Wizard in a Witchy World (8 page)

"Judges are pretty lax when it comes to murdered mothers and their missing children," she said.

"Do you have any other questions for me?" I asked.

"What were you doing in the country with your friends last night?"

"Sorry, not without a lawyer," I said.

"Don't you want to help us find this missing girl?"

"If I could help you, I would. You have to have some reason why you think I'm part of this and it has to be something more than my reading habits," I said.

"We received an anonymous tip that you grabbed the girl," she said.

"That's convenient."

"You're not being very helpful," she said.

"That's because I don't know anything. Can I leave?"

"No. Felix Slade, you're being held for questioning related to the kidnapping of Clarita Barrios…"

For the second day in a row, I found myself in a cell. Leotown is a city of half a million, twice that if you include the outlying areas. As a small city, it saw its fair share of crime, although on a Saturday night most of what the lockup processed were the drunk and disorderly. To say it wasn't conducive to sleep was an understatement. Although by five o’clock Sunday morning, we'd stopped adding to the population and I was able to cat-nap while resting my head against the wall behind me.

"Slade."

The sound of my name woke me from a fitful sleep. A uniformed officer stood by the door to the cell. He'd placed the keys into the lock and was looking directly at me. I stood up, gently pushing Gorby, my late night sleeping companion back to a fully upright position. Gorby stirred, snorted and resumed his blissful sleep.

"What's up?" I asked as I approached.

"You're being released," he said.

I looked at the clock on the wall across from the cell. It was eleven o’clock. I walked through the door, waited for him to relock it and followed him down a hallway to a desk where he directed me to sit. Once I'd complied, he handed me a clipboard that had the inventory of the items they'd taken when I'd been booked. He placed a basket on the edge of the desk containing my belt, wallet, keys, phone and jewelry. I quickly slid the jewelry on and signed the paper acknowledging receipt.

The officer stood up and escorted me to a steel door. He pressed a button on an intercom and said what I assumed was his name. A moment later, a buzzer sounded. He pushed the door open.

"There you go," he said.

I didn't hesitate and walked into a reception area where a number of people were seated, all eyes on me. Whoever they expected, it wasn’t me and as a group, they all looked away.

"Felix."

I turned toward the voice and saw Gabriella, standing at the edge of the room. As usual, she was gorgeous, dressed in tight, blood-red leather pants and a loose beige sweater.

When I walked in her direction, she held her arms out as if to hug me. My face undoubtedly showed horror and my hands went up in protest. I was a mess and knew I stunk of last night's cellmates.

"Did you bail me out?" I asked.

"Give me a hug. And don't be silly. You haven't been charged with anything. There’s no bail," she said.

I gave her a hug and released her as she stiffened.

"Ripe, right?" I asked.

"It's horrible. Is that all you?" she asked.

"Close quarters in the drunk tank. I may have to burn my clothes," I said.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm putting a sheet on my car seat before you get in," she said as she led me out of the building.

"What are you doing here? How'd you know I was locked up?" I asked.

"I got a call from Camille. She was visited by Lieutenant Dukats who wanted to know where you'd spent Friday night."

"How'd that go?" I asked.

"She vouched for you, although she didn't appreciate being dragged into it," Gabriella said.

“Tough shit,” I said, half under my breath, which earned me a raised eyebrow from Gabriella.

I followed her to her gray Civic. She opened the trunk, pulled a tarp out and handed it to me. It was lightly misting, but had rained significantly the night before. I was surprised that I hadn't picked up on the rain, even while I was in the cell.

"Is that why you're here? Did Camille tell you to come down?" I asked.

That stopped her.

"You think I came down here - on a Sunday morning - because Camille barked at me?"

I knew I'd stepped in it, but wasn't sure what I'd said wrong. It was the story of my life.

"I've no idea why you came down here," I said. "I had a bad night. So far, every turn I take in Leotown, someone's either trying to pound me, lock me up, or both."

"Get in," she said. Her words were clipped. and I could tell I hadn't made things any better.

I opened the passenger door, unfolded the tarp and laid it on the seat.

"Do you want breakfast?" she asked. She wasn't looking at me, which was not a good sign.

"Thank you for coming, Gabriella."

"Tell me right now, Felix. Are you involved in this in any way?" She turned to me, her gaze fierce.

I held my hand out to her - wrist facing up. "Read me. I won't hold back."

"You shouldn't do that. You trust too quickly," she said.

"You may be right. But trust is earned and every time I wake up in a cell, you're right there."

She slid her hand over mine and rested her middle and index fingers on my wrist, closing her eyes. I reciprocated and stretched my fingers over her wrist as well. Involuntarily, she gasped at the intimacy of our touch, her panic communicated through the tips of my fingers.

I sensed a swirl of emotion: distrust that seemed related to the missing girl Clarita, fear, compassion, anger and a deep sadness for the loss of her coven sisters.

"Oh Gabriella, I'm so sorry."

Fresh tears rolled down her face as she shared her pain.

"Tell me Felix, what are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can read your emotions and your aura, but your magic is inaccessible."

"I'm a wizard," I said.

"How is that different than being a witch?"

"I don't really know. I just know that when I tried to join Judy’s - my foster mom’s – circle, it didn't work very well," I said. "It's one of the reasons I left North Carolina."

A dark shape flew through my peripheral vision. I tracked it to a tree and saw Maggie take a high perch. She acknowledged my gaze by bobbing her head up and down.

"Is that Maggie?" Gabriella asked, following my eyes up to the tree.

I'd forgotten Gabriella still had hold of my wrist and must have felt my reaction to the raven.

"Yes. Maggie worries about me," I said.

"You're fond of her, aren't you?"

"Hard to explain, but she and Judy are the only family I remember with any clarity."

"I can't imagine growing up without my family." Gabriella released my hand and cut off the transmission of a fresh wave of grief. She pulled away from the curb. "About that breakfast?"

"Are you sure you want to be seen with me? I haven't showered in at least two days," I said.

She wrinkled her nose. "Drop by your apartment for a shower first?"

"I'd go for that."

We drove in silence for the few minutes it took to get to my apartment.

"What happened here?" she asked as she pulled onto the gravel drive that led to my lab. The entry door to the garage had been covered with plywood.

"I figured you already knew. They got a search warrant on my place," I said.

"On what grounds?" she asked, jumping out of the car.

"Apparently, there was an anonymous tip that I'd taken Clarita," I said.

"That's ridiculous," she said. "You were locked up."

"You know that and I know that, but the cops didn't," I said.

Gabriella followed me up the stairs to my apartment. The door was also replaced by a wide sheet of plywood.

"I hope you have renter's insurance?" Gabriella asked. "The city won’t pay for this."

"Even if they didn't have a good reason for knocking it down?"

"A warrant is all the reason they need," she said.

I lifted the edge of the plywood and it pulled back easily. Someone had already removed the panel and just laid it back in place. The damage to the door was considerable, like a power saw had been used to cut the frame out.

"What a mess," I said, pushing the plywood sheet to the side.

"What happened?" Gabriella asked.

"Protection spell on the door," I said.

"They couldn't just break it down?" Gabriella asked.

"No. That enchantment would require magic to undo it. For the record, I was just trying to prevent fricking Shaggy and the neighborhood witch patrol from breaking my door down. I never figured on the cops," I said.

"All this damage looks like it will be expensive to fix," she said.

"Yeah. And no, I don't have renter's insurance," I said. "I've been meaning to, but no time."

I flipped the lights on to find my apartment had been thoroughly trashed. Books were strewn about, chairs and couch turned upside down and stuffing literally ripped from the cushions.

I sighed and set about righting the furniture so we’d have somewhere to sit. I found the kitchen table, flipped it upright and slid two chairs in place. All I could do with the couch was push the stuffing back inside and flip the cushions over to hide the tears.

"Rain ticket on breakfast?" Gabriella asked.

"No I'm in. I can clean this up later. I've hardly eaten for the last two days," I said.

"Where's your truck?"

"City impound. When Straightrod abducted me, it got towed," I said.

"Straightrod said you attacked her and that's why she had to put you in the dungeon."

"That's crap. I tried to walk out of her interview and the door was booby-trapped," I said.

"What do you think that's about?" Gabriella asked.

"The conversation went south when I admitted to being a wizard and wouldn't divulge my lineage," I said.

"Magic is inherited and Straightrod is fastidious about tracing family trees. If she could figure out your lineage, she’d know your strengths," she said.

"And weaknesses."

Fifteen minutes after taking refuge in my bathroom, I emerged clean and shaved. Gabriella had used the time to clear a pathway through the room and had most of my books stacked against the wall, out of the way. She was standing by the piles, browsing through one of the books. She looked up and shut it with a snap, setting it back on the stack with an embarrassed look on her face.

"Sorry. Just curious," she said, looking guilty.

"Did you find anything interesting?"

"The book? I couldn't even read it, but the pictures were interesting," she said.

I stepped around the chair and was surprised when she flinched as I picked up the book.

"Hey, seriously, no big deal. I invited you into my house. It’s natural you'd find these books interesting," I said.

She sat on the edge of the cushioned recliner and I reopened the book - one of several taxonomies of mythical creatures from the middle-ages.

"It's a beautiful tome," Gabriella said. "How did you find it?"

"My family, I guess," I said. "The only thing I have from them are these books."

"There are so many," she said.

"Thirty-six," I said. "I should know, because Judy made me cast preservation spells on every one of them every year."

"You can read this?" she asked as I flipped to a page I'd been wanting to look at since I'd met Amak. The picture of a female troll had been drawn by a Benedictine Monk, its similarity to Amak clear.

"It's Latin, so it's not bad. Aramaic and Greek I struggle with," I said. "Although I only have one book of each of those."

I handed her the book. "If you take me to breakfast, we can bring it along."

Her raised eyebrows conveyed surprise. "What do you feel like eating?"

"I'm starving, but I'm not picky," I said.

"I've got a place," she said and stood, accepting the book. I followed her down to her Civic and jumped in the passenger side.

Twenty minutes later, curiosity finally got the better of me. "Where are we going?"

"Chatty Katty's," she said.

"Ask a stupid question," I said.

Gabriella smiled but didn't respond. Another fifteen minutes passed before we pulled into a parking lot next to a large, old house. Aside from a wooden sign hanging from an iron post, I wouldn't have known it wasn't a residence.

She led me up the steps onto a wide porch and through the front door. My stomach growled at the smells that greeted us. The first floor of the grand old house had been converted into seating areas; tables and booths tucked haphazardly into every nook and cranny. The décor was every bit as eclectic, ranging from candles and garland to strings of lights and copper lanterns.

A woman dressed in a long, dark green dress and an apron approached wearing a wide smile. My best guess put her in her mid-forties, maybe early fifties. When Gabriella turned toward her, the older woman tipped her head sideways with a sorrowful look. "Gabby, come here, dear," she said, pulling Gabriella into what I could only describe as a motherly hug. "I heard about Victoria and Benita. I'm so sorry."

"It's horrible," Gabriella said, still held in the woman's embrace. "We don't know where Clarita is."

"I know, dear." She patted Gabriella's back and allowed her gaze to settle on me. She snapped her head back and blinked her eyes.

"Who is this?" she asked, pushing Gabriella away and reaching her hand into her apron. I could just make out the shape of a wand pushing against the fabric of the deep pocket.