Gods and Demons (Dark Streets Book 1) Page 7

  I got my bow and sword, then went back outside and climbed up the oak to the place where I’d watched the mage before. In addition to the Fairies ringing him, the local Pixies had taken up seats on the bamboo leaves.

  He was coming around, moving and moaning. I hadn’t clearly seen his face as yet. In addition to the blood and Fairy spears, he wore a black hooded cloak, which was a bit warm for my taste during a Washington summer. I could see his hands, so I knew it was a man.

  About fifteen minutes after I resumed my perch, he abruptly sat up and looked around. He was a white man, appearing to be in his late fifties or early sixties. I didn’t recognize him. His hand brushed his face and found all the Fairy spears embedded in him. He looked at his hands and the spears sticking out of them. The Fairies all broke out laughing.

  His eyes widened as he took in his Fae audience. He bolted to his feet and left the protection of his pentagram only to run into the ward I had placed around him.

  “Good evening,” I called. “How nice of you to drop in. If you had called ahead, we would have prepared a welcome feast for you.”

  The Fairies thought that was funny.

  “Oh, well, I guess we did prepare a welcome, didn’t we? I’m Kellana, but I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

  He raised his hands and attempted to use some kind of spell against the ward, but I didn’t see any effect. It looked to me that he was either exhausted and drained, or my ward had cut him off from the source of his magic. Whatever the reason for his spell’s failure, the panic on his face was easy to see.

  A Fairy threw a spear that hit his eyebrow. A dozen Pixies threw their spears, too.

  “You bitch!” he screamed. A Pixie spear pierced his tongue.

  “Oh, my. You really should watch your language. You’re actually lucky you still have your eyesight, but if you continue to act like an ass, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  He tried to say something, but he couldn’t pull his tongue back into his mouth because of the four-inch spear.

  “Perhaps I should just go get some sleep, have breakfast, then come back and see if you’re in a better mood,” I said. “I’m sure it will hurt pulling those spears out, but they aren’t barbed.”

  I stood on the branch and started walking back toward the trunk inside my fence.

  “Wait!” he yelled. At least, I think that’s what he said. I turned and saw him with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his fingers attempting to pull on the tiny Pixie spear embedded in his tongue. He pulled it out and swore. Blood dribbled out of his mouth to join the blood already running down his chin.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “You’re not going to leave me here!”

  “Actually, I am. You’re rude, uncooperative, and you attempted to break into my property. Because of that, I assume you’re a thief. I should probably call the PCU, but I’m not always a nice person. I think a day without food or water will probably make you more communicative.”

  I turned away and continued walking along the limb. He howled and cursed, but I ignored him, confident that he wasn’t going anywhere. I was halfway down the trunk when I heard a blood-curdling scream, then Fairies and Pixies giggling, then silence. I assumed the little people got as tired of his voice as I was.

  Isabella was still unconscious. Whether she was sleeping, wandering another realm of consciousness, or brain dead, I couldn’t say. I sacked out on the couch.

  I woke to noises coming from my kitchen. Opening my eyes, I saw that the light was on. After listening for a minute, I decided someone was making coffee, an activity that received my highest approval. Swinging my legs down to the floor, I stood and made my way, the five steps necessary, to see what was going on.

  Isabella punched the on button of the coffee maker and turned toward me.

  “Hi,” she said. “How did things go after I checked out last night?”

  “I’ll let you see for yourself after breakfast. What in all the realms did you think you were doing? Goddess forbid, jumping into an active pentagram? Didn’t your mama teach you better than that?”

  She laughed. “She wasn’t around much. I take it that wasn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made.”

  “I’m surprised you’re alive. A Human or Elf doing that would probably be dead, or brain dead at the very least. Goddess, Isabella, don’t do things like that. Couldn’t you feel the power he was generating?” Of course, I reflected, that would assume an Elf or Human was able to breach his protection enough to touch him. She should have bounced.

  “Um, actually, no. He just stood there mumbling, and then he started to glow a little and rose up into the air. It looked like he was trying to levitate over the fence, so I thought it was a good time to ambush him.”

  I gaped at her. “Danu merde.” I described the magical displays I had witnessed, including the glowing power the mage funneled into my wards at the moment she attacked him.

  “Nope, didn’t see any of that. So, did he get away?”

  With a chuckle, I started digging food out of the refrigerator. “Not hardly. I’m starving, but we can go see our prisoner after we eat. He wouldn’t give me his name, but maybe you know him.”

  “You know, I could see what Abner Wilcox was doing, and so could other people. Why not the guy last night?” she asked.

  “This guy would wipe the floor with Abner Wilcox. Wilcox put on a show on purpose, trying to intimidate us. That’s what you do when your power is as limited as his is.”

  She cocked her head. “Can you always see and feel power? It seems like you know what a person is or can do just by looking at them.”

  I felt my face get a little warm. “Well, yeah, but I’m sure that other magic users do the same thing. I feel their magic with my magic.”

  Isabella shrugged, but the narrow-eyed look she gave me made me feel guilty, though I hadn’t done anything to feel guilty about.

  “None of the other magicians or paranormals I’ve known could do that,” she said.

  After breakfast, we climbed the tree again and made our way to the spot over the mage. He sat on his cloak on the grass inside my containment spell with dozens of tiny spears lying around him. He was covered in dried blood, and everywhere I could see his flesh, it was marked with red cuts. With his cloak off, I could see that my original guess at his age was close. Salt and pepper hair, clean shaven, and enough lines in his face to convey experience but not age. He was rather handsome, if a girl went for blood mages.

  “Good morning,” I said, taking a bite of an apple. “I slept well, how about you?”

  He gave me a dirty look. Surly. But he didn’t say anything. I turned to Isabella and cocked my head in question.

  “Nope, I don’t recognize him,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean anything. I don’t keep track of all the two-bit thieves who think they have some kind of magical skill.”

  The look he shot her was poisonous.

  “So, what should we do with him?” I asked. “Just leave him here until he rots? That would be very stinky. Or I can call the PCU. I don’t know what they would do with him. Probably say he’s on public land and hasn’t committed any crime.”

  A buzz erupted from the Fae, and especially the Pixies. In their eyes, he was a trespasser who had used magic illegitimately. They thought he should be punished.

  The mage looked around at all the little people calling for more of his blood, and I thought I saw a little fear seep into his defiant posture.

  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with—” he started, but my laugh interrupted him.

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “I’ve asked repeatedly, and you refuse to tell me. So, let me explain a few things to you.” I pulled out my bow and an arrow. “When I get tired of you, I’ll turn you into mulch. I don’t plan to lower my wards, and I don’t plan to feed you. The forecast today is in the nineties, with DC’s lovely humidity, so I expect lack of water will probably get to you before hunger. And I don’t feel even a small bit of sympathy fo
r a blood mage. The ball’s in your court, asshole.”

  “You’re a hard woman,” Isabella muttered.

  “When I have to be,” I replied under my breath. “He scares the hell out of me. This guy is no lightweight.”

  “I’m not a blood mage,” the mage said, indignation dripping from his words. “Whatever gave you that idea?” I thought I caught a bit of a British accent.

  “Why are you trying to break into my nursery? Why not walk through the gate during business hours? Are you so poor you can’t afford a daffodil, so you have to steal it?”

  He growled at me. Isabella growled back, and he looked a little shocked.

  “What are you looking for, señor?” Isabella said. She changed into a jaguar, then changed back. “You want a little jaguar? I’ll give you a little piece of tail.” He blanched, and she turned to me. “Just like a man. All tough talk and no performance.”

  I had to stifle a laugh, but the Fairies and Pixies rolled around, laughing and spinning in the air.

  “Look,” I said, “we know what you’re looking for, and we don’t have it. As to why I think you’re a blood mage, only a blood mage, or a complete fool, would want to have anything to do with the thing.”

  “That wasn’t nice,” Isabella said. “You just called the funny little man a complete fool.” She peered down at him. “I think it’s a lot more likely that he’s just a liar.”

  “I assure you, Dr. Cortez, that I am neither.” Maybe not British. Not Irish. Australian?

  A Fairy near me yawned. I had to agree, the mage was becoming tiresome. I nudged Isabella in the ribs with my elbow.

  “I’m bored. Let’s do something more fun. We can come back tomorrow and see if he’s easier to deal with.”

  We left him there and climbed down the tree. I went to my office and took care of paperwork. Isabella took her laptop to my kitchen. Around noon, I noticed that the usual number of Fairies were out among the flowers. They didn’t have very long attention spans, so that made sense.

  After dinner, Isabella suggested a trip to the bar where we had first seen each other. The same Irish dance band was playing, and I was tempted. First, though, I scaled the tree again.

  I felt a twinge of pity as I looked down on him. He sat slumped in the middle of the blackened pentagram. As I predicted, it had been a hot day, and for long stretches, there wouldn’t have been any shade from the oak or the bamboo.

  “Feeling any more talkative?” I asked.

  He jerked and craned his neck to look up at me. His lips moved, and smacked together, and I realized that without any water, his mouth was probably too dry to work properly.

  “You can kill me,” his voice came out in a croak, “but there will be others. We won’t rest until that abomination is destroyed.”

  “Are you speaking of Isabella?” I asked. “You’ll never get a date by calling her an abomination.”

  “Make your stupid jokes. In the end, you’ll discover your folly.”

  “Oh, hell,” I said, and pulled out my phone. I called Agent Torbert. When he answered, I said, “This is Kellana Rogirsdottir. Do you have any mages on staff?”

  “We have a couple,” Torbert replied, “and a couple of witches. Why?”

  “I have a mage that tried to break into my place and assaulted a friend of mine. I don’t know what to do with him.”

  Said mage could hear only my side of the conversation, but he was listening intently.

  “If I press formal charges, will the PCU lock him up, or are you just going to let him pay money to get out, and I’ll have to deal with him again?”

  “PCU?” the mage squeaked.

  “I can’t guarantee we’ll hold him,” Torbert said in my ear. “Unless there’s a compelling case for keeping him locked up, he’s probably entitled to bail.”

  “Damn. Agent Torbert, I really don’t want to kill him, but I also can’t spend my life looking over my shoulder.”

  “PCU? Don’t call the PCU!”

  “Hold on a minute,” I told Torbert and put my hand over the phone. “What the hell do I do with you?” I asked the mage. “I figure I have two choices, kill you or turn you over to the authorities. Make your choice.”

  The mage leaped to his feet and held up an identification card. A human wouldn’t have been able to read it at that distance, but I didn’t have a problem. I turned back to my phone.

  “Agent Torbert, what is the Pontificium Consilium de Artium Arcanum Mortis?” I wasn’t sure I was pronouncing it correctly. I did recognize it as Latin, a language I’d never studied.

  “It’s…well, sort of a trade association.”

  “Like a guild?”

  “Yeah, I guess. In English, it’s the International Council of Arcane Arts, headquartered in Romania. They say they regulate magic users, but that’s more wishful thinking than reality.”

  “So, they think they’re the good guys?”

  Torbert chuckled. “Don’t we all? Is that who the mage you captured is? One of their agents?”

  “Sort of looks that way. His name is Vincent Crocker. Look, do you think you can come out to my place and talk to this guy? I’m not sure what to do with him, and he doesn’t seem to want to leave me alone.”

  I heard what sounded like a full-blown guffaw on the other end of the line, then a chuckling Torbert said, “I can be there in about twenty minutes.”

  Chapter 9

  “You called who?” Isabella seemed a little upset with me.

  “The PCU, the Paranormal Crimes Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They’re sort of your national police, I think.”

  She gave me a disgusted look. “I know who they are. Why in the hell did you call them?”

  “What am I supposed to do with that guy? He’s some kind of agent—” I didn’t get any farther.

  “The gods-bedamned ICAA. The self-appointed arbiters of all that’s holy and right. Hell, I’d as soon deal with blood mages.”

  I was confused. “But he said—”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he said he only wanted what was best for humanity. Think about it, Kellana. Are you Human? Am I Human? We’re the people the ICAA wants to protect humanity against. They’re a bunch of damned bigots.”

  “Okay, so we can let Agent Torbert deal with him.”

  “Oh, yeah, the bloody PCU. Two peas in a pod. The difference between them is they each think they’re more holy than the other, but they have the same goal—get rid of all the non-Humans.”

  I heard a car drive into the compound and looked out the window. Agent Torbert and another man got out of the car, along with a very short woman. They all wore business suits. The other man and the woman were much lighter skinned than Torbert. The man had brown hair and was thinner and a bit taller than Torbert. The woman was even shorter than Isabella, thin, with long straight black hair to her waist.

  Isabella followed me when I walked out to meet them, but hung back, watching.

  “Miss Rogirsdottir,” Torbert said, “this is Special Agent Alan Bronski and Special Agent Karen Wen-li. Miss Rogirsdottir is the owner of this business and the one who called us.”

  I went through the ritual of shaking everyone’s hand. I had never understood it, but Humans tended to get offended if you didn’t want to touch them. Bronski was a shock, a mage of some power, but uneven and cold in flavor. Wen-li was a witch whose power was warm and comfortable, like my mother’s. I reminded myself that although her power felt that way, my mother was not always warm and comfortable. She could be hell on wheels, as Humans said.

  I saw the three Humans glance at Isabella, but since she didn’t seem to want to be introduced, I didn’t try.

  “Where is this ICAA mage you’re worried about?” Torbert asked.

  Since I wasn’t going to lead that party up my tree, I led them out the gate and around through the park.

  “He’s technically not on my property,” I explained as we walked, “but three nights in a row he tried to breach my wards and break in. Last night, he as
saulted a friend of mine when she tried to stop him.”

  “How are you holding him?” Bronski asked.

  “I cast a containment circle around his pentagram.”

  Bronski and Wen-li gave each other a long look. Evidently what I said meant something to them, but I didn’t know what.

  The bamboo was twelve to fifteen feet tall. I held out my hands as I walked into it. A path cleared through it and closed behind us, which caused more looks between the two magic users and garnered raised eyebrows from Torbert.

  “When was this bamboo planted?” Wen-li asked.

  Without thinking, I said, “Yesterday morning. After he showed up two nights in a row, I figured he’d be back. I wanted to complicate his retreat.”

  Arriving at the clearing where Vincent Crocker sat, I discovered that only a few hard-core mage watchers remained of the Pixies and Fairies. Three of the Fairies flew to my shoulders and started telling me, all at the same time, about what the prisoner had been doing while I was gone. The three PCU agents gaped.

  “Well, here he is. He’s fairly strong—not your average hedge witch. You’ll need something other than one of your standard cells to contain him.”

  Torbert looked uneasy. “I’m not sure we can hold him.”

  “I’ll file charges. Breaking and entering, and assault. Not to mention that he’s rude.”

  At that, all the Fairies and Pixies started talking at once, telling the Humans that Crocker was rude. From their point of view, that was his major offence.

  The Humans stared at the little people as though they had never seen them before. I thought about it and decided that actually might be the case. Everyone who visited the nursery seemed entranced by my Fae friends.

  “Water,” Crocker croaked.

  We all turned toward him.

  “How long has he been here, without food or water?” Wen-li asked.

  “Since about one o’clock this morning. He wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t tell me his name or his business. It wasn’t until I threatened to call the PCU that he identified himself. He begged me not to call you.” I couldn’t help a smile spreading on my face as I had the chance to ask, “Do you torture prisoners? He was very upset about me calling you.”