Read Night Terrors (Sarah Beauhall Book 4) Online

Authors: J. A. Pitts

Tags: #Norse Mythology, #Swords, #SCA, #libraries, #Knitting, #Dreams, #Magic, #blacksmithing, #urban fantasy, #Fantasy

Night Terrors (Sarah Beauhall Book 4) (2 page)

Katie already had a sub for the day and I’d rearranged my farrier work where I could, making arrangements for those who were willing to postpone a few days and getting Julie to pick up the rest.

Didn’t matter, really. I was not missing this doctor visit with Katie. We were going to be discussing blood work with her general practitioner.

I stood in the kitchen drinking my coffee and making some dry toast to see if Katie’s stomach would handle it, when the phone rang. Seven-thirty was damn early in anyone’s book. I didn’t recognize the number and almost let it go to voicemail, but decided to answer it just so Katie didn’t try and rush to the phone and fall over.

It was Charlie Hague, the veterinarian I had met last fall, who just happened to be a member of the Order of Mordred. One of those watcher groups who kept secret histories of the dragons and their ilk. When that nut job necromancer murdered one of the horses out at Circle Q farm, Charlie had responded to help clean up the mess and check on the other horses. Of course, he was also scouting the scene for his order.

He was a cute guy, more Inspector Clouseau than James Bond in my mind. Nice enough, with some exposure to the occult and magic, but really he was an animal doctor who was fairly fresh from college. Still, I’d seen his secret order tattoo, and I bet he had some sort of hand book, as well. Very earnest guy. But in reality he was a message boy. I doubt he had any real clout in the organization. At least that’s the impression he gave.

Of course, Nidhogg, the oldest and most bad-ass of the dragons looked like a frail old woman most of the time, so there’s that.

“What’s up, Beauhall?” he asked me, the cheer in his voice altogether too damn earnest.

“Pretty early,” I growled, turning to face the cabinets so my voice didn’t carry into the bathroom. “We’d about given you up as a lost cause.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “Things are a bit crazy around here. Work has been a little steady with all the foaling and the fact we’re shorthanded here at the practice.”

“Yes, tragic.” I had one ear out for the shower and I could tell Katie had just turned off the water. “Can we cut to the chase here? I’m not having the best morning.”

“Well,” he drawled. “I was hoping you and Katie would be free for lunch today.”

Black Briar had been playing footsie with the Order of Mordred for a while now, and it was about time they made a move. Hell, I could get to first base faster than this group could commit to a meeting, and I was definitely not comfortable with groping anyone but Katie.

And here he was, finally making a move. I agreed to lunch in Bellevue at a quaint little Thai place over on Bell-Red. At least the food would be decent. I wasn’t so sure about the business. I didn’t have high hopes.

We were in and out of the doctors by eleven-thirty and cruised over to Bellevue for our lunch date. Charlie was in the restaurant when we walked in.

When I thought of secret societies, I tended to think of shadowy assassin guilds or ancient orders of knights who guarded a treasure like that old guy in Indiana Jones. What I didn’t expect, honestly, was khakis, a pink Polo shirt, and penny loafers. Reminded me of pictures of my parent’s generation. It just gave me the heebie-jeebies that today’s clandestine operative would be comfortable in a John Hughes film.

Charlie was a total dork. Katie laughed when he stood up and practically dragged the teapot off the table along with the table cloth. As it was, his silverware bounced into the main aisle and the waitress skipped over it like she’d done it a dozen times.

She waved us to our seats while Charlie tried to clean things up. By the time we were settled with crab wontons, pineapple fried rice, and Hot Mama noodles on the way, he had begun to get his act together. Dude was seriously freaked.

“I’m really glad you both agreed to meet with me,” he said, flushing. “I hope you’re doing okay,” he said to Katie, his eyes round. “The news about the necromancer and the blood cult,” he swallowed hard and glanced at me. “We were afraid you’d think we were mixed up with them.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Things are a bit unsettled at the moment, if you’ve noticed.”

Katie looked at me, raising her eyebrows. Was this guy for real?

He’d been so calm and collected when we’d interacted back in the fall. He’d taken the lead, been sure and cocky.

“I gotta be frank here,” she said, picking up my glass of water. “You’re not instilling a high level of confidence in your organization.”

“No shit,” I said, glancing back toward the door. Charlie was glancing that way every few seconds. “You expecting someone?”

I looked at him as his eyes darted from Katie, to me, to the door.

“Not expecting,” he said, his voice a little shaky. “Dreading, maybe.”

He began tapping his fork on the table, a rattle that was quickly growing on my nerves. I slapped my hand down over his, stopping the noise. “Charles, get it together. What the hell is going on?”

There was a haunted look in his eyes. Not just fear, but resignation, defeat.

“Two of our people have died,” he said, deflated. “Bobbi had gone into a meet with a prospective informant and the next time anyone saw her, she was washed up on the beach at Oak Harbor.”

Katie shrugged and I pulled my hand away from him. He started to rattle the fork again, but stopped when I looked at him. “Sorry,” he said, putting his hands in his lap.

“Where was the meeting? Who was she trying to get information on?”

“Deception Pass,” he said with a snort. “She jumped off the bridge there. Three eye-witnesses.”

“That sucks,” I said. “Who was she trying to meet?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Madame Gottschalk won’t tell me.” He hesitated, taking a long drink of water. “One of the witnesses saw her talking to a middle-aged woman before she jumped. Real ugly woman,” he recounted. “Guy was pretty drunk, just kept saying Bobbi’s contact had a five o’clock shadow.”

“How freaking odd,” I said. The runes along my scalp had begun to prickle. There was something more here.

“Did he say anything else?” I asked. “This drunk witness of yours?”

Charlie grimaced. “No confirmation he was drunk, but his behavior …”

Katie looked at me sideways, smirking.

“After Bobbi jumped, they were all milling around. This guy saw the older woman, Bobbi’s contact, moving away, but he said she looked younger, had lost the beard.” He looked from one of us to the other. “He had to be drunk.”

My runes flared, burning for a split second. I doubted the guy was drunk. Why would this operative just jump off the bridge? How did this contact suddenly change appearance? Drunk maybe, but the way the runes were behaving I was betting there was something more there.

Which meant there had to be another player in the area. I was bone tired of all the interference. What the heck was Qindra doing letting all this crap go on under her nose? Of course, I was happy she’d overlooked Black Briar for so long. Maybe these Mordred folks were low key enough to ignore.

Katie spoke up. “You said there was someone else. A second order member to die?”

He nodded. “Don’t laugh.”

I shot Katie a puzzled look. This guy was really rattled.

“Go on,” I said.

“Madame Gottschalk’s talking cat.”

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot … Katie looked as bemused as I felt. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

He put his head in his hands and sighed. “I know it sounds crazy and I’m not supposed to talk about the cat, but there it is.” He looked up, his face pale. There were bags under his eyes that I hadn’t noticed at first.

“The old lady you work for is a witch, right?” Katie was suddenly serious. “Like a real witch, not one of those wannabe pretenders.”

Charlie just nodded. “Old school,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “And she’s freaking out. The cat has been with her since the old country.”

“What happened to the cat?” Katie asked.

“Which old country,” I asked at the same time.

Charlie looked from one of us to the other again, his eyes practically vibrating in his skull. “Russia,” he said, nodding at me, “and lightning” he said, looking at Katie. “Madam often sent the cat over to give me instructions. It carried notes tied to its collar. It had delivered a few messages before I heard it complain that I never tipped it. Imagine how surprised I was that the cat talked.” He chuckled. “After that I always had a can of tuna handy.”

He paused as the waitress set an order of crab wontons and a steaming dish of pineapple fried rice in front of us and refilled our water glasses.

“Some beggar had been hanging around my neighborhood,” he continued, scooping rice onto his plate, “creepy guy with one eye. Anyway, one night last week, after the cat had delivered me the news of Bobbi’s death and had finished his tuna, he decided to investigate our Dumpster. He did that, must be a cat thing.” He smiled at us, but neither Katie nor I smiled back. This was the most bat shit conversation.

His smile faltered. “Anyway, this homeless dude was digging through the Dumpster and didn’t take kindly to the cat’s intrusion. One second the cat was hissing and shouting in one of the Slavic languages and the next this bolt of lightning flashed down from the sky and the cat exploded. It was crazy. When I could see again, the old man was bent down over the cat, poking it with his walking stick and laughing.
‘Tell the old woman I repay my debts,’
he said, and he struck the ground three times. Then the cat got up,” Charlie paused here, his eyes wide. “I’m telling you, the damn thing was a blackened husk one minute, then it was up and stretching. The old man pushed the cat with his staff and laughed.
‘Four to go,’
he said. The cat arched his back, hissed at the old man and ran into the darkness.”

Katie kicked me under the table. I knew what she was thinking. Odin was haunting Charlie’s apartments. What’s up with that?

“Have you seen this old man since?” I asked.

“Three times,” he said, quickly looking toward the door. “I’m beginning to think he’s following me.”

Katie gave me a look and I grinned at her. Better him than us. He drew the wrong kind of attention, that crazy old man. I didn’t relish being jumped by another pair of giants.

“So, about meeting up with Black Briar,” I said. “What is in it for us to join forces with your lot?”

Charlie looked at me and had the good sense to look chagrinned. “We have contacts, lots of secret knowledge, and,” he lowered his voice again, “we have new information about your parents’ trip to Reykjavik.” He was looking directly at Katie.

He wasn’t grinning at her, just had his voice lowered and his face ducked down, like he didn’t want to be seen. I thought he was acting pretty damned suspicious. That’s probably why I didn’t see Katie move.

She punched him, just above his right eye. His head snapped back and then forward, going nose first into his plate of fried rice.

“Ow, fuck,” she said, shaking her hand out, her fingers loose.

The other patrons were looking at us. Our waitress stopped in the middle of refreshing water at another table, just staring at us.

“Why’d you hit me?” he asked, brushing rice from his face.

I reached over and put my hand on Katie’s shoulder. She was going for round two.

“You know about my parents, you prick. You just tell me. You don’t negotiate.”

She was fired up. Charlie had a hand over his punched eye and his other eye was wide, scared. “I was gonna tell you. Geez.” He scooted to the left, further away from Katie. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that yet. Madame will be pissed.”

Katie slumped back with a sigh, the fight going out of her. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He shook his head and reached for his water, watching her for any movement. “I wanted to get with you and your brother, tell you both at the same time.” There was something scared in his voice, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “We have something of theirs. Something they left in London before they went to Iceland.”

“What?” I asked.

Katie was tense, her face taut and her mouth set.

He opened his messenger bag and pulled out a small envelope. He slid it across the table and Katie picked it up. For a moment I got a spark of green—made me think
sympathetic magic
. But it could’ve been a trick of the light.

Katie looked inside and went pale. She handed me the envelope and I looked inside. Laying in the bottom were a pair of wedding rings.

Her eyes were hard, her face tight. I placed a hand on her arm closest to me. She was tense. I squeezed her, lending her my support.

“They left these on the nightstand of their hotel,” he said, his voice quiet. “They were protected by some sort of spell. The maid never saw them, but someone else did. A player named McTavish.”

I glanced up at him, “Is that name supposed to mean something?”

He shrugged, obviously disappointed we didn’t react. “Probably not. He was pretty active during the Troubles, real cat burglar type. Did some work for the IRA. Had a knack for getting into places no one thought possible.”

“Why was he trying to steal my parent’s wedding rings?” Katie asked, her voice deadly calm.

I watched her. Blood was slowly welling up from her left nostril. I handed her a napkin and she clutched it to her face, “Tell me.”

Charlie’s head snapped around and he had the strangest look on his face—part panic, part incomprehension.

“He worked for the Dublin dragon,” he intoned, his voice wooden and strained. “The order thinks he was an elf, traveled through mirrors somehow. We’ve never heard of that before.” His hands were shaking like he struggled to move them. “There’s speculation it could explain some of the things we’ve observed out at Black Briar. I was thinking maybe you knew who he was in context, and why am I telling you all this.” He was breathing really fast—his voice a staccato machine gun delivery.

It was creepy. I glanced at Katie and she was staring at him, mouthing the words that flew from his mouth.

“Touching the rings killed him,” he went on. “Whatever wards were on them seemed to be gone by the time our operative arrived. The police wrote it off as electrocution and the body went into a pauper’s grave. We acquired the rings and have been studying them for years.” The tendons in his neck were standing out and his whole body trembled. “I just found out about them in the last few weeks.”

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