Siren's Song: Shifting Magic Book Two Page 14

  As soon as I was far enough through the canyon to get cell service again, I called Mrs. Saperstein on my cell phone. She answered on the second ring.

  After I identified myself, I said, “I have something I’d like you to see.”

  “Is it Jason’s?”

  “Let’s talk about it when I get there.”

  I wound my way up to Old Oak Trail with a knot in my stomach. I found myself hoping that the diver’s watch in my pocket didn't belong to him. Hoping that the poor soul lying on the beach being devoured by ghouls was some other unfortunate Joe.

  Her face crumpled when she saw the watch.

  When her knees almost gave out, I had to help her sit in a leather chair near the fireplace.

  When she could finally speak, she asked, “Where did you get that?”

  Because she was a non-magic, I couldn't break the code and tell her about the fate that befell her husband even if I wanted to.

  “I found it on a beach just south of the Ventura County line,” I lied.

  “Why were you there?”

  That was a good question. How was I supposed to answer it. “Another body washed up on the beach a week ago. I stumbled upon this when I was looking for evidence regarding that death,” I lied again but she nodded, accepting what I had said.

  “Well…” She sighed. “At least now I know.”

  “Mom!” one of the kids called from the living room, where the murmur of the TV could be heard. “Can you make us mac and cheese?”

  For a moment, I’d forgotten about the kids. She was going to have to tell them that they would never see their father again.

  I watched as she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the sake of her children, then called back, “Sure. Just give me a couple minutes.”

  “But we’re hungry!” the other one whined.

  “You just hang on.” Her voice was strained.

  It seemed unfair that these two kids would never know the truth. But on the other hand, in the end, it might be a kindness. None of the Sapersteins would have the horrific image of what I saw on that beach etched in their mind.

  I silently hoped I was doing the right thing and there would be some peace in that for them.

  On my drive back to my little guesthouse, my phone buzzed. I pushed the button on my car’s console to talk hands-free.

  “Hello?”

  “Lacey, what the hell is going on?” Mr. Stroud’s angry voice echoed through my car’s speakers.

  I felt my breath catch. “What do you mean, Mr. Stroud?”

  “What can you tell me about ghouls in Malibu?”

  “Am I in some sort of trouble?”

  “Damn right, you are,” he replied. “Get your butt back to the office, and we’ll discuss it.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Let me get this straight…,” an unhappy Mr. Stroud said, “after you witnessed a gruesome murder by a siren, were followed by a clutch of ghouls scavenging the body, and suspected that there might be an underwater lair nearby, you decided that instead of reporting this urgent information to this office or the magistrate, you would instead go talk to a non-magical human about what had just occurred?”

  “Uh… I didn’t tell Mrs. Saperstein about any of the paranormals,” I tried to explain, feeling like a child being punished in the principal’s office. “I just went to see if I could confirm that the watch belonged to her husband Jason.”

  “Lacey, we have protocols,” Mr. Stroud said from behind his grand desk. “We have rules and ways of handling these things. You are not an agent. You are not fully licensed. You’re not even supposed to be out in the field.”

  I hadn’t realized it but a centaur, who’d been gathering nightshade at sunset, when it’s at its most powerful, at the top of the bluff, had witnessed the terrible murder, the ghouls, and a girl fitting my description who drove a Honda Civic. She reported it to the leader of her herd who then contacted Mr. Stroud directly.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” I lowered my eyes. Of course he was right. I just hadn’t been thinking. “It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t,” he snapped back. “I’m not sure what to do with you at this point.”

  Great. He was going to fire me from my nice, stable library assistant job. A job that could’ve potentially helped solve all my money trouble while letting me stay in grad school. I hadn’t even been working in the library for a full week, and I’d screwed up.

  Before he could say more, the phone on his desk rang. “Yes…when? … thank you.” And he hung up.

  “Mr. Stroud,” I began. “Let me explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear it right now. Tomorrow morning. You’ll return to the beach cove in Malibu where you witnessed the murder of a non-mag. We’ll make an official report on the scene.”

  Completely exhausted, a hot shower and a warm bed were the only things on my mind when I got home.

  I hadn’t noticed a voicemail from Mr. Mackelmore on my phone.

  Walking across the yard’s flagstone path, the light bulb in the fixture over my front door flickered on and off a few times, then burned out.

  Fumbling with my keys in the dark, I managed to insert the correct key in the lock to get the front door open as I listened to the message.

  Lacey, a man came into the store today. Guy’s a real piece of work. I think it has something to do with… that thing we discussed. Be careful. Please. You might want to hide that little item you have. Call me.

  He was talking about the faerie coin. I wondered who the guy was.

  The bulb in the entryway lamp was out too. I stepped into the darkness to turn on a lamp on an end-table and nearly tripped over a pile of books and pillows scattered on the floor.

  “What in the world…” I muttered aloud as I turned on the table lamp flooding the guesthouse with light.

  I gasped at the complete and utter mess. My place had been ransacked: chairs overturned, broken plates on the floor, books everywhere, even the stuffing in my couch pillows littered the floor.

  “Fred! Did you do this?” I said sharply.

  Then a heard a whimper.

  “Who’s there?” I took a step back toward the still open front door.

  The whimpering came from a bundle of rags dangling from the slow moving ceiling fan in the center of the living room. I took a step closer to see that the bundle was dripping blood onto the coffee table below.

  It spun slowly toward me revealing a furry face.

  “Fred?” I cried. My poor little house brownie was injured and bleeding. “Who tied you up there?”

  “He was a bad little brownie,” said a man’s deep voice from behind me. “And bad brownies need to be punished.”

  I spun to find a dark figure standing in the corner behind me. His face was hidden by the shadows.

  Terrified, I tried to scream, but from a distance he raised a hand toward me and silenced my screams with his magic.

  “Give me the gold,” he said.

  “I don’t have any,” I said, my voice shaking.

  Suddenly, an invisible hand wrapped around my throat and levitated my body a few inches off the ground.

  He was choking me.

  “Oh yes you do,” he said, lunging at me.

  Magic blocked his face, but his head looked oddly shaped. He knew just where to look, reaching into the my jacket pocket and pulling out the single coin my father had given me. The coin the Winter Queen had let me keep.

  Still choking me, he flipped it in the air, then caught it and slid it into his own pocket. “See, I knew you had it.”

  The last thing I heard before I passed out was his strange cackling laugh.

  “Lacey? Wake up, Lacey. It’s us.”

  Mrs. R’s face hovered over me as I slowly regained consciousness.

  “Fred!” I tried to sit up.

  “We got him down.” She put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” I rubbed my sore neck.

  “Let’s get her
to the couch,” Mr. R said as the two of them helped me to my feet and got me onto the loveseat. A small fire burned in the fireplace. It felt nice and warm.

  “There was a man…” I began. “He took something that belonged to my father.”

  They didn’t ask me what it was. Instead, I saw the Radagasts exchanged concerned looks.

  Mr. Radagast spoke, “I’ve heard rumors that your father is in some sort of trouble. The Society has a warrant out for his arrest.”

  “He didn’t do it,” I argued. “What they say he did. But I can’t tell you more.”

  “Of course,” Mr. R replied. They seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. “But you can always come to us if you need to talk.”

  “Thank you,” I nodded.

  Fred was lying on the chair across from me. This was the first time I’d really gotten a good look at him. He resembled a cross between an old man and a cocker spaniel. He had several bruises on his arm and legs along with a nasty cut near his left eye.

  “Does he need a doctor? Or a…. vet?”

  “No, I think I’ve pretty much patch the little guy up,” Mr. Radagast said as his wife returned from the kitchen with a tiny cup of tea.

  “Drink this,” she said, handing me the cup. “It tastes terrible but it’s a very healing tonic.”

  “Who would do this to him?” I asked, sipping of the foul liquid. It was one thing to threaten me, but why hurt poor Fred?

  “We heard you scream,” Mr. R said. “You were unconscious on the floor when we got here. We untangled Fred and got him down from the ceiling fan. My wife managed to calm him down.”

  Mrs. R continued, “He told me that three men broke into your apartment and were searching for something.”

  “Three?” I was surprised. “I only saw one. He had a funny head.”

  “Fred said one of the men had horns.”

  “Horns?” Maybe horns had made his dark figure look odd.

  “Ram horns,” Fred said quietly from his chair. “Leader.” He quivered as his eyes filled with fear. “Leader have ram horns.”

  I looked to the Radagasts. “What does that mean? Who has horns?”

  “Any number of faeries might. Or centaurs. Of course, they also have four legs.”

  I took a sip of tea and looked at the crackling fire. Wood wasn’t burning. Paper was.

  “Did you make the fire?” I asked.

  “No,” Mr. R said. “It was already going when we got here.”

  I slid off the couch to the floor to get a better look at what was in the fireplace.

  “It can’t be,” I gasped, looking toward the table where I kept my school books. “They burned my dissertation. They threw all my papers and research into the fire.”

  I lunged toward the fire to see if I could pull anything out. An instant before I plunged my hand into the flames, Mr. R yanked me backwards.

  “Lacey!” he said, holding onto me. “You’ll burn yourself.”

  “Why would they do that?” I asked, tears filling my eyes. Why was all of this happening to me? To my dad?

  “Oh no,” Mrs. R understood what had happened. “Do you have a copy of your work?”

  I thought back. “My advisor has some of it. Not my research. Not everything. That was two years of work.”

  “I’m going to go out and put wards around this property,” Mr. R said, walking out. He was upset and trying to do what he could. “They’ll be so strong that the mailman won’t get in.”

  Mrs. R sat next to me. “Lacey, should we call anyone?”

  She probably meant Stroud.

  “No. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  “I’m worried about you honey.”

  “I’m worried too.”

  At dawn, I met Mr. Stroud and a team of a dozen Society of Shadows agents at the Coast Guard station in Marina Del Rey.

  I found my way to Pier CG33 where an oversized man stood guard in front of an impressive Coast Guard boat.

  “Can I help you?” he growled as I approached.

  I held up my phone to show him the email I’d received late last night from Mr. Stroud’s office. “I’m Lacey McCray. I’m here for the Malibu investigation.”

  Without taking his eyes off me, he called to Mr. Stroud. “This her, boss?”

  Mr. Stroud, in the middle of a conversation with another officer, barely glanced at me. “That’s her.”

  The guard scowled at me and stepped aside so I could enter. Did everyone know that I was in trouble?

  I headed downstairs and made my way through a sea of people. I didn’t know anyone, but it sure felt like everyone knew who I was. Finally, I saw the familiar face of Agatha, the vampire undergrad who’d originally hooked me up with the Society. She sat scribbling notes at a table in the back.

  “Hey Agatha,” I said moving toward her.

  “Well, good morning, sunshine.” She smirked. “I hear you set a land-speed record for getting on Stroud’s shit list faster than any other agent in the history of the Society.”

  I guess everyone did know I was in trouble.

  “It was one mistake.” I sat across from her.

  “Not reporting a supernatural murder? Kind of a big mistake,” she said then went back to her work, pretty much ignoring me.

  I wanted to reply that it wasn’t like I was planning to keep it all a secret, but what was the point in arguing?

  A few minutes later, the engine rumbled to life and the boat lurched forward onto the water. Fifteen minutes later, we’d travelled up the coast to the difficult-to-reach cove.

  Agatha eventually decided to talk to me and explained that this particular Coast Guard team had been specially trained to work with the paranormal seeker teams from the Society.

  I climbed back up onto the deck to see that we were the second boat to arrive at the crime scene. The rocky cove looked completely different in the morning sun. I almost couldn’t believe this was the same place where I had witnessed terrible horrors the night before.

  “Lacey,” Mr. Stroud called from the stern. “You’re with me.”

  A young investigator met me and Mr. Stroud as we stepped off the boat onto a flat part of the rocky beach.

  “Sir, we’ve been unable to locate the alleged victim or process any evidence of him,” the investigator efficiently reported.

  “No sign of the body, huh?” Mr. Stroud asked, scanning the cove. “Or any remains?”

  I immediately felt defensive. I pointed to the area where I had pulled the dead body ashore. “But he was right there. I can show you.”

  “Yes, miss. We’re looking for any physical or trace evidence,” he explained, and I was pretty sure he thought I was crazy.

  “But —”

  “Carry on.” Stroud nodded to the investigator. “They’ve got it under control, Lacey.”

  “Could ghouls totally obliterate any sign of the body?” I asked, trying not to sound defensive. “There were at least seven of them.”

  “Seven?”

  “At least.”

  “Did you see exactly where the ghouls came from?”

  “They came from both sides, north and south, of the cove. I didn’t initially see them. Not until after the siren and her selkies returned to the water. They must have been lurking in the shadows behind the rocks.”

  “I suspect you’re right.” Stroud looked around, surveying the scene. “Not the first time we’ve seen someone use ghouls to rid themselves of a dead body or two. They’re highly effective.”

  One of Stroud’s investigators, a tall spidery witch performed a particularly effective shielding spell, placing a dome-shaped veil over nearly a quarter mile of coastline to ensure that no untrained or unwanted prying eyes would be able to see what we were up to.

  “Sir! We have a nest of ghouls here,” she called.

  “How many?” he asked.

  “Five to ten, sir,” she replied, and I felt relieved that what I’d seen had been confirmed. “Permission to contain?”

  “Permission
granted,” Stroud called back, like containing a nest of ghouls was an everyday thing. Of course, maybe it was for these guys.

  What exactly did containment mean? Were they going to kill them?

  Agents, wearing blue containment jumpsuits, lined up at the cluster of rocks, each holding what looked like high tech rifles.

  The ghouls had been trying to hide, but now that they had been discovered, they’d decided to attack. They were slow, but still a dangerous threat as they lumbered forward, gnashing their sharp teeth as spittle flew.

  Were they going to mow down the slow approaching ghouls?

  Sure, I didn’t like the creepy ghouls. My dislike might have had something to do with their slobbering, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see a whole nest of them brutally destroyed.

  “On my count!” called the lead agent as the line aimed their rifles. I turned my head to avoid witnessing the carnage.

  Boom, boom, boom!

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When I heard the crackle of energy, I looked back. Instead of bullets, the guns shot out rays of golden energy. Like lightning, it encircled and entwined each ghoul, wrapping tightly around their midsections.

  “A laser lasso,” I muttered aloud.

  It wasn’t really a laser. Instead, it was an advanced binding incantation. The energy, or “lasso,” would keep them restrained until the spell was released. One by one, the ghouls stumbled and fell, unable to free themselves from the enchanted binds.

  Once the ghouls had all been subdued, another crew rushed in and corralled them to a holding area. It wasn’t like they were going to question them. Ghouls didn’t have the intellectual capacity to communicate verbally. But if there was a telepathic investigator — which I assumed there was — they could potentially scan their memories for further information.

  When the coast was clear again, Mr. Stroud said, “Show me where you found the watch.”