Arcane Solutions (Discord Jones) Read online

  “Hi.”

  David was frowning past me, looking through the plate glass at the parking lot. “Why aren't you driving?”

  “Because some vamps trashed my car last night.” Scowling, I pulled the scrap out of my pocket. Behind me, the bell over the shop door jingled. It was Damian and Illy, the former carrying a cardboard tray of Styrofoam cups.

  “Good morning. Where's your car, Cordi?”

  A wide-eyed Jo answered before I could. “Vampires destroyed it.”

  The warlock halted, jaw dropping. Even the familiars were quiet and staring at me. Clearing his throat, Damian asked, “Case-related?”

  “I don’t know yet. Possibly. The mouthpiece said his Master wanted to speak to me before I introduced him to a brick wall.”

  “How many vamps have you pissed off lately?”

  His calm tone cooled me down. “I can't breathe without pissing off a vampire, but I can only think of one in the recent category. When I find the two who trashed my car, I'm going to do more than piss them off.”

  “La-la-la,” Damian half-sang. “I didn't hear that.”

  “I'm pretty sure self-defense will be a valid excuse.” Legally, vamps were citizens, so taking one out was murder. Even so, the law tended to look the other way much of the time. Murder reminded me of Dead Guy. “Any clues about the vamp the fake elf staked?”

  Shaking his head, the warlock crossed to the counter and set the tray down. Four cups, so Illy had a dog-acinno. I remembered the scrap in my hand, and raised it so that they could all see it. “I found this. Think it might be part of Thorandryll's missing journal. Can you tell me what it says?”

  I set it on the counter in front of them, and they bent their heads forward to have a look. Then Jo touched it with the tip of her finger. Flames poured over her and David.

  Horrified, I began pulling the oxygen away from their immediate area to kill the flames as Damian chanted a spell. There no way to tell which of us caused it, but the flames suddenly winked out a breath before a second spell resulted in a downpour of water. Sodden, the two and their familiars glared at us.

  “Oops?” I offered, hoping to break the tension of the moment.

  David pushed wet strands of hair off his forehead. “Yes, 'oops' is just the word.”

  “Some of us need to work on our illusion recognition,” Jo said in a flat tone, staring at Damian. Hearing his name, Illy began wagging his tail and gave her a tongue-lolling grin.

  “She wasn't speaking to you,” Damian muttered, nudging the husky with his knee. Unperturbed, Illy kept grinning and wagging.

  “I think we'll change before continuing.” David blinked, his ferocious scowl disappearing. Jo leveled a final withering glare before she and David went upstairs, their familiars close behind.

  “Yes, well, I guess we'd better clean this mess up before the water spreads,” Damian suggested, eyes bright with repressed laughter.

  We took care of the water with a combination of towels and my encouragement for the wet to dry out. Everything was shipshape by the time the other two came back down.

  The scrap had somehow escaped the soaking.

  I wandered around the shop while they conferred over the parchment. Herbs sat waiting in glass jars. Candles in every color brightened one aisle, while the crystals lay in state on display tables that led from the entrance to the counter. I always found some new curiosity to wonder over. Sometimes, I even asked what my discovery was.

  Jo’s soft “Dear god” pulled me back to the counter. “What? Is it some kind of kinky elf sex diary?”

  David shook his head, fine blonde hair waving and rising in reaction. “No, this is from a grimoire. It’s written in blood ink.”

  “Possibly one of those we’re looking for,” Jo added, studying the scrap with fingertips poised just above it.

  “Not to argue here, but I’m pretty certain it’s a scrap of the book the elf wants me to recover. Elves don't keep grimoires. Do they?”

  “Not that I know of,” she replied. “Their magic is innate. A part of them and what they are. They don't have to memorize spells or write them down. They just produce whatever effect they're aiming for, with simple words of power.”

  “Color me confused.” I scowled at the scrap.

  “They do keep written records of medicinal potions,” David mentioned. “But a page from such a journal wouldn't be tainted like this is, and certainly wouldn’t be written in blood ink.”

  “Great.” I felt like beating a certain elf into a bloody pile of spare parts. “Looks like someone flat-out lied.”

  “Does look that way, yes,” he agreed.

  “Damn him.” After fuming for a few minutes, I yanked out my cell phone and hunted for the right contact listing. Two rings before the elf's deep voice filled my ear.

  “Thorandryll here.”

  “I think I prefer 'lying jerk' right this minute.” He hung up on me. “You son of...ooh!”

  I hit redial, and when he answered, blasted him with “Listen up, you pointy-eared jackass, I—”

  “Will refrain from cursing at me or I won't speak with you,” he cut in.

  “You arrogant--”

  “Did you find something?”

  “A scrap from your missing book which turns out to be a grimoire. You have some explaining to do, bub.” I snapped out the words with enough venom that Jo and David both looked up from the piece of parchment.

  The latter winced. “Cordi? Would you please put the crystals down?”

  “What?” I turned when he pointed behind me. A whole display of crystals hung in the air, shivering as though cold. “Oops.”

  “Temper, temper,” Jo murmured while I groped for my TK ability, intending to lower them back onto their display table.

  “What does it matter what the book is?” Thorandryll sounded impatient. “I'm paying you to find it.”

  “Hello, dark magic? Danger you should've warned me about!” The crystals climbed another three inches and David made a panicked sound behind me. “I'm working on it!”

  Copernicus squawked, fluttering by to land and gaze at the crystals with his beady black eyes.

  “Shut up,” I told the raven, hissing in exasperation.

  “Excuse me?” The elf's tone climbed to cold haughtiness.

  “You too. Everybody just shut up for a minute!” Narrowing my eyes, I managed to take control of my errant TK. David sighed in relief when the crystals began a slow descent to the table.

  “Thank you.”

  “I'm sorry.” Raking a hand through my hair, I crammed all things psychic into a dark corner and slammed a mental blast door shut before saying anything else. “Look, Thorandryll, I want everything you know before I take another step on this case, or I'm done with it.”

  “I've told you...”

  It was satisfying, in a totally petty way, to cut him off with “Fine. Your refund check will be waiting at the office. Minus my hours and expenses already occurred.”

  “You gave your word...”

  I grinned at my listening friends. “I agreed to take your case based on the information you gave me. It wasn’t truthful, so the deal's off.” Before he could respond, I hit the button to end the call.

  Damian took a sip of his coffee before asking, “You're not serious, are you?”

  “Nope. You know I have to find it.” A smile was still plastered across my face. “But it sure felt good to hit him over the head with that.”

  Jo laughed. “Are you starting a new list? ‘Elves I've pissed off’?”

  “You bet.” My phone rang. It was the elf, and I enjoyed turning it off.

  “Cordi, do you have time to take trip out to the crime scene with me? Perhaps you'll pick up something we can both use.” Damian grimaced. “Anything.”

  “Sure.”

  “We'll work on deciphering this,” David muttered, head once more bent over the scrap.

  “Thanks. I'll buy lunch today,” I offered, and everyone accepted.

  Illusion was
sent home after he finished slurping up his dog-acinno. Once in Damian’s car, we tossed around ideas.

  “Dead Guy stole the book, with magical assistance to help him sneak into Thorandryll's faerie mound.” I paused, rethinking the last part, and snickered. “Is it just me, or did that sound dirty?”

  He laughed. “It does now.”

  “Okay, so Dead Guy staked a vampire at the construction site. But why were they there?”

  Slowing the car for a red light, he shrugged. “Maybe that's where the book was passed off? By the way, Dead Guy's name is Thomas Merricott. He had the plastic surgery roughly ten months ago.”

  “Huh. Do you think he was planning to steal the book that long ago?”

  “Since we now know that it's a grimoire, I'm leaning toward 'yes'. Faerie mounds aren't easy to get into without an invitation.” The light changed, and he eased the car forward.

  “True. But if he was using that concealment spell, I don't get why he had the implants.” Puzzling over that for a minute, I shrugged it off. “Grimoires, how often do they have spells or wards in place to protect them?”

  “It’s a standard practice. Dark magic users are secretive, and jealously protective of what they learn or create.”

  I made a note to ask Thorandryll what sort of protection the book had other than a flame illusion. “Jo said that vampires and cultists don't mix well, so what was a vampire doing there?”

  “She's right, and the vampire did end up ash.” Damian frowned while signaling a turn. “A cult trying to acquire a grimoire by any means necessary makes sense. But vampires can't do magic.”

  “As far as we know.” We'd reached the construction site, and traded a look once he'd parked his car. “Maybe the vampire was a case of wrong place, wrong time. The book is probably in Dead Guy's cult leader's hands.”

  The site was a lot less spooky in the daylight. A soft breeze rustled the plastic covering piles of building material. I continued with a glance up at the cloudless blue sky. “Nick and I are checking out human-owned Goth clubs. I'll let you know if we find anything.”

  “All right.” Damian produced a key and unlocked the gate. “Maybe we'll find out something today.”

  We didn't. I went over every inch of the unfinished room, but nothing happened. Two hours of trying with nothing to show for it was exasperating. “Sorry.”

  “Something could pop up later.” He shrugged, patting my shoulder. “Let's go back to the Orb and see what they've managed.”

  We'd just cleared the building when I had a flash, and a red thread stretched out, ending just ten feet before us. “What the hell?”

  Damian glanced around. “What…”

  Something swirled into existence before us in a cloud of black and red. I felt an internal click, and a faintly green bubble enclosed us. Damian huffed out a breath. “Very quick.”

  “Thanks. Uh, is that...?” I pointed at the being taking shape. Later was time enough to figure out how the hell I’d just created an external shield.

  “A demon, yes.” He straightened his jacket and spoke into the air while tidying sun-streaked hair. “Illy, I need you.”

  A soft whisper of sound. The husky faded into view with a guilty expression and an empty meat package in his mouth. Damian sighed. “What is it with you and the damn trash?”

  The dog dropped his prize and sat on it, offering up a big tongue-lolling grin.

  “Uh, demon?” I prompted, and then gaped as Illy leaped to his paws, spinning around. The husky went from goofy and cuddly to a teeth-baring, hackles-raised danger on four paws. It was an impressive sight.

  “We're ready.” Damian’s tone was calm and mild.

  “I see that. Wow, Illy, I didn't know you had it in you.” I looked from him to the warlock. “Uh, what are we doing?”

  “Sending it back. You'll need to drop the shield, Cordi.”

  The demon was now surveying us, one red-skinned, clawed hand palm up. Fire sparked and grew above it. Panic began creeping in. “What about that?”

  “Just jump out of the way.” Damian was way too calm about the situation for my taste.

  “Okay.” Maybe frying me would distract the ugly beast long enough for the warlock to cast whatever spell he was planning.

  Cordi. It was a sharp mental poke. Dropping the shield, I dove to the left and rolled, pushing hastily to my hands and knees. The demon hesitated. Damian's voice rose as Illusion began growling.

  The fireball went streaking toward his head. I threw a hand up, forcing the oxygen away directly in front of him and Illy. Out the fire went. Blue and green lightning crackled from Damian's hands, lancing out to weave a net around the demon. It roared and Illy began barking.

  The net slowly shrank with each bark, the trapped demon becoming insubstantial and finally, it exploded into gritty black ash. Damian sank to his knees, the lightning fizzling and fading. “Whew. Tough one.”

  “You're incredibly awesome. Have I told you that lately?” Checking to make sure my heart was still inside my chest, I made it to my feet and had to wait for my legs to stop shaking.

  Uttering a weak laugh, the warlock leaned on his familiar and rose. “Thanks.”

  Familiar. I’d like one of that persuasion. Granted, even Illy probably couldn’t stop Damian from feeling fear, but he could do something to diminish the aftermath. Me, I had to settle for those increasingly ineffective deep breaths to dilute the metallic flavor of it in my mouth.

  But this particular flavor of fear was familiar. I’d tasted it before, just a hint of it.

  I’d tasted it in the impressions I’d gained from handling Zoe’s necklace.

  Seventeen

  Nothing. Dropping the necklace with a sigh, I leaned back and propped my boots on the desk. After feeding everyone lunch, returning to the office was my obvious course of action since Jo and David weren’t finished with the scrap.

  Didn’t want to miss the elf’s arrival.

  Both Kate and Mr. Whitehaven were still out to lunch. I took a few minutes to enjoy imagining Thorandryll’s fuming over my quitting the case. Maybe he was fuming about the lack of success in kissing me again too.

  We enjoy beauty was shaky ground as an excuse for macking on me. Oddly enough, I trusted Logan's warning to be careful, even though the elf fascinated me.

  Elves are a beautiful, charismatic people. Since I'd never been in close proximity to any before, I decided my first brushes were the cause of the hazy-mindedness that struck whenever I looked Thorandryll in the eye.

  Or he could be using glamour. Sensing subtle magic wasn't in my repertoire. Dismissing that idea, I scowled at the ceiling while moving on to Nick and his attitude. I had no clue where he was. Probably lunch as well. “Whoops.”

  Or maybe out hunting for me. I’d forgotten to turn my cell phone back on. Digging it out of my purse and hitting the button, the voice mail app informed me of a dozen messages the second it finished booting up.

  They were all from Nick. It was probably logical that he'd assume I was okay with being designated his girlfriend. He was sexy, protective, and funny. Normally, I'd jump all over the opportunity to be the girlfriend of such a hot guy. Was my lack of jumping really because he was a shifter?

  The thought was just as sobering the second time around. Also unproductive. Right. Time to concentrate on work.

  Why had the vampire been at the construction site? They did have some powers, but more in line with my own abilities, and not magic. If he couldn't use the grimoire, why would he want it?

  But that taste of fear…that was Zoe-related. The first location spell had indicated the Barrows, while the second hadn’t pinpointed her anywhere. I checked the shimmer in my mental folder. She was still alive, still human.

  Recalling Mr. Mitchell’s coldness during the client meeting, and his follow-up call, I wondered how convenient it would be for him if the girl disappeared.

  Okay, that might be taking things a bit far. Surely he wouldn’t have Zoe kidnapped just to rid himself of an
annoyance. Disliking his stepdaughter didn’t necessarily put him in the villain category.

  Plenty of people didn’t care for teenagers.

  It was a dead-end line of thought, so I called voice mail to listen to the messages. The first one was “Good morning, see you at the office.” Nick sounded a little concerned in the second one, wondering why I wasn’t at work yet. He said nothing about returning my call.

  Just as the third one began (Where the hell are you?), a noise out in the reception area caught my attention. Setting the phone down, I left my seat to check out the sound. Maybe Thorandryll had finally shown up. Yippee.

  The man standing in front of the doors was short, muscular, and had strange-looking eyes. “You are Discordia Jones?”

  “Yeah. How may I help you?” What was it about his eyes? Taking two steps, I had a better look, and mine must have gone wide, because he chuckled. It was an evil sound, like the scrape of blood-rusted metal over rock.

  His eyes were solid black. Watching a smile crawl into place, I shivered when he said, “Yum.”

  “My boss will be back in--”

  “I’ll be finished before then.” He moved incredibly fast, and I barely managed to dodge his grasp by dropping to the floor. There wasn’t time to get up before he bent down and slapped me. The heavy blow rocked my head to one side.

  He blocked my attempt to kick him between the legs, and took a second to laugh at the effort. I called on my TK. Three chairs broke as he landed across them.

  He was up instantly, smile gone. The snarling expression that replaced it wasn’t comforting. I tried to recreate the shield that had popped up earlier as he charged toward me, but found myself choking.

  One hand wrapped around my neck, he hefted me into the air, taking two swift strides and slamming me against the wall. Everything but my legs went briefly numb, feet kicking uselessly in reaction. Both of my hands found his wrist, nails digging in to rip at skin.

  “Pitiful. I expected more of a fight.”

  If I could just get some air, I was more than willing to try harder at giving him one. But the pain around my throat was escalating, and my vision was going dark.