Misfits, Gemstones, and Other Shattered Magic (Dowser 8) Read online

  “Let’s borrow Gran’s car. Assuming she doesn’t need it. I’d like to check on the prison.”

  “The elves aren’t going back to anywhere that nullifies their magic.”

  I shrugged. “I’d still like a look around.”

  “Fine. It’s after full dark. Baby fang should be on duty.”

  For the past three months, Kandy had been employing some of the fledgling Adepts who now called Vancouver home in regular patrol tasks. She had Burgundy checking the other twelve grid points, working around her school schedule. Bitsy the werewolf was learning the finer details of patrolling during evening training runs. And Benjamin Garrick was keeping an eye on Pulou’s prison and the Talbots’ house nearby — with strict orders to stay far away from any elves who might appear. Since Benjamin was rather protective of his newfound immortality, Kandy trusted him to follow those instructions to the letter.

  “I’m going to stay here,” Jasmine said. “Dinner isn’t really my thing these days. And I’m trying to wrap my head around setting up a possible online interface with the map.”

  Kandy glanced at me. “That youngest Talbot is into this tech stuff.”

  I grimaced. “Tony.”

  Jasmine perked up again. “A tech sorcerer? In town?”

  “Not this weekend,” I said.

  “Huh. Might be worth a chat,” Jasmine said thoughtfully. “He won’t be as good as me … I mean, as good as I was before … you know. But he might be helpful in setting up a command center, at least. Gathering and hardwiring tech and the like.”

  “Whatever,” Kandy said, bored. “But you’re joining us for dancing, baby girl. Dancing with Jade is not to be missed, and the more magic on the dance floor, the better.”

  Jasmine twisted her lips, but she didn’t answer.

  “Maybe too much magic?” I whispered.

  Kandy shrugged. “She’ll be the least powerful person there. Audrey and Lara have begged off. So we won’t have any repeats.”

  “I can hear you,” Jasmine said crossly. Her fingers were glued to her keyboard again.

  Kandy snorted a laugh.

  “Begged off? Just from tonight, or from the wedding too?”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Kandy said, unusually circumspect.

  That didn’t bode well. I glanced over at Jasmine, but she appeared to be ignoring us again, actually muttering to herself under her breath now.

  I stepped back into the hall, leaving the door open while I contemplated making an effort to repair the relationship with the pack, or at least texting Kett to give him a heads-up that the beta and her enforcer might have decided to take exception to his child. Of course, the executioner might not care. I could never really tell with him.

  Kandy waved her hand in front of my face. Then once she got my attention, she gestured toward the stairs at the end of the hall. “After you, dowser.”

  “Ah, are you being sweet?”

  “Nah. But if those jeans split, I totally want to be standing behind you. In fact, maybe you should wear them dancing.”

  Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but laugh. Despite her almost drowning, dealing with pissy werewolves, or worrying about elven power plays, I could always count on Kandy to lighten the mood.

  Benjamin Garrick, along with the taste of his sour-grape-jelly-bean magic, wasn’t the only Adept within viewing distance of the hidden entrance to the treasure keeper’s prison. Apparently, Mory was hanging out there as well. After dark. With a fledgling vampire.

  Lovely.

  I caught the taste of the junior necromancer’s toasted-marshmallow magic from the top of the concrete stairs that led to the beach. I then spotted Mory perched on a large driftwood log, only a dozen feet away from the craggy shoreline and the witches’ wards. She was knitting, of course and always.

  I glanced back at Kandy questioningly.

  The green-haired werewolf shrugged, completely nonplussed about a vampire hanging out with a necromancer.

  Even more lovely.

  Apparently, Benjamin had worked up the nerve to say hello to Mory sometime over the last three months.

  I jogged down the stairs with Kandy right behind me.

  Mory was wearing the Cowichan-inspired knitted sweater that Kandy and I had bought her for her nineteenth birthday. It was intentionally two sizes too large for her petite frame. The bulky hat tugged down over her currently purple-streaked, bright-red hair matched the cowl tucked into the shawl collar of the sweater, as well as the wrist warmers under her cuffs.

  Mory raised her head, eyeing me without pausing her knitting. At best guess, she was working on another hat, though with a slightly less bulky yarn. Plus, it was stranded, which meant she was knitting with multiple colors, each strand leading back to the satchel sitting beside her on the log.

  Yeah, I had somehow picked up way too much information about knitting for a nonknitter. But Mory and I didn’t have a lot in common, so I tried to talk to her about things she was actually interested in. And, unfortunately, my witty repartee about chocolate, cupcakes, and getting into knife fights bored the hell out of the necromancer.

  Benjamin appeared out of the shadows of the cliff side to my left as I stepped down into the sand from the stairs. Hands stuffed in his jean pockets and a scarf knotted around his neck were his only concessions to the chilly temperature — though I wasn’t sure he could feel the cold at all. The dark-haired vampire settled his satchel over his shoulder, offering Kandy and me a polite smile.

  “The elves have been active tonight,” I said, deciding I would treat the vampire and the necromancer as equals, rather than freaking out that they were hanging out together. That seemed like the more mature way to go.

  “Nearby?” Mory asked.

  “At Gran’s. Then Kits Pool.”

  “The pool?” Benjamin asked. “Do elves have a thing for water?”

  “Not unless it’s purple,” I said.

  Benjamin tugged a notebook and pen from his satchel, flipping the book open to a page that was already half covered in neat but cramped handwriting. With his movement, I picked up the taste of the torture device on his wrist — the necromancer working that kept his vampire nature in check, and which drove Kandy’s and my protective instincts into overdrive.

  “So … nothing happening here.” For my benefit, Kandy pointedly turned the question into a statement, since she thought I was wasting our time.

  “Ed is just heading back,” Mory said.

  Ed was the necromancer’s red-eared slider. Her dead pet turtle.

  “Sorry?” I asked. “Heading back from where?”

  Mory nodded behind me. I whirled around to face the hidden entrance to the prison, seeing nothing but the rocky shore.

  “We’re supposed to keep our distance, right?” Mory said blithely. “And the witches can’t take down the wards every night. So Ed scouts.”

  I didn’t want to know … I didn’t want to know …

  “And then Ed … tells you what’s going on inside?”

  Mory sneered. “Of course not, Jade. He’s a turtle. He can’t talk. I see what he sees.”

  And there was the creepy I’d been expecting.

  “He can’t go into the cells, of course.” Mory continued her explanation, thankfully not noticing me thinking how glad I was that I hadn’t eaten since the bridal shower.

  I mean, everyone thought seeing through the eyes of a dead pet turtle was super creepy, right? Seriously useful, sure. But creepy as all hell.

  Benjamin was furiously taking notes.

  Kandy grinned to herself, watching me out of the corner of her narrowed eyes as if gleefully anticipating my eventual freak-out.

  Well, I was going to have to disappoint her. “Great, great,” I said with completely false perkiness. “Well, keep us informed —”

  “He’s back.”

  Ah, damn it.

  I turned, my skin already crawling even before I caught sight of the six-inch turtle as he crossed through the witches’ wards
cloaking the entrance to the cave. Then he continued to shuffle his way through the sand to Mory. The necromancer scooped Ed up, brushing him off and cooing. The reanimated turtle was wearing a tiny amulet around his neck. The charm was constructed out of a dime that tasted distinctly of my mother’s strawberry magic. It was presumably what allowed him to pass through the wards.

  Delightful. And again, seriously efficient. But creepy.

  “So … nothing then.” Kandy spread her arms, elbows bent, to the sides, giving me an All right then? look.

  “No activity here,” Benjamin said. “The Talbots left around 3:00 p.m. yesterday for Whistler. And nothing magical has been in the area since. As far as I can tell, of course. Not after sunset at least.”

  Mory slid off the log, somehow looping her satchel strap over her head without getting tangled in her yarn. She tucked her turtle in her bag. “I’ll grab a ride with you guys.” She looked at me defiantly. “I’m coming to dinner. And dancing.”

  I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Why would I try to stop you?”

  Mory simply narrowed her eyes at me, nodded a brisk goodbye to Benjamin, and wandered off toward the stairs. And yes, she was still knitting.

  I looked over at Kandy. “Really? You thought I’d get pissy about you inviting Mory?”

  “Nope,” Kandy said. “Kid has her own issues, doesn’t she?”

  “Um,” Benjamin said hopefully. “We were going to schedule that third interview …”

  “Nope again.” Kandy bared her teeth at the fledgling vampire, challenging him.

  He looked nonplussed. “I was asking Jade, actually.”

  “Be more specific then, Benny boy.” The green-haired werewolf turned on her heel to deliberately give the vampire her back, following Mory over to and up the stairs.

  “Right,” I said, answering Benjamin’s question. For the modern-day chronicle he was piecing together, the young vampire had made two earlier attempts to chat with me one-on-one. Problem was, those previous sessions kept getting interrupted. “How about tomorrow?”

  “At the bakery again?”

  “Yeah. What time?”

  “Sun sets at 4:20 … so, 5:00 p.m.?”

  “Sounds good. Come to the alley door. The bakery’s closed tomorrow.”

  Benjamin smiled, hitting me with a charismatic blast of his vampire magic — his version of the ensnarement ability that most vampires were rumored to wield. Though I hadn’t yet felt Jasmine attempt to beguile anyone, and Kett was either careful about it, or he chose to not continually attempt to enthrall his friends.

  I grinned back at Benjamin, then jogged through the dry sand to catch up to Kandy on the stairs.

  The dark-haired vampire settled down on a log, already bent over the notebook open on his knee. He was likely contentedly transcribing the conversation we’d all just had. Or formulating more questions.

  “I’m texting Liam Talbot,” I called up to Kandy. “We have time to fit in a chat.”

  Kandy stopped at the top of the stairs with a put-out groan. “Dowser …”

  “Hey, I’m trying to be responsible. You know?” I opened my text messages and found the thread of my conversations with Liam. “The elves haven’t just decided to play games randomly.”

  Kandy grumbled something under her breath that sounded like, “You hope …”

  “He’s on a date,” Mory said. She was leaning on the guardrail at the edge of the paved seawall. And yes, still knitting.

  “Liam?” I asked.

  Kandy nodded, abruptly enthusiastic. “You should definitely text him then, dowser. What’s it been? Three days since your last check-in? Anything could have happened.”

  I gave her a narrow-eyed look. “I probably shouldn’t interrupt his date.”

  “Better than bothering him on shift,” Kandy said perkily. “Plus, I wouldn’t mind seeing who the detective constable deems worthy of dating.”

  “He got the promotion then?”

  “Just had to pass an exam,” Mory said. “After his probationary period. Homicide unit. Though there might have been a bit of magic involved. I heard there isn’t normally supposed to be any special treatment for international police officers. But he’s back at the same rank he had before, in Boston.”

  “Boston, eh?” Kandy drawled. “And just how do you know so much about Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass Sorcerer?”

  Mory jutted her chin out belligerently, but she didn’t otherwise answer.

  I shook my head, choosing to text Liam while the werewolf and the necromancer had a staring contest.

  There’s been some activity tonight. Would like to chat.

  “I thought you were banging baby fang,” Kandy said.

  “What?” Mory cried, blushing fiercely.

  “Aha!” Kandy looked at me triumphantly.

  “I am not …” Mory’s voice cracked. “I’m not having sex with Benjamin.”

  “Aha! Ha! Ha!” Kandy crowed. “I thought Tony Talbot was more your speed.”

  “What?!” Mory looked over at me for reinforcement, torn between being utterly frustrated and getting seriously angry.

  “Liam is a little old for you, isn’t he?” I said instead, so very helpfully. “He’s what, twenty-three?”

  My werewolf BFF chuckled, grinning gleefully at the necromancer.

  Mory snapped her mouth shut. Kandy had actually managed to distract her from her knitting, but apparently the necromancer wasn’t going to continue the argument.

  A text message from Liam pinged through on my phone.

  >I’m available at 9 am tomorrow.

  I’m available now.

  Kandy leaned over to look at my phone, then snorted.

  Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, indicating that Liam was typing something. The dots continued flashing … and continued …

  Kandy chortled. “He’s telling you off. The sorcerer has balls, all right. But he’s a moron.”

  My phone pinged.

  >I’m at Browns on West Fourth.

  Kandy started guffawing.

  “What?” Mory eyed the werewolf with obvious distrust.

  “He deleted whatever he was going to text,” I said. “Possibly.”

  “Scared of the dowser!” Kandy whooped, hustling across the swath of grass between us and Gran’s navy-blue Lexus where we’d parked on Ogden Avenue.

  Mory eyed me. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Respect?”

  I almost demurred. I almost said no, almost tried to fall back into my old everyone is a friend routine. Then I simply nodded. “It’s clearer that way.”

  “And easier to protect everyone, if they know to defer to you.” There wasn’t any judgement in Mory’s tone, but I felt it nonetheless.

  I shoved my hands in the back pockets of my dead sister’s jeans, not bothering to deny my position — my status — to the necromancer. Because I also wore the instruments of assassination around my neck, and there was no denying the responsibility that had come along with my claiming of them. Unintended or not.

  Mory tucked her knitting away in her bag. Then she bumped her shoulder against mine in an unusual display of camaraderie. “Let’s go ruin Liam’s night. Then eat something.”

  I barked out an involuntary laugh, having no idea what the necromancer held against the detective. Except, of course, the simple fact that he was a sorcerer. It made sense that Mory carried the same prejudice as I did. She had certainly learned to not trust sorcerers at the same time I had — including Mot Blackwell himself.

  Without pestering her with questions, I wandered across the grass with the tiny necromancer at my side, silently contemplating that I was pretty certain that Mory had a thing for Benjamin Garrick. Because for a necromancer, there couldn’t possibly be a worse romantic choice. For countless reasons. And everyone had to pick wrong at least once or twice until they figured out who the right choice was. Didn’t they?

  Browns Socialhouse was a restaurant that specialized in elevated pub fare on the corner of West
Fourth Avenue and Vine Street, just west of and across the street from the bakery. I was a rather big fan of their teriyaki chicken dragon bowl, for obvious reasons. And Kandy often dragged me there on a Thursday or Friday to watch whatever sport she was currently — and most often raucously — following.

  The pub was at capacity when we arrived, reminding me that we were about to be late for dinner ourselves. Still, the two rows of tables lined up on the tiny sidewalk patio along Vine Street were empty. Even with heat lamps set above them, it was too chilly to dine outside in December in Vancouver.

  I didn’t bother shouldering my way through the guests waiting to be seated in the tiny vestibule beyond the glass front door. I could see Liam through the windows, watching hockey — Canucks versus Flames, it looked like — on a massive TV over the bar. He had a half-full pint glass of what appeared to be a golden lager in hand. The woman seated to his right, watching the game as well, was darker-haired than the sorcerer but lighter skinned. She wasn’t, however, magical. Or if she was, any taste of that magic was hidden underneath Liam Talbot’s creamy-peanut-buttery power.

  Mory peered around my shoulder, snorted inexplicably, and then wandered back to climb into the back seat of Gran’s car. We’d scored a parking spot out front of the Starbucks on the same side of the street.

  Kandy laughed under her breath, eyeing the sorcerer and his apparent date. “So the eldest Talbot is a bit of a player.” She turned her back on the window. “Good to know.”

  “One date doesn’t make a player,” I said.

  “True, dowser.” Kandy flashed her teeth in my direction. “Not terribly observant. But true.”

  I huffed out a laugh, then texted Liam.

  We’re outside. Waiting.

  Blunt, and just on the edge of pissy. But then, I generally preferred to be snarky when dealing with sorcerers. All except Henry Calhoun, that was.

  “So when is the marshal making another appearance?” I asked, trying to kill time.

  Kandy shrugged belligerently. “I don’t have Henry’s schedule in my head.”

  Inside, Liam tugged his phone out of his pocket, glanced at his screen, and said something apologetic to his date. Crossing to the far edge of the sidewalk, so that I wasn’t blocking the door, I glanced at Mory in the back seat of the car. “Think they’re dating, then? Mory and Liam?”