The Isis Collar

10

Safe is a relative term.

Dawna tossed me the keys on the way out to the car. “I know how much you hate being a passenger. Besides, I’m tired.”

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.”

“I would, but I have this important research project I need to work on.” She gave me a tired smile as she climbed into the passenger seat. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

There was no point in arguing with her. Besides, I wasn’t in the mood. The snow had all melted away, leaving behind rich green sprouts and flowers only a little the worse for wear. I had a bag full of new goodies in the backseat, including lots of protection charms and the pretty garnet cross for Gran. I even bought a shiny new agate pinkie ring that promised aura protection. I’d already broken one Clear Mind charm and felt my thinking sharpen. I felt ready for anything—for at least the next twelve to twenty-four hours, or so promised the packaging.

Dawna was wearing several new bracelets with delicately braided runes in pretty patterns, plus her jacket, specially adapted by Isaac to hold several wooden stakes and a few holy-water squirt guns. I convinced her to splurge on the One Shot brand because they’re reliable in a crisis. There’s no beating that, even though they’re twice the cost of most of the alternatives.

I guess I hadn’t realized how much she was still struggling with the fact that she’d been attacked by a vampire. Lilith had been an ancient bat, so powerful she qualified as a full-fledged demon. She wanted me and had used Dawna to get information.

I was amazed she was still sane.

It’s significant and worrying that she’s never talked to me directly about any of this. Her therapist talks to my therapist who talks to me. It’s hard to get much information that way because it’s constantly filtered under the guise of “the best interests of the patient.” But I knew that Lilith had made Dawna a human servant and when the vampire died, she’d felt it to her very core. Maybe it was finally time to break the ice about that night.

“Gorgeous jacket. Isaac does good work.” The cherry red blazer was one Dawna’d had for a year or so, a designer original we’d picked up at an outlet store for a song. It still looked the same to the casual eye. But my eye wasn’t casual. “Just at a glance, I’d say he gave you some room under the arms for extra stakes or knives and flared the back so you could draw the guns. Anything else?”

She smiled and flipped up the collar to reveal a rosary attached to the fabric with Velcro. Cute. “Added backup in case there are two.”

I nodded and watched the traffic while I tried to figure out how to ask my next question. “Have there been occasions lately that would call for added backup?”

There was silence in the seat next to me for so long that I finally looked over at her when I could spare a glance. Her lips were tight together and her eyes stared at nothing while tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Dawna?”

I could smell her pain, could hear it in her voice. “Last week I decided I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich for supper from that new little restaurant down the street. They use three different cheeses and you can pick your bread. You know the one?”

I did, so I nodded.

“It was dark by the time I left because I got caught up in a magazine article. I didn’t think much about it. I’ve been doing better about being alone at night. I was almost back to my car when I heard a voice whisper from a doorway. It said, You should have died with her. It took a minute to sink in, y’know? But then I heard it again, from way up high when there was nothing high around to perch on. It scared me, Celia. It felt like I was being stalked. It … made me remember … and—” She couldn’t go on. I couldn’t pull over on the freeway to give her a hug. So I reached across the car and put a comforting hand on the back of her neck.

I took a deep breath and let it out slow. Stalking and scary. I knew all about both. “Will the blazer make you feel safe?”

She nodded. “It does already.”

“So Isaac taught you how to use the stakes?” It was a loaded question and maybe it was evident in my voice. Because Isaac doesn’t do classes.

She shrugged and sounded confused. “They’re stakes. What’s to learn?”

I winced internally but only let her see my nod. “Do me a favor. Hit my arm. Really punch it.”

She frowned but obeyed. I barely felt the tap. I put on the blinker to turn into the office parking lot. “Again. Really put your shoulder into it.”

Dawna shrugged and punched again. She hit me with what I think she believed was force, because she wound up grimacing and shaking her hand like it hurt. “Damn, girlfriend. Your bicep is like a rock. There isn’t enough room in here to budge it.”

I parked the car and turned in my seat so I could watch her face. “And that’s just plain muscle. Not bone. Now imagine trying to push those two-inch-wide stakes under your arm through to the other side of my arm with a single blow, with the same amount of working space. Trust me. You would barely have made it through the skin.”

What I was trying to tell her finally sank in and the fear returned in a wash that paled her skin. “But I thought—”

I touched her arm. “Everybody does. It’s okay. Really. People buy the stakes but have no idea what to do with them. You might get lucky and wound a bat and make it run just from the smell of the wood, but if you really want to protect yourself, you have to learn how to actually use them.” It was obvious this was really important to her. It might have been a suggestion from her therapist that she get some protection to ease her mind. “If you want to learn how, I’d be happy to teach you.”

Her face brightened. “Would you? Really? That would be … well, amazing!”

She meant it, which sort of surprised me. It could mean that she really didn’t have a grasp of what I was offering. Still, she was my best friend. I’d do everything in my power to make sure she felt confident to handle bats. If she was right and some vampire had targeted her because they thought she’d betrayed Lilith … well, that was a whole new ball game. “Come by my house tonight around eight and bring whatever you want to learn more about, including those charm disks. You need to see what they do in controlled circumstances.”

“Tonight? Couldn’t we do it now?”

It made me laugh as I was unbuckling my seat belt. “Well, you need to get back to the office and I need to get over to the college. I need to talk to Dr. Sloan about the entity at the FBI office. I’d hoped to sound like I’d at least read his book, but I’ll just have to own up to not having done my ‘homework.’” I gave a rueful grin. “But oh hell, it’s Friday afternoon.”

“No classes?”

“No classes. And I don’t have my car. Crap.”

Dawna looked at the building and it was obvious she didn’t want to go back inside. She was probably noticing that there were more cars than usual in the lot. Someone had even parked in my reserved spot, so I’d had to take the last free space. I’ve never understood that tendency of people to ignore signs and bright yellow letters against black pavement. But they do, and then look surprised when you confront them. “Is it two o’clock?” Her voice sounded annoyed, bordering on bitter.

I glanced at my watch. “Quarter ’til.”

Her nose wrinkled. “It’s the French settlement conference. Big, angry family who are fighting over Mommy’s million-dollar estate. That’ll be a pleasant meeting, I’m sure. It sure won’t be quiet. I didn’t sign on to this job to be a combination nanny and bouncer.”

I didn’t bite on that bait, because in my mind, that’s pretty much what a receptionist is. And I know Dawna knows that. She’s said it herself more than once. “You’re just cranky because you’ve been up too long.”

“You’re probably right.” She climbed out of the car. I made a motion to toss back her keys, but she stopped me with a gesture. “I’ve got a date tonight anyway. I’d have canceled for the lessons, but I’d rather not. You’re going to need it to get home. I can pick it up later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. No problema.” She pasted a smile on her face and started across the lot. I was right behind her for the first couple of steps, but then my cell rang. When she paused, as if to wait, I waved her on. It sounded like they really needed her in there.

I pressed the button, answering, “Graves.”

“Take the job!” I couldn’t put a name to the panicked voice on the other end of the line, but it sounded familiar. It wasn’t someone I spoke to regularly, but I’d spoken to him before, and recently.

“You have to take the job,”he pleaded. “You have to. Her psychic told her that she had to get you out of the way if this was going to work. She won’t kill you if you just leave.”

“Who is this? What job?” I asked, but I had a pretty good idea about the last part.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sanchez is dead. Marjorie’s in the hospital. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, too.” He was sobbing, now. “Please. Just take the job.” He hung up before I could say anything else.

I was cold, and it had nothing to do with the temperature outdoors. Sanchez is dead. Marjorie is in the hospital. The only Sanchez I’d run into lately was the principal at Abe Lincoln, and Marjorie was the name of the secretary I’d given the business card with my cell number to. The caller could have been Jamisyn. Or maybe the vice principal … what was his name anyway? But I was betting on Jamisyn. We’d talked, and he actually had seemed to like me.

I stepped up on the porch intending to hurry up to my office and do a little computer search. The only job I’ve refused lately was MagnaChem. But what would a grade-school security guard have to do with a drug manufacturer?

The voices inside the office became audible before I’d taken a dozen steps from the car, and the short hairs on the back of my neck began to rise. Because Dawna was right. This wasn’t going to be a quiet meeting. One of the voices was newly familiar to me. I’d heard it a week earlier, when it was trying to convince me to set off a bomb.

“I really feel it will be best if you listen to me.” I felt that voice course through my veins, felt my body react to it the way it had in the school basement. My hand automatically went for my Colt and I pulled it back with effort. There were too many people in the office; I didn’t want to add a gun into the mix. Instead, I pulled a couple of very particular charms out of my jacket and palmed them as I walked in the building.

Dawna didn’t seem to notice me. She was more concerned with the obvious issues, more talking to herself than me. “I’d better get on the phone to the cops. I’d bet good money there’s going to be trouble.”

Yeah. Me, too.

“Mom told me I’d get enough to have a house with a pool! I have bursitis, Jill!” A heavyset man with a scraggly beard was screaming into the face of a woman with blonde hair. “So just back off!”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Remmy. What are you smoking? She said you needed a pool, not that she’d buy you one. I was there … remember?”

Dawna broke in with a bright smile. “Excuse me, everyone?” They all turned to her cheery but professional voice. “We’re about ready to get started. Ron is just finishing up a call, but the conference room is available if everyone’s here. Is anyone missing?”

They all looked around them and shrugged. “No, that’s all of us.” It made me frown, because I could swear I’d heard her voice.

Of course, Ron wasn’t the only other tenant in the building. While Dawna was moving the people into the big conference room, I sprinted up to the third floor. Well, tried to sprint. My bum calf just about gave out halfway and I had to lean hard on the railing the rest of the way.

Damn it. I really hoped Creede … John or one of the doctors figured out something soon. It was getting worse, I could tell. And just the thought of that panicked voice on the line: Sanchez is dead. Marjorie’s in the hospital. I shuddered. Rizzoli had said the adults were falling like flies.

I hadn’t … yet. I just wanted to keep it that way.

I went across the hall to my own office, just to see if anyone had made it through the magical wards I keep around it for protection. Nothing. I put my palm on the biometric plate and pressed *57, which would tell me who the last person to access it was. After two flashes, it read: Profile 1. That was me.

Dawna was back at her desk when I came down the stairs. I was confused and put the charms back in my pocket while she cocked her head and stared at me. “You look odd. Everything okay?”

I started to say I was fine, but the truth was, I wasn’t. I tried to speak casually. “Hey, when we got out of the car, weren’t there two women talking in here?”

She was looking at her computer screen and didn’t hear me at first. She mumbled an, “Uh-huh. Why?”

I didn’t answer, just stared at her with raised brows until she finally looked at me, a quizzical look on her face. “Yeah, actually there were. So—”

I nodded, feeling suddenly pissed at myself. “So where’d the second one go? Was there anyone in Ron’s office?”

She shook her head. “Oh, hey! What about the security log? Didn’t Dottie tell us there was a log we could look at to see who’s come and gone in the building?”

Yes, there was, and I remembered her telling us. “Call her. Ask her how to find it. Once you have it, print me out a copy. I’m going to go to the college and ask around about witches who can disable magical shields without anyone noticing. Because I would swear our shield was in place and no way should a person with evil intent have been able to get through.”

She nodded and reached for the phone. I paid special attention to the shield around the office when I left. It felt absolutely normal, but unless the witch flew out a window either she slipped out past us during the screaming match or … she was still there. I began to make a careful check of the possible entrances, including the back door, off the kitchen. It was locked and can only be locked from the inside. Then I went around to the front, looking for any footprints in the soft dirt underneath the windows. We keep the dirt loose just for that reason. With attorneys, bail bondsmen, and bodyguards in the building, we nearly always have enemies.

Then I remembered something that might explain the mystery. Bruno had once cast an illusion spell on himself so strong that six people in a room had believed him to be a potted rubber tree. Another powerful mage in the room had ratted him out.

I’m not a witch and I knew I was dealing with a powerful one. So I wanted to be very certain of my facts before I simply left my friend … and Ron … to the witch. Even he deserved better than that. I hurried back inside.

“Dottie’s line was busy. What are you—” Dawna stopped speaking when I put a finger to my lips. I made motions for a pen and paper. Dawna understands about being bugged, so she just nodded and handed me a yellow legal pad and pen.

Turn on the perimeter, I wrote, and held the pad so she could see. She raised her brows and leaned back in her chair, obviously worried. The perimeter was added to our security system after a mage hacked past our prior system to plant listening devices. The perimeter locks down the building and sends a signal to the police. A fine powder is then released through the venting system. Invisible to the eye and completely odorless and tasteless, it luminesces under black light so that anything in the building when the button is pushed gets marked. It will wash off eventually, but not before the cops arrive. Anyone who tries to leave without permission catches the second marker, which is magical. I don’t really understand the metaphysics of it, but in addition to itching like poison ivy, I guess it “flavors” your next few spells, and it flashes like a neon sign to other mages.

You sure? Dawna wrote back, and I nodded. She pressed the button on the floor near her foot—each of the leaseholders has one in their office in case nobody’s at the front desk. There was no outward indication that anything happened, and even though I was expecting it I couldn’t feel or sense the dust or any sort of magic.

But we have a special black light we use on driver’s licenses to be sure they’re not fake and Dawna turned it on. Sure enough, the tops of her fingers had a pale orange tinge that couldn’t be from anything else.

I was looking around the room to see if anything of sufficient mass to be a person was out of place or new. It was like looking at one of those “hidden object” computer games.

My cell phone rang, and when I picked it up to look at the screen, it was Rizzoli. Crap. I wanted to take the call, but I didn’t want any unintended listeners eavesdropping on us. I ignored the ringing. I could call back once I had verified nobody was in the building and had gotten everyone out. After four rings, it went to voice mail.

Then it rang again. Rizzoli, a second time. That wasn’t like him. I’d have to take it. “Hello?” I spoke low and fast, hoping he’d get the hint I couldn’t talk.

“What’s happening, Graves? Do you need backup?”

That made me frown because how would he know? “Why do you ask?”

“The request got moved up the chain, owing to the new necklace I gave you. What do you need?”

Whoa. The FBI consultant badge Rizzoli gave me meant it wasn’t the police who would respond to a perimeter alert anymore? It would be the FBI? I was pretty sure my jaw dropped, because Dawna looked at me oddly. But how could I tell him what the problem was without saying it out loud? “I’ll text you.”

“We … um, prefer voice for situations like this. Too easy for fakes.”

Well, wasn’t that a bitch? I let out a deep sigh and tried to figure out what to do.

Dawna wrote on the pad: What’s up?

That’s when it occurred to me. “I’ll send you a JPEG. Stay tuned.” I hung up on Rizzoli and started to write on the pad with my head down and my hand shielding the paper like a fifth grader trying to hide a note from the teacher.

Security breach at my office. Believed to be the witch who set off the bomb. Bring illusion specialists. I think she’s still here. I’ll do my best to keep her inside.

I took a flash photo of the page with my phone while it was still shielded, made sure it was legible, and sent it to Rizzoli with a few quick clicks. Then I folded the paper before even Dawna could see it. I mouthed the word Rizzoli, and her eyes widened. Then she nodded.

Then I said out loud, as casual as I could, “Pull up those decorator photos, will you? I’m thinking the stripes in the reception area are starting to fade where the sun hits. Maybe we need to try a different pattern.”

By her expression, I’d asked for pictures of Bigfoot. But she did it. One of the reasons she’s my best friend. We’d taken photos for the decorator so she could figure out, from miles away, what sort of wallpaper would work in the building and keep within the historical landmark guidelines that went with the plaque near the entrance. The other reason we took the photos was so that everything we took out of the building during the renovation could go back into the right rooms and their usual places.

A question was poised on Dawna’s lips, but she didn’t know whether to ask. I finally handed her the message I’d sent to Rizzoli. She put it on her lap, likewise hiding it from the room. After reading it her eyes went wide and she started looking around.

My cell phone binged to tell me I had a text message. I glanced at the screen. Done. I showed the screen to Dawna and she breathed a sigh of relief.

The voices in the conference room were getting louder and Ron was having to raise his voice to be heard over the din.

I wanted to start the search of the building while they were still busy. I still had two of the total body-binding charms Cree … John had given me, along with a couple of confusion charms in case I had to fight. But with a witch powerful enough to duplicate Bruno’s stunt, my only real hope was the ones John had done. Even Bruno had been impressed by them because he’d never been able to get one to work right.

I picked up my cell phone and texted a quick message. But I didn’t send it. Instead, I turned it so Dawna could read it.

If something’s different from pic, I’ll point @ pic and u thumb up or down if OK. K?

She closed her fist with her thumb up in the air and smiled. Good enough. She wasn’t leaping up to join me in walking around, which didn’t bode well for vampire fighting. Still, this was a witch and a powerful one. Frankly, I didn’t want to search, either.

I limped into the reception area, my right shoe making a heavier click on the hardwood floor that was barely audible over the shouting match in the next room.

The first thing I spotted different from the picture was a Ficus tree. Visions of the rubber plant came back to my mind and I kicked all my senses into high gear. Sometimes the nose or ears will take over when the eyes are being deceived. I stared hard at anything but the tree, sensing the feel of the room. I inhaled deep and slow and for the first time caught the barest whiff of women’s perfume—a delicate floral that was meant to be remembered only after close contact.

After a moment, I caught Dawna’s intensely wide pupils and motioned toward it with my eyes alone. She gave a thumbs-up. Hmm. I guess I’d just never noticed it before.

That’s when fate intervened. After a cop I knew died, I’d been given a cat named Minnie the Mouser. Since I’m seldom home and the office is open most of the day and night, it made sense for her to live here. Even Ron has gotten attached to the little orange and white ball of fluff with the big attitude and tiny voice. He keeps a host of toys in the corner of his office, along with a padded bed for Her Majesty’s comfort. We all do.

Entering the room, Minnie sniffed the air before focusing her stare on the chairs. There were only two in the photo, opposite the couch, but there were more scattered all over the building. While they’re bulky to move around, we had done so more than once before when extra clients came in who would be waiting awhile. The chairs were insanely comfortable despite their stuffy Victorian appearance, and sitting makes people less annoyed than standing. I passed the seating group like nothing was wrong but turned a quizzical face to my friend.

She slipped off her shoes and came out from behind her desk in nyloned feet. In a flash she was out of view, likely racing to the vacant office down the hall where we kept two others in the set. The rest were on the second floor and I doubted that Ron would bring one down from there on the narrow staircase, no matter how important the client.

I pretended to ignore the chairs while keeping my peripheral vision firmly fixed on them and the cat. I examined the wallpaper, comparing it to the photo in my hand.

When Dawna returned, a shake of her head and a thumbs-down with a frown made my pulse abruptly pound. My headache suddenly made itself known again. It had dulled from whatever magic John had used, but now it was back in blinding glory. The intensity of the pain made me suck in my breath hard and fight to focus.

That was when Minnie hissed at the chairs and arched her back before racing out of the room. The pain faded under the rush of adrenaline, when I felt familiar magic brewing in the room. I didn’t hear even a whisper over the yelling in the conference room, but I knew I didn’t have time to wait for Rizzoli and crew. The witch knew I knew and she would target me first. The fastest way to incapacitate the witch was to throw one of the charms at the chair she’d become. But if I picked the wrong chair and hit a cushion, the charm could easily bounce back and bind both me and Dawna.

There was another option. I was loathe to use it if I didn’t have to, but it would certainly solve my current problem. I have knives that are so magically powerful they’re considered artifacts. It took Bruno five years to make them for me, bleeding himself every day to bind the magic. One of those knives had killed Lilith. Her evil had turned the metal permanently black. No witch, no matter how tough, could withstand it.

The problem was, I didn’t know which chair she was. I hated to waste the charms, but a combination strike might be my only option. I faked a pair of sneezes, which made my head throb again, and then snuffled. I reached into my pocket like I was going for a tissue and drew out the charms. I practice really hard so when I throw charms, they land where I expect them to.

I threw one charm with each hand, as fast as I could. They hit the floor in front of the left- and right-hand chairs. Before I could think much about what I was doing, I pulled one of my knives from its sheath and tossed it; the blade flipped through the air before burying itself nearly to the hilt just above the ornately carved rosewood leg of the corner chair.

A scream of pain and anger filled the room. A flaming blast of magic hit me in the chest with frightening intensity and threw me backward. I landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. I only saw the woman’s platinum blonde hair as she shifted back to human form and plucked the glowing, white-hot knife from her arm. Then she dropped it like it burned. It probably did. She was holding something in her other hand. It was thick and square, but that’s all I could make out.

With a fast movement despite the pain, she jumped through the nearest window feetfirst, just like I had when I was saving Willow. The sound of shattering glass was like another scream. Then she was gone.

Well, so much for keeping her here. I had a feeling Rizzoli wasn’t going to be pleased with me.

I thought about chasing her, but frankly, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with her, thanks to my worsening limp. I was abruptly tired beyond measure. I had about as much energy as I’d had the last time I’d had the flu. I just wanted to curl up under a blanket with a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Sans noodles and chicken, of course. John was right. Something was really wrong with me.

The door to the conference room flew open and Ron marched out, looking angry. “What the hell is going on out here?” The tension in his voice was apparent. “We’re trying to have a meeting in here before people have to catch flights out.”

I opened my mouth to explain when it hit me. “Um, well, see … there could be a problem with your clients catching flights anytime soon.”

“Ooh,” Dawna replied with a wince because she realized it, too. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

Ron is tall and lanky and has a face that’s all sharp angles. I’m sure he’s effective in court because he can be intimidating, but he’s also able to turn on fake charm like the best used-car salesman. He looked around the room and spotted the tattered blinds and glass littering the floor. He closed his eyes and put one hand on his hip, pushing aside his thousand-dollar suit jacket, while the other went up to rub his forehead. “Is that blood on the Oriental rug? What the hell, Celia? I’m getting really tired of the drama in your life.”

Him and me both.

A text message binged on arrival. Rizzoli: Lower the barrier. We’re here.

They were? I checked the time. It had only been eight minutes since I’d sent my photo message. It’s at least a thirty-minute drive from his office. Even if he was already en route when he called … this was too fast. Was I being followed? I’d definitely have to talk to Rizzoli about that, because my business depends on keeping things private. A federal shadow would not be good at all. But first things first. I sighed. “You might want to alert your clients that the FBI is here. Hopefully none of them have anything to hide, because I just chased a suspected terrorist out of the building. I don’t know how long she was here, but she was using illusion magic to look like a chair in the reception area. It could be coincidental, or one of them could have brought her.”

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. While he’s a pain in the butt, he’s smart. The wheels started turning behind his intense green eyes and he turned in a flash and nearly sprinted back to the conference room, muttering curses that would make a sailor’s ears burn.

“Well, that went well,” Dawna said in a fake cheery voice. “Now what do we do?”

I sighed and mentally threw any hope of getting to the university today out of my mind. “We lower the drawbridge and wait for the cavalry we called to trample us.”