Arcane Solutions (Discord Jones) Read online

  “No, that's okay. I can teleport to the office.” I took a sip of my coffee. I'd slept well, snuggled close to him all night long.

  “Well, I guess if you're sure?” Nick waited until I nodded. “Okay, I'll see you there in a little while. Thanks for breakfast, Cordi.”

  “You're welcome. See you there.” He rose from his seat and bent, depositing a quick kiss on my cheek. We traded smiles and he left.

  God, how domestic. Shaking off the bemusement, I followed to re-lock the door. It wasn’t really safe even in the daylight, because vampires collect humans more than happy to do their dirty work.

  Personally, I don't get the attraction of dying and returning to suck blood, never able to see the sun again. Don't get me wrong—the night can be beautiful. But watching the sun rise, chasing away black and gray with wide sweeps of pinks, purples, reds, and finally gold wasn't something I'd want to live centuries without ever seeing again.

  I think they miss it, if vampires miss anything about being human. Most vampire-owned establishments have at least one, if not dozens, of sunrise landscapes hanging on their walls. Since I can't quite see them having such images around as a reminder of the limitation of their powers, it makes sense that they miss seeing sunrises.

  Collecting our breakfast dishes, I frowned. This Derrick, what time was his deady-bye? Rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher, I made a note to do some research. If I've learned anything during the year I've been a private investigator, it's that no one is truly an expert about anything to do with the supernatural races.

  They can surprise you, and those surprises are always nasty. My first nasty surprise had been learning vampires only needed six hours to recharge.

  Retrieving my favorite pair of boots from under my bed, I slipped on the dark brown aviator-styled footwear and gave myself a once-over in the full-length, iron-framed mirror set in the corner of my bedroom.

  Hip-hugging jeans, a wide belt in matching dark brown leather and a cropped, three-quarters length sleeved shirt in soft teal was the uniform of the day. I looked good, but after a quick application of black eyeliner, mascara, and pale rose lipstick, I looked even better.

  Dropping phone, car keys, and slim card case into the inside pocket of my leather bomber’s jacket, I slung it over a shoulder.

  Satisfied I was as ready for the day as possible, I teleported to work.

  ***

  I'd been studiously ignoring the red silk puddled on my desk while typing the initial case report for the elf’s book. Hitting save and emailing a copy of the file to my boss, I sat back to stare at it.

  Some might think being able to pick up impressions from objects, animals, and people is an awesome ability. Getting whammied by the memory of someone being messily killed proves how completely uncool psychometry really is.

  I wore gloves for a long time after the first time it showed up in my arsenal of psychic abilities. That one was rather spectacular, involving a used sedan my mom was thinking of buying to replace her worn-out station wagon.

  It was the first time I aided the police in an investigation, which led to meeting Damian and ultimately, Mr. Whitehaven. On bad nights, the memory of the victim and that gleaming, old-fashioned straight razor dripping with blood can bring me screaming awake.

  Because that happens, my doctor diagnosed me with PTSD, and I have a couple of bottles of pills sitting in my medicine cabinet. After I lay trapped for hours, re-living one particularly brutal murder, I decided those pills weren't my friends and haven't touched them since.

  I don't black out. It's not my memories that I flash back to in the dark of night. I wasn't there when any of those events took place.

  The things I have witnessed firsthand don't haunt me the way those transferred memories do. Yeah, they bother me, but only during my waking hours and if I think about them.

  So I don't as much as possible.

  I reached for the silk, but a knock on my office door stopped my hand a scant inch from making contact. “Yeah?”

  It opened to reveal Nick. “How's it going?”

  “Good. Finished a report and I'm ready to rock on this.” I pointed at the silk.

  “Can I watch? I should probably learn as much as I can about how your abilities work, being your partner and all.”

  Nice of him to keep things professional at the office. “Sure. Come on in.”

  Stepping inside, Nick shut the door and chose one of the chairs in front of my desk. He sat down. “Thanks. So what is it that you're going to do?”

  “It's called psychometry. The theory is that the energy of something is affected by the energy of whatever comes into contact with it.” I paused to see if he was following along so far. Nick looked interested. “It can be a fluid change that isn't retained for long, or it can be a permanent change.”

  The shifter nodded. “Kind of like meeting people? Some barely register and you forget them immediately. Others make a lasting impression.”

  He was quick on the uptake – when he wanted to be. “Yeah, exactly.”

  “How do you keep it from happening all the time?”

  “I block it. I had to learn how and practice, and still get taken by surprise sometimes.” Hence the no touchee the psychic rule.

  “Does it work instantly? I mean, do you not block, touch something and boom! See stuff?”

  “Sometimes. Other times, I can handle whatever it is several times before getting anything. Or nothing at all, no matter how often I try.” I shrugged.

  “You can't really control it as much as ignore it when you need to. Except when it decides to surprise you.” He was proving to be the Master of Summing Things Up. “Okay. Do I need to move back or anything?”

  “No. Just be still and quiet, please.”

  “Wait,” he said as I began to reach for the silk. “How does this help you find stuff? Won't you just see the elf's library?”

  “Possibly, but I might also see the person who took the book. Plus, there's another ability that could kick in. It’s like a tracking sense.” I paused, but explained when he gestured for more. “Sometimes when I handle objects, it gives me a sort of sense of the owner, or people who’ve touched it. When I get close to the person, it can lock on and lead me straight to them.” The tracking was still a mystery of sorts to me. It didn't always work.

  “Okay. Sorry I interrupted.” Nick settled back, arms crossing, and gaze focusing on my hands as I again reached for the silk.

  Today was a good day, and it was eager to show what it found embedded in the silk's ’memory’.

  A narrow, reddish view of a room. A clear view of Thorandryll’s back and the legs of a woman circling his waist. Moans of pleasure from the woman he was making love to, her dark hair just visible above his shoulder. My face burned as I dropped the silk. The heat was so scalding that I knew it was probably as red as the silk. “Damn.”

  “What did you see?” Nick's question was a half whisper.

  “Something I wasn’t expecting to, not in a library.” I had to fan my face, unable to banish the image of the elf's sleek backside steadily flexing. A sniff from Nick's direction drew my attention to him.

  He was grinning. “It must've been something really good.”

  I silently agreed, realizing then that my panties were a little damp. “Um, I'll try again.”

  The shifter nodded. Taking a deep breath, I reclaimed the silk and images flashed through my mind.

  Thorandryll and other elves, and all of them were doing normal library things. Browsing books, talking quietly, and reading.

  As those faded, a feeling of heavy menace began to grow. The reddish haze faded to black. I sensed movement then the silk slipped to the floor, someone trampling it.

  Wincing, I carefully folded it before placing it on my desk. “I couldn't see the thief. It was too dark.”

  “I've never seen that much red disappear so fast, Cordi. You've gone dead white.” Uncrossing his arms, Nick leaned forward. “Are you okay?”


  “Yeah. Whoever he is, he's a scary dude,” I admitted, before attempting a careless grin. “Hey, bet you earn your paycheck on this one.”

  His return smile wasn't a happy one. Since psychic tracking didn't twinge, I checked the time. “I’m due out at Mr. Fent’s in thirty minutes. Let’s go.”

  ***

  “It's not really aliens, but Mr. Fent doesn't come into town very often. He hasn't had much contact with supernatural types, so he calls them aliens.” Filling Nick in while zipping from lane to lane was fun. The shifter looked torn between listening and trying to figure out the best way to brace for the impact he seemed certain would occur.

  I hadn't been joking about being able to drive blind-folded. It was another unnamed ability. I just knew what other drivers would do or how they'd react when behind the wheel of my car. Damian and his partner, Schumacher, had been the only two brave enough to ride with me during the blindfold test.

  It was an extremely useful ability, one of my favorites once I'd grown accustomed to it. After all, it let me scare the pants off my passengers. And when the pants in question belonged to Nick, well… I pulled my mind out of the gutter before the car ended up crashed there, too.

  “I don't know what they are because I haven't managed to spot one yet,” I said. “Think I've tromped over all his land at least a thousand times, and gotten nothing except vague impressions that don't make any sense to me.”

  “What are they doing? Stealing stuff? Killing his chickens?” Nick’s voice rose to a squeak when I accelerated to pass a big rig. “Do you always drive this fast?”

  “Yup.” I grinned. “Well, some things have come up missing, but not anything of value, from what I've gathered. Junk mostly. But one of the barn cats was attacked.”

  Nick pulled his wide-eyed gaze away from the windshield with an effort. “How badly? Was it killed?”

  “Nope, a little scratched up. I'm not sure that it was really attacked, but Mr. Fent insists that it was. I think the cat just scratched its nose on a wire or something.” Shrugging, I signaled right to exit.

  Nick relaxed as we left the heavy traffic behind. “You're probably right, but it's possible some of the smaller races may have decided that city life isn't to their liking. Some are small enough for a cat to be a danger to.”

  “Like what?”

  “Pixies, brownies, gnomes, and leprechauns.”

  “I've never seen any and don't know much about them.”

  “They're pretty shy and experts at staying hidden,” Nick replied, and we pulled onto the dirt lane that led to Fent's farmhouse.

  We spent the afternoon visiting with the elderly farmer and hiking all over his place, but didn't find anything. Calling it a day and beginning the walk back to my car, Nick suggested, “Maybe I should come back, stake out the place tonight?”

  “Well,” I hesitated, the idea of turning my case over to a complete newbie not palatable. Yet if something came up on the other two cases, he’d be busy, and I could handle it alone. That would be nice, even if it meant no playing before sleep.

  “They might be afraid to show themselves to humans.” He shrugged. “I don't want to step on your toes, but I might have some luck if I'm alone.”

  Scratching a mosquito bite, I decided to let him have at it. “Okay.”

  We spoke to Mr. Fent to arrange it before leaving. The drive back to town was quiet. I dropped Nick off at the office so he could pick up his truck, and then went home alone with one desire: a hot shower.

  Seven

  Showered and leftover lasagna devoured, I called Jo. The witch answered, her hello sounding distracted. “So what were you up to in the Barrows?”

  “Trying to track down grimoires rumored to contain muy dangerous spells.”

  “Oh. How muy dangerous?”

  Husky voice icing over, she said, “In the right hands, world destruction dangerous.”

  I smoothed the goose bumps that rose on the back of my neck and gulped. “How many right hands are there?”

  “Couldn't tell you,” Jo admitted. “Rumors we've heard over the past few years say that there are three grimoires with such spells.”

  “What exactly do the spells do?”

  Her exasperated sigh numbed my eardrum. “That's part of the problem, Cordi. We don't know. One of them supposedly has the spell that divided the realms, but all we really have to go on is speculation.”

  “I don't think I want to hear speculation.” Shivering, I asked, “What would happen if that spell was worked again?”

  “In this day and age? Utter chaos. Maybe the Melding wasn't that long ago, but all the changes it brought to the world…”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” We were both silent for a minute.

  “Three books? You don't have the titles?”

  “Grimoires,” she corrected. “Books of dark magic. They don't really have titles, but are known by the name of whoever wrote them.”

  “Let me guess: finding the names is a big part of the problem?” I hoped she'd tell me I was wrong. It was a poor, misguided little hope.

  “Exactly. The dark magical types were pretty secretive, so rumors are all we have to go on.”

  “So, what are you guys going to do with them when you do find them?”

  She responded with no hesitation. “Destroy them.”

  “I'll sign on for that. If you come up with anything I can do to help, tell me,” I offered.

  “Thanks, girl.” In a much lighter tone, she said, “Now tell me about Nick.”

  Sensing she needed a break from doom and gloom, I replied, “I totally schtupped him. Twice so far.”

  Jo squealed. “You did? I'm so proud! What was he like?”

  “Kind of serious about it.” An idiotic grin spread over my face.

  “Serious about the sexing, or like 'let's relate' serious? Because you know you need to sow wild oats, Cordi.” The statement was a repeat of what she'd been telling me since we’d met. Jo was of the opinion women should have just as much fun as men before settling down.

  “The sexing. He’s kind of careful about it.”

  She laughed. “Well, shifters are quite a bit stronger than humans.”

  “Yeah.” We gossiped for a bit, until Jo convinced me to rate Nick on the old one to ten scale. “Um, I'd say eight.”

  “Not bad. Well, now that you’ve given me something to dream about, I'd better hit the hay. I've got a full day staring me down,” she said.

  “Okay. Talk to you later.” Ending the call, I decided it was bedtime for me as well, but as I slid under the covers, another flash illuminated my mind, leaving behind a thick, silvery red thread.

  Throwing the covers off, I hustled to my dresser for underclothes. Yanking panties on while heading for my closet almost introduced my nose to the floor. Grabbing jeans, running shoes, and a tee from there, I continued pulling on clothes while jogging for the living room.

  It was a good thing none of my neighbors was out, because I didn't finish dressing until reaching my car. Tossing jacket and phone into the passenger seat, I pulled on the tee and climbed in.

  Whatever my psychic tracking had latched onto was big, so I didn't think it was the Fent case. As my car shot out of the parking lot, I hoped it was Zoe. Solving that case as quickly as possible and returning her to her mother would be awesome.

  ***

  The line led me to the outskirts of an area heavily populated by business buildings, where new construction was ongoing. It was flat out spooky in the dead of night, but my tracking sense was insisting that I check a certain site.

  Buttoning my jacket against the surprise chill, I scanned the place with both eyes and mind before teleporting inside the chain link fence surrounding it. A sign declared it a future hotel.

  Teleportation isn't one of my favorite abilities. It's disorienting and I haven't quite overcome the fear that I won't end up stuck wherever it is I pass through between Point A and Point B. But climbing chain link is noisy work, and while I wasn't se
nsing anyone, it felt like someone was watching.

  Caution is always the smart move in my line of work, so teleportation it was.

  Moving as quietly as possible, I picked my way through piles of building materials while focusing on that thin thread my tracking ability had presented. Stepping through a plastic-shrouded doorway, I paused when I heard a faint scuffling noise.

  If life were like the movies, I'd be a dumb ass and ask “Who's there?”

  I'm not that much of a dumb ass, thank you.

  Waiting for my eyes to adjust, I stayed in place, listening and mentally scanning again. I heard a car start and drive off, the sounds distant. I didn't catch the slightest hint of another being physically present.

  Probably just a cat hunting for its dinner. They were hard to sense. With a final blink, I was ready to trust my eyes enough to attempt navigating the mess.

  Nick would be pissed if he knew I were out alone. Waiting for him might have meant losing the thread and that wasn’t acceptable.

  It led deep into the half-built hotel and straight to a pile of greasy looking ash. A stake made it clear what they were: vampire remains. Kneeling to one side of the pile, I stuck a finger into the ashes to check their temperature. They were still warm.

  Not good. Halfway to my feet, I spotted a cord as it crossed my vision. Grabbing for it, I flung an elbow backward while twisting, striking my attacker in the stomach.

  The garrote fell, but he punched me in the side of the head before I could get a look at him. Going down sideways, I could feel my ear already beginning to swell.

  He landed on me, both hands going for my throat. I was too late to keep him from latching on, and digging my fingernails into his wrists didn't make him let go. The one bonus I got from grabbing his wrists was enough of a twist to my head that I could see his face. Only his face was gone.

  Blackness swirled around his head, hiding him from me. A spell? Glamour?

  Why the hell am I trying to figure that out now? I choked as the pressure increased. Letting go with one hand, I groped the floor, hoping for something to use as a weapon.