VoodooMoon (16 page)

I turned and resumed my course, knowing for certain someone, other than my backup team, was following me. In front of me there was a sudden commotion and raised voices as a group of four men came out of a bar, followed by another group of three. From the looks of them they were all vampires and by the words flying back and forth between the two groups they were itching for a fight. I sped up my pace and got past them before the first punch was thrown.

The commotion, now behind me, got louder and the crowd on the sidewalk started gravitating towards the brawl, which was now actually in the middle of the street. I looked back to see that, in just a few seconds, the crowd around fighters had grown to encompass the sidewalks on both sides of the street. I couldn’t see Jarrett or Ian and Rangel. They must have been caught up in growing crowd. Neither could I see anyone that might be following me.

I glanced around to get my bearings. I was about two blocks away from Pinky’s. To my right there was a dark narrow path between two buildings. To give my pursuer, and hopefully my backup team, time to get through the crowd and catch up to me, I stepped into the alley entrance, careful to stay in a moderately lit area, and leaned against the building.

There was a skittering in the dark behind me and I cringed. I hated rats, and the boots I had on were too thin for me to feel comfortable standing in a rat infested alley. I opened my senses and pulled in a little power in anticipation of a fight, or having to fry some rats, and hoped someone came along soon.

I didn’t have to wait long. A figure moved into the alley and leaned against the building next to me, blocking the way out. His shoulder was against the building and he was facing me, the light casting a shadow across his face.

“It’s kind of dangerous for a lady like you to be out here alone,” the hoarse, raspy voice wasn’t familiar.

I moved back and towards the middle of the alley, and as I hoped, he shifted his stance and turned just enough to let me see his very familiar face in the full light. Perhaps if I hadn’t spent an hour looking at various artwork depicting those large eyes and full lips, I wouldn’t have recognized him. But Gray Reeder was a talented artist, magically talented, in fact. His lead and charcoal sketches were as detailed as the old photographs I’d seen in the books at the Archives. And his favorite subject was his husband. Their tiny apartment was filled with sketches and paintings of York Reeder.

“Oh, I can take care of myself,” I said, forcing my voice into a soft sultry lilt and giving him a coy smile. I didn’t want to break cover just yet.

“I’m sure you can,” he said. “But you did look a little lonely here, can I keep you company or were you waiting on someone?”

There was something off about his voice. The flat, raspy quality didn’t fit the thin man in front of me, and it seemed a bit disjointed from his mouth movements. As I looked closer I realized, though I was absolutely sure this was York Reeder, he barely resembled the laughing, exuberant man in the pictures. His skin was sallow and sagging, his eyes were dull and lifeless. Something was terribly wrong.

I glanced towards the street, but still no backup. I turned my attention back to Reeder and made my voice as flirtatious as possible. “What if I told you I was waiting for you.”

“I would say it was fortuitous because you are exactly what I’ve been waiting for, for a very long time.”

Though the voice’s flat, uninflected tone hadn’t changed, something about that statement made a cold ball of dread form in my stomach. I pasted the coquettish smile in place.

“Ooh, that sounds exciting.” I said, moving across the alley to lean seductively against the far building wall, putting as much space between us as possible. I fingered the small amethyst crystal hanging around my neck, pushing a little power through it, giving my team the signal to move in.

“It is,” said Reeder, moving slowly towards me.

He was only about a foot away from me when his hand began moving towards me. I forced myself to stay in my role as party girl, hoping the cavalry would arrive soon. As his arm swung around, light glinted off something metallic in his hand.

Instinctively my arm shot up to block him in an effort to knock the needle out of his hand, but his other arm snaked up my back and his hand was wrapped around my hair. He gave it a sharp tug, forcing my head back so hard I had to bend at the knees to keep from falling.

“Don’t worry my love, this won’t hurt for long,” the cold, monotone voice crooned. His hand came at my neck, almost as if in slow motion.

“Maybe not, but this will.” I pulled up my right leg and slammed the sharp heel of Anya’s boot down into his instep.

Surprisingly, he didn’t squeal in pain, but it was enough to knock him slightly off balance. I took advantage of that and forced my elbow into his solar-plexus. That knocked him back and the needle syringe went flying as he hit the ground several feet away.

“Oh, you like to play rough do you?” The voice was a near growl now, sounding even more far away than before. “I can give you rough.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I crooned.

I opened my senses to pull in energy and blast him back, but I was met with a dark coldness than made my stomach lurch. I shut my senses down, instantly. It was the exact same feeling that had come over me the night I had been dancing with Ian. The night Farah had gone missing. My head swam and the world tilted. I staggered, then I fell to my knees, gravel scraping my bare skin. I gasped for air, struggling not to empty the contents of my stomach.

What the hell was happening here? I took a deep breath, and forced myself to focus.

Reeder lunged at me, but he moved stiffly, almost as if it were an effort to control his body. I had just enough time to stagger to my feet and move to the side before he slammed into me. Instead of hitting me full force, he clipped me on the shoulder, knocking me aside as he slammed into the wall of the building behind me.

I moved in behind him and pinned him to the wall, my knee in his back. “It’s over, Reeder.”

The man began to laugh, which sounded eerie and disturbing and sent chills up my spine.

I was about to ask him what was so funny when I heard my name being called from the direction of the street.

“In here,” I called back, but it came out a hoarse whisper, and the world spun again. I leaned into Reeder, supporting my weight on his back until the world righted again. Taking another deep breath I shouted again, this time my voice ringing out in the empty alley. “Here.”

A moment later a broad figure strode into the alley.

“Rangel! It’s about damn time,” I said, glancing behind him. “Where are Ian and Jarrett?”

“Still stuck in the crowd. I teleported out, but it took me a few minutes to find you. Sorry.”

“No problem. Can you help me with chuckles here?” I said, jerking Reeder’s arms behind his back so Rangel could cuff him.

We flipped him around to face us.

“York Reeder,” Rangel said, his tone authoritative. “You are bound by law under my authority as a Guard of the City-State of Nash.”

Oh, no he didn’t just try to take over my apprehension! “And, my authority as an Agent of the Black Blade Guard under the jurisdiction of the Paranorm Council of Elders,” my tone and the look I shot him dared him to protest. Perhaps this wasn’t the time or place to get into a pissing match, but this was officially a Blades case and I had dominion here.

Apparently neither of our statements or our bickering had any effect on Reeder, who continued with that creepy laugh.

“What is so funny?” I asked, at the end of my patience.

He stopped laughing abruptly. “Silly girl, York Reeder isn’t here anymore. This body belongs to me now.”

A shiver of anxiety ran through me at his words. Who the hell was this guy and why couldn’t I access my magic around him? Had he been in Pinky’s that night? Or was I losing my power and it had nothing to do with him at all? I shook my head slightly and forced myself to focus.

“Oh, just who are you then?” I asked, trying to sound flippant.

“You may call me Bokor,” the monotone voice actually managed to sound superior.

“Well, then, Bokor, you are bound by law…”

The laughter started again, cutting me off.

“You silly, silly child. You think you can bind the likes of me? That your laws apply to me? You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

“Really? Then, please, do tell us,” Rangel bit out.

“Oh, you’ll find out in time,” Bokor said, ominously, his eyes focused on me. “You will know my grace and my power when I devour you.”

What the hell? Devour me? Before I could ask him what he meant by that, York Reeder’s already vacant eyes went gray and cloudy. His body went slack, and then stiff, his skin becoming dry and brittle, and within seconds the very much alive man was dead and his dry corpse slumped forward on to me.

I heard a shriek and realized it came from me. I looked up and saw Rangel’s shocked face and knew it had to mirror mine. My stomach clenched and my knees buckled. I was able to register Ian running towards me and calling my name just before everything went gray, and then black.

“I can’t believe I fucking fainted,” I said, leaning on the table with both elbows, my face buried in my hands. I was talking more to myself than the room at large.

But River heard me as she set a mug of hot honey and lavender down in front of me. She ran her hand over my hair, “You had a pretty big shock, so it’s to be expected. How are you feeling now?”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, and immediately regretted it. I looked up and grabbed her hand, pressing it to my cheek for a moment before releasing it. “I’m sorry Rivs. I’m fine, really. Please don’t fuss.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Drink your tea,” she ordered, smiling indulgently, then moved around set a mug in front of Rangel, who looked as pale and freaked out as I felt. “You too.” River was an equal opportunity mother-hen.

After I passed out (fainting was just too weak and puny a word and I was not weak and puny) Ian had carried me back to Pinky’s. Apparently River had dreamed, of meeting Ian at the back door with my unconscious body. She’d woken up and went downstairs, and having learned long ago to take River’s dreams or visions seriously, everyone had sprang into action. So by the time we arrived Pinky and Anya were already clearing the pub out and closing down early. Ian had reluctantly given me over to River’s care and he and Sam had went back to the alley. A few minutes later Rangel and Jarrett had come in.

That had been over an hour ago and now we were in the cleared out bar waiting for Sam and Ian to come back from the morgue. Pinky and Anya were busying themselves by doing the other bar closing duties. River was helping them by wiping down tables and fussing over me and Rangel. Jarrett sat silently by the door, watching out the front window, his body tense and on guard.

I sipped the hot tea River had given me, letting the warm, sweet taste wash away the lingering nausea. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what had happened, what I’d seen. But it didn’t make sense, not any of it. Before I could think about it too much, Ian and Sam came in. Their faces looked as grim as I felt.

They joined us at the table and, after River and Anya delivered drinks all around, Sam said, “I sent the other teams home to get some rest. I also gave them all the day off tomorrow. There is no use in continuing our nightly patrols with Reeder dead. As a matter of fact, except for a small team to try to trace his tracks in hopes of finding some of the missing women, I might as well call off the whole team. I’m afraid that with a dead suspect and no new leads we may never find them.”

“York Reeder was not the kidnapper,” I said, with utter confidence.

“You think there is another accomplice?”

“No. I think Reeder was a victim, not a kidnapper. That might have been Reeder’s body in that ally, but whoever, or whatever, spoke to me was not York Reeder.” I filled them in on everything that had happened from the moment I glanced Reeder on the street until everything went black.

Next to me Rangel nodded. “I agree with Fiona. I don’t know what the hell that was, but it wasn’t Reeder. There was something far away and detached about the voice and the words and mouth movement just didn’t sync up. Someone or something was controlling that body. And the way he died, it was like… Well, like nothing I’d ever seen. One moment he was breathing and alive, although kind of sickly colored, and the next he was a dried up corpse.”

“Someone controlling the body? Did you see anyone else in the vicinity?” Sam asked.

“No, but it was dark and my attention was on not getting killed,” I told him.

“I got to the alley entrance in time to hear him talking, and there was no one else in that ally or anywhere within line of site of Reeder. If there had been, I would have seen them, or scented them.” Jarrett said.

Sam mulled that over for a moment. “Ian, is there any way a necromancer can control a body like that?”

“No. That is not what Necromancers do. I got to the alley in time to hear the tail end of his speech and see the body collapse. That is nothing I’ve ever seen or heard of. I can’t explain it, except to say that whatever powers were used, they were not Necromantic.”

I wasn’t convinced. “Someone, either alive or dead was controlling that man. Is it possible he was possessed by a spirit?”

“No. Two life energies, or spirits, can not possess the same body and a spirit cannot jump into a dead body and control it.” Ian informed the room at large in his stuffy-professor voice. As I opened my mouth, he continued, “And no, to my knowledge it is not possible for any Necromancer to force a spirit into a dead body and control it in that manner. Besides, there was no spirit to control.”

There was something about the way he said “in that manner” that caught my attention, but I decided to ignore it, for now. “So the body was like the other one?”

“Identical,” Ian said. “I have still yet to find any explanation for it in any of the books and research materials I have. Of course, that doesn’t mean such incidents have never happened before. It just means the information was lost during the cataclysm. That isn’t uncommon, especially for very rare phenomena that may have only been recorded in one particular place.”

“So, on that note we are no further than we were a week ago,” Sam said, with a weary sigh. “Let’s concentrate on what little new information we have. What exactly did he say to you, Fiona?”

I recited the words again, suppressing a shiver of dread and fear at the last part.

“Devour you? What the hell does that mean?” Everyone turned to look at Pinky. I’d almost forgotten my family was still in the room. Under normal circumstances it would have been a breach of protocol, but since Sam didn’t mind, neither did I. Besides, Pinky’s was their home and livelihood, and this person had been here at least twice, and could come back. They deserved to know what was going on.

“I don’t know, but I don’t care,” I lied, my voice full of false bravado. “I’m not going to give him a chance.”

“Wait, did you say his name was Bokor?” Anya asked. She had finished cleaning up and was sitting at the bar sipping a drink.

“Yes, why? Have you heard that name before?”

“Yes, I think I have.” Her expression was thoughtful, as if trying to conjure a memory. “But it wasn’t a name, it was a title.”

“A title? Like a job or position in the community?” Ian asked.

“Community, I suppose,” she said slowly. “Back when I lived with the gypsies, we often met other clans and sometimes camped and traveled with them. Some of the clans from the lost Creole Coast practice a religion called Voodoo. I liked to listen to the clan elders tell about their myths and practices. Each clan seemed to have their own take, their own customs and myths, even their own names for their religious leaders. There were a couple of clans that I remember that called their priests Bokor.”

“I’ve heard of Voodoo,” Ian said. “I’ve ran across it in my research before because it was a religion based on magic. But I don’t know much about it. I will have to do some more research.”

“I’ve heard of Voodoo, too,” Jarrett said. “I don’t know anything about it, really, except that it was widely practiced Louisiana and Haiti. Seems like there were a lot of different versions of it.”

I had no idea where those locations were, but I assumed they were part of the lands that had been lost to the sea in the Cataclysm.

“That makes sense,” Ian said, thoughtfully. “Most religions had many variations in their myths and practices, even back when information was widely available. I imagine that after two hundred years of verbally handed down customs, they are quite different. I suppose the place to start would be knowing the basics. I’ll hit the archives first thing tomorrow.”

“I’ll help you.” I told him. Though the prospect of spending hours surrounded by dusty tomes reading dry, boring magic research books was abhorrent to me, I knew two sets of eyes would be better than one. Besides, I had to do something, and at this point researched seemed to be the only thing there was that could be done.

“I might be able to help, too,” River said from her spot at the bar. “I know a Voodoo Priestess.”

“You know a Voodoo Priestess?”

“Could she be the kidnapper?”

“How do you know a Voodoo Priestess?”

The questions came out all at one time in such a jumble it was impossible to tell who had asked what. But my sister was unfazed by the clamor. She just smiled, and then answered the questions one by one.

“One of the gypsy clans that comes to the market worships Voodoo. Their priestess is a dear friend. No, I do not believe she could be in any way responsible for the disappearances or deaths. Her title is not Bokor, it is Mambo.”

“Can you get her to talk to us?” I asked, knowing River never would have brought it up in front of everyone if she didn’t.

“I think so, she is very sweet. But I’ll only introduce you if you promise not to go in there treating her like a suspect. She is a good, kind hearted old woman.” River said, an edge of steel in her sweet voice.

Ian spoke up before I could. “Do not worry, River. If you believe her to be good, then I do too. We will treat her with the utmost respect.”

River nodded. “Okay, then you guys can meet me at the Market anytime tomorrow afternoon. I’ll see her when I go in to set up in the morning and talk to her then.”

Once the next day’s meet up was settled, River went upstairs to go back to bed since she had to get up in just a few hours to be at the Market at dawn. After we had gone over the entire night in detail one more time, to catch any details that might have been missed, we all decided to call it a night.

“I’m going to head back to the office and get my report done to turn in to the Senate tomorrow. At this point we might as well stand down the City Guard and send them back to their normal duties. Fiona and Ian, I expect a full report tomorrow night on whatever you manage to dig up. But for now, you guys go get some sleep.” Sam said.

“I’ll scry you with a report tomorrow,” Ian told him. Then he turned to Pinky, “I’m a little concerned about your safety. This bad guy is nothing I’ve ever seen before, and he now has his sights set on Fiona. I know you keep this place warded and you and Fiona can take care of yourselves, but I’d like to offer up a couple of my guards.”

“I’ve never had any problem protecting my girls, but I agree with you, Ian. This is an unknown and having a little backup would be fine by me,” Pinky said, in that easy way he had.

“No need to wake anyone up, Barroes. I can stay until dawn, a little later if I can borrow an umbrella to get back to Headquarters.” Jarrett said.

“I tell you what, Jarrett. If you are willing, you can stay here for the duration. Even though I haven’t rented out rooms in nearly twenty years, I still have several rooms with soft, comfortable beds and vampire safe windows. Anya can make you one up, and you can bunk here. If that is acceptable.” Pinky said.

“Sounds good.” Jarrett said.

Sam stepped in, “Good. I’ll send a Blade to escort River to the market and guard her while she is there if you can send your guys over to watch the Pub while Pinky and Jarrett get some sleep tomorrow.”

I stood back watching the four men make decisions without even consulting me. I opened my mouth to protest, but then shut it without uttering a word. They were right. Because of me my sisters were in danger and they did need extra protection. So if it made them feel like big masculine men to arrange for guards without consulting Anya or me, despite the fact that we could kick the crap out of all of them, that was fine with me.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I told Ian. I kissed Pinky on the cheek and wished everyone else good night and retreated upstairs. I needed some time alone to process the night’s happenings. I was also looking forward to a little more rest than I had gotten over the past week.

****

Two hours later I was still awake and pacing in the tiny space between my bed and dresser. Despite having the window open, the air was too hot and thick, it felt as if I were breathing through River’s pea soup. My stomach churned and my skin crawled with nervous energy. I looked over at my bed. There was no way I could lay down feeling like this. I needed to get out. I needed some fresh air. I needed to walk, no run off some of this energy.

When I came up I had changed out of Anya’s outfit into a thin cotton tank top and shorts. I pulled on and laced up my comfortable old boots, my feet welcoming the way the soft leather and soul shaped around them. So much better than my earlier footwear. I quickly plaited my hair into a crooked, haphazard braid and tied it with a length of twine.

I slipped out of my room. The apartment was quite. River was likely asleep already and Anya was probably still down in the bar. I went out into the hall and stood at the top of the front stairs, I could hear voices, a male and female. I paused. If it were Pinky he’d be able to hear me and would never let me go out alone after what had gone down tonight. Damn vampire hearing.

I took a moment to mutter a sound deafening spell that would cover me until I got outside. I took a couple of tentative, normal steps. When no one reacted I hurried down the hall and down the back stairs. I paused at the back door, my ears alert. The voices from the bar were soft, in easy conversation, though I could now hear that the male voice talking to Anya wasn’t Pinky. It was Jarrett. I froze for a moment, listening and wondering if something had happened. Then I realized he and Anya were having the same problem with going to sleep as I was, though for entirely different reasons. While my schedule was as flexible as they come, Jarrett was a vampire, so he mostly worked at night and Anya worked in a vampire bar. Two in the morning was barely mid afternoon for them.

I relaxed. Nothing was out of place and from the easy flow of their conversation they hadn’t heard me. Without another thought for them I slipped out the back door. In the alley I breathed the cool night air deep into my lungs and started running. I ran through the city, avoiding major streets that would be full of night time workers, shoppers, and partiers.

Having a little residual energy after a magical fight was normal for me. Under normal circumstances, and for most mages, a mage works magic by using concentration and energy to manipulate the energy of the universe in one way or another. I have always worked magic differently, by pulling it into my body then dispelling it in different patterns to do what I need. This uses up my own energy as well, but my battle magic works very differently. Pulling energy into my body then dispelling it to create short bursts of energy as a weapon doesn’t normally use up my own energy. Instead, a little bit of the energy lingers. Mixed with the adrenaline that starts pumping during a battle, afterwards I am always a bit edgy.

Usually a run would dispel the energy enough for me to sleep, but it didn’t seem to be working tonight. But then, my nervous energy had nothing to do with magical battle. I hadn’t been able to pull any energy tonight.

My boots pounded the ground as I ran as hard as I could, wending my way through the back streets of the city. I tried to concentrate on my breathing and the movement of my body, but it was no use.

I had seen a lot of death in the years since I graduated from the Academy. A lot of senseless, wasteful death. I had even dealt some of it out in the course of my duties as a Blade. Death was always senseless and wasteful, even when the person deserved to die for their crimes. I’ve killed criminals and I’ve held their victims in my arms as the life seeped from them. Yet tonight something had been different. Probably because the man, the completely innocent man whose body had been used, hadn’t been sick or injured. He’d been full of life, if a bit pale and stiff moving, one moment, and then the life energy had gone out of him leaving his body dry and slumping against me.

The worst part was sadness and hope I had seen in York Reeder’s husbands face and radiating off of him in waves earlier today. Gray Reeder had been holding on to faith that he would see his husband again. But he wouldn’t. That hope and the life-loving exuberance I had seen in the paintings of York had been wiped from his life forever, and I felt responsible. Had there been anything I could have done?

Probably not. York Reeder had any control over his body, if his consciousness had still even been in there. Perhaps it hadn’t been in his body for days or weeks. I had to accept that there had been nothing I could have done. No way I could have saved York Reeder. But that was worse than taking the blame. It made me feel powerless. And I hate that more than anything in the world.

I’d been running for nearly an hour, but I my skin was still jumping and I hadn’t even started to tire. I needed something more than a run to help me dispel the energy surging through me. As the thought occurred to me I stopped running and looked around to see where I was. I recognized the area immediately. I stood a few steps from the river front entrance to the Necromancer’s Guild headquarters building. Though I’d started running in the opposite direction and taken the long way around via back alleys and little used roads I had unconsciously headed straight for where I wanted to be.

The wards that had protected the city from the destructive storms had not been able to prevent the swelling of the Cumberland River. Whole streets and buildings had sunk deep into the mud and yards, and even miles, in places beyond the city walls, had been lost to the river. During the reconstruction a hundred years ago most of the buildings that had sunk and were half covered in water had been torn down and a barrier wall and walkway had been constructed along the new borders of the river.

The building was a squat four story building that took up half a block dated back to a decade or two before the Cataclysm. It was situated on the river front, just a few yards from the water, though when it was built it had likely been three or four blocks away. A guard stood just inside the glass door. The room behind him was lit with blue tinted crystal lamps that cast a shadow over his face so I couldn’t tell if he saw me or not.

When he stepped away, I gathered he must not have seen me standing there watching the building, or he would have stayed by the door. I stood another moment trying to decide whether or not to go up knock. Of course it was stupid, undoubtedly Ian was asleep already. And even if he wasn’t, what did I think I was doing? Was I ready for what would happen if I went up there? Ian had promised we would visit the topic of the sexual tension between us after this case was over. I shivered at the memory of that knee melting kiss. Perhaps it was just best to wait until then, until I could think more clearly.

Did I really want to think clearly? Did I really want to wait any longer? Forget my need to push tonight out of my mind, the clear, undeniable truth was that I wanted Ian Barroes so bad that I could taste it. We had been dancing around each other with sniping and baiting for years. I was getting tired, I wanted to give in, despite the pure fear that coursed through my blood at the thought of doing so. I wasn’t afraid of Ian, but of myself. Of the feelings being with Ian would open up.

I stood there for several minutes silently arguing with myself and was no closer to a decision when the matter was taken out of my hands. The glass door of the building swung open and the guard strode across the street to me. “Agent Moon, Master Barroes asks that you join him upstairs for a drink.”