Life in Shadows (2 page)

“…shop
on Aurora, just north of the park,” he said to Molly as Onyx entered. His deep
voice and strong Jamaican accent made as much of an impression as his image. “I
don’t work the counter, though. Ask whoever’s up front who you can talk to
about custom work, and be discreet. They’ll know you’re there for me.”

“Good
to know. Thanks. Oh hey, you,” Molly said as Onyx joined them. “Sorry I ditched
you. Got tied up in one conversation and wound up in another here. This is
Hector. He’s a…craftsman. Hector, this is Onyx, my girlfriend.”

“Nice
to meet you,” said Hector, offering his hand. He didn’t come across as warmly
as Kate, but the gesture still marked him as less standoffish than most of the
other attendees. His handshake suggested as much power in his muscles as in his
voice.

“You’re
a craftsman? What do you make?”

Hector
smirked at the choice of words. “Guns. Bullets. Knives. Special toys for
special people.”

“Oh.”
Onyx hesitated. The answer brought up any number of possible implications. “By
special, do you mean Practitioners?”

“Them
or the sort of people with their problems.”

“So
we’re not talking about ritual tools, then?”

“Oh,
I can do ritual stuff, no problem. But I’m more about practical applications.”

Again,
Onyx found herself at a loss for words. Her first thoughts about him held firm:
strong, polite, and not at all warm. “Wow. I wouldn’t think that guns would be
in demand in these circles.”

“You’d
be surprised. People learnin’ to work magic usually learn to defend themselves
along the way. That don’t mean everyone’s good at it. The right weapon might do
you better in a fight than a spell, and for a lot less effort depending on what
you’re packing. Guns are like spells that way. You get what you pay for.”

“That’s
a good question,” Molly spoke up curiously. “What’s the going rate for a magic
gun?”

“Depends
on the kind of gun and the kind of magic, but I guess you could say it’s always
expensive. If I’m short on cash, I charge money. Most of the time, with clients
like mine, I’m more likely to charge something else. Favors, you know? Trade in
kind. Some Practices leave you swimming in cash. Others ain’t cool with that
sort of thing. Mine doesn’t allow for conjurin’ up the dollars.”

“Neither
does ours,” admitted Onyx. “Can’t say it’s much for guns, either, but we’ve
never really had the need. Kind of outside my experience.”

“And
may it ever be so. Bit of free advice, though: don’t count on it.” His gaze
flicked past the two young women to the other room. “We should probably move
on. Don’t wanna be rude to our hosts.” He nodded to excuse himself before
slipping past the pair.

Alone
in the smaller gallery room, Onyx looked at Molly and found a mischievous grin.
“We do not need a gun,” said Onyx.

“We
don’t
need
one, no.”

“Molly.”

“You
don’t know what he can do with his.”

Onyx
groaned. “I knew the double entendres would turn up.”

“I’m
just sayin’,” Molly grinned. “Seriously, you missed most of the conversation.
He made some points I hadn’t considered before. He’s a nice guy.”

“Molly,
that is not a ‘nice’ man,” Onyx warned. “That’s a guy who
uses
the stuff
he makes. And I’m pretty sure we can’t afford whatever he’d charge, money or
otherwise.”

“I
know, I know. He was nice to me, at least. Most everyone else here is kinda
cold.”

“I
hear you. It’s like you said when the invitations came. Sharks in these
waters.”

“Yeah.
That’s the
other
reason I didn’t want to come. Tough enough to accept
that she’s gone, but even if I have to do that…” Some of Molly’s stress broke
through her façade, along with some of her grief. “Why did she want all this? I
thought public readings of a person’s will only happened on TV.”

“I
don’t know.” Onyx slipped her hand in Molly’s. “Anything I can do?”

The
redhead glanced through the doorway, then leaned in to kiss Onyx on the
lips—hardly more than a peck, but heartfelt. “Everything you already do. Every
day.”

“Sweet,
then I’ll keep stealing all the covers in bed,” Onyx quipped as she started for
the door.

“Keep
that up and you’re gonna wake up with the neighbor’s pet snake curled up
against you one morning,” warned Molly.

“You’d
never put Steve in that kind of danger and you know it.” She managed to control
her grin as they entered the other room. This was a somber occasion. Private
banter to help Molly keep it together was one thing; openly joking around in
front of others would be in poor taste.

Most
of the guests had taken their seats when Molly and Onyx arrived. Once again,
they found some of the gallery’s regular art on the walls, but the floor had
been cleared to make room for folding chairs arranged in simple, comfortably
spaced rows. Onyx spotted name cards for herself and Molly on a pair of seats
on the right side of the middle row. Many chairs remained empty. Given the
number of guests, she guessed that Kate and Jin wanted to give the various
factions and individuals plenty of space.

In
front of the seats stood a lectern and a small desk holding various folders and
envelopes. Kate took up the spot behind the lectern with Jin at her side to
assist. They waited patiently for everyone to sit before they began.

Onyx
still didn’t know most of the crowd. She guessed that the nicely-dressed and
otherwise normal suburban-looking group in the front row might be some of those
Believers Kate mentioned, and made some other guesses from there. The pair of
men from the Brotherhood shared the middle row with Molly and Onyx. Most of the
rest sat either alone, like Hector, or in pairs, like Archimedes and Hypatia to
the right and in front. It let Onyx keep an eye on them.
Damn it, I’m doing
it again. They’re just snotty. It’s not like they’re supervillains.

She
suspected that the men in suits sitting to either side of the audience might be
from Jin’s group from the International District. Something about their
demeanor suggested they were working rather than merely attending. She’d seen
the man and woman at the back of the room with Kate earlier, and figured they
were from her circle up north. The two sets certainly seemed to be positioned
to act as plainclothes security. She didn’t mind the presence. Not after
Molly’s warning about sharks.

“Thank
you for coming,” said Kate. “Elizabeth knew all this would be unusual. She
asked us to read this brief statement:

“
’Dear
friends and associates
,’” Kate read, “
’Let me start by apologizing for
any discomfort these arrangements may cause. Please understand that this is in
the interests of peace and goodwill. We are all aware of the tension created
when so many Practitioners share the same region. This gathering is only
happening after trusted friends have verified that I am gone through natural or
purely accidental causes. I want to leave behind no doubts. No one need avenge
me. No one need see my death as a reason to look over their own shoulders. I
dearly hope Seattle’s Practicing community will continue its history of
peaceful coexistence.

“’
In keeping with that concern, I wish to avoid any rumors, suspicions, or
conflict over my estate. The bulk of my mundane assets have been handled
through other arrangements. My shop and my finances are spoken for. However, my
property of a more sensitive nature must be placed in capable and trustworthy
hands.
’”

Kate
paused to glance around the room. Onyx did the same. She saw curious looks and
a few frowns, but heard no objections. Kate continued.

“’
To
Harold Weiss or the current proprietor of the Circle’s End bookstore, I leave
all consumable ritual materials in my home, including any invested crystals,
candles, powders and so forth.

“
’To
Jin, I leave my collection of East Asian writings, charts, and maps.

“
’To
the Brotherhood of Apollo, I leave my former residence on Queen Anne Hill,
along with its keys, warding charms, and legal property titles.
’”

Onyx
looked to Molly as Kate continued. The redhead shrugged. “She lived here for
seventy years,” whispered Molly. “Lots of time to build up property. And secrets.”

“She’s
sharing them with great people,” Onyx complained quietly so no one else would
hear.

“I
trust her,” replied Molly. “Trusted. Whichever.”

The
dark-haired witch squeezed her hand. “Trust.”

Molly
frowned sadly. “Yeah.”

“
’To
Hypatia and Archimedes
,’” Kate continued, “
’I leave my gargoyle statue.
To Hector King
—’”

“Excuse
me,” piped up Hypatia, raising her hand. “Is there no other note there for us?”

Kate
shook her head. “No. ‘
To Hector Kingston, I leave the crafting tools and
books from my workshop
…’”

Onyx
barely held back a snort and a grin. Again, she squeezed Molly’s hand. “We both
trust her,” she amended softly—and then saw Hypatia scowl at her. The young
woman had little time for the death glare. Her attention was pulled away almost
a second later.

“
’To
Molly, I leave my Book of Shadows
.’”

Though
Kate continued on with the reading, and though no one spoke out, Onyx noticed
immediate interest from the rest of the small audience. Heads rose. Whispers in
the crowd ceased. Hypatia, Archimedes, even Hector looked over to the pair.
Molly turned to Onyx with wide eyes and a half-dozen unspoken questions or
objections on her lips: Elizabeth kept a Book of Shadows? That wasn’t even part
of her Practice. Did it mean to her what it meant to them? As studied and
experienced as Elizabeth was, would she use that term lightly?

And
above all: Why me?

They
missed the next couple of bequests. Someone got Elizabeth’s property in
Kirkland. Someone else received her wands, a poignant and personal gift of
great value. To Kate, she left her large house in Snohomish, which Onyx had
seen once and thought beautiful. Like the house given to the Brotherhood, it
surely held occult significance if it turned up on this list. No one could know
straight from the reading of her will which of Elizabeth’s bequests held great
power and which ones were simple if pretty or pricy keepsakes.

Nothing
left Molly or Onyx envious. Not after the gift left in her name. By definition,
the book would contain Elizabeth’s most important spells, rituals, and personal
writings…if it meant to her what it meant to their own Practice.

“
’My
friends, I have nothing else to give but my sincerest wishes for harmony and
peace
,’” read Kate. “
’I was not the first Practitioner here. As I have
watched the city grow, so too have our own numbers. I have seen conflict. I
have also seen cooperation. I dearly hope for a future of the latter. Thank you
for all you have given me.’
” Kate folded the paper and added, “I also want
to thank you for your patience. Most of the items listed are available here.
Jin and I will distribute and let you all be on your way.”

Some
attendees rose. Others lingered in their seats to speak in hushed tones.
Archimedes fairly launched himself out of his seat to speak with Kate and Jin,
trying but failing to keep his voice low. “Is there any documentation to go
with the gargoyle? Something to explain what it is and what it does? And how
are we expected to transport that thing ourselves?”

Kate
and Jin offered the same polite smile. “Elizabeth listed nothing else in your
bequest, no,” said Jin.

“You
okay?” murmured Onyx.

“Guess
we’ll find out,” replied Molly.

“Ladies
and gentlemen,” spoke up one of the Brotherhood representatives. He was tall
and broad-shouldered, with an almost suspiciously good-looking face. “If I
might beg a moment of your time while you’re all here? As our hosts noted, we
so rarely gather in numbers like this.”

The
request put a pause on everyone’s movements and conversations. Onyx saw silent
wariness in many of the faces in the room.

“My
name is Victor Saxon. I’m a member of the Brotherhood of Apollo. My friends and
I want to first offer our condolences on the passing of Miss Van Dalen. She was
a luminary of our kind. We also want to echo her wishes for harmony, and to
that end, we want to extend to you all an invitation.

“We
all know that the number of Practitioners in a given area limits the power any
one Practitioner might attain. We also know that forming a circle mitigates
this dilution of power greatly. Here in Seattle,” Saxon continued, gesturing to
the full gathering with his hands spread wide, “that drain grows significant.
Every loner, every partnership is another drain upon the rest.

“The
Brotherhood of Apollo welcomes many traditions of magic. We assure tolerance
and freedom of Practice. We offer fellowship, support, and protection.”

“I
didn’t hear ‘equality’ in that list, man,” came Hector’s deep, accented voice
from across the room. He stood listening with his hands in the pockets of his
trench coat. “Is your Brotherhood a circle, or more like a pyramid?”