Dark Magic (Harbinger P.I. Book 3) (12 page)

But after a couple of minutes, it was obvious that nobody was even going to answer the door, much less shoot us through it.

“Maybe no one is in,” Felicity said.

I wasn’t so sure. “Let’s take a look around the back.” I stepped down off the porch and followed the side of the house to a rear area that was just as overgrown as the front. A dilapidated barn sat at the far edge of the property and there was a large pond beside it, green algae floating on the water. A smell of mold and stagnant water hung heavily in the air. Beyond the barn and the pond, the woods were dark.

“You hear that?” I whispered to Felicity.

She nodded. “Frogs.”

From the pond, there came a series of croaking sounds that I was sure had only started since we’d come around the back of the house.

“Let’s check out the barn,” I said, moving toward it through the weeds that seemed to grab at my legs.

The rear door of the house burst open and an old woman with long gray hair stepped out onto the rear porch, leveling a shotgun at us. She wore a yellow dress and I was sure she was the same woman who had stared at me as I’d driven past the house after searching the church.

She didn’t say anything. The shotgun told us everything we needed to know.

Two bearded men came out onto the porch, armed with revolvers. They wore loose shirts and jeans and they were both big and burly with similar facial features, definitely brothers. One of them spoke. “You need to leave now before you get hurt.”

“I just want to ask you some questions,” I said, keeping my voice level and calm.

“We don’t answer questions,” the other brother said.

The old woman spat. “He’s that supernatural investigator from Dearmont, the one Luke warned us about.”

“I don’t know anyone named Luke,” I said. “I just want to find out what happened to one of your family, Simon Fairweather, and the other people in the church. Maybe you can help me do that by answering a few questions.”

She grinned toothlessly at me. “Oh, we know what happened to them, mister. We don’t need no fancy investigator coming here and telling us our own business.”

“Okay,” I said. “So maybe you know what happened to a colleague of mine, another investigator. She was at the church that day.”

“We don’t know what happened to Sherry Westlake. She was an interfering bitch and I hope she’s dead. Or worse.” The calm voice came from the direction of the barn and I turned to see the young man with the piercing blue eyes I had seen in the vision at the lake. He was wearing a black hoodie just as he had been at the lake.

He walked with a calm air of authority. Despite his age, the other family members probably bestowed him with his authority because he possessed greater power than they did.

“I assume you’re Luke,” I said. “So are you going to tell me what happened on Christmas Day?”

He halted ten feet away from me. “Yes, I am Luke Fairweather, But as for the glorious events of Christmas Day, I’m not sure you’d understand.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully and looked into my eyes. “Or maybe you would. The police and the FBI had no idea what they were dealing with, of course. But you, Harbinger, you’re different. You know what can come to this world when the veil is torn, don’t you?”

“I’ve seen a few things,” I said. I wasn’t sure how he knew my name but I guessed that any self-respecting black magic practitioner like him would be aware of who the local preternatural investigator was.

He grinned at me with an amused expression on his face. “Yes, I’m sure you have. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen the dark things in this world.”

“Seen them and killed them,” I said.

The amused look vanished from Luke’s face. “You’re a blasphemer, Harbinger. Killing the creations of the Dark Mother is a sin.” The frog chorus grew louder, filling the stagnant air with angry croaking sounds.

I shrugged. “If killing frog-eyed monsters is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.”

Luke Fairweather shook his head in disgust. “You’re a filthy blasphemer just like my father. He led the church but he never truly believed. Well, he learned the error of his ways when he was sacrificed to Gibl. Now he is one of the thirteen, writhing in eternal agony for the glory of the dark gods.”

Dark shapes began to emerge from the pond and clamber up onto the weeds and grass. Frogs of all colors and sizes. There must have been thousands of them, hopping and crawling toward us, their croaks growing louder as they got nearer to us.

Luke smiled. “I suggest you leave.”

Felicity and I both stood our ground. “I haven’t finished here yet,” I said.

He sighed as if bored with me. “Yes, you have.” Nodding to the people on the porch behind us, he pointed at me and then turned back to the barn.

I heard a shot crack through the air and felt a hot stinging sensation in my left side. The impact knocked me off my feet and I tumbled into the long grass, clutching at my side. When I inspected my hand, it was covered in blood.

“Felicity, get out of here,” I shouted.

But suddenly, she was standing over me, looking down at me with panic in her dark eyes. “Alec!”

I fumbled for the dagger at my belt and managed to draw it from the sheath. The glow from the blade bathed the long grass around me blue.

“Can you move?” Felicity asked me. “No, you shouldn’t move. I’ll call an ambulance.”

“I’m not staying here,” I said, struggling to my feet. Pain flared in my side and I gritted my teeth against it, forcing myself to ignore it. Felicity helped me over to the side of the house, where I leaned on the wall for support. The three Fairweathers had gone from the porch and there was no sign of Luke. He had obviously gone back to his barn. Frogs swarmed over the entire area, turning the ground into a carpet of jumping and crawling wet, slimy bodies.

I managed to get to the Caprice and hand Felicity the keys. “You’re going to have to drive.” I felt light-headed and I wondered how much blood I’d lost.

She helped me into the passenger seat and got behind the wheel, adjusting the seat to accommodate her shorter height while saying to herself, “Eastern Maine Medical Center. That’s the closest.”

She cranked the engine and spun the steering wheel, turning the Caprice around in a flurry of dust, smoke and squealing tires.

Felicity floored the accelerator and the Caprice shot away from Clara like a bat out of hell.

A
lmost four hours later
, I was sitting on a hospital bed at the Eastern Maine Medical Center watching night fall through the window. I wasn’t in the bed wearing a hospital gown or anything. After being poked and prodded by doctors, X-rayed, and put on a morphine drip, I was fully-clothed and sitting on the bed. The staff looking after me were all Society members, trained to deal with things like demon venom, magical attacks, and faerie enchantments.

Felicity had called the Society’s Bangor headquarters while driving me over here and told them that an investigator would be arriving at the medical center. When we’d arrived, the Society team at the center had tended to me immediately. The doctor in charge of my care, a friendly, bearded man named Dr. Davis, had been disappointed that my wound was a simple mundane gunshot wound.

Now, after being bandaged up and sitting on the bed for hours, I was more than ready to go home. The pain in my side had eased and apparently the bullet had gone straight through flesh and muscle and come out the other side, avoiding anything vital in the process.

The door opened and Dr. Davis came into the room with a large manila envelope in his hand. There was a confused look on his face. “Alec,” he said, standing at the foot of the bed, “the X-rays have come back from radiology and there’s something I’d like to show you.”

He flicked a switch to illuminate the light panel on the wall but before attaching an X-ray to it, he took a sheaf of papers from the envelope and passed them to me. They were pictures of X-rays of what looked like a child’s ribs.

“Do you remember when you fell out of a tree at age four and your parents took you to the hospital because they thought you might have fractured your ribs?” Davis asked.

“I was told about it, but I don’t remember it,” I said. “I was too young.”

He nodded and pointed at the papers in my hand. “Those are copies of the X-rays you had done back then. Your ribs were only bruised, as it turned out.”

“Yeah, they look okay in these pictures,” I said, wondering if there was a point to Davis showing me X-rays of my four-year-old ribs.

“They do, don’t they? I got those from your medical records after I saw the X-rays from today. You see, at first I thought the radiographers were playing a practical joke on me when they sent me your X-rays today. Then, after I went to their department and talked to them, and they assured me there was no joke, I got them to check the machine to see if it was faulty. It wasn’t.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying, Doc. Is there something wrong with my ribs?”

He looked perplexed. “I don’t even know how to answer that question, Alec. It might be better if I show you. Maybe you can explain what I’m seeing.” He fixed a series of X-rays to the light panel and stepped back so I could see them.

Felicity gasped. I just sat there and stared, shocked.

The X-rays showed my ribs as white against the dark background but there was something else, something that wasn’t in the X-rays that had been taken when I was four years old.

The bones had magical circles and symbols etched into them. The circles and symbols showed as an even brighter white on the bone, almost as if they were glowing. They covered every bone visible on the X-ray.

Dr. Davis said, “I can see from your reaction that you know nothing about this.”

“No, I don’t. How is it possible?”

“I have absolutely no idea. Certainly not by any medical procedure. This has to be magic. The lines that form the symbols are no thicker than a hair’s breadth and the depth of the cut is even less than that. This is magical artistry, performed by someone with great skill and accuracy.”

I had a pretty good idea how the markings had gotten onto my bones. My father had already had the Coven erase some of my memories, so why not have them inscribe my bones with magical symbols too?

But I was sure this would have been done before the memory wipe. It was probably because of these symbols that I was able to summon the power to kill DuMont. They were the reason I had been able to hurl a ball of energy at Tommy the bully when I was nine years old. The memory wipe had been my father’s attempt to make me forget that incident. So the markings on my bones must have already been there when he got the Coven to lock my memories away.

How many times had my father taken me to the Coven and had them cast an enchantment on me?

I remembered something Devon Blackwell had said to me, and grinned.

“What is it, Alec?” Felicity asked.

“When the Blackwell sisters told me I was enchanted, I said their runestone might be picking up on my tattoos. Devon said no, the enchantment was much deeper than that. I didn’t realize she was being literal. It doesn’t get much deeper than being in your bones.”

Dr. Davis said, “Alec, you know I have to report this. Society protocol says I have to report any abnormality found in an investigator’s condition, especially if that abnormality is caused by magic.”

“Yeah, you can report it,” I said, “but the Society already knows about this. Well, my father does, anyway, and he’s a member of the Inner Circle. This isn’t something that happened to me recently; those marks have been there since before I was nine years old.”

“Still, this is the first time I’ve seen them and they aren’t on your last set of X-rays so…”

“Yeah, go ahead and report it. In fact, make sure the report goes to Thomas Harbinger, my father.” Might as well let Dear Old Dad know that I’d discovered his handiwork.

Davis nodded. “Yes, I can do that.”

“So can I leave now?”

He pointed to my side. “How do you feel?”

“I feel great,” I lied. Actually, the bullet wound wasn’t painful as long as I didn’t move much but every now and then it throbbed and sent pain lancing through my hip and back.

“I’ll get a nurse to bring in the discharge forms for you to sign.” He shook my hand. “Good to meet you, Alec.”

As he was about to leave the room, I said, “Hey, Doc, make sure that report goes straight to Thomas Harbinger.”

W
hen Felicity parked
the Caprice in my driveway, a light rain had begun to fall, spattering on the windshield and pinging off the car’s roof. Felicity had insisted on driving me all the way home, despite me telling her that if she wanted to collect her Mini from town, I could drive myself the rest of the way from there.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” she asked after turning off the engine.

“No, I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m going to go straight upstairs and crash on the bed. You should do the same. It’s been a long day.”

“I will. Are you going to be coming in to work tomorrow?”

“Hell, yeah. It takes more than a bullet to keep me down.” I gave her an “Everything’s fine” grin that I wasn’t sure she could see in the darkness.

“All right,” she said, opening her door and handing me the car keys. “You can drive us to the office, then. How does eight o’clock sound?”

“Early.” I opened my door and got out, pleased that I only felt a little pain in my side. Maybe I’d feel worse once the morphine wore off. But for now, at least, I was good. The night was cool and the rain felt like ice-cold needles against my face. “You should get inside quickly,” I told Felicity. “This rain is going to come pouring down pretty soon.”

She closed her door and nodded. “See you in the morning, Alec.”

I watched her walk along the small stretch of sidewalk to her house next door and waited until she’d gone inside before going to my own front door and opening it.

As soon as ir was open, I knew something was wrong.

The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood on end. Someone had slipped through the magical wards I’d placed on the house. I listened carefully. The house was silent except for the hum of the AC and the fridge.

Stepping back onto the driveway, I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Felicity. She answered immediately. “Alec, is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m just checking you’re okay.”

She laughed softly. “You just watched me go into my house.”

“And everything’s okay in there?”

There was a second’s pause and then she said, “Are you trying to get me to invite you over?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just checking on you.”

“I’m fine. I’m sitting in front of the TV with a glass of orange juice, watching infomercials.”

“That doesn’t sound fine to me.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. Then she added, “Thanks for checking on me, Alec. It’s nice.”

“No problem. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her tone more serious.

“Yeah, I’m just heading inside now. Enjoy the infomercials.” I ended the call and considered taking the enchanted dagger from my belt before entering the house but decided against it. If there was someone hiding in there, I didn’t want to advertise my location by holding a glowing blue weapon. For now, it could remain in its sheath on my belt. If I needed it in a hurry, I could get to it easily enough.

I pushed the front door all the way open and stepped into the darkness of the house, closing the door quietly behind me. The intruder wasn’t going to get out easily, I’d see to that. Standing motionless, I listened again to the house. Everything was quiet.

Then I heard a noise upstairs. It was barely audible and I had to go to the foot of the stairs to hear it again but when I heard it a second time, I recognized it. The sound of paper sliding against paper, like the pages of a book being turned.

As well as the tomes and grimoires I kept at the office, I owned a larger collection that was currently housed in the spare bedroom at the back of the house. So now I knew the intruder’s location. And if they were still looking though a book up there, they had no idea I was home.

Ascending the stairs as quickly as I could while still remaining quiet, I felt my heart hammering in my chest. Adrenaline was flooding my body, working with the morphine to take away the pain in my side completely. I was on edge, ready to fight.

When I got to the top of the stairs and looked along the hallway, I could see a faint light coming from the spare bedroom. A flashlight beam within the room. That would be my first target. My plan was simple: take away the intruder’s light so it couldn’t be shone in my eyes and then attack in the darkness. And keep attacking until my opponent was subdued and ready to tell me that the hell he was doing in my house.

I could hear the pages of the book continuing to turn slowly. The intruder still had no idea I was here. I crept forward, arms raised, fists tight.

I reached the open door and took a split second to peer into the room and see a hooded figure bent over one of my tomes, the flashlight beam pointed at the page, before entering the room low, fists raised, and lashing out at the flashlight with my foot. It went spinning into the air, its beam flickering over the walls, floor and ceiling like a crazy strobe light.

I moved to the side quickly, avoiding a fist that came hurtling in my direction. I threw a punch at where I thought the intruder’s face was but now the flashlight had landed in the corner of the room, its beam pointing at the wall, leaving the rest of the room in darkness. I had planned to use the darkness to my advantage but hadn’t figured on the intruder fighting back so adeptly.

A punch connected with my shoulder and slapped the arm away before shooting forward, staying low. I grabbed the intruder’s hips and twisted my body to bring him down to the floor. I was rewarded with a karate chop that connected painfully with my upper back as my opponent wriggled free.

He fled into the hall and I caught sight of a black hoodie like the one Luke Fairweather wore. I gave chase, diving for the intruder’s legs before he could get downstairs and out of the house.

We tumbled together down the stairs, struggling against each other and throwing wild punches that didn’t connect with anything. The stairs slammed into my back, legs, and shoulders and I hoped they were causing the same amount of pain to the intruder. Maybe the fall would slow him down and I’d be able to subdue him once we reached the floor.

When we reached the bottom step, my opponent was up on his feet at lightning speed and reaching for the front door. I hooked my arm around his boot, bringing him crashing to the ground. By the time he had scrambled back to his feet, I was facing him, crouching low in a fighting stance, my hands raised and ready to go into action. “There’s no point running,” I said.

Instead of running, he adopted a fighting stance that mirrored my own. He was shrouded in shadow, hood pulled up, face hidden. His stance told me he meant business, but so did I. One of us was about to receive an ass-kicking.

He moved first, chopping the side of his hand through the air toward my throat. I blocked it and sent a kick arcing at his torso. He managed to block it with both hands but couldn’t grab my leg, which was what he’d tried to do. The force of the kick knocked him into the living room, where he regained his composure and repositioned himself into a fighting stance.

I moved forward quickly, planning to knock him down with a couple of blows to the head followed by a fist to the solar plexus. But when I made my move, each blow was blocked. He went on the counter-attack, fists flying through air at various parts of my body. I blocked a face strike and a kidney punch and a double-fisted chop that would have knocked me down had it connected with my throat.

When the intruder decided to attack using a high kick to my face, I seized the opportunity to duck low below the fast-traveling booted foot and then come up quickly beneath the extended leg, pushing it high into the air and sending my opponent crashing onto the coffee table. The table held and the black-hooded figure rolled backward off it and out of my reach.

I adopted the fighting stance again and waited.

Instead of attacking, the intruder held up a hand and said, “Okay, Harbinger, time out.” Her voice was feminine and that took me by surprise.

I lowered my guard slightly. “Who are you?”

She pushed the hood back to reveal an attractive face beneath shoulder-length curly black hair. “I’m an investigator like you. My name’s Sherry Westlake.”