A Witch's Path (15 page)

"Come to dinner this week and your mother and I will explain everything. For now it would be best if clans didn't look into you. If anyone talks to you about clans or acts strange tell me."

"Okay, Dad, I'll be careful," I replied, even though I was sure the events in Dahlonega had blown the low profile plan out of the water.
 

"Get some more rest. You need a lot of sleep to recover."

"I will. Goodnight." The threats from when the sorceress was killed, along with the writing on my window, were enough of a reason to stay out of sight and out of mind. I'd wanted peace and quiet, for time to cushion the memories. Instead of that, I was being pulled between friends, family, and work. Every time I caught up, a new emergency cropped up, keeping me two steps behind.

There was nothing I could do about any of it now. Sleep was calling, and I needed the rest.
 

I woke up stiff, and my entire body throbbed with my pulse. Slowly, very slowly, I stretched, working enough kinks out to reduce the pain to a dull ache. No amount of stretching would fix the void inside me; it would take time to regenerate the energy. Getting out of bed wasn't fun, but the shower and clean teeth went a long way towards making me feel better. Another round of bruise cream soothed my body enough that I wasn't hobbling.
 

 
After a cup of tea, and the muffins Landa had thoughtfully left outside my apartment, I went outside to check on Ty. He ran over as soon as he saw me, shaking the ground with his 'I'm happy to see you' dance.
 

"Lean down so I can pet you," I giggled. His big body tilted down and he held still while I rubbed the pebbled skin between his nostrils. He grunted, nudged me with his nose, and set me stumbling backwards.
 

"Be gentle. I'm fragile compared to you," I scolded.
 

Ty huffed, lowered his head, and backed up.
 

"Oh, no, you're not getting away that easily." With the teasing tone of my voice he stopped moving and started wagging his tail.

I scratched under his chin. "You are a very good boy, and so handsome. Did Elron talk to you last night?" Ty nodded before shoving his head under my hand. I obligingly scratched his cheek.
 
"Good, did he explain that you always needed to listen to Landa and Mander?" He blinked at me, and rubbed his cheek against my nails.
 

Giving up the pretense of the conversation, I rubbed under his chin with both hands. "Remember to listen to Landa, Mander, Elron, and me. You should leave the residents and visitors alone. If you think someone is misbehaving, detain them and alert one of us. Can you do that?"

Ty's entire body bobbed.
 

"Thank you." Reassured that he wasn't causing trouble, I gave him one last pat and went back inside.

In spite of being asleep for eighteen hours, I didn't have a single message. Although the time to recover was appreciated, no news was not always good news.
 

Tiffany answered, on the third ring, "Michelle, have you heard anything?"

"No. I woke up an hour ago. I was hoping you had news."
 

"Nothing," she said glumly. "I talked to Detective Wells half an hour ago, and he didn't have any news on Amber. They are still investigating. He did tell me that calling every hour wasn't helping him get his work done, and he would call me when he had relevant information."

"Did he talk to the werebirds?" I asked.

"The last useful information I got out of Wells was that the owner of the house had a black eye and might have smelled a wolf. He gave Wells a list of the people who were there that night and refused to answer any other questions. Wells hasn't gotten anything out of the rest of the shifters. Most of them are refusing to talk to him."

"Awesome. Have you talked to Mark?"

"We talked briefly this morning. We're going to meet for coffee in — I'm late. Do you want to come?"

"I'll meet you there."
 

Twenty minutes later, I picked up my chai tea latte and headed over to Tiffany and Mark. They were at a small table in the back of the shop. People avoided this area because the chairs were more comfortable at the front of the store.
 

If someone had asked me to picture Amber's perfect match, I would've drawn Mark. He was a couple inches taller than her, and solid muscle. His frame proved that he wasn't naturally bulky; he'd worked for his current build. Last time we met, I'd been impressed by his calm attitude and confidence, but the man at the table had shadows under his eyes and two days worth of scruff on his chin.
 

"Hi, guys," I said as I slid into the wooden chair.
 

"Should you be here?" Tiffany asked. "You look…pasty."
 

"Yes, I should, she's my friend. I may feel like a raisin, but I'm recharging." The latte was the hot, spicy boost that I needed. Normally, I could feel the energy buzzing under my skin. Today it felt like a single bee rather than a hive.

"Michelle, I'm glad you came." Mark said.

"Me too. What do you guys know? I haven't talked to Detective Wells since you reported her missing." Yup, that was me, out of touch because I had to keep a T-Rex from destroying a town. Thinking of the lives I'd saved didn't help. I was failing my friend.

"Nothing, really," Tiffany said.

Mark sighed. "The detective had me come in so we could talk. After we got through the stupid questions about a shifter and a human dating, because I can't like a girl with some feathers, he moved on to what I was doing when she was abducted. Since I was at a football party with fifteen people, all of which he called to verify my story, he stopped asking me what I'd done to her, and started asking me about useful things. I told him what I knew; she'd been preoccupied, but I thought it was work stuff. I told him about Amber missing our breakfast date, and calling you. I talked to him this morning and he simply said the investigation is in progress."

Tiffany patted his hand. "I talked to him a little while ago and he said only the host admitted smelling a werewolf. I got the feeling they couldn't do much with that information."

"No, he can't." I suspected Detective Wells was in a bind. If he didn't have a specific werewolf to investigate, he should talk to the alpha, but Adder was running the pack. Even if it was the local wolves, Adder could be aiding the kidnappers, or have Amber killed to cover up the crime.

"Michelle," Tiffany's eyes were wide and her voice jagged. "You could track her. You could lead us to her."

Blinking furiously, I tried not to cry. "I can't, not now. I don't have the energy. Maybe tomorrow." Energy wasn't the only problem. "Do either of you have something of hers? Not something she gave you, but something of hers."

Both of them thought for a minute, before shaking their heads.
 

"No," Mark said. "We aren't to the spending-nights stage yet. She hasn't left anything at my place."

"I don't have anything either. For a while I had a spare key to her place, but she changed the locks the other day and hasn't given me a new key."

I looked at both of them, making sure they understood. "I can try… try, to do a tracking spell because I know her very well, but without an item that belongs to her, there is no guarantee that it will work. Even then, I can't invite myself to work on a case. They have to ask me."

"When can you do the spell?" Mark asked.

"I don't know. Maybe tomorrow. But—"

"I know, the police haven't invited you to the party, but we can't sit here and do nothing. I couldn't live with myself if I let something happen to her because I was afraid of what the police would do to me."

"Shhh, keep your voice down," I scolded.

Tiffany took a few deep, ragged breaths.
 

"Twenty-four hours. If nothing's happened by then, I'll do whatever I can to rescue her." I didn't say, but I could tell by the look on their faces that they were thinking the same thing I was. What if we were too late? What if something horrible had happened to her? What if she was already dead?

We parted company, promising to keep in touch and keep each other informed. My attention wasn't on the road, or the cars around me on the drive home. No, I was trying to figure out if I could live with myself if I waited too long to save her. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that going after her would be dangerous and break all the promises I'd made to stay safe. I could live with paying the price to help her, but abandoning her would haunt me for the rest of my life.
 

It wasn't easy to focus on my work, but magic or not, I needed to look into the suicides. Sitting at a desk reviewing files should be easy, but my body protested. Pavement was hard, and the chair reminded my butt of its recent date with the ground.
 

The first suicide victim, a young guy by the name of Travis Brown, had been in high school. His parents and friends didn't think he was at risk, and the police didn't find any pertinent information when they went through his things. His trumpet was still sitting next to his bed. Both his wrists had been slit, nearly to the bone. The medical examiner noted it would be difficult for a person to cut both wrists equally deeply. Unable to find any evidence of foul play the police ruled it a suicide.
 

Two weeks later, a girl, twelve year old Sandy Carroll, was found dead in her play house. She'd overdosed on her mother's anti-anxiety medication. Sandy wrote in her diary every day, and there wasn't a hint of depression, or anything suspicious on the pages of the pink book with the gold lock. As with Travis, the police couldn't find a reason to suspect foul play, nor could they find a reason for her to have taken her own life. The medical examiner didn't think the levels of the anxiety medication in her blood should have been strong enough to kill Sandy, but he couldn't find another reason for her death.
 

Eighteen year old Anders Thompson drove his car into a tree off the highway. In the passenger seat they found a note saying he was sorry, and that he wished he'd been a better son and boyfriend. What the police didn't find was a reason for him to feel like he'd been a bad person. His father only had the usual complaints about a teenager and his girlfriend was madly in love with him. According to her, they hadn't been having any trouble and he hadn't done anything to disappoint her. As with the first two victims the police couldn't find a reason for him to have ended his life.
 

Unlike the police, I had a different view. Nothing was wrong in their lives, or minds. Evil could easily influence teens, because at the best of times they had moments of doubt, sadness, and loneliness. More importantly, all of these kids had died alone, unexpectedly, and in ways that would allow evil to witness their death and feed off the energy. Evil wouldn't want to kill a depressed person, because that person didn't have as much energy, but evil would delight in taking a happy, healthy teen and watching them die.
 

The inconsistencies the medical examiner couldn't reconcile made me believe that these kids hadn't committed suicide. They had been murdered by something evil. I believed if I examined Travis, Sandy, and Anders they would be tainted with evil energy.
 

With a heavy heart, I composed a polite e-mail to Westmoreland, detailing the reasons I thought the suicides had been caused by evil. A second e-mail followed, with the contract we'd discussed attached. After sending my thoughts to him, I tried to think of what to say to my mother when she asked about the deaths. I would have to tell her the truth, but it wasn't going to make her feel any better. The best I could do was wait for her to bring up the topic.
 

An e-mail from Rodriguez caught my eye. The extra tests he ordered hadn't given them any more information, and he was very sorry they hadn't been more help. I replied, thanking him for the help he had given me. If nothing else, there was an official record of the incident.

Picking up a set of baoding balls, I rolled them in my left hand. It was difficult to keep the rolling motion smooth in that hand. Focusing on the movement and sound helped me relax, and my neck and back slowly loosened. I switched hands, rolling the balls clockwise, then counter clockwise.

My phone rang, and I prayed it wasn't another emergency as I answered, "Oaks Consulting."

"Hi, Michelle, it's Westmorland."

"That was fast."

"I was at my desk. Would you be able to give us more information if you examined the bodies?"

"You still have them? I figured you would've released them to the families."
 

"We still have those three. The medical examiner wasn't happy with her findings, so we haven't released the bodies," Westmorland explained.

"I can take a look. There might be some residue of the energy." Few medical examiners had the ability to look for magic, especially something as subtle as an energy variation.
 

"Anything you can do would help. When can you be here?"

"What time do you get to work tomorrow?"

"Seven."
 

"I will see you then." It would give me time to recharge, and the earlier I had work the better. Between Amber and the dead kids, I was going to have nightmares.
 

"Great, I'll see you in the morning."

I was acquiring haunting memories at an alarming rate. If this kept up, I was going to need therapy. The bodies I'd looked at in Forsyth still bothered me, as did the cut-up dwarf, not to mention the pictures of the mutilated sorceress. I didn't have to see the bodies of these kids to know I would be able to see them every time I closed my eyes for the rest of my life.
 

The phone rang again, saving me from my thoughts.
 

"Oaks Consulting," I answered.

"Hi, Michelle. It's Hal."

I sighed.
 

"Don't give me that. I don't have any dire emergencies," Hal scolded.

"Good, because your last one was a doozy."