Missing Magic (3 page)

Flabbergasted, he started to shake his head.
Oblivious to his shock, she continued.

“Are you the guy Mick dumped when he hooked
up with Jack? Were you the one who smashed his cologne bottles and
messed up his clothes?”

Dumped? Hooked up with who? Since his legs
still felt shaky, he kept his grip on the workbench and held up his
other hand. “Hold on. The answer is no to both your questions. I
prefer women, am not into men, and I don’t know Jack. Furthermore,
I just got here – I haven’t even been into the house yet. I haven’t
smashed anything.”

“You started with the garage?”

“Yes.” He swayed. Things were getting more
and more blurry. He couldn’t seem to focus.

She squinted at him. “Are you all right?”

Without thinking, he nodded. Again, the walls
seemed to dip and ripple. Grabbing on to the workbench with both
hands, he waited until everything steadied. “I’m not sure what’s
wrong. I…” He briefly lost his train of thought.

“You were about to explain why, instead of
calling Mick to let him know you’re here, you arrived unannounced
and are snooping around his house.”

“Was I?”

“Something’s going on with him, and I needed
to make sure I had all the facts before I confront him. I was asked
to come here and check things out, without Mick knowing.”

“Your family sent you to
spy
on
him?”

“You could put it that way.” He wanted to sit
down before his legs collapsed, but unless he dropped down to the
floor, that wasn’t a possibility. “Especially since you’re doing
the same thing.”

Worrying her bottom lip, she gave a hesitant
nod. “True. I’m on a fact finding mission, same as you. Something
is
wrong with Mick.”

The lightheadedness was growing worse. “Maybe
we can work together on this. Help each other out. Share
information.”

“Work together?” She frowned. “I don’t even
know you.”

His head felt like a sledgehammer pounded on
his skull. “I don’t know you any better than you know me.”

“That proves my point.” Her sigh seemed
extraordinarily loud, like a firecracker going off in his ear. “If
you really are related to Mick, you’d know about me. And, you’d
know Mick doesn’t have any cousins.”

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate,
could barely breathe. His head felt like it was about to explode.
“What do you mean, he doesn’t have any cousins?”

Arms folded across her chest, she glared at
him. “Because Mick is an orphan, just like me.”

“An orphan? No, he’s—.”

They both froze as the automatic garage door
made a sound. With a creak, the gears began to turn. Chains
clinked, and the door began to slowly rise.

“Busted,” she hissed, looking around
frantically for a place to hide.

Cenrick cursed. With the way everything was
spinning, he couldn’t run. But he couldn’t let Mick see him. Not
yet.

“Come on.” Grabbing his arm, the woman yanked
him with her as she dove behind the bulky covered shape that he
thought must be another car. Even though he’d worn his gloves as a
precaution, he was careful to keep his distance from the metal.

She kept her hold on his arm. Oddly enough,
down on the concrete floor his equilibrium returned in a rush. The
headache vanished, as though it had never been.

Together, they crouched low.

Headlights swept the garage as a large
vehicle – SUV or pickup – pulled into the driveway.

Beside him, hand still on his arm, she didn’t
move. He was glad. His heart was pounding so loudly he was afraid
Mick would hear. He wished he had something to cover himself with,
aware that to his cousin he’d be easily visible. After all, Mick
was Fae. Most Fae could spot another Fae’s aura from fifty yards
away. Cenrick could only hope the metal of the covered car blunted
it.

An orphan? He shook his head. Since Fae
couldn’t lie, he wondered how Mick had managed such an outrageous
story. And for what purpose?

The vehicle parked outside the garage. Both
front doors and one back opened. Three people got out.

Though Cenrick squinted, he could only make
out one Fae. Mick. But his aura was surprisingly faint. The others
were human, he thought.

“Get into the house.” A woman’s voice,
pitched low, carried an unmistakable air of authority. “It’s
dangerous out here.”

“Someone will have to help me.” Mick’s voice,
sounding weak and annoyed. Not like Mick at all.

“Something’s wrong with him.” the woman
whispered in his ear. “And that’s not his car.”

“Shhh.” Cenrick lifted a warning finger to
his lips. Still crouched low, he continued to peer under the
shrouded car.

“I don’t see him,” she persisted, her low
voice worried.“There.” Cenrick touched her arm. “Look.”

A blonde woman and a muscular, dark-haired
man came into view, helping support another, taller and more
slender man. Mick. He staggered slightly and looked paler than
normal.

Drunk, drugged, or merely ill? The result of
whatever he was doing to steal Fae souls?

“Look at him.” Echoing his thoughts, his
companion sounded worried. “What’s wrong with him?”

Cenrick shook his head in warning. Making a
deliberate effort to soften the harsh sound of his breathing, he
tried to make himself blend with the cement floor. Though Mick
appeared to be the only Fae and thus, the only one capable of
noticing his aura, he didn’t want to take any chances. Best to err
on the side of caution.

Evidently, the woman beside him felt the
same. Hand still on his arm, she held herself motionless, watching
the little tableau with narrowed eyes.

The only sounds were the man’s footsteps, the
shuffle of Mick’s unsteady feet, and the staccato click of the
blonde’s high heels on the pavement. Someone – Mick? – coughed.

The door into the house squeaked as they
opened it. The last person in, the blonde woman punched the button
to close the garage.

Once they were gone, his companion sat up,
inhaling sharply. He saw a glint of silver. Cenrick realized with
shock she held a pistol. A revolver. A metal weapon.

That explained her lack of fear earlier.

Despite himself, he recoiled.

“What?” Again her amber eyes narrowed. “Don’t
tell me you’re afraid of guns.”

Already regretting his instinctive movement,
he jerked his head in a quick nod. “Not afraid, wary. And with good
reason. Where did you get that?”

“It’s mine.” The set of her chin looked
determined. “They took my service revolver, but this is my personal
gun.”

“DO you know how to use it?”

“Of course. I’m a cop, after all. Just like
Mick.” She got to her feet and, keeping a death grip on his sleeve,
moved forward. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

Without even looking at him, she reached for
the doorknob into the house. “I’ve had enough of this cloak and
dagger stuff. If Mick’s in some kind of trouble, I want to help
him. I’m going in.”

Despite the gun, despite the chill the sight
of so much deadly metal brought him, Cenrick dug in his heels.
“Wait.

You need to calm down. Think for a minute.
You might be a cop, but no crime has been committed.”

To his relief, she hesitated. “You know,
you’re right. I can’t go charging in there, weapon drawn.” She
reholstered the gun, letting him breathe again.

“But damned if I’m letting them hurt Mick.”
Letting him go, she marched over to the door at the back of the
garage and opened it. Outside, the motion sensor activated the
light.

The dizziness rushed back, making him stagger
as he tried to follow. “Where… where are you going?”

“To the front door.” Her cat’s eyes reflected
the illumination. “I want to talk to Mick. I’m his friend. They
can’t turn me away.” She marched off, leaving him to go after
her.

Outside, he could breathe easier. The night
air had grown slightly cooler, and the breeze carried the scent of
flowers.

Part of his equilibrium returned. He looked
up in time to see her vanish around the side of the house.

Because he had no choice, he went after her.
He didn’t even know this woman and now he might have to protect
her. He kept to the shadows where he had a clear view of the front
door in case she needed him.

She pressed the doorbell. When the door
opened, she stepped forward, as though she meant to force her way
in. A huge man blocked her, speaking in too low of a voice for
Cenrick to hear what he said.

“I want to see Mick.” Her rising voice
carried. “I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

The man stepped aside. She entered the house,
the door closing behind her.

Cenrick waited.

Though it seemed like an eternity, less than
five minutes passed before the door opened and she stepped outside,
her rigid shoulders and grim expression telling him of her
anger.

She hit the sidewalk at a fast walk, heading
down the street away from him.

Feeling even stronger, he jogged after her.
“What happened?”

She gave him a sharp glance. “She won’t even
let me talk to him.”

“She?”

“The blonde woman we saw with him earlier.
The

one that’s supposedly his girlfriend.” Scorn
curled her lip.

“She said he was sick and couldn’t come out
of his room. When

I tried to push my way past her, arguing that
I could go see

him, two of those goons blocked my way.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“They didn’t lay a hand on me.” Her tone
indicated she’d almost wished they would have.

“Come on.” Taking her arm, Cenrick steered
her away from the house. Oddly enough, with each step he took, he
felt better. The dizzy feeling, the way his thoughts had felt
disjointed, all vanished.

What was in that house?

A sound behind them made them turn. “Wait.
What’s that?”

“Mick! He’s calling my name.” Pulling her arm
free, she started back.

Cenrick ducked behind a massive pecan
tree.

“Dee?” Mick appeared at the end of the
driveway. Hands on his hips, he peered left, than right, finally
catching sight of the woman as she hurried towards him. “Stop right
there.”

She stopped, maybe twenty feet from him.
“Mick? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He glared at her. “I don’t know
what you’re trying to pull, but I asked you to leave me alone. Go
away!”

“But—.”

“No.” He held up his hand. “Give me back my
key.”

Silently, she fumbled in her pocket and then
tossed the key at him. He caught it neatly, closing his hand around
the plastic part of it.

“Thank you. Now go away. Get out of here.” He
turned and made his way slowly back up the driveway. A second
later, the front door slammed.

The instant he was gone, Dee’s shoulders
slumped. She ran her fingers through her already disheveled hair as
she turned and trudged her way back to where Cenrick waited.

“I can’t believe the way he’s acting,” she
grumbled, speaking as if to herself. “We grew up together, for
Pete’s sake. Not only that, but we work with each other.” She cast
another look back at the house. “Or we did work together.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked at him like she’d forgotten he was
there. “It’s a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

She swallowed. “Yeah, well…” She sighed.
“I’ve been put on leave as a precursor to being fired,” she
admitted. He could tell it cost her a lot to say the words.

“Being a cop is all I ever wanted. I was good
too.” Her sharp look dared him to dispute her. “That’s why I don’t
understand how anyone could believe the charges against me. They
know me, respect me. Those charges are potently false. All the guys
know I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

He studied her. “Is what they think important
to you?”

“It’s not only that.” She bit her lip. “But,
yes. Losing their high opinion hurt most of all.”

“What were you accused of?”

As if he’d slapped her, she immediately
withdrew. “I’d rather not go into that now. After all, I barely
even know you.”

Casting another look towards the house, she
winced. “The curtain twitched. They’re watching the front yard to
make sure I don’t come back.”

Punching her key fob, she unlocked her car.
“I’m out of here. Nice to meet you and best of luck with your
investigation or whatever it is.” She took off, heading towards her
car.

She was leaving?

“Wait.”

Glancing at him over her shoulder, she barely
hesitated. “Why?”

How could he explain to her that some gut
instinct told him they could help each other. And, being Fae, he
always trusted his instinct

“I need all the help I can get.” He gave her
a long look. “And you, I suspect, could use another friend.”

Though she narrowed her eyes, she didn’t deny
it. He admired her for this.

“Come on. Let’s go someplace where we can
talk.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Cenrick. And you are?”

“Dee. Dee Bishop.”

“Please to meet you, Dee. Please, hear me out
before you make a decision.”

Though she shot him a look laced with
skepticism, she finally nodded. “Fine. You can follow me and we’ll
go to that new coffee shop at the corner of Precinct Line and
Main.”

Looking up and down the nearly deserted
street, she cocked her head. “Where’s your car?”

“I don’t have a car.” He talked fast, hoping
he could convince her before she decided he was a total crackpot.
“We can take a walk. Talk. Decide if we want to work together.”

Her frown deepened. “I don’t know…”

“For Mick,” he added. “We both care about
him, both want to find out what’s going on. And,” he tacked on what
he hoped would be the coup de grace, “you have your revolver, after
all.”

That convinced her. Locking her car, she went
with him.He’d noticed a park a block over. Once they reached this,
he took a seat on one of the stone benches. A nearby streetlight
provided ample illumination.