Storm Of Magick Part 3

"Why the missing liver? Does it have something to do with a ritual?" Evans asked, writing everything down. Normally it was Doyle who asked the questions but if it got me away from this scene faster, I didn't care who I talked to. Besides, he was behaving himself. For him not to have some smart-a.s.s comments, something was wrong. Maybe this murder just got to him or he was having an off day.

"There are some dark spells that require blood, and even an organ or two. But, those spells are very old and hard to find. They're usually to increase power or immortality. But it's too hard to tell just from the magick residue," I explained.

"Yeah, a human with psychotic tendencies and a knowledge of magick and the human anatomy. An explosive combination. Something is seriously wrong with this nut job," Paris said.

"Why this woman?" Doyle asked.

"I don't know. But she's a werebear - did you notice the blistering around the wrists?" I asked.

He was silent for a minute. "Yes, I noticed. You said that silver does that to lycanthropes. So, the killer removed the chains after her death. What can you tell me about her?" Doyle asked.

Paris answered. "Her name is Mary Neil; she had very few friends and was a quiet person. That's all I can tell you. I didn't know her well."

He sounded sad. Maybe he didn't know her very well, but she was a Kitsune member, and he would mourn her as family.

We had been in the cold for so long my leather coat no longer creaked or popped when I moved. The cold silenced it, but it also made it stiff. At least I was no longer cold. My uncontrolled power deep down inside kept me warm - almost too warm.

"Wolf, is there anything else you can tell me about the murderer?" Doyle asked, looking at me.

"No, but I'll leave my cell phone on so you can reach me," I said, starting to walk towards the van with Paris in tow. As we walked away, I could hear Doyle telling his people to wrap it up. Then I heard the familiar click of his Zippo lighter. I was happy to leave the cold, gruesome scene before the surge returned and everyone had to run for their life.

We climbed back into the van and Paris started the engine. I cranked the heat. In the hour, it took us to do our job the van had gotten cold. Here's hoping the night was winding down. Yeah, no such luck.

"Are we going to the Realm of Relics?" Paris asked, driving slowly towards town.

The Realm of Relics is an antique shop. Many of the items in the shop were well known and so were the people who owned them. Like Hitler's, paint set and Julius Caesar's Golden Goblet. Most of the items were said to come with a curse, if you believe in that sort of thing. Under the Realm of Relics was the home of Ronan and his coven of vashon.

"Yeah, we need to pick up Caleb," I answered. I settled into the pa.s.senger seat. My Ruger dug into the small of my back, a familiar feeling. My magick danced just below the surface. I took a deep breath of the lingering vanilla scent from the cappuccinos that still filled the van. I tried to concentrate on keeping the surge from spilling up and out of me.

Caleb's a new werebear I helped when he was having a hard time in his life. He moved in with me after his place burned down, and he's been with me ever since, about five months now. He's like a little brother to me. I never thought I would get close to someone like that except my twin brother, but I did. Caleb works at Wolf Inc. He researches spells and ran the website for my company. Parkin, my business manager, was ecstatic that the website had doubled our business. If it involved books or a computer, Caleb could do it.

It was hard to believe that Caleb was such a computer hacker; he just didn't seem to be the type to me. He had recently expanded his work to the Realm. He had catalogued Ronan's entire inventory in six weeks, set up a website for the Realm, and then started researching the history of each antique. He's been very busy and making some good money. But, I think what makes him happy is feeling useful.

The urge to touch Paris was becoming so overwhelming that it brought me out of my thoughts. The surge had found a home. It was as if the surge knew of my hidden love for him and locked in on it. I didn't want to do anything to cause an accident. The road conditions were too treacherous for this s.h.i.+t.

I folded my hands, sat with them in my lap and I tried to stay in control, but repressing my magick and the surge was dangerous. I could feel it about ready to bust out of my skin. I couldn't sit this close to Paris - his power was making my control worse. I unbuckled my seat belt and crawled over the seats into the back of my van. It wasn't too safe or warm but it was better than the alternative.

"Logan, what the h.e.l.l are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep the van steady and watch me at the same time. Not a good mixture on icy roads.

The gray carpet was rough, similar to indoor-outdoor carpet. I tried like h.e.l.l not to look out the window. I get car sick in the back of a vehicle. I leaned against the cold plastic and focused on getting control.

"I'm having a hard time controlling myself. I need a little distance between our powers or I'm going to explode," I said, a scream ripping from my throat.

I felt like I was on fire. I had learned over the last few weeks that the surge was its own ent.i.ty at times. Suddenly I could smell lilacs and freshly turned earth, like a summer garden on a warm day. Magick tingled in my head again, at the same frequency as the creature from the clearing. A pair of gold eyes appeared in front of the van. The eyes hovered in the snow, moving with us. Paris jerked the wheel and swerved to avoid them. We fishtailed several times, throwing me all over the back of the van.

"Do you smell flowers?" Paris asked.

"Witch, I didn't kill the lycanthrope. I only stumbled across her as an innocent bystander," a deep voice said and then the eyes vanished.

"Paris, get control," I gasped.

"Oh yeah, now who's stating the obvious? What do you think I'm doing?" he snapped.

The swerving stopped and I ended up hitting my head on the windows a few times. It hurt but the pain pushed the surge back down into its box. It was still there, but sedated, at least for now.

"Are you okay and what the h.e.l.l was that?" Paris asked, looking surprised.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I think it was the creature from the woods. Did you hear a male's voice?" I asked, hoping he did. I couldn't help but wonder why it was following me.

"No, I didn't hear a thing. I just saw gold eyes," he replied. "You want to sit up in the front now?"

"I'll stay here. Just get to the Realm," I said, settling back.

The back of the van was colder than the front, but the chill was good. It kept my head clear. Why was I the only one who could hear the creature?

Paris drove away from the scene, but the fresh sweet lilacs hovered in the air. The smell made me feel safe, and reminded me of home and the lilac bushes around Grams' house. It seemed to take forever to get to town. All I wanted was to get to the Realm in one piece with no mishaps.

I sat thinking about Mary. The damage she endured was incredible, but at least she was dead before the killer started dissecting the stomach. How long did it take the monster to do so much damage? I mean, with little light, the person had to have some knowledge of what they were doing. I had some time on my hands, so I took out my cell and dialed Doyle.

"Doyle," he barked.

What a cheery way to answer the phone. "It's Logan. When is the body going to be examined?" I asked.

"We're trying to find her family to get permission," he answered. "Why?"

"Is there any way to push it through?" I asked, "I really need to know what's missing and how long it took to do it."

"I'll see what I can do and get back to you. But I won't promise anything." He hung up without another word.

Next, I called Dr. Hicks at Cedars Medical Center. He's in charge of the Paranormal Medical Department. He was a newbie but very good at his job. He did several jobs at the hospital and Medical Examiner is one of them. It was hard to find people willing to work with the supernaturals. I told Hicks to check Mary for missing organs when she came in, then to call Doyle with a full report as soon as possible.

By the time the call was over, the snow had stopped and the wind had died down. There was a charge of magick to the air. A storm fed by magick meant trouble - something was powerful providing the magick. I glanced out the window to see the clouds rolling by an almost full moon.

Chapter 5.

We finally made our way back into town. Paris pulled into the empty lot next to the Realm. He found the s.p.a.ce closest to the door and shut off the engine. I crawled back into the front seat and looked at him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked looking into his greenish gray eyes. Eyes I found myself falling in love with, and fighting it.

"Yeah, I'm alright," he answered. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way. He smelled of soap and under that, a vanilla-musk scent. His werefox scent.

He made my heart race, but it didn't matter. I've been through the death of two boyfriends and I wasn't trying for a third.

We got out and walked towards the backdoor. I was cold and shoved my hands into my pockets. The snow started falling again and the wind picked up but it was completely quiet. I walked next to Paris in the snow that no one cared to shovel, hoping I wouldn't hit a patch of ice, fall, and bust my a.s.s. Doesn't anyone plow their d.a.m.n parking lot?

"How do you think Alex is going to take the news about Mary?" I asked.

"Oh s.h.i.+t! He's going to go ballistic. Alex is very protective of his people," Paris answered in a warning tone.

A strong sense of magick poured over me, stopping me in my tracks and without thinking, I put my left hand on the b.u.t.t of my Ruger. I was motionless and stared at the man who stood across the courtyard from us.

His black trench coat flapped in the wind like a flag. He stood nearly six feet with black shoulder-length hair, which he pulled back on the sides. A medicine pouch hung visibly around his neck. I stared into his dark eyes and knew he held magick. I could feel it, kind of like static electricity crawling along my skin. As powerful as he felt, he could be the killer.

"Paris, do you see that man?" I whispered.

"Yeah, I see him. What about him?" he asked.

"I want to talk to him," I said. "I'm going to call to him. If he takes off, catch him." I paused. "Sir, excuse me," I yelled, waving my hand at him.

Just as I thought, he took off like a deer. Paris ran after him, leaving me behind. Before I knew it, I was following Paris's tracks. I caught up with them behind the Dark Hour. Even from outside the cafe, I could smell the coffee.

Paris was nice enough to escort the stranger back to the Realm of Relics, and we walked in silence. Caleb was waiting at the side door for us when we reached it. He wore black jeans, a dark rust silk s.h.i.+rt, and black boots. He stands five foot seven and is of slight build.

The Realm had closed early due to the coming snowstorm. We made our way down the stairs, which was barely wide enough for Paris and the other man to walk next to each other. The only light was from a couple of canister lights, which didn't really do much. At the bottom of the stairs was Ronan's living quarters, as well as the other vashon. I thought the lower level of the Realm smelled like musty dirt, but what else could one expect? At the bottom of the stairs was a door that looked like it came off a castle. It was painted a deep dark chocolate. It was five inches thick and could keep out a small army.

"Paris, please take our guest to the living room - and be nice," I said in a pleasant voice.

Paris nodded and did what I asked without any questions. As long as he agreed with me, there wouldn't be any problems. I remained in the gray stone corridor with Caleb and told him about the missing women and the murder. I had a couple of questions for him. It was a nice change looking someone straight in the eye, instead of craning my neck up at them. He had the most impressive eye color I've ever seen beside Ronan; the most vibrate shade of copper. It matched his hair perfectly. His face is long with a natural tan, high cheekbones and full lips that made him look almost feminine.

"I want you to get online. See what you can dig up on any other missing women. The body has to have been disemboweled," I said. "Look in the surrounding counties and let me know if you find any strange s.h.i.+t. I need this ASAP."

"I'm on it," he said, "I'll start out with the local, than broaden my search. If I have to I'll search the entire country."

"Yule Solstice is in a few days. You're more than welcome to join us," I offered. Life didn't stop because of the murders. Just thinking about Yule made me think about my special chocolate chip cookies. It brought a smile to my face. It made me feel more normal, and in the long run that's what we all strive for.

"Sounds great, count me in," he said with a smile that made his eyes twinkle.

Time to find out who our unexpected visitor was, and what the h.e.l.l he was doing in town. I headed for the living room.

A long gold couch sat along the far wall with one of the winged back black suede chairs. A gla.s.s table with wrought iron chairs sat next to an arched fireplace. The fireplace was made of dark blue-gray slate stone, and stood eight feet, with a deep brown mahogany mantle swirls and flowers decorated the wood.

Our guest sat in the other winged back chair that someone had pulled into the middle of the room. I stopped and looked at the weapon on the table, raising my eyebrows. It was an impressive sixteen-inch Bowie knife sat on the gla.s.s table. A dark wood staff leaned against the fireplace. It was about five feet tall with eagle feathers hanging from two leather strips. Only practicing Shaman were legally allowed to possess eagle feathers. You could get them illegally from the witches' black market. But then again you could get anything at the witches' black market for a price.

Paris and Ailin stood close to our guest, but no one had laid a hand on him. Ronan leaned in the doorway that led further into the labyrinth of corridors and rooms. He looked unconcerned with the whole matter.

I studied our guest. He wore a black suede s.h.i.+rt, untucked, and black jeans he had tucked into black knee high moccasins. I walked closer and stopped a couple feet shy of touching him, breathing in the sweet perfume of patchouli.

Again, I saw the medicine pouch hanging around his neck. The beads on the pouch caught my eye. They were the Honi Tribe, my tribe, colors and design. I knew this because I had the exact same pouch. Where in the h.e.l.l did he get a tribal pouch?

"Okay, we're all going to play nice if you tell me who you are," I said in a low voice, looking into his dark eyes.

"I'm the Keeper of the Honi Tribe," he said in a low, matter of fact voice. Okay, he was either lying or the best-kept secret in my whole tribe.

I pulled my Ruger from the small of my back and pointed it at his head. I wanted him to know that I wasn't playing any games. "I want the whole story and if I don't like what I hear, you're going to have an extra hole in your body," I said, standing close so his magick danced along my skin. I held the gun steady in a one handed grip. The steel was cold but fit well in my hand.

"I have been tracking a creature called a Dracae and I followed it here. It's that simple," he replied, holding my gaze.

For the first time Ronan stood and took, interest in what the Keeper was saying. Or, maybe it was the magickal vibe the Keeper gave off. Whatever it was, he was intrigued.

My gut told me the Keeper was telling the truth and I lowered my gun. We both knew that I wasn't going to shoot him, and I couldn't keep pointing the weapon at him forever. What I saw in the wood somewhat matched the description Sam gave me, if the thing was on steroids. But, I believed it was possible that it was the same creature the Keeper was looking for.

I gave Paris a slight nod. The Keeper wasn't a threat, but maybe he could help us. Paris backed off and walked to the fireplace, but didn't actually relax. Ailin did the same. The Keeper took this as a sign that he was free to move. From the beginning, I don't think he felt threatened by us. He stood, adjusted his long black trench, but made no attempt to leave or retrieve his weapons.

"I've been tracking the Dracae for months and have crossed several states in the process," he told me. "The creature has evolved from its original form into a harbinger. I believe you have seen it. It's here to warn you, Logan, of coming events." Everyone was quiet while the Keeper spoke. He had no accent whatsoever, but most of my tribe didn't.

"How did you know my name?" I asked. I don't like being caught off guard.

"I'm from your tribe. They speak much about you," the Keeper answered as if that should answer everything.

I let that go for now. I had other things to worry about; plus I couldn't do anything about it. But, I knew what he meant when he said that the creature had been following me. When it stared at me from the clearing, there was something in its gold eyes. What it was, I couldn't decipher.

"May I have my weapons back now?" the Keeper asked, looking at me.

"Sure, knock yourself out. Maybe we can join forces to catch this thing," I said, watching him walk to his weapons. I returned my Ruger to the small of my back, checking the safety first. I didn't want to blow my own b.u.t.t off.

"I will be where I'm needed," he said enigmatically, "but I must leave now, I have much to prepare."

"Is there any way I can get a hold of you?" I asked.

Without saying a word, he slowly put his hand inside his coat pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to me. There wasn't a number or a picture on the white card, just a single word spell. I suspected that only a privileged few received this card. I put it in my back pocket just as my cell phone rang. My ringtone filled the air with its strange little tune. Everyone stopped and watched, including the Keeper.

"Wolf."

"Logan, its Sam," she whispered, panic in her voice. "I'm still at the college and someone or some things..." The phone went dead.

My stomach sank. I had to get to her I couldn't let anything happen to Sam. People around me who weren't magickal didn't fare well, and Sam is one of those people.

"Paris, we have to get to Sam," I said urgently. "I think she's in real trouble. We're moving. Now."

Apparently, everyone wanted some action. Ronan, Ailin, and Paris were already halfway up the stairs and the Keeper was on the first step.

"I thought you were needed elsewhere?" I asked.

"I'm already here and I would like to ride along," he said with a small grin.

I smiled grimly, nodded, and up the stairs, we went. I hoped Sam had her gun. She didn't always carry it. Now me, I didn't go anywhere without my Ruger. Everyone climbed into my van and the Keeper was lucky enough to be sitting between Ailin and Ronan. Call me crazy but you wouldn't catch me sitting in the middle of two very old vashon for anything. Paris drove. I didn't need to tell him directions; he knew how to get to the college. All I could think was, please let us get there in time!

Why does it seem to take twice as long to get somewhere when it's urgent? "Pull up next to the door and park. I don't want to f.u.c.k around," I hissed impatiently. I felt my heart pounding in my chest as if it was going to jump out of my body.

Not one car had moved since I had been there earlier and there were no visibly new vehicles. However, with the wind and snow, who could tell? A winter storm is a perfect way to cover your tracks.