spouse to be faithful.
 

The vase was a different matter. It tried to eat hands. I stripped the spell off of it ruthlessly, but I still wouldn't have wanted it in my apartment. The pewter cup spilled on anyone who tried to drink from it and the wooden bowl poisoned any child who used it.