The Isis Collar (23 page)

I smiled. Barbara and Pablo had created a very tasty drink for me, full of cheese and sauce and beef broth and lots of spices. “Well, I’ll definitely take the smoothie. But I’ll pay for it. It’s
my
thank-you for sticking around for those of us who can’t come in every day anymore.”

She beamed, then turned to take the order to the kitchen. “I’ll make sure it comes out with the other orders. Go. Sit. Talk to your friends. There’s a pitcher of margaritas on the table.”

I hoped everyone in the room
was
my friend. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

I smiled at the occupants and took the chair next to Bruno. On my other side was Dawna. Rizzoli was here, and Dr. Sloan. I wished John were here, but of course he wasn’t. A year ago, there would have been one more chair—for Vicki—and we all would have been laughing and having a fine old time. Now, the mood was … tense. They’d been talking before I walked in, but now all was silent.

“So … what’s up? Who has news, because I sure do.” All eyes turned my way expectantly. But no. “You guys first. I need to know how my news fits into yours.”

But nobody spoke up. Finally, Dawna let out an exasperated breath. “For heaven’s sake. Just go alphabetically by first name. Dr. Sloan, why don’t you start?”

Aaron Sloan nodded and pushed his glasses a notch farther up his nose. “Very well. As you know, Bruno assisted me in examining the table from Mr. Rizzoli’s office. It was quite fascinating! Basically, we learned it contained neither demonic nor angelic residue, but only standard magical traces from a practitioner with impressive skill.”

“But that entity at the ceiling … how would that—?” I turned my head to look at Bruno. He looked tired, like he used to after long nights of studying. It looked strangely good on him, because he was happiest when he was mentally exhausted. “Could you do something like that? Did you see the tape?”

He nodded and I could see a certain level of frustration there. “Could I do it? No, probably not, at least consciously. I don’t think this was a spell, per se. I think it was more an out-of-body experience by a living being. That’s not something I know much about. I’ve always considered magic to be tied to physiology, starting at the cellular level. Even if a mage can ghost, the magic should stay with the body, not travel with the spirit. I can’t explain what I saw on that tape. At least not yet.”

“Can you identify the caster?”

He nodded. “With time. There’s no spell here, no physical being to follow. All I have is residue. It’s like searching for a head of hair somewhere in the world when you only have one hair to work with.”

I nodded. “So, a needle in a haystack.”

“Worse.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “It’s looking for the haystack with only the
needle
as your guide.”

Ouch. “Okay, so we have an unknown caster who might have unintentionally come to the FBI building, and for an unknown reason.”

Rizzoli spoke up after taking a sip of iced tea. No midday alcohol for the Fed. “Actually, that’s not quite true. We have several clues and I think it all comes down to
you,
Celia.”

That forced me to look at him. “Huh?”

“The facts are quite clear.” He raised one finger. “You were called in to aid in an interrogation.” A second finger went up. “You were in emotional distress, which Ms. Long informed me has always brought the spirit of your sister to you.”

That was true and she would know it well. I’d told her about a class project involving Ivy when I was in college. We tried various stimuli to see if she would manifest. I’d told my sister about the experiment and asked her to
try
to stay away unless I specifically called her. Only when I was in actual mental distress did she come without being summoned. “Okay, I get where you’re going. But
why
?”

Rizzoli shrugged. “You wanted answers. The entity offered to help.” He held up his ring finger. “And he knew your
name.
There was conscious thought and playfulness. Toying with you by making you guess. So it’s likely a mage you know, at least well enough to banter with.”

“I know a
lot
of mages.”

“Yes, but only casually. Name five that you can talk to any time you want … who have enough power to pull it off.”

I shrugged, suddenly frustrated. “Okay, fine. Bruno. John Creede. Bubba—though he’s not much of a mage.” I thought again. “Um, wow. Who else? Terrance Harris, with the police. No, that’s too casual. Iv … no, he’s dead. But wait. Could it be a recently deceased mage? A powerful one? Could someone like that hold their magic together on the other side?”

Bruno and Dr. Sloan both looked at each other; then Bruno shrugged. “I would have said no until today. It’s uncharted territory, I’m afraid, Celia. Who died?”

“His name was Ivan. He was the personal guard of King Dahlmar of Rusland. He was killed just before Christmas. He had the oomph to pull off an illusion like the rubber tree one you did in my office. Once, I truly thought he was a newspaper vending box, complete with papers inside.”

Dr. Sloan thought about it seriously for a moment, then shook his bald head. “I’m going to say no. Perhaps if he’d died last week. But no, that’s far too long. Let’s concentrate on the living.”

“I know who it could be.” Dawna’s voice surprised me, but she was very clever and knew a lot of things by osmosis of knowing most of my life history. “And you’d know, too, if you thought about it, Celia. You
amuse
him. He said so at the mall.” Her lip turned up in a smile that reminded me immediately.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Jones. John Jones.”

Bruno looked confused, but Rizzoli swore under his breath. “Of course. He’s just crazy enough to try it. Just for fun or to make a point. He gathers people, like a collector. He’ll find your weaknesses and use them against you for his own purposes.”

I let out a chuckle. “That’s already happened. More than once.” Jones had sort of blackmailed me into helping him get Kevin out of prison when Kevin had been illegally and secretly captured and held there. There was something in Rizzoli’s eyes in that moment—something of some old relationship with the mage still hiding, waiting.

Dr. Sloan. “So, for the moment, we’ll say we know the identity of the entity. I agree that Jones is a likely candidate. I’ve heard of him. He’s a very powerful mage.” He turned to face my side of the table. “Bruno, what happened at the hospital today? Were your tests clear?”

He shrugged. “I gave Dr. Gaetano a saliva sample this morning. But it’ll be a few more hours before I know anything. Other than that, I’ve been working with you on the table. How about you, Celie?”

Wow. Where to begin? “Um, Rizzoli, how much can I tell them?”

He looked thoughtful. “There’s not much they don’t already know, with the exception of Ms. Long, and she knows all but a few details. Okay, you’ve all heard the news about the outbreaks?” Everyone nodded. “Well, we think they’re connected to bombings at schools all over the country. Unfortunately, we don’t have any suspects. We’re looking for some people to bring in for questioning, but they’ve disappeared.”

“Not just them. Creede’s gone missing, too.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop for about ten seconds; then all of them started talking at once. Dawna’s comment came through clearest. “You’re sure he hasn’t just gone off to do his thing like he does sometimes?”

“Maybe.” I thought about that last message cutting off. But I knew he had a special charm—one he could break to call in all his people in an emergency. Nobody at the company knew anything was wrong, so he hadn’t broken it. Were his sister and I getting worked up over nothing? Yeah, he really had a sister and her name was Gillian. I’d done a Web check before I drove away from my house. He’d mentioned in an interview meeting Gillian every Saturday for breakfast and the area code of her call was the town where John had said she lived.

The door to the room opened just then and mind-blowing scents arrived moments ahead of trays full of steaming food. Barbara set my smoothie in front of me before any of the others were served and I took a happy sip through the straw. She watched me as she put down plates with a warning they were hot. I would have complimented her, but it was too good—my lips wouldn’t release the plastic tube. So I gave her a thumbs-up and she smiled.

Talking stopped for the next ten or so minutes while everybody dug in. A waitress came and went, removing empty plates and replacing drinks. I got a refill of my “drink,” for which my stomach was grateful. And I remembered that there was something else here I could eat. They had flavored honey sticks to use on the sopapillas. I loved letting those melt on my tongue. I ordered a sampler of them, but the waitress said they only came with the dessert. So I ordered a dessert. Someone would wind up eating it.

About halfway through my second smoothie, Bruno raised his finger. “I’ve been thinking about it. If Creede isn’t using the ritual room in his office and isn’t at his house, then he probably has a hidey-hole somewhere. Most of us have a safe place where nobody knows to look for us. If so, he’s probably fine. Just intent on his spell.”

Actually, John did have one of those. “His sister said she called there. They hadn’t seen him.” Although, realistically, he could have as many as he wanted.

Rizzoli spoke through a mouthful of enchilada. “He has the money and power to have a dozen hidey-holes all over the state. No help there.”

We were interrupted by my ringtone, coming from inside the bag of rice in my handbag. The stop at the grocery was just before the police pulled me over. Thankfully, nobody saw me do anything but pull it from my purse. I didn’t want to have to explain a bag of rice.

I pressed the button to take the call. “Celia Graves.”

“Good afternoon, Celia.”

My therapist, Gwen Talbert, sounded … odd. It made me frown. “Hey, Gwen. What’s up?”

“It’s nearly two o’clock. I have you down for an appointment today.”

She
did
? Of course, I couldn’t check my calendar, but if she had it down … oops. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I didn’t have my PDA until just a minute ago. I’m sort of at the other end of town. Can I switch with someone?”

There was a long pause. “I don’t do many Saturday appointments, Celia. But, yes. My three o’clock is here. He always arrives early. But please try to be on time in the future. People count on their appointments starting promptly. I’ll see you at three.”

I rang off and gave the group an embarrassed shrug. “Sorry. Forgot I have a doctor’s appointment right now. I’ve gotta roll.”

Dawna had started frowning again. “You’ve been forgetting an awful lot lately. You sure you’re okay?”

“Honestly? No. Maybe when I find out what sort of spell is on me—” It’s not something I wanted to think about. “But John’s working on that. If I can just find him, he was sure he could find the answer.”

Bruno let out a little growl at nearly the same time Rizzoli did. It was Rizzoli who spoke. “Did you start to write a journal like the doctor asked? Could it be you
know
where he is and forgot?”

I made a scared face without intending to. Oh, crap! I hoped not. “I wrote notes but couldn’t e-mail them to Dr. Gaetano and Dr. Jean-Baptiste before my phone went dead. But I do know there are definitely some gaps in my memory.”

At least two people opened their mouths to comment, but I stood up in a rush and picked up my purse. “I’m sorry. Can you all wait an hour or two to finish this discussion? Because I really need to keep this appointment.”

When Gwen Talbert had gone back into private practice and become the director of Birchwoods, she’d agreed to treat me, but she’d made it very clear that she wasn’t going to be at my beck and call. It was hard work to run a facility that size and her schedule was tight. But she’s the only one I trust to deal with … well, everything. And with the door open again on the night Ivy died, I was going to need Gwen more than ever. I was hoping I could convince her to make some of those memories disappear.

16

“
Absolutely not.
I’m sorry, Celia. But no.” Gwen’s normal calm had been visibly shaken by my request.

I didn’t understand why it bothered her. “But it worked so well last time. I know it’s helped Dawna and isn’t Emma considering it? Really, magical memory suppression isn’t that big of a deal. It’s even advertised on children’s networks.”

Her jaw set hard under flashing eyes. “And I’d outlaw that if I could. We’re just now, after fifty years of using this technique, finding out the damage it can do to the memory centers of the brain.”

That widened my eyes. “Damage? What kind of damage?”

She leaned back in her high-backed chair, frustrated. “Early-onset Alzheimer’s, mysterious headaches, and even strokes. My research since your kidnapping has changed my mind about the use of the therapy. I’m only willing to use the technique now on very severe cases, and
only
on the moment of crisis.”

Wow. Well, didn’t that just suck moss-covered swamp rocks? My headaches were getting more frequent and worse. “Could it affect …
memory
itself?” I mean, there might be a spell, too, but who knew if they were related? I asked, almost afraid of hearing the answer.

She shook her head and I felt a wave of pressure lift off my chest. The relief was enough to make me light-headed. “No, there’s been nothing in the research like that.”

“Then it must be the spell. Rizzoli said the second bomb was supposed to erase all traces of the first one, even memories. And John did find traces of a spell he wanted to look into.”

“That could well be it. Still, if you’re having memory problems, maybe we need to explore that. Tell me about the last two days—with as much detail as you can. And please, tell me
everything.
It could be quite important.”

While it wasn’t a normal request from Gwen, I had to admit that I was flattered by her intense attention.

She listened with her whole body, taking notes as I recounted the days since the bomb at the school. While she’d only asked for two days, it was important to me that someone listen to everything that had happened to me since then and why I thought there was a problem. Writing things down had helped me focus my thoughts a lot, so some of it probably sounded sort of rehearsed.