Murder by Magic Read online

  “Go get one of the photos from the hall.”

  She disappeared through the door, and he moved around the desk. Among the framed images on the wall—none photographs, but all pieces of art, very tastefully arranged—there was a space, an empty spot that threw off the symmetry. There was also an empty picture hanger, and a slightly lighter spot where that missing piece should have been. When Jessica came back with one of the photos, the one he’d straightened, he saw one piece of art was missing.

  “Here. This. Something’s gone.” Euros pointed to the photo, and then to the wall, to the empty hook. “There’s something that’s always been in these photos that’s not here now.”

  “Did it get knocked on the floor?”

  Automatically, they both looked down, He saw it first; a sliver of glass embedded in the carpet, easily overlooked. Jessica knelt, pulling latex gloves from her pocket. Gently, she prodded the glass. She looked up at Euros.

  “Makes sense; if someone wanted the art, why bother taking the whole picture, frame, and all? I remember seeing photos of this side of the room, of the windows, but they must have missed this. I should bag this…” Her forehead creased with a frown. “Except I’m not supposed to be here.” Snapping off her gloves, she stood up.

  “The killer could have come in without being seen…oh, wait. The guard was in the back when he said he fell asleep. He would have seen someone, right?”

  “Not necessarily…”

  “A spell. The guard was under a spell, maybe? Did I tell you about the guard? I told you about him. The killer did that, like you did magic…stuff today. Right? Am I right?”

  She was practically thrumming with excitement, and he remembered how she would get, still as a patrol officer, following cases, sneaking peeks at evidence, trying to think like a detective before she was one.

  “Probably. A simple spell, sleep or something like it. Retrograde amnesia, so even if he saw something, he wouldn’t be able to remember it.”

  “Like Versed, that drug they give you before surgery. You’re high as a kite, but you don’t remember it when you wake up. It’s supposed to keep you from remembering how much it hurts.”

  “Never had surgery, so I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Appendix when I was a kid. I do remember the high as a kite feeling, but I didn’t understand what it was. I was loopy afterwards, though.”

  An image flashed through his mind, as clear as if it happened that morning. Jessica on his bed, a small scar visible low on the right side of her stomach, an imperfection on all that beautiful soft skin. This isn’t the time… But thinking about Jessica in his bed helped keep the rising tide of panic down, and kept the lingering effects of that dark magic at bay.

  “I can’t make out what this is? Can you? Do you have super magic vision to make out what’s in this picture?”

  “Super magic vision? Is that what you think…”

  She touched his arm. “I’m kidding, Euros. Have you lost your sense of humor? I know you have one…or did have one.”

  So many things came to his mind to say to her, but he pushed them down. “I’m tired. And this is more than I thought it would be, the magic is so much more intense. But yes, I have enhanced vision, and I can tell you what’s in the missing picture.”

  He took the framed photo from her, focusing on the image behind Lansing’s right shoulder. That image was totally different than the other pieces on the wall. The rest of the group were small paintings of flowers, one of a pastoral landscape, all along the same theme. Harmonious. This one was different. He focused on the image, saw it wasn’t a painting. It looked like text.

  Peering closer, concentrating, blocking out everything else, he let his mind flow into the picture. The image grew larger, the designs becoming clearer. It was writing, script in lines, handwritten, but so precise it could have been created on a computer. But it wasn’t, it was written by hand, tiny imperfections showing the humanity in the work.

  Then he saw the theme in this piece, the images that tied it to the rest of the art on the wall. Along the margins, were drawings of flowers. But they looked less like embellishments, than illustrations. Illuminated illustrations…monks…manuscripts.

  And then one word caught his eye, almost leapt out at him. Bladona. Latin, for Belladonna…beautiful lady. And deadly.

  Instantly, he knew what this was, what the missing framed piece held. It was Materia Magica. Simply put: magical material. Material with which to do magic. One last look, and he was certain; the left edge of the document was ragged, as if a page had been torn from a book.

  He let the framed photo fall to his side, and stared out the window. The sun was up now, casting long shadows through the leafless trees, making the world a vision of yellow and green. He let his mind go calm, like the surface of a pond, let the pieces below the surface float and drift, fitting themselves together, slowly…making a whole…until he knew what everything meant.

  “I have to go.”

  Abruptly, he turned to Jessica. “So do I. Here.” He thrust the photo into her hands, and she fumbled with it for a moment. He strode out of the room, and down the hall, everything suddenly clear; his need to see Mixt almost overwhelming. It wasn’t until he reached the front door, had his hand on the handle, that she caught up to him.

  “Wait. I need to get to the precinct. No, I need to get back to my car. You said…wait…how does this work? How do I get my car back? You can’t teleport a Toyota, can you?”

  “No. But I don’t need to. I said you’d be at your desk before anyone noticed you were not there. And you will be. And you’ll drive yourself.”

  “Does this involve another spell?”

  “Yes. Listen…” He pulled her close, and she stiffened in his arms. “I need to see Mixt. And then I’ll be in touch with you.”

  Before she could protest, he pulled her closer, and kissed her. And before she could protest, he cast the spell, sending them spiraling through space and time, putting them back in the alley behind Parnell’s building.

  Jessica clung to him for a moment, her head against his chest. Then she looked up at him, lips parted. He waited, breath held, heart beating wildly.

  “Don’t ever do that again, okay? Don’t trade on my willingness to trust you on this case, and think there’s something more to it. What happened between us, that was the end. Okay?”

  She let go of him and turned away, walking down the alley. He watched her emerge from the shadows into the early morning sun. Then she was gone, walking around the corner.

  His heart was still beating wildly, and it wasn’t from the excitement of the kiss. It was in embarrassment and guilt. He’d overstepped every boundary with her, pushed her emotionally, took for granted that she’d feel there was still a chance for them. All that was in his mind. He stood, indecisive, unsure if he should walk, or use magic, where he should go. For the first time in his life, he was unmoored, lost.

  “You’re an idiot, a fucking idiot.” Something rustled in the garbage at his feet. He glanced down, watching as a black cat slunk out, glared at him with green eyes, hiss dramatically, and then melted into the shadows. He watched the spot where the cat had been, then turned toward the sidewalk, and the light. Mixt…he needed to see Mixt.

  “Even you think I’m an idiot. And why the hell am I walking?”

  Not caring if someone saw him, he said the spell, the words coming out in an angry stream. Instantly, he was gone, and for the second that it took him to appear at the portal by the park, he wondered how he could have been so dense.

  But then he was there, down the block from the entrance to the park. A jogger almost ran him down, cursing at Euros, before stumbling over the curb, and into the street. But Euros ignored the man, as he made his way to the portal.

  Impatiently, he stepped through, and was gone from the mortal world, and into his own.

  Chapter Ten

  Jessica sat at her desk, trying to make sense of everything that had happened that morning, and not
making any progress. For one thing, she wasn’t late. In fact, she’d arrived at the precinct before Fisher and Derek were back from the Marchland Building.

  For another, she felt odd, just as if she’d been dissembled like a Lego set, and put back together with a few missing pieces. She had a headache, not a migraine, but not like any she’d had before. The pain was like something floating around in her head, or like pieces of her brain were trying to find their way back home.

  “Sharpe. Nice to see you following orders for once.”

  She glanced up at Fisher. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand, and dropped them on her desk. “Here. Call these…” With a finger, he tapped the pages. “In order. Get their whereabouts from yesterday to this morning. I want to know every place they’ve been, every person they’ve talked to, everything. Think you can do that?”

  He walked away so she didn’t bother to answer. The list was long ,and not all the connections to Parnell were identified. It was on the sloppy side, as far as she was concerned. The list she’d given Fisher had…

  “Hey, how you doing?”

  She glanced up. Derek perched on the edge of her desk, a concerned look on his face. It was a look she despised, a look that had pity written all over it.

  “I’m fine. Great. Ross made the right decision. These cases need someone with far more experience.” That was bullshit. But with Fisher lurking somewhere close, there was no way in hell she was going to complain to Derek.

  “If you say so. We can talk about this later. Maybe over a beer.” He patted her shoulder, something else she hated, and then walked away. She put her head down, scanned the list, and then reached for the phone. It was going to be one hell of a long day.

  Her hand rested on the receiver, the pages in front of her, forgotten. She wondered where Euros was; if he’d gone back to see Mixt, as he had mentioned.

  Mixt. What the hell kind of name was that?

  He was a strange man, that’s for sure. And arrogant. There was something about him that Jessica didn’t like, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly that was. Regardless, Euros seemed to think he would be helpful, and being a magical being and all, he certainly had an edge.

  Magical being.

  A chill ran down her spine; the shock of all that Euros had said, buzzing in her head. It seemed so crazy, impossible, and she knew that she wasn’t processing it all right yet. She felt numb to the idea that the man she once loved wasn’t entirely human. That he was a magical being from another world. How the hell can this be possible?

  Thinking about Euros brought up other feelings and thoughts that she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to analyze. He’d had the nerve to kiss her, to think it was okay, because she’d agreed to go on this wild adventure to some alternate dimension.

  It seemed like nothing more than a strange dream, except that she remembered everything that had happened, every single sensation that she felt from Euros, and his magic. Some of those sensations weren’t entirely due to his magic, and those were the feelings that confused her most. The weird disjointed feelings in her body seemed logical, the obvious thing that happened when you were torn into atoms, and hurtled through space and time.

  But the other feelings, the emotions stirred up by seeing Euros again, those completely unnerved her, and made her question everything about herself, and how she was still tangled up in her desire for him. Not to mention how she felt when he wrapped his arms around her, even for just a few minutes. And the kiss…she’d been caught off guard, but somehow it hadn’t been a complete surprise. It had taken all of her will to pull away from him. And even more determination to walk away.

  “Get to work, Sharpe. Stop daydreaming, or whatever you’re doing.”

  She glanced up at Fisher, resisted giving the finger to his retreating back, and picked up the phone. The first person on the list to call was one of the housekeepers. In her mind, she framed her approach, as she pushed the buttons on the phone. Then the woman answered, and there was no more time to think about Euros, or magic, or how much he still affected her.

  It was time to do her job in the real world, with real live people, and not magical beings from another world.

  * * *

  Mixt was there, waiting. If Euros had to put a word to it, Mixt looked agitated, probably pacing back and forth, impatiently waiting for him to return.

  “That took far too long. This is urgent. And what prompted you to bring that mortal here to this world? What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking she was the most qualified person to help us. And I don’t have to ask your permission to bring a mortal here, Mixt. I work both sides of the portal. And she needed to see this world to understand what’s happening in hers.”

  “You brought her here to show off. You’re still in love with her.”

  Euros took a long breath, trying to push down the rising anger. Mixt was someone he considered a friend, or sometimes even a father figure; if anyone could consider that of Mixt. But now…

  “Whatever my motives, I needed her to know what was at stake. And to do that, I needed to show her where I came from. That’s all there is to it.”

  Some of the tension left Mixt’s slender body. He stopped pacing, his robes slowly settling around him. “Fine. What’s done, is done.” Mixt turned away, and Euros followed.

  They fell into step, and started down the path together. It had been decades since Euros had met with Mixt anywhere else besides here, under the big trees. Those meetings had been brief, but this, evidenced by Mixt’s moving further away from the portals, gave Euros the impression he was expected to stay longer.

  There was a small building set back from the path, and Mixt walked up the narrow walk, opened the door, and allowed Euros to enter.

  The room was larger than it seemed, from looking up at the building from the outside. But Euros knew it was the work of magic, the ability to expand, and compress space. If he’d ever built a home in the Other world, rather than an apartment, he’d do the same thing: create a building that was small and unobtrusive on the outside, but as big and lavish as he wanted on the inside.

  But lavish wasn’t Mixt’s style. The room had a strong religious feel, almost like the inside of a monastery. The furniture was simple, carved wood with dark green cushions. The windows were leaded glass, hung with thick curtains. It was austere, but at the same time, comfortable.

  “Sit.”

  Euros did as he was told, taking a large chair beside a table. Mixt poured a pale green liquid into glasses, and set one in front of Euros. For a minute, he debated whether to ask what it was, but he felt he was already pushing the boundaries of Mixt’s patience. He waited for the man to take the chair across from him.

  “What did you learn from your mortal detective?”

  “She got me into the first crime scene. Mixt, the magic there is amazingly dark, pure evil…something I’ve never encountered, not here, not anywhere.”

  “And do you know who, or what, created this magic?”

  “Not yet. But I know it’s female; that’s for certain. And I think I know what the motive was.”

  “Motive?”

  “They took a page out of a book. It was a Materia Magica.”

  Mixt’s delicate brows drew down, making the faintest crease between his eyes. “And what do you think a creature from here would want with that? It’s a list for making potions, yes?”

  “Yes, it is. Potions are nothing more than liquid spells, so clearly someone wants to work some kind of magic that doesn’t come natural to them.”

  “What was on the list?”

  “Belladonna caught my eye.”

  Mixt raised an eyebrow. “Deadly nightshade. Poisonous to mortals, damaging to us. But by itself, not a reason to be alarmed.”

  “I’d agree but…” Euros closed his eyes. In his mind, he recreated the image of the list, then projected it into Mixt’s mind.

  For Euros, the page hovered there, perfectly clear, each word bold, and highlighted ag
ainst the cream paper. As he read the page in his mind, single words grew larger, glowing with an edge of bright magic. The Latin was familiar, but he translated to a common language, saying the words slowly.

  “Laurel, Hemlock, Carnation, Echinacea, Tormentil…” The words rose and sank back, as he read down the list. It went on, more than twenty, growing more esoteric as the list went on.

  “There are amounts listed with each, along with preparation methods. Standard there; dried and ground, made into a tincture, used fresh. The margin has illustrations of the flowers, interwoven with branches of hemlock and laurel.”

  Euros opened his eyes to find Mixt sitting with his fingers tented beneath his chin. For a moment, they sat in silence. Then Mixt opened his eyes, turning slowly toward Euros. The expression in those eyes chilled him.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  “No. I don’t. What is it? What potion does it make?”

  Mixt leaned forward, eyes burning into Euros’. “It’s not a potion.” The man waved a slender hand. “It’s something anyone, even a mortal Wiccan, could create. You only need to walk through a graveyard to find the ingredients. No, Euros. It’s where this page came from, the grimoire it was torn from, that is most alarming.”

  “What grimoire is this from?”

  Mixt drew back, but Euros sensed the tension in the man. “You know how the portals were sealed, correct? You have not forgotten your history, while living with mere mortals?”

  Angry words rose in Euros’ throat, but he held back. “Yes, Mixt. I’m aware of my history. The Elders destroyed most of the portals, but left some intact. Those were sealed with magic. It’s the very reason that you and I evolved, as Gatekeepers. To ensure the magic remains intact.”

  “That’s all correct, Euros. But either your Master failed to share vital information with you, or your mind has grown soft, and you’ve forgotten.”