Be My Banshee (Purple Door Detective Agency Book 1) (19 page)

Irene Godfrey was very dead. What the harpy didn’t do to her, the drop from the sky did.

The police came shortly after. Sunshine was miserable about her car and that they’d lost another of the shifters to the harpy.

“You’re in the middle of the street, Miss Merryweather,” the uniformed officer told her. “There’s no way somebody jumped off a building and fell on your car.”

“Ask anybody,” she argued. “The woman fell on my car. I didn’t hit her.”

But when she looked around her at the other drivers and looky-loos who’d had to stop for her, they were all shaking their heads. Everyone thought she’d hit Irene Godfrey and the body had flown up and bounced back on her car.

“Okay. Let’s settle this somewhere else so we can get this moved off the street,” the cop decided. He glanced into the ruined convertible. “What about you, lady? Are you getting out or what?”

An older, green Honda pulled up out of the tangled traffic mess. It was O’Neill and Malto. They told Sunshine to wait by her car while they spoke with the officer.

“The law-givers will learn the truth soon enough now that O’Neill is here,” Aine said. “It was a ridiculous assumption on their part that you would hit anything with this much beloved car of yours.”

“And in the meantime—while we’re sitting here—the harpy is going after Lloyd.” Sunshine stamped her foot. “She’s got us at every turn. If we don’t come up with something to handle her, she’ll keep killing.”

O’Neill and Malto were finished talking with the police officers who’d begun taking care of the traffic, getting it moving around the convertible and making room for the ambulance that had swerved into their lane.

“Anybody hurt?” He flicked a glance at Aine. “We’re taking over this case as part of our ongoing investigation.”

“I’m fine,” Sunshine said. “Thank you for coming. We’ve got Tom Knox back at the office, but we couldn’t get to Irene before this happened.”

“What about her?” Malto pointed to Aine. “I’ve never seen anyone sit in a car after an accident if there wasn’t anything wrong with them.”

“She’s okay too,” Sunshine assured her. “Just stunned. It happened so quickly.”

“I brought Malto up to speed on the case,” O’Neill told her. “She knows that you and Aine are witches and that you’re having a street war with some other, bad witches.”

“Yeah,” Malto agreed. “But unless the bad witches ride broomsticks and dropped this woman on the car, no way she jumped this far from a building. Did blondie get rid of the rival witch or what?”

“I explained that you might see some unusual things,” he said. “There are a lot of drugs involved.”

“Shouldn’t we call DEA then?” Malto asked. “Hey! I’m not on drugs!”

“Do we want credit for the collar, or do we want them to have it?” he asked her. “We can read them in once we know we’ve got the killers. They can take care of the drugs at that point.”

“Yeah. Okay. Here comes the tow truck for the car.” Malto glanced at Sunshine. “We’re gonna have to impound it as part of the case. Sorry. You two girls need a ride? We can call you a taxi.”

But O’Neill told her he’d be taking Sunshine and Aine back to the detective agency. Malto agreed to wait for the morgue pickup for Irene Godfrey.

Sunshine sat in the front seat of the green Honda as he drove to the office. “We appreciate your help with this.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror at Aine, who hadn’t spoken a word. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

“She’s fine. Have you had a chance to find Lloyd? The harpy has to be after him.”

“He’s not at the pizza place where he works and he’s not at home. I’ve got people out looking for him, but I think he’s hiding from everyone. Not that I blame him.”

“He won’t be able to hide from her,” Sunshine said. “So you told your partner this was some crazy witch war?”

“What else could I tell her? She wouldn’t leave the office this morning until I explained what was going on. I had to tell her something. She doesn’t believe you’re a real witch, if that’s what you’re worried about—and I didn’t mention the part about a
beane sidhe
. But she gets the whole thing on being crazy.”

“I guess we do what we have to do.” Sunshine glanced out the window. “You can let us out in front of the building. We’ll wait to hear from you about finding Lloyd. Thank you for getting us out of that mess.”

O’Neill pulled in front of the older, red brick building. “Sure. I’m glad I could get there so quickly. Staying here would be the best thing you could do right now.”

Sunshine put her hand on his and breathed into his face. “I think you might be the best person to stay here. Why don’t you take a little nap, and we’ll be back in a while when we’re finished borrowing your car.”

He slumped over the steering wheel, sound asleep.

“What have you done?” Aine demanded.

“Relax. I only want to borrow his car and get him out of harm’s way. I know you don’t want him to get hurt. This way is best.”

“You are deceptive.” Aine checked him but he was well. “I shall take him inside. As you say, it is for the best.”

She lifted O’Neill as though he were a child and took him in. She pulled him close to her chest, his head resting against her. He was going to be angry when he woke, but he would be safe. She would have done this herself if the witch hadn’t thought of it.

Aine had never experienced such tender feelings for a charge before. She was becoming impossibly foolhardy in her dotage. She shouldn’t be worried about his death—it would finally free her. And yet she fought to protect him.

“One of us should stay here.” Sunshine followed her. “If we can’t find Lloyd or she kills him first, she’ll come here next.”

“What about Mr. Bad?” Aine carefully placed O’Neill on the sofa. “Surely he would assist us.”

“He helps us with ideas. He isn’t a fighter,” Sunshine explained. “I know you can handle it if she shows up here.”

Aine watched Sunshine leave in O’Neill’s car. For whatever reason, Mr. Bad had chosen to keep his identity hidden. Perhaps as with many ancient creatures, he feared what this world might do to him. It was not her place to question his decision. She didn’t fear the harpy, although she knew it was probably not possible for her to destroy it by herself. She could at the very least keep it from harming Tom Knox.

“Does the magic box have any notion of why these specific creatures have been targeted?” Aine asked as she stepped into Sunshine’s office.

Jane nearly jumped out of her chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here. Where’s Sunshine?”

“She has gone to get the last shifter, if the harpy has not already taken his life.” Aine explained about how they’d located Irene Godfrey. “The harpy does not hunt for sport. Someone has a reason for her to kill these people.”

“I’ve looked around, but without knowing who’s controlling her, I don’t have any idea how to figure why she’s doing it. Maybe whoever it is hates shifters.”

“And only these shifters and the men at the tattoo shop have been found dead in such a manner?”

“I’ve thought of all the combinations I could to find another death like these—I’ve even hacked into the police database. There’s nothing.” Jane’s tone was apologetic.

“Thank you. Do not fret,” Aine said. “Sunshine says you are brilliant with this box. High praise indeed.”

“Thanks.” Jane blushed and smiled. “I wish I could do more. It came so easily to me, once I became human.”

Aine went back into the outer office. Tom Knox was sleeping on a thick rug. O’Neill was sleeping on the sofa. She envied them their ability to shut out the world. Her body in the tomb slept, after a fashion, but she was here and never closed her eyes.

She looked deeply into O’Neill’s face, seeing generations before him written into the essence of this man. She wished she could simply watch and wait until he was gone. Lying down in her tomb had been all she’d wished for during many years of her penance. Now she wanted O’Neill to marry and have a family. She wasn’t sure what had changed—perhaps waking alone in Castle O’Neill.

After a few moments she found herself outside Mr. Bad’s office door. She didn’t have to knock to gain entrance. The door swung wide, inviting her into the darkness.

“You have questions,” he said in his rasping voice.

“I do not seek to pry.”

“Yet you don’t understand why I keep myself from the world you’ve experienced.”

“Though you have chosen to remain here, the witch tells me you will not take part in a battle against the harpy.”

The chair he sat in made its usual creaking sound. “I can’t take part in the events of today. I am forbidden by the others, even though I have been exiled from my home. I sit each day here in the darkness, waiting for the call to escape this place.”

“And yet I sense you have feelings for the witch. You would not have stayed if you did not.”

“Don’t seek to put motive or words to my actions, Aine. They are beyond the understanding of even those such as you.”

His voice sounded weary and bored. Aine could also sense an underlying frustration that was smoldering beneath his tone.

“I meant no disrespect, my lord. But I leave you to your thoughts with a word of caution.”

He laughed. “You seek to warn me? Of what?”

“Even those of us who are mortal know that discontent can lead to mistakes. Beware of it.”

“Thank you for your concern. How fares your O’Neill?”

“He is here under my protection, as is one of the shapeshifters that is hunted by the harpy.”

“Here?” he thundered. “In my place of refuge?”

“Part of Sunshine Merryweather’s plan to save the shifters and kill the harpy.” Aine inclined her head respectfully with a smile on her face that she was glad he couldn’t see. “Even when we think there are no surprises, matters happen that amaze us. Good day.”

Jane was outside the office door, hopping from one foot to another as she waited for Aine to emerge from Mr. Bad’s dark domain. “I can’t believe it. It was just there, and I didn’t notice it before, but I found it. Another death, I mean. At least I think I found it. I’m not completely sure, but it might be something. I need some seeds.”

Aine watched as Jane rushed to the kitchen and returned with her mouth bulging with seeds.

“You’re human now,” Aine acknowledged. “Surely a cup or a bowl would be put to better use.”

Jane kept running toward Sunshine’s office. She spit the seeds on the desk and grinned at Aine with dozens of them still stuck in her teeth. “The best way to carry things. Sit down. Let me show you what I found.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Aine sat in a chair close to Jane and the computer. She peered at the screen, even though it made her feel as though her eyes were crossed.

“See here—I was looking in Norfolk for deaths where people had been ripped apart.” Jane glanced at her nervously. “You know what I mean.”

“Continue.”

“Well, there weren’t any here, but there were two similar deaths in Richmond and one in Washington, DC.”

“And were these the deaths of shifters?”

“I really don’t know. I can’t access that information because mostly the human world doesn’t believe in shapeshifters—except in movies and books. It seems they enjoy reading about them, but they don’t believe they’re real.”

“Odd. What has happened to mankind? Have they no belief in otherworldly creatures?”

“No. Not really. They believe in science and technology. Most humans think magic is dead.”

Aine nodded. “I see. But you think these other three deaths relate to the ones here.”

“Maybe. I can’t be absolutely sure because we don’t have a database of magic and enchanted creatures. It would be nice if we did.”

“What about
Wikipedia
? I was dismayed to see myself there, but perhaps there is such a thing for shapeshifters.”

“No,” Jane replied. “
Wikipedia
probably has a general page for shifters, but a shifter would have to be famous or historical, like you, to have his own page.”

“Did these murder victims have anything else in common?”

Jane glanced through the obituaries for the three victims that she’d found. “Well, two of them lived in Richmond, like I said. It was a man and a woman. They were married, in their fifties. Had children. Wait! They both worked for the State of Virginia. They both worked in the same office, which was where their bodies were found. Oh! It was the state office for grants, specifically artistic grants.”

“I comprehend some of what you say. Are these grants from the king of artists?” Aine watched the images of where the two people were found fly by on the screen with the obituaries and put a hand to her head. They were quite dizzying.

“Not a king or a queen. But our government gives money to artists. The place where these two were killed funnels that money into the state.”

“What about the dead one in the other land you mentioned?” Aine asked, not recalling what Jane had said. She had never heard of such a place.

“Washington,” Jane repeated for her. “Let’s take a look.” She zoomed to the information she’d pulled up for that victim. “Guess what? That woman was in her forties, married with children, and worked for the National Arts Foundation. In other words, the place where the grant money came from in the first place.”

“That was a great nap.” Tom looked around the office as he smacked his lips and stretched. “I’m getting kind of hungry again. Got any pizza left?”

Jane shrieked and immediately became a small mouse in Sunshine’s chair.

Frustrated as they were about to unfold some truth that could help them, Aine got to her feet. “Be gone, lazy bumpkin. There will be food a ‘plenty when we finish our task. Do not enter here again or face my wrath.”

“Okay. The witch said there would be enough to eat. I’m not trying to cause any trouble. A man could starve to death out here.” Tom turned and went back to the outer office.

Aine closed the door behind him. “It is safe, little one. He will not bother us again.”

Jane resumed her human form but anxiously stared at the door. “I should order more pizza. I’m sure O’Neill will be hungry when he wakes up too. And there’s Lloyd. Sunshine might even want to eat.”