"I didn't go AWOL if that's what you mean. The Fates investigated Kristof's story and, well, they're a little freaked."
"Freaked?"
"Yeah. Kind of discomfiting in a higher power. I mean, they're deities, right? They should just calmly survey the problem and say 'Yes, we're aware of that.' But if they were aware of it, that would be even scarier. No excuse for letting it continue."
"So they had no idea this had happened?"
"Zip. It's an isolated incident. So seeing that they have a problem involving dark magic, they realized there was only one--" she faded, then came back, "--for the job."
"You were bleeped."
"Damn. I hate it when that happens. What did I say?" She frowned, searching for the word the higher powers had censored--some topic she wasn't allowed to discuss with mortals. "Let me rephrase: they realized there was only one ghost for the job. That being me. So I've been reassigned. Now bring me up-to-date."
I did, then said, "Am I on the right track?"
"Yes, the Fates confirm that we have trapped child ghosts. They confirm that the bastards responsible for it have, as Aratron said, done what should be impossible--performed magic without hereditary spellcasting genes. And that's what has them freaked. Who found a loophole? How big is it? What else can they do? How many of them are there?"
"In other words, they're no further along than I am."
She gave me a look as if to say: what did you expect? "Finding them and finding out exactly what's going on is our job now."
"That's what I've been doing."
"I know. But, well, you're moving a little slowly." She raised her hands against my protest. "You're going about it the right way--the safe way. But unless you want to spend months reading reference books and canvassing contacts, I'd suggest it's time to jump-start this baby."
"Jump-start it how?"
"Those kids are here, right? In this garden. And they don't follow you any farther than the house. Why?"
"Well, I guess being fragmented or whatever means they're weakened, restricted in their movements--"
Eve's head shot around, her gaze following something. Then her face lit up, not with her usual cat-with-the-canary grin, but with a gentle smile.
"Hey, there," she said as she leaned down to a child's level. "Coming out of hiding?"
"You can see them?"
She shook her head. "Just glimpses." She looked away sharply from the ghosts, before her gaze chilled. "Dark magic or not, you don't do shit like this. It's just understood. No ritual requires children, so no one uses them."
"Maybe they don't know that," I said slowly, the thought still forming as I spoke it.
"Hmmm?"
"They're humans doing magic, right? They don't know they don't need children. Maybe they assume they do. Maybe whatever faith or magic system they're building on uses children. That's what we always hear about in tabloids and movies. Child sacrifice."
"Could be..." she mused, gazing out as if still looking for the spirits. "Use it and it works, so you keep using it." She swung her gaze back to me and stood. "Forget why. We'll get to that later, after we stop them."
"But it's another avenue to look into. For finding them. If we know what faith and magical systems use child--"
She waved me off. "More research. You've got to cut through that, Jaime. Take action. We start by going back to why those spirits are stuck here. Presumably the ghosts are weakened and can't travel far. Far from what?"
"Their bodies, of course--" I stopped and looked out over the gardens. The endless raised beds. A breeze rippled past and I shivered. "They were buried here."
"I'd say that's a fair guess." She walked along the path, her hand passing through the roses as she peered around. "Perfect place. You wouldn't even have to dig down into the earth. Just get through lightly packed soil."
My gaze went to the house. "So you think the people who live here--?"
"Don't count on it. I've buried a few corpses in my time and I wouldn't put one in my own garden. But if I had a neighbor down the road with a yard full of raised beds? Or if I was an employee there? Or on a crew doing their gardening or pool cleaning? Plenty of people could see and get access to these gardens. You can go that route, checking possibilities, but it's just more research. You need to--"
"Take action. I heard. But how--"
"Say one of these poor kids' corpses...appears."
"We find a body, you mean? Dig one up and get clues that way?" I shook my head. "There's a house full of people a hundred feet away. People with cameras."
She smiled. "Which makes it perfect."
"Perfect? How would we ever hide--?"
"You don't. That's the point. You're thinking like a supernatural, Jaime. Hide the evidence. Cover the crime."
She crouched and reached out, as if coaxing one of the children, a smile playing on her lips. Only after a moment of this did she look back up at me.
"This time, there's no cover-up. These are humans. You can't just canvass supernaturals in Los Angeles looking for them. You have millions of suspects, not a few hundred. You need to draw them out."
I wasn't sure I agreed. In fact, I was pretty sure I didn't, but rather than argue the concept I honed in on the specifics. "How would I ever find a body? It could take weeks, even with Jeremy and me both out here every night digging."
"You don't need to dig, Jaime. They'll come to you."
"They'll--" My throat went dry. "You can't mean--Raise their bodies? My God, Eve, I can't believe you'd suggest that. You're a mother."
"Yes, I'm a mother, Jaime, which is exactly why I'd do this instead of pissing around with research. You think I don't know what I'm asking? I do, but if it means stopping these bastards, then I'd let you do it to Savannah herself." She walked past me, silent. "I know it won't be a very pleasant thing to do, Jaime. Not for you or them."
"If it would solve this, I'd do it. But we've got a lead with this Botnick guy and I think we should play that through first."
With her back still to me, she said, "Your call. I can't dig up the corpses myself. If you really want to do more book reading, look into African folk magic."
"Did the Fates suggest that?"
"No, I did. Couple of years before I died, I had some sorcerer kid offer me body parts. From a child. He'd hooked up with these...witch doctors. Fucked-up stuff."
"This kid...Where could I find him?"
"Over on my side somewhere. Not my doing. I tore a strip out of him and scared him off that shit, but he only got into something worse, with worse people than me. Guy was looking for a shortcut to power. Typical kid--didn't want to work for it. Point is, I did some digging into this folk magic after he told me about it. There are some branches that use children, either selling parts of their corpses or stealing their so-called life energy. You mentioned fragmented or weakened child spirits..."
"And something like that might explain it."
"So you go ahead and do your research. It'll give me time to track down Kris, tell him I'm back for a while. If you need me, just shout, but..." A sly smile. "If I'm slow responding, give me a few minutes."
"Gotcha."
JEREMY DROVE me to the seance site.
"All right," Becky said as she ushered us into the backyard. "Our subject for today is Mickey Cohen."
"Is this his house?" I said, surveying the small stuccoed home.
"Um, I can't say," she said. "Liability issues. Him being a mobster and all, we have to be very respectful of the current residents."
"A mobster?" Angelique's eyes went wide as she shivered. "Like the Mafia? I don't think my daddy would want me talking to someone like that. Maybe I shouldn't do this one..."
"Cohen...Cohen," Grady mused. "The chap who founded Las Vegas, wasn't it?"
He glanced at Claudia, who gave a "don't ask me" shrug.
Becky smiled. "I'm not telling, but I'm sure he will. Now let's set up over there."
WE ACED the seance. All three of us. Becky was fuming, knowing I m
ust have passed on her tip about Cohen to Angelique and Grady, and I realized I'd just made an enemy in the business. It was the first time I'd ever done so intentionally. I'm always careful not to burn bridges--that incompetent junior assistant you tell off today could be a studio executive in ten years. But in ten years, I'd be out of the business, and Becky didn't have the clout to do more than spread "difficult to work with" stories about me.
But if I was wrong? If she turned out to be the mistress of a network exec currently considering my new show? The thought passed with a surprising lack of alarm. Right now, my priority was freeing these kids. Anything else I could deal with later.
After the seance, Jeremy and I headed to Botnick's shop, which had been closed when he checked earlier. On the way, I told him what Eve had said.
"She may have a point."
I looked over at him sharply. "About raising the corpses?"
"No, but I think I know a way we could find a body without raising the dead. For now, though, it's simply something to keep in the back of our minds."
THE SHOP windows were still dark, the sign turned to Closed.
"Lunch break?"
"Perhaps." He found a parking place. "I'm going to walk past. Care to join me?"
"Around here, it's probably safer than staying in the car."
RUNES
ACCORDING TO THE SIGN on Botnick's shop, it opened at eleven and closed at seven. It was now almost one. Jeremy peered through the darkened window as I looked for a Gone for Lunch or Back in Five Minutes notice. Nothing.
"It doesn't look as if he opened this morning," Jeremy said. "The mail is still under the slot."
He glanced at the adjoining stores. An adults-only video shop and a tattoo parlor. Putting his fingers on the back of my arm, he steered me toward the latter.
It was empty except for a woman sitting sideways on an old armchair, her back against one arm, her legs sprawled over the other. She had a sandwich in one hand and a pen in the other as she sketched something on a pad. Late twenties with spiked black hair, she wore torn jeans and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off.
Her gaze flitted over me and came to rest on Jeremy.
"Sorry to disturb you," he said. "We're here about the shop next door. Atrum Arcana appears to be closed, and I was hoping you might know whether that's temporary or it's shut down for the day." He gave a wry smile. "I'm sure you don't keep an eye on your neighbor's comings and goings, but we've traveled some distance, so I thought I'd ask."
"Atrum Arcana?"
She looked at Jeremy with renewed interest, her eyes glittering behind her cat's-eye glasses. If she noticed me, she gave no sign of it. It seemed that the further I got from thirty, the more invisible I became to twenty-somethings--the men I was with became fair game.
"I don't know what's up with Eric today," she said. "I haven't seen him. But maybe I could help. I know some people who sell pretty much the same stuff. What exactly did you have in mind?"
"Wiccan amulets. For a niece. I heard his store carries a large selection."
"Oh."
As her interest cooled, Jeremy walked to a display of mystical symbols. "These are very nice. Not for her just yet, though I'm sure she'll be asking for one in a few years. Are you a practitioner?"
"Nah. I just draw what the customers want. Occult stuff is hot."
"This is your work, then?"
She nodded.
He traced his fingertips over an ankh. "Beautiful. Maybe when she's older. Thank you very much for your time."
She stood as he turned to go. "Here's my card. And about Eric? No idea where the guy is, which is weird. He never opens late, never closes early. Takes his business seriously. I was a little worried when he didn't open, so I tried his home number. Left a message. Nothing."
"Something probably came up," Jeremy said. "We're in town for a couple of days. We'll call tomorrow, before we come out."
"And if he doesn't answer, give me a ring. Maybe I'll know something."
As she retrieved a business card, he eyed a smaller display of symbols. Simple ones in black and white. Even as she handed him the card, he pulled his gaze away from the display only for a moment, with a distracted "thank you."
Another lingering look at the symbols, then he put his fingers on my arm and headed for the door. He made it halfway, stopped and slowly turned.
"I noticed you have a number of runes there," he said, nodding at the display.
The young woman beamed. "Yep. A specialty of mine. I love them. Elegant, you know?"
Jeremy nodded, still hesitating, as if contemplating something. After a second, he walked back toward the woman.
"There are a few I've seen, and never been able to place."
"What do they look like?"
He nodded at her sketch pad and murmured, "May I?"
She passed it over. He sketched two symbols. I watched with a vague sense that I'd seen them before, but couldn't remember where.
"You're an artist," the woman said, her appraising smile returning. "I can tell."
A small nod from Jeremy, not quite admitting it. He finished his sketches. The young woman studied them, then shook her head.
"They look kind of like a couple of the Elder Futhak ones, and a bit like Hungarian but not quite either." She picked up the paper, lifting it into a better light. "Very nice, though. Can I keep them?"
I expected Jeremy to say, "Yes, of course"--his usual good manners--but he hesitated, as if he'd like to refuse but wasn't sure how. After a moment he nodded.
"So, what's your medium?" she asked.
His gaze was distant, mind elsewhere. A blink as he reluctantly returned. "Oil, mainly."
"Cool. Mine's ink, as you might have guessed."
She chatted for another few minutes, Jeremy murmuring appropriate responses and complimenting her work. He gave no sign of his preoccupation or his impatience. Only someone who knew him would pick up the subtle hints, that cool veneer to his words, that emptiness in his eyes. I laid my fingers on his arm.
He nodded. "We should be going."
"Here," she said, plucking the business card from his hand. She wrote two numbers on the back, then smiled at him. "My home and cell. In case you ever want to discuss runes or art."
Art, my ass. But I followed Jeremy's cue, smiling and thanking her for her time.
As we stepped onto the sidewalk, I said, "Those are two of the runes on the babies' blankets. The ones Elena said you had quilted for them."
He nodded.
"Like the symbols in Clay's room. On his comforter and his walls. Elena said you found Clayton's comforter years ago and painted the walls with the same symbols, to match. She said you had the babies' blankets done that way as a joke. Only you didn't find that comforter, did you? You had it made. Like the blankets. And they aren't a joke."
He looked over sharply, brows arched.
"Where do they come from?" I asked. "The symbols."
A pause, then he tapped the side of his head. "As for how they got in there?" An odd look crossed his face, frustration with a chaser of something sad. "No idea. I just..."
He shrugged and kept walking, as if he wanted to leave it at that. Then, when we were almost at the car, he said, "It's a...compulsion, I suppose. With Clay's room when he was younger. With the babies now. Even Elena has some in her bedroom." A twist of a smile. "Hidden, of course. If she found them, she'd think I was mad."
She wouldn't think that. But she'd ask questions, probing and worrying, exactly what he didn't want.
"Do you think they're connected to the other things?" I asked. "Your visions? Your...sensing?"
"I've thought about that, but I don't see how. Maybe they're just..." he shrugged, "images I saw once that made an impression subconsciously."
"Do you want to go somewhere, maybe get a coffee, talk about it?"
He blinked, as if startled by the very suggestion. Maybe even taken aback. Then he shook his head. "We have to meet Hope."
That was all he said
. No "maybe later," not even an "I don't want to talk about it." All day I'd been fighting a mounting frustration, pretending I wasn't just a bit disappointed with the way things were going. Last night had been...special. Cliched, yes, and an odd choice of words to describe a night spent hiding from an S & M cult and running through rat-infested tunnels, but I really felt that shared experience meant something.
I'd been saying that a lot lately. Meant something. Coming to L.A. meant something. Touching me all the time meant something.
Talking to me about his duties as Alpha and the dangers of a relationship meant something. Drawing my picture meant something. But I was beginning to wonder whether I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
WE MET Hope. She'd done some research on missing children. The results were not encouraging.
In a city the size of Los Angeles, kids go missing. Most are not the sort whose pictures ever appear on milk cartons and transport trucks. As Jeremy said, these would be the children the group had targeted.
Next, we mulled over Eve's proposal. Was there a way to uncover the bodies without "satanic cult" being splashed across the six o'clock news? Hope would think about it. Jeremy probably could have asked Elena the same thing. But had he called Elena, she or Clay--if not both--would have been on the next plane out. As far as they knew, we were conducting exactly the sort of investigation Eve had groused about--reading books, researching news articles and canvassing safe supernatural contacts.
AT 4 P.M. we found ourselves at Botnick's shop again, preparing for another break-and-enter. Hope had asked to come along, on the chance she'd pick up some chaos vibes and help us unearth any occult evidence we'd missed.
She stood guard at the parking lot entrance and I watched from within the lot, in case anyone stepped outside while Jeremy reopened the window behind the trash bin.
"Done," he said as he walked up beside me.
"More of a challenge for you this time, I hope?"
His brows shot up. "Challenge? Heavens, no. Why would I want that? I'm a responsible Alpha, and as such, I hope all such dangerous endeavors are as straightforward and risk-free as possible."
I smiled, put my hands against his chest and lifted onto my tiptoes. He lowered his head, getting close enough for me to reach.
"Speaking of challenges," I muttered.
"Speaking of risks," he murmured back.