Rick played saxophone? Had I known that? “Date?” I said.
“I ditched him when Rick took off like a cat with his tail on fire. I followed and talked Rick down from driving awayandfrom shifting. I put his music on despite the fact that it wasawfulto listen to.” She swallowed and forced back what looked like fury and helplessness. “I helped him stay human, per his request, but he was in a lot of pain. Paincaused by illegal and immoral use of magic.” She stopped and took a deep breath, running a hand over her nearly bald head. It was a strangely masculine gesture and it looked exasperated and confused. She was giving a lot away. Or she was becoming an empath, which I had once thought about her. Or she was a really good actor. “He was being spelled.” Her glare deepened. “Not. On.My. Watch. No one suffers from black magic onmywatch. You understand?” she demanded. “I drove him here. In pain. And now I’m responsible for helping him through the rest of it.”
“What happened to the date?” I asked, because while it made sense, it was also too coincidental to be real.
“Gah!” she screamed in frustration, throwing back her head. “You people! My date came after me and found me sitting in the car with LaFleur, holding his hand, talking him down. Stupid man got pissed and took off without me. I have a feeling that relationship is over before it ever got started.”
T. Laine frowned but backed down the hallway with Margot following, as if the feeb was about to attack her. Margot glanced at the door behind me as she passed, seeing the wordsNull Roomon it. “Damn,” she cussed again. “That’s why he wanted to come here.”
In the conference room T. Laine opened a mic into the null room. “Rick. Talk to me. You still human?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice gravelly. “But, God. It’s bad.”
Her hand hovered over the camera controls, but she left them off. “There’s an amulet in there, sent by the local coven. Hold it. Better?”
“Maybe... a little. Yeah. Turn up the music.”
T. Laine turned off the antishift music in the rest of HQ but increased the volume in the null room. “How can a summoning spell reach him through the null room?”
No one replied.
“Put your hand on the speaker,” she directed Rick. “The music magic should work on you even there.”
We heard stumbling through the system, perhaps the sound of a chair turning over. Then Rick groaned out a note of relief.
Margot cocked her head and muttered, “That’s why he was playing that awful music.” She leaned over the table and said into the mic, “Hey, LaFleur. Stop being such a pussy.”
I stepped back in surprise at the crudity. Rick laughed, the sound shocked but less pained and more human.
“Don’t ask me to feel sorry for you,” she said into the mic, as she took a seat. “Injuries are part of the job.”
“True dat,” Rick said, a New Orleans cadence strong in his pain.
“But since I have you as a captive—pardon the pun—audience, I’ll finish the update and debrief your unit. I’ve been going over NCIC files looking for spell/animal-sacrifice sites and crimes and tracking them back for twenty-four months. You were right. Some found in Louisiana eighteen to twenty-four months ago.”
“Year and a half?” T. Laine said. “Two years? Rick was in NOLA then.”
“Yes. And the circles look odd,” Margot said. “I sent photos of the Louisiana ones to the coven leader of NOLA, Lachish Dutillet. She says that some of the early ones look like summoning workings, the kind lonely women do to call a man to their side, except more. More intricate and more vicious, a summoning combined with a curse. It’s peculiar.”
“You know Lachish?” T. Laine asked.
“Not personally,” Margot said. “But her grandmother knew my grandmother. She’s been helpful. So I know stuff. Like despite the fact that Lachish is scared spitless of this circle, not that she said so. You still with us, LaFleur?”
“Yeah. Tell me more,” Rick said, his voice breathy and harsh. “Cuss a lot. Be callous. I’ll try not to be such a wimp.”
“Good. Nothing worse than a whiny-ass man. Survive childbirth and then tell me about pain.”
“You had a baby?” Rick asked.
“Yeah. I was sixteen. Baby didn’t make it.”
“That’s terrible.” Rick stopped. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. So, if someone will get my laptop out of Rick’s car, I can sync my system with yours and we can update data.” Which would give Margot Racer complete access to all our files. Not what we had planned.
Rick, sounding more like himself, asked, “Why did the FBI want a liaison on this case? A case with no crime and no victim except me? And that might be accidental.”
“I don’t think it’s accidental,” Margot said. “The bureau wanted what I wanted—to get me on the inside of PsyLED. Except they want info on the paras you keep track of. I want access to your people to keep paras safe.” Like her witchy family.
