“I really wish I could argue that.” He chuckled, but the sound cut off fast, making Harper frown. She felt the echo of his telepathic conversation. Felt as he began to tense beneath her. But she didn’t speak until she was sure the conversation was over. “Who was it?”
“Keenan,” replied Knox, expression grim. “They found where Alethea was staying.”
Well, damn.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Glancing around the living room, Harper raised her brows. “Even in this neighborhood, she couldn’t resist having her comforts, could she?”
The little house was in the exact sad state that you’d expect to find any house in such a rough, poverty-stricken area. Yellowed wallpaper was peeling from the walls. Black splotches tarnished the ceilings. Cheap, grubby carpets boasted dubious looking stains.
The furniture, however, was another matter. Honest to God, they were something out of a freaking palace, especially the classic, imperial gold sofa, matching chairs, and piano. As she and Knox strode through the house, they saw that the rest of the furniture was just as luxurious—particularly in the bedroom, with its royal bed and old-fashioned vanity set.
The contrast was just plain weird.
Around them, the sentinels and a number of the Force were examining the two-story house, searching for anything that might have belonged to Alethea’s ally and maybe help identify him. So far, they’d found nothing.
Taking a slow turn around the bedroom, Knox flicked her a brief look. “It surprises me that Alethea agreed to stay here, given how much of an elitist she was. The Horseman really did have her dancing to his tune.” Halting, he turned as Tanner and Larkin entered the room. “Any scents?” Knox asked the hellhound.
Jaw hard, Tanner shook his head. “I can’t even smell Alethea. This place has been ‘wiped’ clean somehow. It smells fresh as a fucking daisy. Like it was magickly cleansed.”
“If someone had the house cleansed, it had to have been the Horseman,” said Harper. “I mean, if Alethea had done it to cover her tracks before moving elsewhere, she’d have taken her stuff. Yet, all this furniture is here.”
“And the fancy wardrobe and drawers are full of clothes and shoes,” Larkin added. “Plus, the trinket box on the vanity is almost bulging with expensive jewelry. I can’t imagine why she’d have left all this behind.” The harpy sighed. “I’ve searched every drawer, shelf, cupboard, nook, and cranny. There isn’t a single clue that could lead us to the Horseman.”
“No, he’s done a good job of ensuring there’s no trace of him here,” said Knox.
Tanner tipped his head to the side. “I wonder why he didn’t remove all her stuff after her death.”
“Maybe he figured the people here would steal it and, in doing so, do the job for him,” suggested Larkin with a shrug.
Tanner pursed his lips. “Maybe.”
“She must have had someone teleport it all here,” said Harper. “If the locals saw this stuff being moved in here, she’d have been robbed within a week.”
Knox nodded. “I was just thinking the very same thing.”
“Knox!” Levi called out from downstairs. “You might want to come and take a look at this!”
Exchanging a look with Harper, Knox walked out of the room and then headed downstairs with his mate and the two sentinels behind him. He found Levi in the hallway, hanging out of a closet door. Crossing to the reaper, Knox realized that the closet led to a basement. “What is it?” Knox asked him.
“You need to see it for yourself,” said Levi.
Following the reaper, Knox descended into the dark space. The wooden steps creaked beneath his feet, and the banister shook as Knox slid his hand down its surface. He glanced at Harper over his shoulder. “Watch the banister, baby. It isn’t stable.”
“Neither is this staircase,” said Harper. The steps gave slightly, unable to fully support her weight. Stepping onto the cement floor, she frowned. No scents of must or mildew met her nose. It smelled just as fresh as the other floors, which meant that … “It’s been cleansed.”
“It has,” Tanner confirmed as he and Larkin joined them. Keenan was already there, drinking from his flask as he searched the shadowy corners.
Harper moved to the center of the space and did a slow spin, canvasing her surroundings. It wasn’t easy, since the single, bare bulb buzzed and flickered. But she could see that, like the rest of the house, there were damp spots and cracks in the floor and walls. There was nothing down there except for the furnace, water tank, breaker box, utility shelves, and stacks of dusty boxes, yet the space strangely didn’t feel unused.
She flexed her fingers as unease weirdly slithered through her, making her stomach quiver and her scalp prickle. “I don’t like it here. At all.”
“Me neither,” said Larkin.
“Do you feel it?” Levi asked Knox.
Gazing at a particular wall, Knox nodded. “There’s a … wrongness. Like something is out of place. Or as if we simply can’t see the space as it should be.” He stepped forward and laid his hand on the cold wall, “feeling” magickal energy, “reading” it. “Someone cast some sort of concealment spell.”
Harper’s brows shot up. “Concealment spell?”
“Yes,” said Knox, backing up. “We’ll need an incantor to unravel it.”
Harper looked at Levi. “Your friend’s an incantor, right?”
“I’ll call her,” said Levi, digging out his cell phone before heading upstairs to make the call.
Knox turned to Harper. “While we wait for her to arrive, we can interview the human outside.”
It was Khloë who had found someone that recognized Alethea’s picture. Harper had asked her to stay with the human to make sure he didn’t disappear. She’d also asked Khloë not to fully question him as Harper and Knox wanted to do that themselves.
Following Knox out of the house, she saw Khloë across the street, standing beside a dark-skinned kid who was straddling a bike. Spotting Knox, his brown eyes flickered nervously. The kid might not know that Knox was a demon, but he could still sense the danger in him.
Harper exchanged a quick, grateful smile with Khloë and then slid her gaze to the boy. “It’s Isaiah, right?” Khloë had told her a little about him.
He nodded curtly, trying to look tough. “Yeah.”
“I’m Harper. This is my husband, Knox.”
The kid tipped his chin in a “Sup?” gesture. He was cute with his small afro and the shaved lines at the sides of his head, Harper thought. There was also a badass swagger in his manner that most of the kids in that area had.
“Khloë tells us that you recognize the woman in the picture she’s been showing around,” said Knox.
Isaiah shrugged. “I saw her in the doorway of that house a few times. Never saw her leave, though.”
“Did she ever have visitors?” Knox asked.
“Dude, she had a lot of visitors. Only saw one person go there more than once, though. A guy. Most of the time, he’d take someone with him. Weird thing was he always left them behind. I figured he was her pimp or dealer or something.”
Knox narrowed his eyes. “Can you describe him?”
Isaiah’s brow wrinkled. “He only came at night. He was tall. Walked like he could handle himself, but he wasn’t built. Wore a long coat.”
“What color?”
“Dark. Not black, but dark.”
Perhaps navy blue like the cashmere coat that Sherryl had described, Knox thought. “Did you ever hear him speak?”
“The walls of these houses are thin as fuck, but I didn’t hear a damn thing come from inside that place.”
“Hmm.” Knox had to wonder if a spell had also been cast to contain sounds. “Anything about him ever catch your attention?”
“Him? No. I paid more attention to his ride than him.” Isaiah’s mouth curved. “The dude had a sweet ride. Aston Martin.”
Khloë snorted. “I’m surprised no one tried borrowing it.”
Isaiah’s gaze cut
to her. “Probably would have done if he hadn’t always had his dog with him. Big fucking brute of a dog. He’d leave it in the yard, and it would lie next to the car. Didn’t move an inch until the dude came back out.”
Knox tilted his head. “Can you describe the dog?”
“Like I said, it was big,” said Isaiah. “It had black shaggy hair. Always looked wet.”
Probably a black shuck, Harper told Knox, referring to shape-shifting demons that were considered death omens by humans.
Sounds like it, agreed Knox. “Did you recognize any of the people that entered the house, Isaiah?”
“Some. A couple of them were meth addicts. That’s why I figured that dude was a dealer or pimp.” He flexed his grip on the bike’s handlebars. “Our local dealer confronted him; didn’t want anyone else selling shit on his turf. The dude said he was no dealer.”
Knox tensed briefly. “Where can we find this dealer?”
“Graveyard. He was shot dead sometime after that.” Isaiah’s gaze sharpened. “You think that guy had something to do with it?”
“It’s unlikely,” lied Knox. The Horseman wouldn’t have wanted there to be someone who could describe him to anyone who came asking questions. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Months ago. Haven’t seen anything of the woman in a while either. But I don’t watch the place, so I can’t be sure when anyone was last there. Can I go now?”
“Yes. Thank you for talking with us, Isaiah.” He handed the kid some cash, who nodded in thanks and then disappeared on his bike.
Cupping Harper’s elbow, Knox led her across the road to where the four sentinels waited. He quickly brought them up to speed, adding, “We now know our suspect drives an Aston Martin and has a black shuck working for him.”
Tanner’s brow furrowed. “I’m pretty sure one of Dario’s sentinels can shape-shift. He could be a shuck.”
“Look into it. We also need to find out if any of our suspects own an Aston Martin.” Knox looked at Harper’s cousin. “Your help was appreciated, Khloë.”
Doing a long, languid stretch, Khloë yawned loudly. “No problem.”
Harper’s mouth quirked. “Tired?”
Khloë’s shoulders slumped. “Haven’t slept in, like, a week. I was too determined to find someone that could lead me to Alethea. And I did. Am I the shit, or what?”
Deciding not to tell her cousin that she looked like shit, Harper gently squeezed her arm. “Yes, you are indeed the shit. I’m totally in your debt. Now go home. You need sleep.” Although demons could go days without it, it wasn’t good for them.
“You don’t need to tell me twice.”
“Want a ride back? Tanner won’t mind.”
Nose wrinkling, Khloë began to back up. “Nah, I’m good.”
Keenan sighed at the imp. “Should you be out alone?” he snarked.
Khloë blinked up at him, as if she’d only just noticed he was there, but Harper knew that wasn’t the case. Khloë was aware of everything. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.
His mouth tightened. “Because you attract trouble like it’s your job.”
“And you drink Everclear like it’s your job,” Khloë shot back. “Do you hear me commenting on it?”
“You just did.”
“Only to make a point.”
“My point carries more weight.”
“Probably not as much weight as your monster cock.”
“Khloë!” Harper exclaimed.
She turned to Harper, eyes widening in innocence. “It’s not like he doesn’t know. He sees it every day. I’m sure there have been many times when he’s jerked himself—”
“Khloë!” Seriously, Harper was going to kill her one day.
“Fine, fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She spun on her heel and walked off, whistling a merry tune.
Keenan turned to Harper. “Are you really going to let her walk home alone?”
“Let?” Harper frowned at him. “Do you not know Khloë at all?” There was no forcing her cousin to do anything she didn’t want to do.
Keenan sighed again. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” With that, he jogged to his car.
Sidling up to Harper, Larkin leaned into her. “Do you think she’ll agree to let him give her a ride?”
“It’ll give her the chance to torment him some more, so, yeah.” Harper twisted her mouth. “Think he’ll ever ask her out?”
Larkin bit her lip. “That will depend.”
“Yeah? On what?”
“On whether he can get over his little issue.”
Before Harper could ask what that meant, her attention was snagged by the white Toyota Prius that pulled up. Moments later, a willowy, leggy female hopped out. Her rich ruby red hair was tied back in a chic, hobo knot that was dotted with flowers—Harper seriously liked it. Inky blue eyes swept over them, stopping as they found Levi. She made a beeline for him.
Harper gave Knox a sideways glance. “I take it this is the incantor.” He only nodded.
As she came to a stop in front of them, Levi inclined his head. “Thanks for coming, Ella. I’m sure I don’t have to introduce my Primes, though I don’t think you’ve ever officially met them.”
“No, I haven’t,” confirmed Ella. She nodded respectfully at Harper and Knox. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
Harper smiled. “Likewise. This is Larkin, one of our sentinels.” After the two females exchanged nods, Harper added, “I know Levi’s consulted you many times in the past when we’ve had magickal trouble, so I just want to say thank you for all your help.”
“No thanks needed.” Ella looked at the house. “Levi tells me someone cast cleansing spells and possibly even a concealment spell here.”
“We don’t know whether it was an incantor or a dark practitioner,” said Knox. “Will you be able to unravel the spells either way?”
“I won’t be able to unravel a cleansing spell—they sort of bleach the air,” replied Ella. “There’s no way of undoing that. As for the containment spell? It’s possible that I’ll be able to untangle the threads. It won’t matter if it was an incantor or a dark practitioner; it will only depend on the complexity of the spell.”
“Then let’s go see how complex it is.” Knox took Harper’s hand as they all walked back into the house and then down to the basement. He watched as Ella strode straight to the wall where he’d earlier sensed the spell, as if she was drawn there. Her fingers moved along the wall, looking as if they were plucking at strings.
Finally, she turned to them. “You’re right; there’s a containment spell here. It was cast by a dark practitioner. A very talented one.” She skimmed her fingers over the wall, brow furrowing. “It’s not a typical enchantment.”
“In what sense?” asked Knox.
Her gaze cut to him. “It was boosted by another spell, so the two are tied together.”
Knox frowned. “What other spell?”
“Glamor. What you see there isn’t real. The wall is fake. I can still untangle the threads of the incantations, but it may take some time.”
“We can wait,” said Knox.
“All right. I’ll get started.”
Harper wasn’t really sure what she’d expected Ella to do, but there was no lighting of candles, no drawing of symbols, no calling on the natural elements. She simply stood there, plucking, snapping, untying, twisting, and unknotting “threads” that they weren’t able to see. This was the difference between incantors and practitioners. The latter were able to practice magick, but incantors were born to use it. The magick was part of them.
While they waited for Ella to finish, Larkin updated Harper and Knox on everything they’d missed during their vacation—sometimes telepathically, since speaking of lair business around outsiders simply wasn’t done, even if said outsider was untangling spells for them.
Keenan reappeared, exasperation lined into his face, and announced to Harper that her cousin badly needed a keeper. When Harper had asked if he was volu
nteering for the job, he’d flushed and adamantly stated, “Hell, no.” And he’d been a little too adamant. Harper had to wonder why the guy preferred to live in the land of denial. She was just about to telepathically ask Larkin what Keenan’s “little issue” was when Ella spoke.
“I have one last thread to snap. Everyone needs to back up.”
With the exception of Ella, they all moved to the center of the basement. Satisfied, she then turned back to the wall and tugged sharply on an invisible thread. Just like that, the fake wall disappeared, revealing a space that was roughly thirty-five square feet … that featured a small bare, iron prison cell. Taking up so little room, it was no more than a cage, really. Manacles hung from its walls. Blood and other bodily fluids stained its floor. Misery, despair, and pain seemed to hover in the air.
“Jesus,” breathed Levi. “A lot of people died here. And they’re severely pissed about it.”
Harper’s eyes shot to him. “Their souls are still here? They’re talking to you?”
“Not in the way that you think,” said Levi. “I don’t hear full sentences. Just snatches of what they want to say. Someone brought them here—someone who promised them drugs and sex. But they were chained. Starved. Brutalized.”
“They were brought here to feed the incorporeal,” Knox realized. “Maybe Alethea and the Horseman thought that putting the hosts through pain would somehow make the incorporeal strengthen quicker—maybe it did.” Or maybe the fuckers had done it for the sheer pleasure of it, he thought. Alethea had always had a mean streak.
Harper rubbed at her nape. “When Isaiah said that people were brought here but he never saw them leave, I had a feeling they were for the incorporeal. It makes sense that Alethea and the Horseman would choose rough areas as their hunting grounds. There are so many drug addicts, prostitutes, and other people who wouldn’t be missed.”
“So, basically, Alethea holed up here while she pretty much nursed the incorporeal back to full strength.” Larkin bit the inside of her cheek. “Maybe she was also killed here. We speculated that she might have died in a basement.”
“If she did, her soul isn’t here,” said Levi.