CHAPTER SIX
Nash arrived on time that evening and when I opened the front door, I saw he was carrying a folder.
“Come in,” I invited him.
“Said it before, but I love your house.” He walked across the living room and took a seat on one end of my tan sofa.
“What did you find out?” I asked as I joined him.
Nash passed me the folder. “Sawyer Weston hails from a small rural town in southern Missouri. It’s smack in the middle of the Ozark waterways, national forests, state parks and so on.”
“Okay,” I said, looking over the files he’d put together. I read over Sawyer’s family information quickly. Then I paused.
My heart slammed into my throat and I fought against flinching. Taking a stabilizing breath, I re-read Sawyer’s personal information much more carefully.
“His parents and sister still live in the area. They raise dairy cattle,” Nash said. “Right outside a town called Hemlock Hollow.”
Knowing that my voice would betray me, I silently nodded as Nash spoke.
Sawyer’s hometown was well known to me. It was a preternatural hotspot, you could say. And a place where Vampires, Lycans, Witches and Fae all lived in close quarters with one another.
“Sawyer got a scholarship, attended Auburn and graduated with degrees in history and library sciences,” Nash continued.
“Library sciences?” Thankfully, my voice was steady. “Well, that explains why Sawyer likely had access to Montgomery’s personal library.”
“Right,” he agreed. “As to Shelby Murphy…she’s from Birmingham. No living family. Not much more information to be found about her than what you already knew. Graduated from UAB, works for the history department, and adjunct teacher part-time.”
“Do we know how long she and Sawyer have been a couple?”
Nash nodded. “I did a deep dive into her social media. She’s active on it—Sawyer is not. I went back two years. That’s when I started finding photos of them together. There were several posts with photos of Sawyer, Shelby, and Tadd when they moved into the house in Highland Park.”
I shuffled through the pages and saw a page of printed photos lifted from Shelby’s social media. “How long ago was that?” I asked.
“About a year ago.”
“Were you able to learn anything about Tadd?”
“His last name was Caruthers. He had worked at UAB in the computer science department. He was a tech guy.”
“Maybe that’s how he and Shelby met?” I wondered out loud. “Did you find out anything else about him? Was he Christian or a Pagan?”
“Unclear,” Nash said. “His social media accounts were closed. Probably by his family after his death.”
I nodded and checked the photos again for any religious jewelry that might declare what Tadd’s spiritual beliefs were.
But I saw none. Shelby was a Witch and Sawyer a ceremonialist, both Pagans, and my guess was that if Tadd hadn’t been as well, then he’d either been agnostic or Pagan-curious.
Especially since they were housemates. “Were Tadd’s people from the Birmingham area? ”
“No,” Nash said. “The Caruthers were from Mobile, Alabama. Tadd was buried in the Episcopal Church cemetery beside his grandparents.”
I sighed, sadly. “Do the police have any leads in his murder?”
“The police think it might have been a B and E gone wrong.”
“Breaking and entering,” I murmured.
“They figure the killer was looking for something and they’re not sure if the assailant killed Tadd before or after they searched for it. But bottom line. It was a violent death.” Nash paused for a moment. “Did Montgomery tell you what state the body was in when he found it?”
“No.” I gulped.
“Do you want to know?”
No, I did not. “Tell me,” I said anyway.
“The murder weapon was a double-sided blade. Long and extremely sharp.”
“Like a sword?” I asked.
“A sword is one of the theories,” Nash said. “But who in the hell walks around with a sword to conduct a B and E?”
The hair rose off the back of my neck. I knew of one particular race of Supernaturals that did use swords…and obsidian tipped spears...
“And with no other leads,” Nash was saying, “now the police investigation has shifted toward Sawyer and Shelby.”
Dread and fear were racing through my body, and I worked hard to not let Nash see how this information about Tadd’s death had affected me.
By the old gods, I thought, barely managing to repress a shudder.
Sawyer had come from Hemlock Hollow—a locale known for the variety of its Supernatural community including at least two races of the Fae.
Dex, the best psychic I knew, had told me he couldn’t get a clear picture of the situation because it felt like there was a glamour thrown down, the missing grimoire was of Fae origin, and Tadd—Sawyer and Shelby’s housemate—had been violently murdered with a sword.
And when I’d tried to communicate with Tadd’s spirit, all I’d seen was a disorienting blur of images, sounds and feelings.
Then I’d been blocked out and pushed back from the house.
What if it had been a Fae glamour to try and cover their presence in the mortal world?
I’d spent the past two weeks watching for any other signs of the Fae—or their particular brand of violence—and had seen none.
But now with this new information, everything had changed.
“Montgomery should really tell the police about the antique book that Sawyer stole,” Nash was saying, and I snapped my attention back to him.
“You told me that it was valuable,” Nash continued. “The cops can’t do a decent job investigating if they don’t have the whole picture.”
“Agreed,” I said. “However, the stolen item is not merely an old book. It’s ancient and I’d bet enchanted.”
“Whoa.” Nash’s eyebrows rose. “You mean like a personal spell book?”
“Exactly. And its provenance is not...local, you could say.”
“It’s from Europe or something?” He frowned. “And what does provenance mean?”
“In archeological terms ‘provenance’ is the documented history of an artifact’s ownership, custody and location,” I explained, purposefully not correcting his assumption that the book was European in origin.
“Hmm.” Nash folded his arms as he leaned back. “So does that mean the book isn’t the legal property of Montgomery?”
I chose my next words with care. “He told me that he had inherited it from his grandfather.”
“And did he say how his grandfather had acquired it?”
“No, he did not.”
“You’re doing that thing again Lorna. Where what you don’t say is louder than what you do.”
I set the files aside and folded my hands in my lap. Pressing them firmly together, I hoped that Nash wouldn’t notice that they were shaking. “There are some things you’re better off not knowing, Nash.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Do you think—hypothetically—that someone would commit a murder to get their hands on this old book?”
“That’s an excellent theory,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice even and calm.
But down in my gut I was scared.
Very few things in this world truly frightened me, but the Fae were one of them.
Nash sent me a long considering look. “You need to speak to Montgomery and convince him to let the cops know the whole story with Sawyer and the stolen book.” He rose to his feet.
“I get that this is a magick thing, but this magickal problem has bled over into the mundane world, with deadly consequences.”
“I’ll speak to him,” I said, standing. “You have my word.”
“My bill is in with the folder,” Nash reminded me.
“I’ll settle the bill this week,” I promised, escorting Nash to the door.
“Take care, Lorna,” Nash said.
“I will,” I said, and watched as he walked to his car. After exchanging a wave with Nash, I let myself back in and locked the door behind me. Now that I was alone once more, I dropped the polite mask that I’d had on while Nash had been here.
My eyes went up to the old horseshoe I had nailed over my door. Most folks considered it to be decorative and a rustic nod to old folklore—a way to bring good luck to the home. In reality, what they missed was that it was also iron, and iron repelled the Fae.
That wasn’t the only ward I had on my home to keep the Fae out, but it was the most noticeable.
Truth was, I had iron secreted everywhere in the house, as well as red verbena in my window boxes, and a rowan tree planted in the front yard.
Plus, I also had St. John’s wort, primrose, and foxglove—all blooming herbs that protected from faerie magick—planted in the flower gardens in the back.
Suddenly, the pressure of having my hair pulled tightly back was too much. Undoing the clip from my hair, I dragged a shaking hand through it and let loose a string of curse words.
And I kept going until my imagination ran dry.
Once I had that out of my system, I shook myself off and faced some hard facts. The god damned Fae were involved in this. They had to be. And I had a horrible feeling that Sawyer and Shelby had been either coerced into acquiring the grimoire for them...or they were doing it voluntarily.
It was the worst possible news, yet it also made the most sense. “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” I recited the Author Conan Doyle quote from Sherlock Holmes from memory.
I marched over to the end table where I’d placed my cell phone, selected a contact from my list, and put the call through. It was answered on the second ring, and I didn’t bother with any social niceties.
“We need to talk,” I said. “Immediately.”
“How lovely to hear from you Lorna.” Charles Montgomery’s voice was smooth and amused.
“Cut the crap, Montgomery,” I snapped. “Are you home right now?”
“I am.”
“I’m coming over,” I said even as I snatched up my purse and car keys. “There’s things we need to discuss that are better done in person, rather than over a cell phone.”
“Understood,” he said. “Do you need directions?”
“No,” I said. “I know where you live. In that fancy uptown penthouse apartment.”
Still, he gave me instructions for entering the parking garage and followed that up with, “I’ll tell the parking valet to expect you. He will show you to the private elevator for the East Penthouse.”