Fire Within

chapter Four

By dawn the next morning, Ari was concerned about her own safety. Not the physical kind, something much worse. Her fingers trembled as she dialed Rosalina’s number. She had woken just minutes earlier in a cold sweat. Disoriented. Heart pounding. Andreas had visited her dreams again, only this time he’d beckoned and whispered her name. Ari shivered, remembering how she’d reached a hand toward him, wanting to go. A part of her knew better, and the inner struggle had saved her, waking her in time.

“Answer the phone, Rosalina!” She huddled on the bed; arms clutching her knees against her chest, phone trapped to her ear by one shoulder. This was beyond nightmare. Whether to be bound to him by magic or fate—it was unthinkable.

Rosalina answered on the fourth ring.

“I have to see you.” Ari heard the desperation in her voice and took a steadying breath. “Soon.”

“Arianna? Is something wrong?”

“I’m having dreams.”

“Of a man?” Rosalina chuckled. “About time.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Oh? Then why are you calling me?” Rosalina asked shrewdly. “Don’t tell me Ramora’s story frightens you? Aren’t Guardians fearless?”

“No. I don’t know. Just tell me when I can see you.”

Rosalina stopped the questions, no more teasing. They agreed to meet that night at dusk, the night of the full moon, when the seer’s powers would be strongest. The best time to petition the Goddess for answers.

Ari curled back under the covers, but sleep eluded her. She didn’t want to talk with Rosalina. But she had to know the worst, didn’t she? What if it was true and she was bound for life to a vampire? What on earth would she do then? She lay and thought about it for a long time.

Maybe she could kill him.

An hour later, as dawn was breaking, she struggled into the shower and turned the water toward hot. The pounding heat gradually loosened her tense muscles. If only her brain were so easily soothed.

With all day to kill, Ari made plans to stay busy. Brierly, the little town where Rosalina lived, was only an hour away. Rather than brood, she decided to interview witnesses in Eddie’s case and visit the magic lab for Gillian’s report. Lewis Hampton, the first witness to reach the parking lot, was at the top of her list. After that, Lorraine’s mother, maybe, for a different perspective on the situation. And, time permitting, she looked forward to quizzing Harold Shale about the counseling sessions. There had to be a missing piece to this puzzle. Although Ryan or his officers would have talked with all the witnesses by now, maybe Ari would ask something different or hear a different answer. After all, she wasn’t looking for more evidence to prove Eddie guilty. Ryan had enough of that. She was looking for something that didn’t fit.

Lewis Hampton—pudgy, balding, and fidgety—waited for her beside Merchandise Mart’s customer service counter. They exchanged names, and Lew, as he introduced himself, led the way to a small office at the back of the store. When he’d turned away, Ari wrinkled her nose at the strong odor of his nervous sweat. What was making him so upset? His gait was awkward, his breathing labored. She hoped he wouldn’t have a seizure or heart attack during the interview.

“Is something wrong?” she finally asked.

“Only got 30 minutes,” he said, as he sat down, his trousers pulling tightly over his ample thighs. “We have quotas in Appliance. I could get fired if I don’t make my quota.” He craned his neck toward the front door as if he might be missing a potential customer. “The boss is covering for me. He doesn’t like to do that.”

“OK, we’ll keep it brief. Tell me what you witnessed Saturday night at the Woodland Inn.”

“The shooting, you mean. Well, I really didn’t see it happen. I was inside having a beer with my friend Marty, and we heard the shots.”

“How many shots?”

“Three or four. Don’t remember exactly. Anyway, I stuck my head out the door to see what was happening. It was already over.” Hampton ran his finger around the collar of his shirt and tugged, as if it was hard to breathe.

Ari started wondering where the store’s defibrillator was. What would Hampton be like if he was the one in trouble? She wanted to get this interview over for both of them. “What did you see?” she prompted.

“That vampire, Lorraine West’s boyfriend, was on the ground. Blood on his head. And her brother Eddie was there. The officer told me the vamp was dead. I mean, really dead. I didn’t know they could be killed.”

Ari didn’t say anything. It was a normal misconception. In fact, there were three or four ways even humans could kill a vampire. Silver bullets was one. She didn’t enlighten him on the rest; the last thing she needed was citizens carrying stakes, flamethrowers, or swords to behead vampires. Even after the treaties, too many humans struggled with the concept of vampires-as-equals.

“Did you see a gun? Or any other weapon?”

“No. Funny, isn’t it? The cop asked me the same thing. Where’d it go?”

“You tell me. Did you see anyone else outside?”

“No, just Eddie. Maybe someone was hiding or escaped.”

“Is that possible? How long did you wait before looking outside? Seconds or minutes?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Seconds.” He wiped his forehead with one hand. “I was right next to the door. Oh, I see what you’re getting at. Should have seen somebody running away.”

If the killer or accomplice was human, yes. Ari considered whether someone could have blended with the crowd and slipped away during the excitement. But she didn’t think that was the answer. Bar customers were a tight bunch; they would have noticed a stranger. Certainly one with a gun.

“When you first saw Eddie, what was he doing?”

“Nothing. I guess he was looking at the body. I yelled at him, asked what happened, but he didn’t seem to hear me. I don’t think he talked to anyone. Not ‘til the cops came.”

“And, what did he tell them?”

“Couldn’t hear. Too noisy. And the cop pulled him off to the side.”

So the alleged confession couldn’t be corroborated by this witness and probably not by anyone else in the crowd. Maybe defense counsel could make something of that. Ari didn’t believe the officer had lied, but the defense lawyer could always raise the issue.

Hampton glanced at his watch. Ari asked him about other possible enemies of the vampire, but he frowned and shrugged, looked at his watch again. She gave up and sent him back to work. The interview had been a bust, except for one small detail: the weapon had been missing before the bar crowd spilled into the parking lot. That meant none of them took it.

That brought her up against the same blank wall. Where had it gone? Someone else had to be involved. A different shooter or an accomplice. Whoever it was, Eddie was protecting him or her. But why? Fear for his own life, protecting a friend? Or was Eddie being paid for his silence? As for potential accomplices, Ari couldn’t imagine Eddie hiring someone to do the job for him, and if he had, why would Eddie be caught at the scene? Nothing about this made sense, including the fact this imaginary person had gotten away without being seen. Unless the killer wasn’t human, someone with supernatural speed. But why would Eddie cover for an Otherworlder?

When she called Shale & Associates to set up an appointment, the secretary said Shale wouldn’t be available until 2:00. That left sufficient time to speak with Mrs. West first.

Just after the lunch hour, Ari rang the doorbell. Thelma West invited her in, offered coffee, and they were soon seated in her cozy kitchen, complete with colorful towels and a rooster cookie jar. For a moment, Ari envied the normal household Eddie and Lorraine must have had, until she remembered the alcoholic father. The home didn’t reflect any of that disruption. The thought gave her a new perspective, a reminder that sometimes appearances were only surface deep. If Mrs. West could successfully hide that flaw in their lives, what else was hidden behind her motherly mask? Ari picked up her coffee cup. Maybe she was getting too cynical.

“Great coffee,” she said, after the first sip.

Mrs. West smiled. “Thank you. I wish I had something else to offer you, but I took the brownies to Lorraine’s. She’s having so many callers.”

Ari studied Eddie’s mother. The signs of a traditional lifestyle were written all over her and her tidy kitchen. The dark blue dress, nylons, and low-heeled pumps were conservative. Ari wondered if she even owned a pair of jeans. Tailored slacks, maybe, but no jeans. The faded auburn hair, turning gray around the temples, was styled in short, tight curls. The woman’s manner was gracious, and Ari assumed it rarely changed regardless of the provocation.

“This is fine. And I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to your daughter.”

The woman’s smile faltered, but she nodded.

Ari walked her through the typical questions, learning Mrs. West had been no more happy than Eddie about the bonding, but she expressed resignation with her daughter’s decision. Although Mrs. West’s voice remained calm throughout, her lips pinched in disapproval when she talked about Jules. It wasn’t until Ari asked about Eddie that his mother lost her composure.

“Do you think Eddie killed him?” Ari asked without warning.

Mrs. West’s mouth opened in distress. “No, no, of course not. Eddie’s not responsible. I don’t know why he said he was.” She didn’t sound as sure of her conclusion as Lorraine. More hopeful, maybe. Tears glistened in the woman’s face, and she clasped her hands in a tight knot, revealing how brittle the serene exterior was. “First Ed, then Lorraine, now Eddie.” Her chin trembled. “I’ve lost them all.”

Ari’s discomfort with this drama must have registered, because Mrs. West took a deep breath and her voice steadied. “Please excuse me. I shouldn’t be burdening you with all this. It’s been difficult. I guess I’m not myself.” She pulled up a vague smile from somewhere. “Of course, it’s not as bleak as that. Lorraine will be fine. She has good friends and family. We’ll help her. And Eddie will be proven innocent. I have to believe the justice system will work. Everything’s going to be fine.” She dabbed with a tissue as the tears started to slide down her cheeks.

Ari figured that was her cue to leave. The woman was too distraught for Ari to get much more information, and Ari wasn’t good with tears. Mrs. West’s emotional swings were more than she wanted to handle.

“It’s clearly hard for you to talk today. Perhaps we can reschedule in a day or two.”

“Yes, yes, that would be better. Thank you.” In another lightning switch, Mrs. West stood, whisked away the tears, and patted down her dress. She now was in a hurry. “Lorraine will be wondering where I am.”

Frowning over the woman’s erratic behavior, Ari saw herself out. As she closed the front door, Mrs. West was already reaching for her purse and keys.

Ari timed her arrival at Shale & Associates to allow time to look around. A misty aura of magic hung over the building, a sure sign that a significant number of Otherworlders were inside. She’d heard of the agency’s opening. Not much happened in the magic community that didn’t come to her ears sooner or later. A relatively new business, established within the last year, S & A specialized in advising mixed-species couples. Gossip had been mixed, and Ari was curious to see their set up. For some reason, Shale hadn’t applied to the Magic Council for approval or assistance. Since doing business within the Otherworld community didn’t require certification other than a city license, she’d had no reason or right to do an inspection. Today was her first time inside the doors.

At first glance, it resembled a community meeting center. Small waiting lobby, opening into a large common room; modern, commercial furnishings with plenty of seating; colorful paintings on the walls; and conversational groupings of chairs and sofas, many occupied by chatting clients. This rather casual impression stood in sharp contrast with the smartly dressed receptionist in the partial-glass enclosure in the front lobby and the closed doors that lined the three exterior walls of the meeting area. Each door held an official-looking gold nameplate.

The receptionist took Ari’s name with an automatic smile. After a cursory glance at the Magic Council ID, she clicked a button and announced Ari’s presence to someone on the other end. The woman’s brisk voice matched her precise demeanor. She listened to her headset a moment. Her attention returned to Ari, and she reported Shale would be with her shortly. She offered Ari something to drink while she waited.

Ari chose the nearest chair. “No, thank you, Mrs. Binderman,” she said, reading the nameplate on the counter. “I’m fine.”

The receptionist flashed a sudden smile. The simple use of her name transformed her from cool efficiency to genuine warmth. Human Social Interaction 101. It didn’t always work, but when it did, Ari still found it amazing.

“It’s Ms.,” Amelia Binderman confided, leaning forward as if imparting a secret. “I’m not married.” She spoke without regret or concern, just a secretarial compulsion for accuracy. Ari made a mental note for future visits. Since they’d broken the ice, Ari probed for a little more information. The clerical staff always knew the company secrets.

“Nice building. Have you worked here long?”

“It’ll be a year in October,” Binderman said. “Since the beginning. I was one of Mr. Shale’s first employees.”

“Didn’t he bring staff with him from some other practice? I had the impression counseling was a long-term career.”

“For Mr. Shale? Oh, I think so. I was the first employee in this office, but I believe he had one before. Out west, I believe. Or maybe I never heard.” She frowned, as if puzzled at her lack of knowledge. “One or two of the counselors might have come with him, but most of the staff was hired locally. They’re all very good. And the clients keep coming back.”

“I noticed you’re not lacking for business.” Ari gestured toward the groups in the larger room.

As they talked, Binderman continued to open a large stack of mail with an ornate letter opener, a miniature replica of a medieval sword. Ari thought it was an unusual choice in office accessories and didn’t fit the secretary’s personality. Perhaps a gift from a favorite young relative.

“We could use more counselors,” the receptionist continued, “but Mr. Shale doesn’t want us to get too big. He likes to interact on a personal level with his clients and employees, including the clerical staff.”

Ari nodded her approval. “He must understand the value of a good secretary. What an asset you can be in times like this. Of crisis, I mean.” She waited to see if Binderman would take the opening.

“I do my best.” Finished with the mail, Binderman cleaned her hands with a bottle of Saniwash and smoothed her hair. “I know why you’re here,” she said, leaning forward and dropping her voice. “It’s about poor Jules. I’m so sorry that happened to him. I hope you catch the dreadful person. It’s been very upsetting for all of us.”

“Did you know him well?”

Binderman bobbed her head. “He and Lorraine came in every two weeks. Perfect couple. He was so polite. Always asked how I was. Can’t imagine why anyone would harm him.”

The phone rang, and the efficient secretarial mask fell into place. Disappointed, Ari leaned back in the chair and waited for her to finish. They’d just gotten around to the good stuff. Ari knew she’d lost her opportunity to pump the receptionist when Shale stepped out of a nearby office and headed toward her. She gave Binderman a parting smile.

“Ms. Calin, sorry to keep you waiting.” Harold Shale favored her with a broad smile. He extended a large hand to grip hers briefly, generating the same pulse of Otherworld energy she had noticed before. If Shale was aware, his face didn’t show it. “How nice to see you again. I had no idea it would be this soon.” He ushered Ari into his office.

The rich furnishings were no doubt impressive, but the first thing that drew her attention was the unusual collection on the wall. Two display cases held an assortment of antique knives and short swords. Rather disconcerting in a business setting, especially a counseling agency.

Shale responded to her obvious surprise. “A hobby of mine, I’m afraid.” He waved a hand toward the wall. “I suppose I should take them down, but it took me years to collect them all. I enjoy sharing my treasures with others.”

That explained Ms. Binderman’s letter opener, a gift from her boss. Ari walked over to examine the exhibit. Some were simple instruments of death; others were ornate, heavily jeweled. Shale was a man of unique and expensive taste.

“Interesting collection.” She turned away. A weapon was just a weapon to her.

Shale wasn’t fooled. He gave her an indulgent smile. “Not everyone shares my love of the past.” He steered her away from the large executive desk that dominated the room, seating her at a smaller round table. A more intimate setting, casual, probably used during counseling sessions to promote conversation. A surprising choice for this interview. She had pegged Shale as a man who liked to be in charge. The desk would have been more in character.

Proving her assessment, Shale reasserted himself by taking the initiative in the conversation. He talked openly about Lorraine’s grief, Mrs. West’s motherly support, and how disruptive the murder had been to his clientele. After letting this go on for several minutes, Ari interrupted.

“I’m more interested in knowing specifics about the victim. His relationship with Lorraine. Problems they might have had. Maybe we could start with why Jules and Lorraine were in counseling?”

Shale frowned. “This is not a comfortable situation, Ms. Calin. I don’t like talking about my clients or the important work that goes on in counseling sessions. But, as Lorraine has given her permission, I’ll share what I can. She came to me five months ago, said she was considering a vampire bond, but her family was very much opposed. She wanted help in dealing with the issues. We talked. After a few sessions, she brought Jules in to join us.”

“And what was your impression of him?”

Shale gave a dismissive nod. “Mixed. He didn’t talk much about his present lifestyle or his past. Not even the most basic details—interests, friends, habits, financial condition. Unusually secretive.”

“Unusual, how? Most vampires are secretive.”

“Yes, of course, they are.” His nostrils flared briefly, and Shale drew himself up, as if feeling challenged. “When you’ve worked with vampires as long as I have, Ms. Calin, you pick up the nuances. Jules was holding back. He never elaborated, left most of the talking to Lorraine.”

“Hiding something in particular?” Ari’s interest quickened, distracting her from the counselor’s pompous attitude. Maybe Jules had a secret that had gotten him killed.

“I wouldn’t go that far. But not cooperative. Not at all.” His lips thinned in disapproval. “Jules was here only to placate Lorraine. He didn’t want my help. Obviously didn’t think he needed it.”

Well, jeez, she thought, somewhat deflated. Who wants to go to counseling? Especially if the shrink acted like Shale. The counselor’s snobbish manner was beginning to annoy her. “What else did you notice about him?”

“He was polite. Civil to our staff.”

Talk about damning with faint praise. Ari got the distinct feeling Shale had not liked Jules. Maybe it was the difference in personalities. Shale’s pushy manner, expecting all that personal information, might put any vampire on edge. That Shale had been irritated with Jules’s lack of response could have been predicted. A poor counseling match. Why hadn’t Shale reassigned the couple to another counselor?

Shale hadn’t given her a very professional assessment. Despite Jules’s reticence, this was supposed to be the shrink’s field of expertise. He should have seen the personality beneath. Well, no matter, she thought. What he’d said seemed to be skewed anyway and probably told more about Shale than Jules.

“What did you end up advising Lorraine to do about the bonding? Were you opposed?”

“Not exactly. I try to remain neutral, Ms. Calin.” He gave her an ingratiating smile. “May I call you Arianna?”

“Ari. Most people call me Ari.” In fact, only one person consistently called her Arianna. Shale wasn’t going to be the second.

“Then, Ari it is. But in answer to your question, I was hesitant to encourage the bonding. Human-vampire relationships are the most difficult we see. So many unavoidable obstacles. Lack of children, aging of one partner, different day/night schedules. Not to mention the physical danger.” He hesitated. “In this case, my biggest concern was Lorraine. Too gentle, too fragile for that lifestyle.” He started to shake his head, then shrugged. “They thought differently and seemed to be a devoted pair.”

Ari jotted a few notes. Even though the negatives in the relationship were significant, Lorraine and Jules had gone through the ceremony anyway. Had someone made them pay for that decision? She noticed Shale craning his head to see what she was writing. “Just notes,” she said, moving the pad. “You said Lorraine’s family was opposed. Did she realize that included her mother?”

“Oh, yes. Mrs. West had told her she was throwing her life away. Jules tried to win her over, but it never worked. She didn’t want that life for Lorraine. I assume you know how strongly Eddie felt.”

“I do. But tell me, in your professional opinion, is he capable of murder?”

“Don’t the facts speak for themselves?”

Ari looked up from her notes. “That’s not exactly what I asked you. For the moment, disregard his confession.”

Shale’s face registered annoyance. “Aren’t we all capable of murder? Under the right, or wrong, circumstances?”

Ari closed the notebook. “You sound pessimistic for a shrink. I expected you to see the best in people.”

His squared his shoulders. “Oh, but I do see everyone’s potential for good. At the same time, I try to be realistic. It’s not helpful for our clients to ignore the facts. If they do, well, we have tragedies like Jules and Lorraine.” He waved one hand toward his open doorway and the rooms beyond. “We work hard, provide whatever we can to give these difficult relationships a fair chance. It doesn’t always work, but we keep trying.”

“I’d like to hear more about the services you offer. Clients frequently approach me for references. Perhaps I can add your agency to the list.”

“Excellent. But I have another commitment. Let me find one of my associates to show you around.”

Shale flashed the smile he kept tucked away to be used on demand. It was becoming creepy. She assumed his good humor had returned because he was getting rid of her. He stepped outside his office door and waved to a young woman across the room. Ari watched his associate negotiate a path, skirting through the furniture with a confident, no-nonsense stride. Shale introduced them and explained Ari’s interest.

“It would be a pleasure,” Sarah Young said without hesitation. “We’re proud of our program.” Her hazel eyes radiated confident intelligence. Sarah was friendly but rather quiet at first, until Shale left and she became caught up in talking about the job. Her face lit with excitement, and her chestnut curls bounced with every emphatic nod of her head.

Sarah spent nearly an hour reciting the individual and group counseling options available and introduced Ari to two more counselors. Richard Batty, mid-50s, slender and wiry, was all business; Jerome Fitzhugh, a 30-something black man, displayed a wide grin and that loose-limbed walk of a former athlete. The fifth and final member of the counseling staff, Frieda Stanley, ran the evening support groups and wouldn’t be in for another hour.

By the end of the tour, Ari was impressed. “Your operation has a lot to offer our community.”

Sarah beamed. “One-stop shopping. We hope to meet all our clients’ needs, whatever comes along. Individual and family counseling. Problem solving. Violence and grief counseling. No one else offers this much specialty. It’s important to make each relationship experience a positive one, whether the relationship succeeds or fails.”

“What happens when a vampire bond goes bad?”

A slight grimace flashed across Sarah’s face. “We try not to get to that point. When vampires are involved, the counseling needs to come before the bonding.”

“I understand that, but what if it happens?”

“Then we’d help them adjust. Improve their blocking against each other’s thoughts. Teach them how to live apart, if we can. Whatever it takes to make their situation better. It would be difficult. Separation is easier for other species.”

“So you have divorce counseling? Or whatever you call it?”

“We do relationship counseling with all the couples. Sometimes that means we help them end dysfunctional relationships. A support group can ease the way.”

“Did you know Jules and Lorraine?”

“Not well. They appeared very compatible. Why do you ask?”

“Shale implied that vampire-human relationships are nearly impossible.”

“Oh, not impossible. Harold hates to see his clients fail, and the statistics are poor. I’m not that pessimistic, unless the spouse wants to be a parent. We try to catch those cases early, before a mistake is made. I’ve seen other vampire-human bondings work, and work well. It really depends on the individuals involved.”

“What about trust? Aren’t humans the natural prey of vampires? How does a couple get past that?” Ari remembered having this very discussion with Andreas. A discussion that was never resolved.

Sarah laughed softly. “I’m not a believer in ‘love conquers all,’ but it sure helps. Barriers come down if partners are committed. Some people question the ability of a vampire to love, but I’ve seen it for myself. The last thing they want is to harm their partners. We offer classes to increase the vampire’s control over his impulses and to minimize the partner setting off certain triggers. But, yes, of course, trust is a big issue. But that’s true of any relationship, whether a vampire is involved or not.”

Yeah, but could you ever trust a predator? Then again, maybe that edge of danger was part of the thrill.

That was a disquieting thought.

Ari checked her watch. Time had passed quickly, and she still planned to visit the magic lab on her way out of town. She stuck out a hand. “Thanks, Sarah. I’ve taken up a lot of your time, but you’ve been helpful.”

“Any time.”

The spark of energy from Sarah was carefully controlled. This woman knew her abilities.

“If the need arises, don’t forget we’re here,” Sarah said.

Ari stared at the counselor, momentarily speechless. Was this an offer of personal assistance? Had Sarah read something into Ari’s questions? Something she hadn’t intended to share?

“Didn’t Harold say you might be referring clients?” Sarah asked, ending the awkward pause.

Embarrassed she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, Ari gave a weak smile. “Oh, yeah. I might do that.”

The Otherworld Forensics & Research Laboratory (OFR), known as ‘the kitchen,’ was housed behind an ordinary door at the rear of the Magic Hall. A small black sign marked the Lab Entrance to a scientific playground. In order to accommodate the expanding world of investigative processing, the lab had been recently remodeled with new equipment and more efficient workspace. It still retained its magical essence. Ari paused in the doorway and made a quick sweep of the room.

Multiple aisles, similar to a library, stretched from end to end. Instead of wooden bookshelves and tables, granite and stainless steel counters equipped with sinks and forensic paraphernalia—test tubes, beakers, microscopes and complex analysis machines—lined each row. If that had been the extent of the lab, OFR might have been any forensic facility in the country. But the OFR utilized many unique items. Electric caldrons, jars of non-human specimens, brightly colored bottles of rare chemicals, and the canisters marked with strange symbols. Those were the magical binding agents. The entire west wall of the room held a series of cubbyholes divided into sections containing herbs, tested and untested potions, and magical powders. The east wall housed the actual library, filled with thousands of books on science and magic.

This was Heaven to Ari’s witch blood. It sang in her veins, and her fingers twitched with the urge to jump into the nearest project. This was the reason history depicted witches as stirring cauldrons. Mixing magical ingredients and conjuring spells was at the core of witchcraft, an inherited talent shared by every member of the race of sorcerers, whether they were from the witch or wizard bloodline. Some were just better at it than others.

More than two dozen human and magical beings moved among the various collections, each absorbed in some experiment. Steam bubbled from a nearby shiny, silver cauldron and an aroma like spring flowers drifted in the air. Across the room, two young dwarves wielding large butcher knives chopped a black, lumpy substance and tossed the pieces into a three-foot blender. Pots hissed, tubing bubbled in the noisy and colorful landscape.

Ari’s attention was immediately drawn to the activity on her right. An old man with a long beard was standing in front of a steaming, bubbling pot. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and muttered under his breath. Every few seconds he punctuated his chant by dropping a pinch of powder into the fermenting broth. Ari briefly wondered if he could conjure something to stop the dreams, but she knew it wasn’t that simple.

She turned away and searched the room for Gillian, spotting her slim figure wrapped in yellow and purple. Gillian wasn’t blind to basic fashion, but she could argue forever about the negative effects of white lab coats on creativity. She looked up as Ari approached.

“Couldn’t wait for me to call, huh? Since you’re here, take a look at this.” She pointed to a jar on the counter in front of her and stood aside.

Ari looked at the squishy mass inside. “It’s a bunch of tiny eyeballs. So what?”

“Eye of newt,” Gillian said.

“What do you want with lizard eyeballs?”

“Technically, salamander. Ari, I’m surprised at you. As a witch, you should be familiar with Macbeth. ‘Eye of newt, toe of frog.’”

Stunned, Ari stared at her. “You’re trying to make a potion? Gillian, that’s an old wives’ tale. That stuff,” she point at the jar in distaste, “isn’t good for anything.”

Gillian’s merry laugh broke out. “Gotcha! You and I may know that, but the fake sorcerer we raided didn’t. This was one of his staple items. You should’ve seen his crystal ball. It was plastic.”

Ari rolled her eyes. Couldn’t the frauds at least do the research? And buy the right equipment? At least another charlatan was out of business. Since most of the human public couldn’t tell the difference, the frauds and wannabes did a lot of damage and ruined the reputations of genuine conjurers.

“Very funny, Gilli, but I hope some of this mess is from my crime scene.” Ari nodded to the collection of papers and test tubes covering the elf’s work space. “Learn anything?”

“Nothing earth shattering. Blood, anger, fear. The energy source analysis was a mixture, as expected.” She handed Ari a printed report. “Everything from vampire to lycanthrope to demon.”

“Demon?” Ari frowned.

“It was faint. Lots of halfling demons live peacefully in the city.”

“Yeah, I know. Rarely seen them, but I worked with one last year for a while. Interesting guy. Nothing like the full bloods. So, anything else?” Ari folded the source report and put it in her pocket. She’d give Ryan a copy. Not that he’d care.

“Give me a break,” Gillian protested. “We’re still filtering. It’s hard to filter out all the human scent. May take two or three more days. Your human cops were thorough—contaminated the entire scene.”

Ari grinned at Gillian’s complaint. Such tunnel vision. If it interfered with the sensory work, it had to be bad. “Is that the long way of saying you don’t have anything else for me?”

“Mostly. There is one puzzle. I processed everything in the parking lot. Handfuls of gravel from the sides. Even swabbed the leaves on the bushes, as you suggested. And I didn’t find what should have been there.” She paused and looked at Ari. “No odor or energy trace of a gun being discharged in the area.”

Ari’s mouth dropped open. “Are you saying a gun wasn’t used?”

“Well, I can’t go that far. But I can’t prove it was either. My finding is inconclusive. The time lag worked against us. After twelve hours it’s hard to pick up gun trace energy even with OFR equipment and skills.”

The “skills” she referred to involved a complicated process of enhancing potions, machine analysis, and magical beings specially selected and trained for their sense of smell and sensitivity to all types of energy, including magical. They could detect things not found by other methods. It usually brought good results, if swabs and collections were timely.

Inconclusive. Ari compressed her lips. Damn. Ryan’s bureaucratic snafu had bit them again.