Black Wings Gray Skies Page 2

  Aedan felt safe there, sharing land with his new and slightly less murderous relative.

  Behind those wards, he was snug as a bug in a rug, and it gave me a rush knowing he trusted me to protect him. Blame it on my white witch roots, the ones that craved a coven, a community. Or blame it on the whisper of conscience growing stronger in my mind every day.

  Refuse to allow past missteps to dictate the path of your future.

  You don’t owe anyone a smile when life is kicking you in the teeth.

  Every day is a new chance, a new choice, a new challenge.

  Honestly, it was like a fortune cookie factory of positivity up there these days.

  A high-pitched squeal snapped me out of my head as a laughing father swung his pink-cheeked daughter in the air and caught her against his chest. Giggling and squirming, she wriggled until he put her down.

  Part of me wondered if my dad had ever played with me like that.

  Hard not to think of him, after Colby gifted me a rare photo of my parents for Christmas.

  Ahead of her father, the girl ran to the railing, gripped a pole, then popped her head through the bars.

  After her joyous squeals, her frantic screams didn’t register until the man rushed to her, peered over the edge to the sandbar below, and gulped hard. He jerked his daughter to him, hefted her onto his hip, and then scanned the Battery for help.

  Two Black Hat agents on a case stuck out like sore thumbs anytime. With me in civilian clothes, I imagine the scene could be interpreted as a high-value target, a socialite or politician’s daughter, out for a picnic. With her bodyguards.

  “Call the police,” the man yelled. “There’s a…” He cradled his daughter’s head, forcing her to rest against his shoulder. “Just do it.” He bounced her lightly on his hip, as if she were a much smaller child. “Please.”

  That was all the civic duty the man had in him before he swept his daughter down the nearest steps into a gray sedan parked snug against the Battery. He wedged into the traffic faster than Asa and I could rise.

  We crossed to where the girl had stood and leaned over for a better look.

  As we did, a foul stench hit my nose, one I recognized as if it were a perfume I had been born wearing.

  Black magic.

  Sneakers dotted with cartoon characters acted as a flotation device for a skinny leg bone bobbing in the surf.

  “Call the director.” I gritted my teeth. “Looks like we have our first body.”

  2

  The Charleston Police Department had two wargs who worked in patrol, and I requested they meet us at the crime scene. The male was short, thin, and Scandinavian in coloring. The female was a head taller, in faded civvies with the CPD logo, and could have been cast as a shield maiden in a Viking documentary.

  She was also deep in conversation on her phone, a growl present in her voice, her eyes gone amber.

  “Agent Hollis,” the male greeted me. “We appreciate the call.”

  A faint accent flavored his words, but not one I could place. New York maybe. Or New Orleans. There was a surprising amount of overlap between the two if you listened close.

  “I regret the circumstances, but it’s nice to meet you both. I hope together we can solve this case before more innocents are hurt.” I indicated Clay, who gave no hint his personal style made this awkward. “This is Agent Kerr.” I nodded at Asa. “This is Agent Montenegro.”

  Hidden within Clay’s wig, Colby kept still and quiet so as not to tip them off to her presence.

  “I’m Officer Vandenburgh.” He hooked his thumb at his partner. “That is also Officer Vandenburgh.”

  “Great delivery.” Clay acknowledged the man’s dry humor. “You ever consider standup comedy?”

  “We have five kids under six.” He huffed a laugh. “I only tell knock-knock jokes, and the audience prefers I repeat the same ones over and over.” He scratched his cheek. “They like to shout out the punchlines.”

  With a terse final word, Mrs. Officer Vandenburgh pocketed her cell. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sitter issues?” Her husband sighed at her confirmation. “What did the terrors do this time?”

  “Our triplets are teething, and our twin girls are over their little brothers chasing them and biting them.” She included us in her explanation. “Not even our mothers will watch them until they grow out of this.”

  Aside from Colby, I had no experience with kids. I could sympathize with the Vandenburghs’ mothers for not wanting to be responsible for entertaining five kids who could turn into wolves and gnaw on them.

  “Enough about us,” Mr. Officer Vandenburgh, noticing my awkward silence, broke in. “Where is she?”

  She was a stretch. There wasn’t enough to confirm gender without testing, though the sneaker might give us a hint.

  “The remains are this way.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “We didn’t disturb the scene.”

  Aside from shooing off seagulls eager for an easy meal, we had no reason to venture down to the beach. The leg had washed ashore, securing our evidence and leaving us to wait on the police. Normal protocol it was not, but so many missing human children were a ticking time bomb. We had been authorized to use all available resources to put an end to this as fast and discreetly as possible.

  And if that meant asking for an assist from officers with the keenest noses in the business, then so be it.

  “God,” Mrs. Officer Vandenburgh breathed. “That poor child.”

  “Might be a boating accident,” her husband murmured. “A three-blade propeller can inflict one hundred and sixty impacts in one second. Amputations aren’t that rare, even in adults. What makes you think this is one of yours?”

  “The smell,” I answered for us. “You didn’t notice?”

  “Yeah.” Mr. Officer Vandenburgh flushed to the tips of his ears. “We just figured it was…”

  “Me.”

  “Sorry about that.” His wife palmed the metal railing. “We don’t see many black witches up this way.”

  Now that was interesting, and it was news to me. “You don’t say.”

  Mrs. Officer—much easier to think of her that way—leapt the railing and stuck an impressive landing.

  “I figured it was a peninsula thing.” He gripped the rail next. “I hear that magic and water don’t mix.”

  For now, I had no reason to believe, aside from the smell, that a black witch might be involved. The truth was, you didn’t have to be a witch to dabble in the dark arts, and I couldn’t afford to get fixated on the idea this was yet another case with a Black Hat rogue agenda.

  That was how mistakes got made. How killers walked free. Neither of which was an option here.

  Once Mr. Officer’s boots hit the sand, he and his wife began a preliminary examination.

  The tender way the officers handled the remains, the care with which they treated the scene, spoke of heartache that throbbed so deep only another parent could grasp the breadth of that loss.

  To give them privacy, Asa and I blocked the Battery path ahead while Clay did the same behind us.

  The fewer humans who saw what had attracted our attention, the better.

  A small eternity later, Mrs. Officer called up to us. “You can come down now.”

  Clay leapt the rail, sank up to his ankles in sand, then lifted his arms toward me.

  “Come on in, Dollface.” He made grabby motions. “The water’s fine.”

  Even the most ambitious waves lapped the shore yards away from him, so I doubted his authority on the matter. Had this not been a crime scene, I suspected he would have caught me, walked me into the surf, then dunked me into icy water. With the Vandenburghs looking on, I figured the odds skewed fifty/fifty.

  Professionalism and golems did not always go hand in hand when an opportunity for mischief arose.

  “Are you serious?” I measured the distance. “You expect me to jump?”

  Impact with Clay was the next best thing to a head-on automobile collision
with a concrete pylon.

  Chivalry was not dead, as Asa showed by swinging over the railing to land nimbly on the hard-packed sand beside the smirking golem. Pivoting toward me, Asa opened his arms in a clear challenge to Clay’s offer.

  As a witch, I was the least agile person on our team, but sheesh. It wasn’t like I was human.

  Determined to prove a point, I sat on the seawall, gripped the railing at my chest, and slid beneath it.

  The mushy patch where I landed sucked me down to my ankles. I windmilled my arms to recover my balance, almost face planted, overcorrected, then fell backward onto my butt with a grunt-squeak.

  Black witches don’t grunt-squeak, and they don’t earn reputations as klutzes.

  Because they kill the witnesses.

  Both guys stared at me, and the faintest snickers drifted from Clay’s hair.

  Why had I quit eating hearts again?

  There must be a good reason, but it was eluding me just now.

  The warg couple exchanged nostalgic glances that made me curious if they had pegged our team dynamic yet. Maybe Asa and I reminded them of the early days of their partnership. Or they thought I was an idiot for making a fool of myself rather than accepting help when it was offered. Hard to tell.

  No one said a word about my damp butt as I picked my way to the wargs, the guys falling in behind me.

  The only secrets to be revealed were in the remains themselves, which gave us more freedom to explore without fear of contaminating the scene. Location, currents, and tide might tip us off to the general area where the leg entered the water, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

  “Apologies,” Mr. Officer greeted me, his nostrils wide. “This smells nothing like you.”

  The remains or the magic lingering on it, I wasn’t sure, but I decided he meant well either way.

  Asa stood behind me and to my right, but he didn’t shrink into himself to put the couple at ease. As much as I wanted to believe it was a sign of him embracing his power, I decided it was a bureaucratic pissing match happening on an animalistic wavelength I wasn’t picking up on.

  “There’s enough tissue to run DNA.” Clay squatted for a better look. “That will take twenty-four hours.”

  Magic, in an effort to remain relevant and not simply a wonder, had spawned forensic fields with special skills that allowed results to be in the hands of any agency willing to pay the fee within hours rather than days or weeks. The director sponsored several branches relevant to the Bureau’s interests. In exchange for a discount on bulk services, of course.

  With a snap, I put on latex gloves. “Do you mind?”

  The couple exchanged a weighty glance then Mr. Officer pulled out his phone. “Do you?”

  “Record away.” I knelt to stabilize myself then set to work on untying the sneaker. I tugged slack in the laces, stretched the tongue up and the sides out, then freed the shoe from the swollen foot. I glanced at the logo on the inner sole. “Girls, size seven.”

  “That isn’t conclusive of gender,” Mrs. Officer warned me. “Kids wear hand-me-downs all the time.”

  We had detailed descriptions of what the victims had been wearing, so it was easy enough to check.

  “True.” I held the shoe while Mr. Officer snapped pictures. “Can you forward us the photos and video?”

  “Sure thing.” Mr. Officer requested my email address. “I’ll ask you to do the same, going forward.”

  After helping them bag the shoe, I removed my gloves, tucked them in my pocket, then rose.

  “Of course.” I shook his hand and then hers. “You have our full cooperation.”

  “Who is our?” Mrs. Officer swept her gaze up me. “You’re not FBI.”

  Mysterious disappearances and kidnappings involving children fell within FBI jurisdiction.

  Good guess, wrong Bureau.

  “FBI isn’t that diverse,” her husband agreed. “Black witch, golem, and…” he flared his nostrils, “…daemon with a hint of fae.”

  “Your lives will be much happier and longer if you take us at face value.” I winced at how it sounded. “I’m not threatening you.” No one with a lick of sense went after a warg. They ran in packs for a reason. “I’m telling you our boss doesn’t like when people ask questions.”

  If they didn’t know, then they didn’t need to know.

  That was the company line.

  Look at me, toeing it.

  Oh, how times had changed.

  “All right.” Mrs. Officer spread her hands. “I’ve heard about shadow organizations. Enough to know I don’t want to find myself on the wrong side of one.” A thread of steel laced her voice. “As long as you’re here in good faith, we have no problem.” She flexed her fingers, and pelt sprouted across her hand. “Fair warning.” Her nails sharpened into claws, and she pointed one at me. “Harm an innocent in our city, and I will give you a tour of the bottom of the ocean and a free pair of cement shoes.”

  The reasoning behind Asa’s uncharacteristic boldness crystalized in an instant.

  Our city.

  “You’re the Charleston alphas,” I realized. “I didn’t see that in your files.”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that.” Mr. Officer twitched his lips, enjoying how the tables had turned on us. “But I would be afraid of my wife, if I were you. I have days where I wake beside her in a cold sweat, and that’s after thirty-five years of marriage.”

  “Ignore him,” Mrs. Officer told us then cocked an eyebrow at her mate. “You’re worse than I am.”

  “Not even close.”

  “Remember our first year on the force as mates and partners? Oh. That’s right. You weren’t there.” Mrs. Officer snorted. “Every time you saw me in danger, you sprouted fur and got sent home.”

  “That’s not true.” He tugged the ends of her hair. “Sometimes, I sprouted claws instead.”

  “Count your blessings.” She swatted him. “Warg males will literally mark their territory.”

  A sudden itch reminded me of the bracelet on my wrist. The one woven from Asa’s hair.

  Used to the weight of its purpose, the comforting scratch against my skin, I rarely thought of it anymore.

  “Daemons will too.” I crimped my lips. “They’re just sneakier about it.”

  “I’ll call the cleaners,” Mrs. Officer offered. “File the paperwork via your agency, and you’ll be granted a temporary login so you can access information as it’s uploaded to our regional database.”

  Cleaners specialized in erasing signs of paranormal activity. They swore oaths of impartiality and vowed to seek justice for all supernatural factions. They worked for themselves, but organizations could buy in. The membership fees funded investigations as well as industry advancements, and it provided cutting-edge services smaller towns couldn’t have afforded on their miniscule budgets otherwise.

  However, the director all but owned the cleaners. As in the entire organization. Their database was a curated version of the one the Kellies maintained for Black Hat. Their oaths of neutrality might as well have been made on bended knee before him.

  “Thanks.” I appreciated the inclusion. “I’ll do that.”

  Now I had no choice but to file, since they would expect me to track the case through their connections.

  Better to let them see I was signed in and active on their network than wonder why I didn’t need to be.

  Lucky for me, Colby excelled at cyber drudgery that made my head throb.

  Our team left the officers to wait on the cleaners and returned to the top of the Battery to gather our things. I was out of bravado at that point and allowed Asa to boost me high enough for me to reach the railing and haul myself over it again.

  Except for a curious bird, a plump royal tern, no one had bothered our abandoned breakfast.

  I was tempted to finish eating to avoid wasting the food, but I didn’t like how the idea made my stomach clench. As much as I hated to admit it, the scene hadn’t cost me my appetite. But maybe it should have? br />
  A lifetime of inflicting horrors on others for purpose or pleasure had numbed me to most terrible things. Only now there was a whispery acknowledgment from my fledgling conscience when I should feel sad or angry for what was done to a victim. I wasn’t sure carnage would ever bother me again, but that nascent tug of conscience whispered it was okay if it did. That no lacquered cane waited, eager to whack my knuckles for showing emotion, for empathizing. But I couldn’t shake a lifetime of conditioning so easily.

  “You okay?” Clay bumped my shoulder as I set out for the SUV. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

  Blinking away the fear I might not live up to my own expectations, I asked, “What look?”

  “The look that tells me you need a second breakfast to recover the calories you burned climbing.”

  Accidentally on purpose, I stuck out my foot and tripped Clay, who toppled into the bushes.

  Without hesitation, Asa dove in after him, ripping the poufy wig off his head and holding it high.

  Clay yelped at the sting and stumbled out the other side, patting his shiny bald head in horror.

  “What the f—” Clay bit down hard, “—fudge did you do that for?”

  “Oleander.” Asa exited the bushes. “Every part of the plant is toxic.”

  “Goddess bless.” I spun on my heel, hit the nearby stairs, and rushed onto the sidewalk. “Colby?”

  “I’m fine,” she called out, laughing. “I’m upside down, but I’m good.”

  Clay escaped unblemished, but Asa had splotchy hands. The fall must have snapped limbs and exposed him to sap.

  “I should have recognized it.” I took the wig from him, and my fingers tingled. “I wasn’t thinking—”

  “Let’s get Shorty to the SUV.” Clay stole the wig. “Then we’ll revisit what the hell city planners were thinking when they planted murder bushes along one of the city’s biggest tourist magnets.”

  Not waiting for us, Clay booked it toward the SUV, leaving Asa and me to play catch-up.

  “No one got hurt.” Asa tucked his hands into his pockets. “Except the wig.”