Witch for Hire (23 page)

Once he was gone I took the fastest shower of my life, braided my wet hair, and pulled on the clothes I'd laid out before the craziness last night. Last night's efforts left me ravenous, so I pulled a granola bar out of my suitcase before I left.

Jones was the only one outside the room. "I sent everyone else away."

I handed him the keys, "You're driving my car." I needed the supplies I'd packed, and it was a waste of time to move them.

"I figure we'll plan until a bit after noon, grab some lunch, and figure out the rest of the day while we're eating." He was watching me, just glances, as he drove.

"Done. I need another cup of tea before I'm useful." I'd done a number on myself last night. It wasn't good to pull that much energy through an unprepared body. The long, deep sleep and tea had helped, but I was dragging. Besides, no one was at their best after being awakened by cold water.
 

In the work room, I poured another cup of tea, drinking it as quickly as possible. Ten minutes later, my brain had caught up with my body and I was ready to work. "Help me bring a few things in from outside, please?"
 

I was on my best behavior. Jones was more of the make-fun-of-you type than the sympathetic type. I didn't want to hear funny Jones today; I wanted to get this done, keep my job, and deal with the plant in my bathroom.
 

At the car, I loaded him up with two duffels and a large box. I took a backpack, a small box, and a satchel. Everything left in the car was for emergencies. We set my stuff on a spare desk in the workroom, my home away from home for the next few days.

"What's the plan?" Jones questioned.

"What?"
 

"You do have a plan? All this stuff isn't just for show, is it?"

"Ugh, I'm never playing poker with you." I sighed. "Yes, I have a plan, or five." I hopped up on the desk, swinging my legs while I talked. "I want a few werewolves, or whatever shifters you have that can track, to look around. I don't think they'll find anything, not after all this time, without a specific area to search."

"Then why bother?"

I studied him, the face revealing nothing and the deceptively casual slump against the wall, not finding a clue to his thoughts. "I want them to look in areas where we've confirmed a troll presence. If they don't find anything outside of the immediate vicinity we'll know something is covering up their scent, perhaps more."

His eyes darted to the clock behind me. "I'll call a few people. We can discuss the rest of this over lunch, and everyone will be ready to roll a bit after one."

"Perfect." I studied the floor, not that there was anything special about it, to give me something to look at while he called everyone.

"Sandwiches?" he questioned, more for tradition than need.

On the way to the office, I noticed the roads had less snow than I'd expected. Lots of other cars were on the road, and it was staying below freezing so there wasn't much ice.

Salazar's Subs had a big "open" sign flashing in the window, proof that some god favored me. I was able to get a tofu sub and a bag of chips.
 

"Where do you want the shifters to search?" Jones asked, between mouthfuls of the biggest Ruben I'd ever seen.
 

"Around the blast site, and the two murder scenes. I doubt they'll find anything around the blast, but it's worth checking." I munched a few chips while I thought. "What's the latest report on the blast?"

He hurried to swallow. "A group of four, or so, drove a cargo van up there. They set the blast, not entirely correctly as you know, loaded up the trolls, and took off."

"I don't want to spend much time there, just a quick check. I'd like to look at the other two more closely."
 

"Do you want me to send one shifter and his partner to the blast and have them report back?"
 

I considered. I wouldn't be there, but it would be so much more efficient. "What shifters do you have?"

"Two wolves, a jaguar, and a dog."
 

"White?"

"Yup, he's the only kitty with the department."
 

I giggled. "I wouldn't say that to his face."
 

"Eh, it's a running joke."
 

"Anyway, what if we send the weredog to the blast, and take the rest to the chicken farm. Then we can all meet at the house in town. I think we'll find the most at the last place."
 

"Okay. Now, let me make sure I understand. You want us to have the shifters scout around to tell you they can't find anything because, why?

"I think someone's using magic to hide the trolls." I told Jones.

"So, not finding anything will prove that magic is hiding the trolls?"
 

"Yup."

"Why not look for magic?"

Sighing, I put my drink down. "Concealment spells don't work like that, or good ones don't. I'll check, but if they're good at hiding something they would've laid the spell on the trolls. Then there wouldn't be a scent, or magic, left behind for us to follow."

"What if they were bad with magic?"

"Then they'd need to waste a lot more energy to cover the traces as they were left. The better spells take more skill and effort to set, the less effective spells are easier to set, but draw small amounts of energy as something needs to be concealed."

"Let me guess, you'll know what we're dealing with after you know the type of spell that's being used."

"Exactly." I waited until he slurped down the last of his drink before taunting him. "Last one to the car's a rotten egg." I took off, laughing as he swore.
 

Michelle

Ten of us sat down in a small conference room to plan the afternoon. White, a jaguar, and his partner, Walker, were to my left. Across from me was Johnson, a dog, and Walters, a dwarf. The werewolves, Baker and Ray, were sitting closer to Jones. Their partners, Miller and Simmons, were with them.
 

Jones stood up and cleared his throat. "Today we are going to search several areas where we have confirmed troll activity. The shifters will be going out in their animal form in an attempt to track the trolls. Any questions?" He waited for a moment. "Good. White and Walker will be going to the troll preserve. The rest of us are going to the chicken farm and the house in town. Questions or comments?"

"I'm biting anyone that makes a joke about me." Johnson glared are the other guys.

"Why would they make a joke?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "You'll see. And I'm not above biting a woman."

"That's enough. Go shift." Jones shooed the shifters out of the room.

"I'm sorry about Johnson, ma'am," Walters said. "Back in training, some guys made fun of him because his other form is a Golden Retriever."
 

"Oh, thank you. I can see how that would be awkward."
 

Walters said, "He's sensitive."
 

I nodded. That was the kind of thing guys could make jokes about for days. Thanks to Walters' warning, I wasn't surprised when a mass of gold fur trotted through the door. The two werewolves and the jaguar were right behind Johnson. The shifters were buttoned in to vests labeled Police.
 

White and Walker headed to the troll preserve while the rest of us formed a convoy out to the chicken farm. I would've enjoyed the convoy more if it hadn't been such a road block. One police car slows down traffic in both directions as people frantically chant, "Not me, not me!" Four police cars inspire the same fear coupled with curiosity. People want to know what the cops are doing; rubber-necking, gossip, and bad driving results.
 

We pulled in to the chicken farm and rolled over to the still taped-off bit of grass and trees. As long as we stayed at the crime scene, there wasn't a reason to talk to the family. The conversations with them hadn't gone well last time and I didn't care to meet them again.
 

The wolves ran out, eager to stretch their legs. The Golden Retriever was a bit slower, but went to work right away. The rest of us watched them canvas the area, sniffing where the bodies had been, and working outward from there. The three shifters crossed paths, followed each other, branched out, but all came to a stop fifty feet from where the troll's body had been.
 

Walters pulled out a dry erase board, scribbling two lines on it. Johnson trotted over and nosed the top one. The two wolves also nosed the top line.
 

"The trail ends where they sat."
 

"Thanks," I called out as I pulled out my wand. I'd really hoped I wouldn't be needed.
 

I cast a simple spell, letting me see magical residue. The taped-off area showed nothing but a faint glow where the body had been. Outside the tape, there was nothing. I walked all over the areas the shifters had been to, past where they'd stopped, and waded through brush looking for traces of magic.

Rejoining the group, I released the spell. "I didn't get anything. Does the medical examiner still have the body?"

Jones answered, "I don't know. I'll check when we get back. Let's get to the house in town."
 

This drive wasn't as fun as the last one, mostly because of my thoughts. I'd thought Carls was silly for refusing to use his shifters, or any non-humans, to the best of their abilities, but it wouldn't have made any difference in this case. Not being fond of dead bodies, I really didn't want to work on one in hopes of learning about the concealment spell. Working closely with dead bodies made me ill.
 

Jones' phone rang, startling me.
 

"Jones." He listened for a moment before saying, "Oh really? Good. We'll meet you in town."
 

He hung up before addressing me. "They didn't find anything. White was able to find an area he thinks the van was loaded in, but nothing else."

"I expected as much. I've been thinking, could you get that captured troll for me to look at?" Not that I wanted to be near a live troll, but it might be a better than the dead ones.
 

"I might. Thought it would be better if we could use the dead one. The folks at the troll preserve have been hard to deal with lately. The feds have been out there gathering evidence, and three people have been arrested and charged with fraud."
 

"Really?" Best news I've heard all day. Considering how those trolls were being treated, only good things could come from the feds getting involved. "Good. The trolls should be treated better. I've been to other preserves where they're more civilized. You can talk to some of them. They teach classes for their young. They aren't monsters."

"You won't get any arguments from me as long as I'm not on the menu." He chuckled.
 

"What's new with the rest of the organization?"
 

"Eh, we have a few leads, but we're worried about tipping them off. These people are organized, and good at slipping away. We want to get them, but it's been hard to gather evidence when we can't talk to anyone."

"So, you don't know anything?" I questioned. Either he wasn't in the loop, or the police were at a dead end.
 

"We're monitoring e-mail accounts, phone conversations, and we have a few people under surveillance. The phones are hard because most people know to use a disposable, but they tend to slip up and call numbers we can trace, which helps." He sounded aggravated with the bother.
 

"If I can trace the practitioner, a big piece should fall into place." It was a good theory, but I had a problem with it. There weren't many witches independent of clans, and anyone with a clan wouldn't want to face clan justice after branching out on a radical plot like this. Hedge-practitioners wouldn't have the power to cast these concealment spells, and sorcerers were rare. I wasn't sure when the last one had been confirmed. It has to be a witch or sorcerer.
 

"What are the odds you'll find the practitioner?"
 

"I wouldn't put money on it."
 

"Kinda what I thought." He turned a corner and we entered a residential area with cars parked in driveways and on the curb. On the second street, he spied a car without a license plate, quickly calling in the location.
 

White and Walker were already parked in the driveway when we pulled up next to the curb. We gathered in the lawn while the shifters sniffed around. I was frustrated that only Walters and Walker were prepared to communicate with their partners at a moment's notice. No one else had a system like the dry erase boards, or any system that I could see.

The shifters walked back and forth, around the house, into neighbors' yards, and came to a halt in the street two houses down. With a sigh I cast the spell to see magic. There was nothing in the garage, or on the property. Trotting over to where they had stopped, I looked around. Nothing, again. I was tired of the total lack of evidence around these crimes. It wasn't good for me.
 

I shook my head as I walked back. "Jones, let's go back, let the guys shift and we'll talk. I want everyone's thoughts before I start working with dead, autopsied bodies or live trolls looking for an evening snack." Before we left, I thanked the shifters, not wanting to forget.
 

Thankfully, the drive back to the office was short, not long enough for much talking. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to worry about my job. Dozens of ways my business could die as a result of this case flashed through my head, each less comforting and less realistic than the last.
 

Back at the office, the guys shifted back to their human form and were busy chewing down some snacks as we talked. Every power had a cost. Shifting used energy, leaving them hungry.
 

"What did ya'll notice?" Jones started.

Speaking for the group White answered, "Oaks was right. There were scents around the crime scenes, like you'd expect, but nothing further out. The trail stopped. There wasn't a scent to follow. Also, those trolls didn't smell like the trolls out at the preserve."