Part 18 (1/2)
”I can't just conjure up a story.”
”Well, then, I guess I already have my sound bite.”
I glared at her. ”You broke a major story when you discovered the tear-which I'd love to learn how you found, by the way, because that little tidbit wasn't in your broadcast and I can't see you heading out this evening thinking, 'I know, I'll go poke around abandoned warehouse lots and see if a story turns up.' Especially not in those heels.” I nodded at her purple slingbacks. ”You got your story, and because of Bell's barricade, Witch Watch is the only show that has footage of the rip up close. So why do you have to put a target over my head just to ride the coattails of your own success?”
”The tear will be old news soon unless I dig up something to add as a new development. My original footage is already viral and streaming from countless places on the Net. I need something fresh. Now I imagine you're here for one of the cases you're working.” She lifted the hand holding her mic, not to shove the mic in my face but to point at me with one of her perfectly manicured nails. ”Scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. And because you asked, I'll tell you how I found the tear-that is, as long as what you give me is good.”
I glanced at Falin. He scowled at Lusa, his face hard, ungiving, and totally unreceptive to her idea. I, on the other hand, was inclined to capitulate. I'd worked with Lusa before, and I knew she kept her word. Which meant she'd help me out if I helped her, but it also meant she wasn't kidding about using me as a sound bite. But perhaps more important than that, while the woman could be extremely irritating if you were the story she'd latched on to, she was a d.a.m.n fine researcher and investigative journalist.
And I happened to have a page full of runes I needed researched.
”Off the record,” I said, nodding at the blinking light on the camera behind Lusa.
”Micky, take a break,” Lusa said, handing her mic to her cameraman. ”Come on, Craft. There are fewer people closer to the bridge.”
I started to follow her, but Falin grabbed my arm, stalling me.
”You really think this is the wisest plan?” he asked, his voice a hissed whisper beside my ear.
I considered the decision again, staring at him as I tried to puzzle out which part he objected to. I hadn't learned anything from the file he took from the FIB office, so it wasn't like he could say any of the information I had on the case was privileged-everything I had I'd learned myself, mostly just by living through the events. Runes were witch magic, so though the glamour proved the constructs had some tie to the fae, the individual runes didn't, so sharing them didn't breach any rules about ”issues best kept amongst the fae” as Malik had put it. No, I didn't see anything at all he could object to about my sharing the runes with Lusa.
”I'm sure.” In fact, I didn't see any downside. If I gave her the runes and she turned up nothing, then I'd lost nothing. But if she did find something . . . well, that could be very beneficial.
Falin continued to frown and Lusa sauntered back to us. She pursed her lips. She hadn't heard what we'd said, but our body language probably told her all she needed to know about our conversation.
”Detective Andrews,” she said, studying him, ”I heard you were jettisoned from the force for going MIA during the Coleman case.”
Falin didn't answer, but pulled his jacket aside to reveal the FIB s.h.i.+eld at his waist.
”My mistake, Agent,” she said before turning back to me. ”Are we still on for a little t.i.t for tat?”
”Yeah. I'll be right there.” I shot her a smile and then focused on Falin again. ”It's a good idea,” I told him. ”Weren't you going to get a warrant?”
”I'm more concerned with getting you out of here.”
And I was more concerned with my friends not spending a moment longer than necessary carrying some shadowy, crystallized spell that was just waiting to overwhelm them at an unknown moment.
”I'll keep my head down,” I promised.
He huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. ”Because you're so good at that.”
As if to accent his point, Lusa chose that moment to turn and call out, ”Miss Craft.”
Falin and I both cringed. Okay, so keeping my head down wasn't one of my strong suits.
”I have to go,” I said, and then jogged to catch up with Lusa. Falin didn't stop me this time.
Lusa headed away from the news vans and cop cars to where the fence ended at the steel supports of the Lenore Street Bridge. The traffic on Lenore had died down. Everyone who was interested in seeing the commotion had apparently already arrived, so the bridge was still, quiet, and rather dark. Safety lights dotted the span at evenly s.p.a.ced intervals, but I could have wished for a little more light, especially as Lusa trudged deeper and the bridge towered over us.
I had to say one thing for her-I'd told her I wanted this off the books, and she'd found a place where no one was likely to overhear or disturb us. And she wasn't done yet. Once we stopped, she fished a silver necklace from the top of her blouse, pulling the chain until a half dozen charms spilled over her collar. The air around us hummed as she tapped into the raw magic in her earrings and channeled it into one of her waiting charms. A spell buzzed to life around us.
”You're a sensitive, right?” she asked and I nodded.
”Good, then you know that I activated a privacy bubble. No one but us can hear what we say. Now, why are you really here?”
I'd rather have heard how she found the hole in reality first, but I wasn't in a position to demand she show me hers before I showed her mine. Opening my purse, I dug out the page of runes I'd copied. Then I unfolded the paper and pa.s.sed it to Lusa.
”Those are sketches of runes from a magical construct. As you can probably tell, they aren't exactly common. When I watched your broadcast, I noticed similar runes cut into the ground around the tear. My theory is that whoever sent the construct also cast the ritual that opened that tear. I'm here to prove that theory, and to find out anything I can about the witch who is responsible.”
”Nice. This might actually be newsworthy.”
She'd threatened and goaded me but hadn't actually thought I could provide her with a story? Figures.
”So do you know what the runes do?” she asked, and I shook my head.
”I did a little cursory research, but so far I haven't turned up anything definitive.” I paused, letting her study the runes for a moment before I asked, ”You've used Aaron Corrie as a source before, right?”
Lusa furrowed her brow, which I'd never seen her do on TV-probably because the thought lines that crawled across her forehead weren't terribly attractive. ”Dr. Corrie? Yes. He wasn't able to identify the runes either?”
I made a rude sound and Lusa looked up, surprise on her face.
”He'd like to identify them. Unfortunately he doesn't care for the company I keep,” I said, and her lips formed a perfect O, but she didn't look surprised. Since she knew the man, she surely knew his stance on the fae. I didn't ask whether she thought Corrie had disapproved of my company due to the fact that I lived in a fae's house or because I'd partnered with an FIB agent-the fae-phobic geezer had plenty of reasons not to trust me-but as long as she didn't guess my heritage, I didn't care. ”Since you've worked with Corrie before . . .” I trailed off, and Lusa's glossed lips stretched in a slow smile.
”I like the way you think, Craft. I suppose you'll want to know what Dr. Corrie and I turn up on the runes?” she asked, but obviously she antic.i.p.ated that I'd agree because she didn't wait for me to answer before saying, ”So, we've got a tear into the Aetheric surrounded by odd runes, and a magical construct built from the same runes, that, when dispelled, opened a hole into the Aetheric.”
Oh, I liked her theory-I didn't think it was right, as none of the ravens Caleb, Falin, and the collectors destroyed had torn reality, but I wasn't going to correct her. After all, if she ran with that theory for her story, the attention for the holes would s.h.i.+ft off me.
Lusa squinted, pulling the paper closer to her face. ”These are incomplete, right?”
”I left the upper left-hand corner unconnected.”
”Perfect.” She folded the page in half. ”Can I keep this?”
I nodded. I could always draw another copy. ”You were going to tell me how you found the tear.”
”Yeah.” She tucked away the page of runes. ”Follow me,” she said, and carefully picked her footing as she and her designer shoes led me closer to the bridge.
We slid around the support pillar that the fence b.u.t.ted up against, and then Lusa ducked under the bridge, her ankles wobbling as stones skipped down the steep incline. Somewhere in the shadows under the bridge the river rushed by with an endless murmur. She grabbed one of the diagonal support beams to steady herself and then pointed beyond the beam.
”What do you see?”
I squinted, searching for what she was pointing at, but all I saw was inky darkness. ”Nothing. Grave-sight has burned out my night vision.”
”Oh. I'd heard wyrd witches had trouble with their abilities burning out their senses, but I wasn't sure I believed it. Well, what you aren't seeing is a tent city established by the homeless. I was looking into possible victims for the Sionan floodplain foot murders. That many people couldn't have gone missing without anyone noticing, but there hasn't been an abnormal rise in missing-persons reports. It didn't add up.”
I nodded. I knew all this from what John had told me. She smiled and ran a hand through her brown hair, brus.h.i.+ng it back from her face. ”I went looking for people who wouldn't be missed, and one of my searches turned up the fact that a homeless man who spent the night in jail for public intoxication seven days ago found all of his buddies missing when he was released the next morning. He reported it to the cops, but transient people disappear a lot. No one looked into it. ”