20. Cheribelle
Cheribelle
Unexpected Guests
“Well, that was a bust,” I groused as we walked into the hideout where all the VanMarches were hiding.
I supposed it was a good thing that we had ruled out the immediate family members of the two other packs, but it felt like a hollow victory.
While none of their emotions lined up with someone pulling off a devious plan, and none of them could shield their emotions to the point of appearing like the blank canvas the Luther-zombie was, it was disappointing not to have any leads at all.
That was probably what I got for cosplaying as a real detective. I should have left it to the professionals, because instead of continuing the legacy of my mother or even helping Paul, I was just wasting a lot of time.
“I wouldn’t call it that,” Paul said as we strode into the underground antechamber.
The first time he brought me here, I had been truly impressed, and I couldn’t help but think of a certain quartet of mutant reptiles who would have loved such fancy and covert digs.
“We eliminated about a dozen suspects, didn’t we?
And now we can be slightly less paranoid when interacting with the other families. ”
“I’ve compiled a database of any significant conflicts there’s been with our pack for the past hundred years,” Penelope said, not even looking up from her laptop.
Although I hadn’t had much time to get to know her, it hadn’t taken more than an hour to figure out that she was insanely smart and driven.
Sometimes, it made me self-conscious of my own meager accomplishments, but I kept that to myself.
However, I couldn’t help but admire that she had chosen to stick around rather than being whisked off to the safety of her fancy law firm in the UK.
“Perhaps we could start there for your next investigation?”
My mood brightened at that, as I’d expected the VanMarches to turn on me for having no results. But it felt like they had more faith in my process than I had. If Paul didn’t know the truth about my empathic abilities, I was pretty sure I would be drowning in guilt.
“Mind if I look at it?” Paul asked, crossing over the sewer-like waterway that dominated the middle of the large room, essentially dividing it into two sections, save for maybe six feet of copper grating smack dab in the middle that connected the halves.
“Please do! I’d love it if you’d help me cross-reference with any records of magic use or if each entrant is even still alive.”
“Let me grab my laptop, and I’ll get right on that. Do you have the file uploaded to our secure drive?” His sister gave him a look that was so very younger sibling of her. “Of course you do.”
While those two locked in on that, I went back to the kayak thing we’d used to paddle through the secret waterway to the antechamber.
I’d been completely shocked at the vast array of tunnels, twists, and turns until Paul had explained that the entire place had built because of Prohibition.
It was amazing what humans and magical folks alike had done to get their drink on.
I pulled out the bag of fast food we’d gotten on the way back.
While there was a full kitchen in the place and it was well stocked, I was at that time in my cycle where I relentlessly craved salt and grease.
Not exactly convenient. But hey, if we really got down to brass tacks and the communists invaded my funhouse while our investigation was still ongoing, we could probably send one of the changelings pretending to be Paul and Chris to the front door to grab my UberEats.
I’d get a delicious meal and maybe lure Luther out all in one fell swoop.
“What’s that there?” Chris asked, stopping his pacing for once.
Although the estate was crawling with disguised detectives, regular cops, and pretty much all the security still willing to work here, it was clear Chris got no comfort from that.
His anxiety was a cyclone above his head spewing out random, billowing geysers of dread.
I had to try quite hard to see anything else besides his ever-growing panic.
“Burgers and chicken sammies. Some fries. You want?” I offered the bag to him. It wasn’t exactly gourmet fare, and it was only lukewarm after our journey here to the antechamber, but I was happy to share it.
Chris wrinkled his nose. “You actually eat that poison?”
I rolled my eyes. “You really wanna call this poison when you have someone literally trying to kill you and your siblings?”
“I’m afraid I can see your logic,” he shot right back before taking the bag and opening it. “Anything off limits?”
“The cheeseburger with the red sticker. It’s got no ketchup on it.”
“Who doesn’t like ketchup?”
“Me, bitch. It’s too sugary. When I get a greasy burger, I want salt, salt, and then more salt.”
“All right then.”
He took one of the non-stickered burgers, which made me happy. I’d asked Paul to buy extras in the hopes that his siblings would indulge. I knew they were used to personal chefs and five-star meals, but sometimes a little junk food did the body good.
Chris wandered off to the lounge area, complete with a massive TV that was wider than my kitchen table.
I couldn’t help but wonder exactly when they’d updated the décor, because I couldn’t imagine sneaking that giant thing in was all that covert.
While his anxiety wasn’t gone, it did ebb ever so slightly, with a slight glimmer of happiness appearing here and there at the sides of his head once he took a big bite of the burger.
Pleased, I looked around to decide where I wanted to settle. Jackson was awfully quiet. From what I’d heard from Paul, he hated his sequestering the most vocally of everyone, but he hadn’t said a lot since the funeral.
I also hadn’t seen him drink.
Paul had offered to pick him up something, just to make sure his withdrawal wasn’t too intense, but apparently his personal supply and accelerated healing was enough to get him through without any obvious symptoms.
Jackson was hunkered over a table in the farthest corner, in the area I’d dubbed the workshop . It wasn’t exactly fully kitted out, but it had plenty of tools and lights to make general tinkering possible.
“Hey, craving some clogged arteries?” I asked, sauntering over to him. He didn’t answer right away, and it wasn’t until I was beside him that I saw what he was working on.
Luther’s left-behind arm was in front of him, partially dissected and only occasionally wriggling its fingers. It was unnerving, that was for sure, and I glanced from him to the limb repeatedly to make sure I was indeed seeing what I was seeing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Huh?” Finally, he looked up, and yikes, he looked worse for wear(wolf, haha). “Oh, Cherry. When did you get back?”
“Just a couple of minutes ago. Whatcha up to here? Find anything interesting? Some big clue to crack the case?”
“Not really,” he said with an oh-so-weary sigh, and I found myself feeling extra bad for the guy.
I knew he used flippancy and glibness like a shield just as much as I did, but that tendency was nowhere about him.
“Where I’m at right now, it’s definitely the work of an artificer, and I think a foreign one most likely. ”
“Foreign? What makes you say that?”
“I found this micro-inscription on some of the parts, and they’re in a language I don’t understand. So not French or Mandarin. Uses the English alphabet, though, from what I’ve figured out, so… I dunno, Italian, maybe?”
Instantly, my interest was piqued. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
Jackson huffed, and for the first time since I met him, I couldn’t smell alcohol on his breath. “What, you think the arm is gonna psychically tell you something? It’s a machine!”
“No, I don’t think that,” I answered calmly. “But I did take shop and engineering for three years. Ever heard of Project Lead the Way?”
He blinked at me, and Penelope’s voice piped up from her side of the room.
“Oh! I know that! I was contemplating joining that program but decided to focus on pursuing what AP courses I could take to put me ahead on my law degree.” Jackson gave her a dubious look and his sister just grinned.
“It’s an engineering program to encourage young girls into related fields. ”
“Oh, okay then,” Jackson said. I had to hand it to him; while he was difficult to convince that he was incorrect, he didn’t object once he was proven wrong. Still, though, I wanted him to know how wrong he was.
“I also did battle robot competitions in my junior and senior year of high school.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and goodness, he looked so much like Paul when he did that. “How many classes did you take?”
“A lot. My mom also sent me to alchemy camp for a couple of summers to round out my education for when my abilities finally manifested.”
He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or roll his eyes. “Anything else, jack-of-all-trades and master of also all of them, apparently?”
“Not really. Unless you count that my first boyfriend was an artificer.”
Now he really did laugh. “Then by all means, take over. I am clearly outclassed and could use a cup of coffee.” He slid off the stool, but paused after only a step away. “Just make sure you keep a firm hold on it. Every now and then, it tries to crawl away like it’s looking for something.”
“Noted.”
As he wandered off to the kitchenette area, I settled in, pulling the magnifying glass and arm closer so I could see the tiny inscription he was talking about.
I didn’t find it before Paul sidled up to me. I expected him to ask me about the arm, or maybe even the burger, but nope, those were not the words that came out of his mouth.
“What’s this about your first boyfriend?” he asked—a little too keenly in my opinion. “When was this?”
I knew that there was no way he could be jealous, but there was no other way to interpret his inquiry when tiny little swirls of jade green occasionally peeked out from underneath his dark hair.