“Don’t. You were going to tell me the rest of the story.”
Rowan rotated his empty cup. “Still trying to figure out if it’s a mystery or a nightmare. Stryker is checking out his area of expertise, cyberspace, and I have someone looking into the magical community. Everything’s as quiet as the tomb of a vampire in the daylight.”
Lyons flipped another page and shook his head. “Still freaks me out sometimes that monsters like that exist. My foster mom…”
“…wasn’t a monster,” Rowan finished. “She loved you and was a good mother.”
“Thanks for that. I miss her and still wish I could find the bottom feeder who killed her.”
“We will.”
Lyons nodded as he turned to another page. “Here’s something that’s weird. Almost didn’t bring it up, but I know how you don’t like coincidences, so it’s better that I do. We found a floater a few days ago. A body washed to shore on Bainbridge Island. It scared the fillings out of an old lady who was walking her dog along the beach. Then the body disappeared from the morgue. Paperwork too. I interviewed the coroner, and he remembered a high level of hallucinogens present in the preliminary samples. But he couldn’t remember the exact dosages or the composition of the drugs. He said because of the state of decomposition he almost missed the most interesting part. The eyes were gouged out of the scull. The coroner first thought it was the work of fish and parasites, but when he looked closer, he noticed cut marks around the eye sockets as though the eyes were surgically removed. He figured they were made by some sort of metal instrument and was going to do a more thorough exam. Then the body went missing. What do you think it means?”
“Nothing good.” Rowan crushed his empty cup and threw it in a nearby trashcan. “Gouging out the eyes is an effective way ofneutralizing a Wizard’s power. After that, killing him is as easy as stepping on a bug. If this were a one-time thing, no problem. Stuff happens. A week ago, if you had told me this story, I’d say someone who was into dark magic stumbled onto the real thing and this was a one off. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. This feels like the beginning of a turf war. I hope I’m wrong. If I’m right, Puget Sound and the lakes surrounding Seattle will flow red with human and Wizard blood.”
For the first time Lyons looked older than his fifty years. “I was afraid you’d say something like that. I had a bad feeling about this one. The missing body is the real mystery. Usually, this sort of thing happens at night, not in broad daylight. The coroner stepped out for coffee, and when he returned the body was gone.”
“Blood work? Tissue samples?”
“All gone. Photos included. Everything we had on him vanished. Any ideas who could pull this off?”
“No one human would be my guess.”
“Just so you know, it’s not easy making these crimes appear the work of a sociopath instead of something from a horror movie. Any idea who could move around in the daylight and not be seen?”
“An endless list, but it might be the work of beings called Shadows. For the most part they’re mercenaries, and impossible to catch. You might even start a conversation with one, thinking they were flesh and blood. The next minute you’re talking to yourself.”
“My foster mom never mentioned them.” Lyons whistled low and looked uneasy. “But they sound a lot like what the kids strung out on the latest designer drug call Shadow People. Odd the name is so similar, especially with the drugs the coroner mentioned. Of course, with the kids, it’s the drug that causeshallucinations, not the result of a paranormal being. Ever caught a Shadow?”
“Never, and you don’t want to mess with them. Trust me. If you even think you see one, run. They’re soulless, merciless, and deadly.”
A cell phone rang, belting out Cher’s “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.” To someone who didn’t know Lyons, the tune seemed dated. But the song was Lyons’ foster mom’s favorite, and he refused to change it, which earned Rowan’s respect. Nothing was as it appeared. Probably one of the reasons they got along so well. Everything with Lyons had a double or triple meaning.
Feeling someone starting in his direction, Rowan glanced in their direction. The blonde was behind the counter, staring at Lyons. He couldn’t tell if she was the one who’d called, but her expression was a little sad, as though she’d lost a puppy, or broken a nail. Rowan was bad at picking up on “woman-signals.”
Lyons glanced at the caller ID. “Duty calls. I’ll contact you if my sources discover the location of that yacht with the Wizards or learn about any new coincidences. Be in touch.”
Rowan motioned inside. “Tell me about the woman.”
“We had a moment.”
“And then you found out.”
He nodded. “And then I found out.”
“Not all Fae women are psycho.”
“Gotta go. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”
Rowan nodded as Lyons headed for his car, a mint-condition cherry-red 1965 Corvette. Most people would keep such a valuable automobile in a locked garage under a custom-made tarp. Lyons wasn’t most people.
Rowan didn’t like this new wrinkle on the murders. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He glanced toward the sky, expecting to see Ravs circling around him, but there was only a thickblanketing of clouds. He felt like he was in a maze, with no clear path in sight.
What kept nagging him was the reference to drugs. Vlad had mentioned that he believed the drugMagic Carpet Ride was being used on Wizards. Not the first time an enemy had tried to poison a Wizard. But it had never been done on this scale. His guess was that whoever was behind the murders meant to eliminate as many Wizards as possible before war was declared. Had the female Wizards fled because they foresaw the danger?
Chapter Sixteen
The next day at Magus Stone and Gravel, Zacharias set the folder containing an employment resumé aside, savoring the moment. This was his favorite part in the whole tedious job interview process. The moment when he’d eliminated all the candidates except for a select few. The one sitting calmly in front of him was the best of the lot. It was too bad his last secretary, Daffeny Schultz, hadn’t lasted, but stuff happened.
