Trace of Magic (3 page)

Randall was still after me. Only now he’d pulled his gun and was setting up to shoot. My heart thudding, I jumped into high gear, jerking back and forth and hoping he wouldn’t hit me.

A bullet struck the ground ten feet ahead of me on the right. My brain went white. An adrenaline bomb exploded in my chest and panic took over. I dove into the nearest culvert, skidding down on my ass and back to the bottom. Roots and tough branches tore my jacket and shredded my hands. The steel null went bouncing off into nowhere.

I landed on tumbled rocks the size of my head. I scrambled up despite the pain blossoming in my left ankle and knee. I clambered over the uneven rocks, gripping weeds on either side for balance. I could hear footsteps above as Randall ran to catch up with me. That’s when I finally got lucky.

On the left, under the road, was a pipe big enough to walk through bent over. It emptied into another culvert. That one ran fifteen or twenty feet down to another drain covered by a steel grate. On my right was a runoff gully from the estate above. Fence bars blocked it, but there was room at the bottom to scooch under, if I sucked in my gut.

I scrabbled at some rocks and pulled them out of the way, then lay on my back to pull myself up under the bottom of the gate. I wasn’t going to make it. I unzipped my coat, sure that at any moment Randall would look down and see me. He was about twenty-five feet back, looking down into the steep ditch. Weeds and scrub bushes blocked his view. The SUV roared up behind him.

“Where’s the bitch?” a woman demanded. “Did you get her?”

“She went to ground in the ditch,” Randall said.

I shoved my coat through the bars and then started to wriggle under. The bars were rusty and rubbed red on my skin and clothes. Rocks cut into my back. I ignored them, shoving with my heels and elbows as my chest cleared the fence. I’m curvy. That means I have boobs. Luckily, they mashed enough to let me through. After that, I squirmed and dragged myself the rest of the way in, pulling my coat back on. I still wasn’t out of the woods. Randall could still see me if he looked in the right spot. I need to find cover.

“You’d better find her.” A male voice threatened this time.

“I get paid to keep people out, not hunt them down,” Randall said, glaring at his companions.

Someone got out of the car. I didn’t waste time looking back. The runoff gully made me a sitting duck. The sides were soft dirt covered in dry pine needles from the trees growing above. I had no handholds, and my knee and ankle screamed every time I tried to crawl up.

“You get paid to do what we tell you to do. If you don’t, you’ll find yourself snacking on my bullets, you understand me,
security guard
? Find the girl and kill her.”

I chanced a look back. I could only see Randall’s legs and the shoulders and waist of the guy threatening him. It looked like he was prodding his handgun into Randall’s chest.

Randall slapped the gun aside and shoved the smaller man back. “Don’t threaten me, Burke. I’ll cut your balls off and wear them for earrings.”

I had to smile. I was almost beginning to like Randall. Sure, he was trying to kill me, but he had style. I went back to crawling up the gully. I put my back against the steep slant and started walking myself up, bracing my feet on the other side. I dug my hands deep into the soil to find traction, and soon developed a rhythm.

I climbed as quietly as I could. Luckily, the soft soil and the loud voices covered for me. Unfortunately, my pursuers couldn’t fight forever.

“Would the two of you shut the fuck up and get back to finding the girl? We’re screwed if she gets away.” It was the woman again.

“Like she knows anything,” Randall’s attacker said. “She’s a beggar.”

“Or she’s not and someone’s on to us. You want to take the chance?”

There was no reply to that.

“Check the other side,” Randall said. “There’s a storm drain under the road. She probably went through. I’ll keep going on this side.”

I was about level with the road and near the top of the bank inside the fence when he stopped to look down right across from me. I froze. I was in the dappled shadows beneath the trees and my coat was a dusty green. My jeans were covered in dirt. I couldn’t have been better camouflaged. All the same, I knew that if Randall looked up, he’d see me.

“Any sign of her?” the woman hollered from across the road.

I could see her now. She had short brown hair and a stocky body. She carried an Uzi, or something like it, with a sling strap over her shoulder. One man sat in the driver’s seat of the SUV, which was slowly rolling along. The man who’d threatened Randall must have jumped down into the culvert on the other side of the road. Thank goodness I’d climbed out of view; otherwise, he’d have seen me through the pipe.

“Not down here,” he answered. His voice echoed.

“What about you, Randall?” She swung around to look at him.

He stood with his back to her, his gun at his side, looking straight at me. My heart stopped, and I didn’t breathe. He turned away. “Nothing here. We’d better step quick. She might be on her way into town.”

“Shit.” The woman broke into a jog, and the group moved on.

I struggled the rest of the way up to the top and flung myself backward, my legs dangling over the edge of the bank. I felt like throwing up. Why had Randall let me go?

I didn’t have a clue, but I was going to have to pay him back, because I was pretty sure he was going to catch hell for this, if they didn’t kill him.

I fumbled in my pants pocket for my cell phone. It came out with a handful of dirt and pine needles. I shook it off and keyed in my passcode. I had one ghosting call left. Sean had set them up for me, no charge, when he found out what I used them for. His contribution to saving kids. The spell allowed me to call Price directly without him being able trace the call back to me.

I activated the spell and waited for him to come on the line. He answered on the second ring.

“Price,” he growled.

“Look for the Squires at the end of Sienna Avenue in Midtown,” I said. The ghosting spell disguised my voice for me. “The mansion at the dead end. Hurry.”

I hung up. I wanted to curl up on my side and just sleep, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet—figuratively or literally. I was trespassing. I had to get out of here before whoever owned the place discovered me and decided to tear me limb from limb. Welcome to Diamond City, where private property means stay out or get dead.

I ended up following in the same direction Randall and his companions had gone. I climbed higher into the trees so I couldn’t be seen from the road. Going the other way would take me back to the guardhouse I’d passed. I wasn’t in the mood to chance that.

I climbed up a low hill and eventually found myself facing another fence. On the other side was someone’s backyard. Beyond that was the shopping area I’d been aiming for. The curtains on the back windows of the two-story house were open, and I could hear piano music. A golden retriever poked his head out of a doghouse on the deck, warm breath pluming in the air. Not a good place to escape my prison.

I still hadn’t seen or heard any alarms or signs of imminent attack, so I decided to risk waiting out Price. I went down the fence, ignoring the retriever, who finally noticed me and bounded across the yard, barking furiously.

I passed three more houses and found myself at the corner of the property. On the other side was a foot or two of flat land before a twenty-foot straight drop into the culvert. I sighed. Getting out of here was going to be just about as difficult as getting in had been.

I examined the fence. Glyphs had been etched into the undersides of the crossbars. Fuck me. I’m not sure what they’d do if I touched the fence. It depended on what sort of talent had infused them with magic, but no matter what, I wasn’t getting over without nulling it. The magic where I’d come under must have been disrupted by years of running water and the rust on the fence. I had to go back there.

I hadn’t gone far when a line of black-and-whites whizzed by on the road below. Their lights flashed, but they had no sirens. The third car was one of the new black Camaros. The windows were tinted dark, but I was sure Price was at the wheel. I broke into a jog. Getting down the gully where I’d climbed up was much easier than getting up.

I slid down on my butt, the deep bed of needles protecting me. Landing was more painful, with my twisted ankle and banged-up knee.

Once again I took off my coat to get under the fence, after digging out a few more rocks to make the process easier. Once underneath, I hunch-walked through the storm drain to the other side of the road. I was tempted to follow the cop cars and see what happened, but I didn’t want Price to notice me. He was far from stupid. He’d know I’d found Nancy Jane and her mom, and he’d want to know how.

I couldn’t let him or anyone else know how powerful I really was. I had no doubt his boss, Gregg Touray, would snatch me up in a minute. He had a decent-sized syndicate and was working hard to shut down the rampant violence and reunite the fragmented Tyet factions. Touray tended to protect his own and the hell with everyone else. Don’t get me wrong—he wasn’t the bloodiest of the Tyet bosses, but he sure as hell was no angel. I wasn’t interested in becoming anybody’s puppet, and as long as I was a relative nobody on the Tyet food chain, I had free rein to find out who’d killed my mother and what had happened to my father. Not that I was making any headway. I had zero clues.

My mother was murdered when I was five. One day she was there, the next she wasn’t. Like me, she was a tracer. Unlike me, she wasn’t crazy powerful. At least, not that I’m aware of. All I know about her is what I remember. After she died, Dad boxed up everything that belonged to her and put it into storage. It was all ruined in a fire that burned the place down a few years later. Dad never talked about her. It was like she didn’t exist—except a couple years later, he married my stepmom, Mel, and she could have been my mother’s sister. Same red hair and green eyes, same joy, same warm heart. After my dad went missing on my sixteenth birthday, Mel and my half-sister Taylor and my stepbrothers are all I have left. We’re family—as tight as blood—but I wake every morning wondering who killed my mother. And then there’s the mystery of my father. His trace had simply vanished the day he disappeared. I don’t mean he nulled out and stopped leaving a trail, I mean that there was no trace of him left. Like he’d never even existed. What the hell had happened?

That question drove me. He had so many answers to so many questions about my mom and about me. When I was growing up and I asked anything he didn’t want to tell me, he always put me off, saying I wasn’t ready.

I’d never been ready enough for him.

I realized I was clenching my teeth. Sometimes I wondered if I wanted my dad to have disappeared of his own free will or if I’d rather that he’d been kidnapped. I was torn between missing him with all my heart and a bottomless anger that he’d left me, and not only that, but he’d never bothered to tell me what happened to my mom or why someone would kill her. I always knew it had something to do with me. I don’t know why, but I know it’s a fact. Like water being wet and fire being hot. No doubts.

I never did get groceries. I was too sore, and I looked like I’d been dragged behind a car for a few blocks. I texted Patti to tell her I was okay and that I was on my way home. She ordered me to come to the diner for dinner, but I told her I’d come in for breakfast, then shut my phone down. I needed to be alone. I’d watch the news and make sure Price had found Nancy Jane and her mother.
Alive
, I thought. He was going to find them alive. After that, I’d soak away the day’s soreness and bruises in my bathtub. I’d had some close calls, and I knew that pretty soon it was going to hit me. I could have died. Randall could have shot me—twice. That didn’t take into account the bombs he’d been throwing. I’d been lucky. The trouble was, luck had a tendency to run out. I had a feeling mine was running on empty, and I really didn’t want to know what was coming around the bend.

Chapter 3

A WEEK LATER, I walked into the Diamond City Diner a little after two in the afternoon. I’d spent the night before following a carpet cleaner who was stealing supplies from his boss. I’d slept a few hours after tracking him to his storage unit, then turned in my report and collected my fee. I hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before, and I was starving.

Patti glared at me when I walked in. “You look like shit.”

I had no grounds to argue. I hadn’t been sleeping well the last week. Nancy Jane and her mother had been rescued alive. I should have been over the moon. Instead, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. I spent hours reinforcing my nulls, and I’d taken to carrying my gun everywhere I went, along with the Chinese baton I hid in my sleeve. I usually kept one or the other on me, but tended to leave them behind when I went shopping or to visit my family. Not anymore.

“Thanks. I spent hours on this look.” I was wearing my hair in a ponytail, with my usual uniform of jeans, hiking boots, a long-sleeved shirt, a heavy jacket, a hat, and gloves.

“It’s cold out there. Got anything to eat?” I asked, unzipping my coat and stuffing my gloves and hat into a pocket before hanging it on a hook fastened to the bench of my usual booth. A snowstorm had moved in, the first of several to come, all piled up like cars stuck on an LA freeway. By the time they were done with Diamond City, we’d be buried.

“Hold your horses, Laraby.” Patti glared at the dentist who was waving a check at her. “I’ll be there in a second.” She grabbed a clean coffee cup off the counter and set it down in front of me and filled it. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Ten minutes later, she returned carrying a white oval plate mounded with an omelet, hashbrowns, pancakes, and a half-dozen slices of bacon. I didn’t want an omelet, but Patti tended to get me what she thought I needed, not what I wanted. It was loaded with vegetables and cheese. Tasty, but not the burger and fries I was craving. Arguing wasn’t going to do me any good. I’d eat what I was given and try to look happy about it.

“Give me a few minutes,” she said. “We should slow down soon and I’ll join you. People are trying to get home before the weather gets too heavy.”

I glanced through the front window. Snow was falling in a thick curtain of fat flakes. Already the ground was white. I was willing to bet there’d be an inch or two on the ground by the time I finished eating. Giving lie to her promise, the door jingled and half a dozen people came in, stomping their feet and dusting the snow off their clothing.

Patti zipped off to help them. I cleared my plate and immediately wanted a nap. I considered heading upstairs. Patti kept a room for me in her apartment. I spent two or three nights a week at the diner, sometimes more, depending on the jobs I had. Right now I didn’t have anything lined up. I was planning to hit the grocery store and go home and hole up until the storms blew themselves out.

I took my dishes to the bus tub, waving at Ben, Patti’s partner in the diner, through the kitchen window. I grabbed a pot of coffee and filled my empty cup before sliding back into my seat. I didn’t bother looking up when the bell on the door rang again. I was checking the weather radar on my phone.

A shape loomed over me suddenly, and Clay Price slid into the seat opposite me. My mouth dropped open. As far as I knew, he’d never even set foot in the diner before.

“What do you want?”

He slid my coffee out of my hand and took a sip, then eyed it in surprise. “That’s good,” he said.

“Not to mention it’s mine,” I said, eyeing him balefully. It was the best coffee in town, though I’d not yet creamed and sugared it to suit my taste buds. He seemed to like his black.

He set the cup down, then ran his fingers through his hair. He was the carefully controlled type, so his gesture startled me. I examined him. He didn’t look any better than I did. His eyes were sunken, and grooves cut deeply around his nose and mouth.

“You know, if you’re hungry, there are other tables. Empty tables,” I pointed out.

He sipped my coffee again. “But you’re not sitting at the other tables.”

A frisson of foreboding rippled through me. I shivered. It had nothing to do with cold. “You came looking for me?”

“I knew you were a smart woman.”

“Why?”

He pulled a manila file from inside his leather jacket and set it on the table. “I want you to do a trace for me.”

Like I said before, my cardinal rule is not to be stupid. Taking a case working for Price—a cop
and
a Tyet enforcer—was the dictionary definition of stupid. Insane even. I didn’t even think before I said, “No.”

Price didn’t seem to notice. He shoved the file across the gray Formica.

I looked at it and then back at him. “Maybe you have a hearing problem,” I said. “I’ll speak slower. No. I’m
busy
. If you want me on a trace, you’re going to have to wait your turn. Give me your card. I’ll call you in a few days.” Like hell I would. I wouldn’t call him if I was buried alive and he owned the only shovel on the entire planet.

I started to get up. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back down. “You don’t seem to understand, Miss Hollis. You’re working for me until I find what I’m looking for. Unless, of course, you want me crawling over you like stink on shit. In that case, I’ll make your life so interesting you won’t have time to sleep.”

Interesting
was code for he would dog my ass all the way to hell if necessary. He would, too. Detective Clay Price was a pit bull. He didn’t know the meaning of “back off.” Once he got his teeth into you, you’d be dragging him around like a ball and chain until you gave in or died.

I stared at him. How did I get out of this? He watched me back with a look of cold calculation, the way a snake watches a cornered mouse.

I had a feeling he saw a lot more than I wanted him to see. “Wait a second. Working for
you
?” I asked, his words finally eating their way into my brain. “This is personal?” What was so important about this trace that he came looking for me rather than use someone on the Tyet’s payroll? I mean, it’s obvious why he didn’t use a cop tracer. They were mediocre. The Tyet owned the best. Well, except for me, and they don’t have a clue how good I am.

His upper lip twitched—almost into a snarl—but then his face smoothed into an unreadable mask. He said nothing.

“You don’t want anyone to know about this,” I mused out loud, sure I was right.

A flicker of something cold and black ran across his face. If I hadn’t been trying to catch a reaction I would have missed it.

“That’s right,” he said, and I shivered at the stony ruthlessness in his tone.

“Why?”

“None of your business.”

“Exactly. Since we’re in agreement, I’ll be hitting the bricks now.”

I began to stand up, but he grabbed my arm so tight his knuckles turned white. It
hurt
. I twisted to get away, and he only tightened his grip.

That did it. I slid my telescoping baton out of my sleeve into my palm and flicked it open. I snapped it down on the back of his wrist. I was careful not to hit hard enough to break bone. That would have been a fatal mistake. He jerked away with a yelp.

Everyone in the diner turned to look. Good. He wouldn’t want a scene. I stood and started past him for the door. Before I’d gone two steps, he had ahold of my arm again. He hauled me down into the booth beside him and held me tight to his side, keeping me from using my baton again. With his free hand, he pressed something burning cold against my neck. Shock made me go stiff. Did the fucker tab me?

I elbowed him hard in the ribs. He grunted, but didn’t let me go.

“Listen, you cat,” he said roughly against my ear. “If you don’t settle down, I’m going to drag you across the street to the precinct and book you for assaulting an officer.”

For a second I considered calling his bluff, but I doubted it would get me out from under his thumb. With the tab, he could follow me anywhere. Unless, of course, I broke its magic, and if I did that, he’d know I wasn’t as weak as I pretended to be. Which meant the Tyet would know.
That
would be epically stupid. I stopped fighting.

“Good girl,” he said like I was a dog and eased his hold, still keeping a firm arm around me. “Now, have a look at the file.” He shoved it toward me again.

The low hum of conversation had resumed, along with the clatter of plates and the click of Patti’s heels as she hurried back and forth behind the counter topping off coffees. Through the window into the kitchen, I could see Ben scowling at me. He was holding a boning knife and looked like he was ready to come over the counter and gut Price. I gave him a little shake of my head.

“Smart,” Price said, watching the exchange.

I shook him off and compressed my baton before sliding it back up into my sleeve. Heat poured off his body like a stove, and he smelled delicious. I bet that’s what rats thought about the cheese right before the trap snapped their necks.

I shoved the thought away and opened the file. There wasn’t much in it. Just a single picture with a name on the bottom: Corbin Nader. He was blond, with a rounded jaw and a white smile. He was dressed in a gray suit and tie, and he had a hundred-dollar haircut.

“What’s he done?” I asked, knowing full well I wasn’t going to get a straight answer.

“He’s got information I want,” Price said, proving me right. “I need him found, and now.”

I turned the picture over. I needed something personal, something this Corbin Nader had touched, to pick up the trace. “Is this all you’ve got?”

“I’ve got his apartment,” Price said. He nudged me with his hip. “We can be there in a half hour.”

I shook my head. “Not before we settle on what you’re paying me.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you have in mind?”

I had in mind tripling my daily rate. “Six hundred a day.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re a hack. You work out of a diner.”

I shrugged. “I told you to find someone else. But if you want me, you pay me.”

He grimaced. “All right. But this is your only case until you find him.”

Holy shit. He must be desperate. “Oh, and another two hundred a day for the tabbing.” I rubbed my neck, but the spell wouldn’t be wiped away so easily. Given how strongly the magic radiated, I’d have to pay through the nose to have the spell broken. Might as well get paid for being lojacked.

“Don’t push it,” he growled.

“Who’s pushing?” I demanded. “You’re forcing me to work for you, and you tabbed me so you can follow me anywhere I go. Call it a privacy tax. Take off the tab, and you don’t have to pay it.”

“Not a chance,” he said, baring his teeth in what might have been a smile. If it was, he needed practice. “All right. Eight hundred a day. Let’s go.” He scooted against me, shoving me to the end of the bench.

“I want three days up front,” I said.

He glared at me, and I swear there was steam coming out of his ears. “You think it’s going to take you three days?”

“Might. Don’t worry. I’ll give you a refund if it doesn’t—except for your privacy tax. I’ll be keeping that. But you haven’t given me a lot of reason to trust you.” I touched the spot on my neck where he’d stuck the tab. “I’d just as soon be sure I get paid.”

His mouth twisted, and his hand clenched on the gray Formica tabletop. For a second I was sure he was going to blow up. Then he just reached into his leather jacket and pulled out his phone. He called up his bank and asked me for my account. I gave him the number. He typed it in and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Done.”

I thumbed the screen on my phone. Twenty-four hundred bucks had been added to my account total. The weight of that payment crushed the last of my excuses not to work for him. “Good enough,” I sighed and then got up, grabbing my coat off its hook.

I’m not short. I stand at around five foot ten in my bare feet. My boots put me at almost six feet. Even so, the top of my forehead barely came to the bottom of his nose.

“Leaving?” Patti asked, coming around to stand between Price and the door.

She stood only about five foot nothing, wearing knee-high boots with four-inch heels. She wore a jean miniskirt with fishnets and a tightfitting black shirt. She held two full pots of coffee and she was ready to dump them on Price. She looked like a Chihuahua facing off against a pit bull. I’d put my money on her.

“I’ve got a job,” I told her.

She looked at Price and then back at me. “Are you drunk?”

I wished. “Not yet.”

Patti was older than me by about five years, but we were as close as sisters. Check that. Closer, because my sister Taylor is kind of an alien. Or maybe I am. I love her to death, but we really don’t get each other very well. Anyway, Patti and I are two peas.

“Friends don’t let friends walk blindly off cliffs,” she said. “How much is he paying you?”

“Too much,” Price said, starting to push past her.

She gave him her patented stand-still-or-I’ll-kill-you look, and as usual, it worked. She turned her attention back to me. “Are you okay with this?”

I shrugged. “Not really, but he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” I said sourly. “At least the pay is good.”

“Call me later,” she ordered after a considering moment. She glared at Price. “You hurt her in any way, and I’ll make sure you don’t survive to your next birthday.”

He snorted softly. “I’ll remember.”

“You’d better.” She stepped aside. I gave her a quick hug before leading the way out.

The Diamond City Diner sat on the corner of Atlantic and Sod streets. Its tables were rarely empty. Down the block and across the street was the 4th Precinct and beside it, Firehouse 11. The weatherman had promised a good two feet of snow, and already there were a couple of inches on the ground. I zipped up my coat but didn’t bother with my hat and gloves, figuring Price would have a car close by.