A Little Street Magic (24 page)

As we were headed out the door, Logan asked, “Do you want to drive today?”

“Yeah, I do.” I hadn’t gotten my beloved chariot out in a few days. Between the doggy hugs, his understanding, and being behind the wheel, my mood rose.

D
amian called as we finished breakfast. “There was another break-in last night. A bank, and they didn’t follow their usual modus operandi.”

“How so?” I pushed Logan’s debit card back to him, and put mine with the bill, mouthing “my treat.” He nodded, and traded the card for a five, placing it under my card.

“They killed a rent-a-cop, and broke into the vault, but it doesn’t appear telekinesis was used for the vault’s door.”

I smiled at our waitress as she took the payment. “Are you sure?”

“It was opened, but not damaged.”

“You know, I can pick simple locks with my TK.”

Damian sighed. “I really wish you wouldn’t share that kind of thing. I am with the police, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. What I’m saying is, if I can do that, surely someone with a few hundred years or whatever of experience can manage to break into a bank vault.”

“Right, but why bother? Why change what was working?”

“Don’t know. But I do want to know why didn’t you call us last night?” I accepted my card and signed the receipt.

“Because,” he drew the word out, “we’ve reached the limit of how much help you can give us. The perps don’t touch anything. That only leaves the remains or personal effects of the victims for you to touch, and so far, that hasn’t resulted in images of the perpetrators. Oh, and you tend to bleed, blister, and occasionally, fly into walls when you touch those things. If that’s not unsettling enough, the screaming is.”

“Sorry.” I sighed. “Want us to come in?”

“Go ahead. You can look at the photos. Maybe you or Logan will see something we haven’t.”

“Okay, we’re on our way.” I ended the call, dropped my phone into my coat pocket, and put my card away. A flash of bright green inside my purse caught my eye. I pulled out the good luck charm Tase had given me, and transferred it to the pocket of my jeans.

Logan watched and asked, “Think that’ll help?”

“Don’t know, but it certainly can’t hurt.” We left the restaurant hand in hand.

“S
ee?” Damian spread out the photos of the vault’s door. “Not a scratch on it. Do you really think one of them was able to use TK to unlock it?”

I studied the photos, and shrugged. “Looks kind of complicated to me. I couldn’t pick it open.”

“One of them could be a master thief,” Dane suggested. He’d met us in the parking lot, having driven Logan’s truck. He was feeling mopey, but I didn’t blame him. At least he was making the effort to take his mind off his breakup.

“Sure, what else do vamps spend their time doing?” Dodson snorted.

I frowned at the photos. “They didn’t have electronic locks back in the day. Have there been a lot of night-time bank robberies? He’d have to practice.”

“Jones, we haven’t had a bank robbery in Santo Trueno since Prohibition.” Schumacher wagged his finger at us. “And no, I wasn’t on the force then.”

I’d had to practice for months before my ability to unlock doors and padlocks had gained any kind of reliability. I still couldn’t manage combination locks. A frown took hold, and I looked the photos over again. Something began to wiggle in my brain, practically begging me to pay attention to it.

“The Thieves’ Stick,” I said, my thoughts a confused jumble. One rose to the top, something Sal had recently said: What appears obvious isn’t always the truth.

My thoughts fell abruptly into place.

The stick hadn’t worked for Tanisha and her co-workers. Neither had the boots. They didn’t have the code word for either. It would take psychometry to discover the code words to use them.

And not only was psychometry an ability vampires didn’t have, we knew magical objects rarely worked for them. I looked up, feeling the blood drain from my face. “We’re wrong.”

“About?” Dodson asked.

“It’s not vampires. That’s why the guys haven’t smelled vampires at any of the scenes. They’re not vampires.” I was shaking. “The killers are psychics.”

He glared. “You said psychics haven’t had enough...”

“That’s what everyone says about us. Humans who received any magic, I mean. We’re behind the learning curve.” I gestured at the photos. “And we’ve believed it. But these psychics aren’t, and they’ve proven it.”

Dodson’s glare faded. He swallowed. “Then we’re in deep shit.”

“The deepest.”

“You’re saying we have a trio of homicidal psychic maniacs running rampage?” Schumacher groaned when I nodded. “I’m too old for this crap.”

“It gets worse, because now I’m not certain there’s only three of them.” I went to the whiteboard and began to write: Telekinesis, teleportation, pyrokinesis, aerokinesis, psychometry, water calling, and light-bending.

Then I added a second list: Telepathy, retro-cognition, and psychic tracking. Stepping back, I capped the dry erase marker. “Ten abilities. Most human psychics, hell, even most vampires don’t get more than one or two abilities. Three is rare.”

“While you’re the psychic unicorn.” Damian frowned at the board. “Why did you add those last three?”

“We haven’t figured out how they’re picking their targets. The museum is easy, because the Fairy Tales display was publicized. But the others?” I pointed at the shorter list. “Those abilities could be the explanation.”

“The odds would be high against three psychics with these abilities finding each other, and all be criminally inclined,” Stone said.

“Only the three abilities part.” Damian kept frowning at the board. “It’s not against the odds for the criminally inclined to gravitate to each other. That happens all the damn time.”

“Easy part’s over then. Now for the hard part. How the hell do we find them?” Schumacher looked around. “Any ideas?”

Dodson stood. “Yeah. It’s time we call in the Feds.”

T
he Feds arrived the next day, Friday the eleventh, and took over the case, but agreed to allow us to continue participating to a limited degree. Limited enough that we weren’t needed over the weekend.

Nick had been correct. The government had a list of humans who’d become supes during the Melding. I suspected they also had lists of known supes who’d appeared. Nick had mentioned his pack being checked out by doctors. Logan and Terra verified the same had happened with both their clan and their birth clan.

However, keeping tabs on all those supes was a different matter. The government didn’t have the necessary manpower for that job. Some were easy to keep track of, like myself. We didn’t travel. Some had gone into public service, like Damian. Others were minor celebrities: dog whisperers, or folks with psychometry who verified the provenances of artwork.

And every one of them had to be checked off the list, in order to find out who wasn’t where they were supposed to be. Not a simple matter, but one that could take weeks. Maybe even months, because the agents weren’t exactly forthcoming about how long that list was.

Meanwhile, the killers continued their spree, hitting a new target that very night.

S
aturday, I was finally able to look at “my meadow,” as Logan kept calling it. We left the dogs with an unshaven, haggard Dane.

“Maybe we should find some happy tears and ask Moira to make him a tonic.” I turned in a full circle, surveying the extent of the open area. “Two acres may be too much space.”

“He’ll work it out. You have to give him some time.” Logan spread his arms. “Walling in the whole of it will give you a spot to work on your range without harming or bothering people.”

“Okay. How long before it’s ready, and how can I help get it that way?”

Dropping his arms, he grinned. “It’ll be ready tomorrow. The realm will build it, once we give it the idea to run with.”

I was never going to grow accustomed to other kinds of magic. Mine made sense. At least, as much sense as being one of the people able to use a particular form of energy could make. Or maybe, it was familiar enough that it felt like it made sense to me.

But being able to create a magical AI? Mix herbs and stuff together to make people change shapes? Nope. Never would understand that, because how could someone’s intentions make those kind of things work?

“How do we do that?”

“First, we should take care of hooking you into the realm. You need to be able to access the AI.”

My hands went to my hips, and I tilted my head. “Does thinking of it like it’s a computer keep your brain from hurting?”

He laughed. “Yeah, it actually does. Come on, we have to go to the cave behind Moira’s.”

We joined hands as we began to walk. Logan took the opportunity to explain. “If you think of a pocket realm as a game simulation, it makes all the weird easier to digest. Realms are aware, and that awareness is the AI. People who are hooked in, or blood bound, to a realm can talk to the AI, change the game’s settings.”

I nodded. “That does make it a lot easier to understand. Is everyone in the clan bound to the realm?”

“Yes. There are safeguards in place, so that no one redecorates the whole thing because of a nightmare or whatever. But everyone can change their houses to suit them, things like that. And like I said, if we were ever invaded, any of us can change our surroundings to hide, or whatever’s necessary.”

“Do you think that’ll ever happen?” I squeezed his hand.

“I hope not. It wouldn’t be easy for someone to come in here without permission, but it’s not totally impossible either.” He glanced at me.

“Yeah, the bad guys got into Thorandryll’s pretty easy.” I licked the corner of my lips, wishing we’d brought some water. “What about wards? Do we have any here?”

Logan grinned. “That’s actually a pretty cool part of things. The only thing that has to be warded is the entrance. The wards—yes, we do have some, hired Ronnie for that job—will sound an alarm if the entrance is bypassed in any fashion.”

“I’ve teleported into here.”

“You have a free pass, and no, I don’t have our realm letting me secretly know when you pop in.” Logan released my hand to give me a boost onto a fallen log. “You’re clan. But the AI still tracks all entries and exits people make.”