Chapter 9
“You know,” I say to Gemma, taking a drink of lemonade, “there was a time when I used to feel uneasy when I wasn’t working. Which sounds really pathetic now that I say it out loud.”
“I love not working.” Gemma adjusts her sunglasses and leans back.
We’re sitting outside soaking up the sun.
I can’t remember the last time I laid out and tried to get tan.
High school, maybe? The only swimsuits I own are one piece and far from sexy, and the only reason I own them at all is because I used to swim as part of my workout.
“Though I do love being a nurse. Well, sometimes. The management side of it sucks. Healthcare is all about making money, which is disheartening, really.”
“Most stuff is about money.”
She turns to me, squinting as the sun hits her right in the face. “Have you ever been offered money to let someone off easy?”
“I have.”
“You’ve never taken it, I know that for sure. But were you tempted?”
“No. I moved into homicide fairly quickly, and no amount of money is worth more than a life. To me, at least.”
“If only all people in law enforcement positions thought the same as you.”
I raise my eyebrows and shake my head. “Right? The country would be a much better place than it is already.”
Gemma sighs. “I stopped watching the news last year because it just depressed me. Though I do check BuzzFeed pretty much daily. They have some uplifting stuff every now and then.”
I laugh and finish my lemonade. I’m already hot and know my ass is going to stick to this plastic lounge chair when I get up. I get wanting to have a tan, but how can people do this for hours? Being hot and sweaty aside, I’m going to get bored.
Which only goes to show how much I need to do this. I’m not good at relaxing.
“What made you want to go into nursing?” I ask.
“I like taking care of people,” Gemma says. “I wanted to be a doctor for a while, but there was no way I could have afforded that much schooling, and the sooner I could get a job and move away from Crazy Town the better.”
“Oh, right.” After Gemma’s parents died in a car crash, she was sent to live with her Amish aunt and uncle. “I don’t blame you there. They didn’t want you to go to college, did they?”
“Oh hell no. Sinners and sluts went to college.” She shudders, and I know it’s not from being cold. A few minutes of silence pass us by. “What else is out here?” Gemma asks, sitting up. A slight breeze blows against my skin and it feels amazing.
“Some outbuildings that are all pretty run-down. And then woods. As far as I know, there’s nothing in them.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
I shrug. “The guys have been all over them and haven’t said anything. But no, I haven’t explored them.”
Her eyebrows go up. “Want to?”
“Now? It’s hotter than hell out here.”
“Oh, come on, the woods will be a good ten degrees cooler from the shade.”
“Really?”
She gives me a look. “You’re not very outdoorsy, are you?”
“I mean, in the sense that I like to run outside, yes. But I don’t go hiking or camping.”
“You should. I have a feeling becoming more in tune with nature—or being a survivalist—could be useful one day.”
“You’re probably right. I didn’t really think about it in that sense.”
“So, want to go exploring?”
I smile at her sense of adventure, though I don’t consider walking around my own property “exploring.” Though really, that’s exactly what we’re doing.
“Yeah. Let me put pants on first.”
“Good idea. And you might want to grab a hat. Ticks can be bad this time of year.”
We get up and head into the house. “It’s kind of weird to think of you growing up Amish,” I tell her. “Having to wear those dresses and hats…” I shake my head. “It seems so oppressive to women.”
“Some of it was. But others in the community have come a long way and women rule the roost. Not everyone was as insane as my aunt and uncle.” She heads up the stairs toward her room. She took the guest room on the opposite side of the house, farthest from the master bedroom.
This old brick house is huge, with more than enough rooms for us each to have our own.
I swallow the lump that’s rising in my throat as the thought enters my mind.
I’ve worked hard all morning to ignore the sour taste in my mouth that’s constantly reminding me we’re only weeks away from total destruction.
I sound dramatic, I know, but really…that’s what it’ll be. The guys are my family. I love them with all my heart. We’re unconventional, but we work. We work so fucking well.
I go into my room and change out of my swimsuit, putting on leggings and a tank top instead.
I have to yank the leggings up over my sweaty legs, but the loose-fitting tank feels good at least. I grab socks, pull my hair into a low ponytail, and put on a hat.
I get downstairs only a minute before Gemma, and we set out toward the backyard together.
“There’s nothing cool in the old shed?” she asks.
“Nope. Unless you think the biggest wasp nest in the history of wasp nests is cool.”
She laughs. “You haven’t taken it down?”
“I don’t want to. Besides…I got the lawn mower out and don’t need anything else from inside. I’ll pretend me leaving it up is helping the ecosystem or something.”
“Spoken like a true earth witch,” Gemma jokes, and swats away bugs. We make it another few yards when the motion sensor gets triggered, causing an alert on my phone.
“A deer?” Gemma asks as we turn around. The house is obstructing our line of sight to the driveway.
“I’m guessing no,” I say, pulling up the app on my phone. “Not at this hour. Jared, maybe. But he hasn’t texted me yet to say he was on his way.”
Gemma steps close, looking over my shoulder at the phone. “The internet is so fucking slow out here.”
“Tell me about it.” I take a few steps toward the house, irritated the stupid app isn’t opening.
This whole security system is starting to seem like a waste of money.
Finally, it pops up. “There’s someone at the house,” I say, watching a live-stream of a man in a black suit standing on the porch.
He probably already knocked and is waiting for someone to answer.
“Should we hide?” Gemma asks, grabbing my arm. She flits her eyes to the shed, and I know she’s thinking about hiding behind it.
“No.” I roll my neck and feel the fire crackle inside me. “It might be a solicitor and I can tell him to fuck off. I’m not looking for Jesus and I already donate to the charity of my fucking choice.”
She nods. “And if it’s not a solicitor?”
I bring my free hand up in front of me, letting magic spark at my fingertips. “I’ll be ready.” I close my fist and put out the flames. “And witch aside, I’m a cop, Gem. I don’t run away from danger. It’s my job to go after it. Catch the bad guys and everything.”
“I know.” She nods. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
I roll my eyes. She fits in well with the family with her unnecessary worrying. I switch camera views and see a black sedan in the driveway. It’s running, and there’s someone in the driver’s side. It’s hard to make out any detailed features since the windows are tinted.
I switch camera views again and see the man in the suit standing back.
His face is relaxed and his gaze is on the floor.
His arms are behind his back, and he’s holding something in one of his hands.
A piece of paper, maybe? It’s hard to make out from this angle.
Plus the camera is clear and all, but it’s not like it’s shooting in 4K.
“Want to hang back?” I ask Gemma, giving her the option to sneak in the back or something. I know she’s freaked out.
“No,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’m coming with you. If anyone wants to hurt you, they’ll have to go through me. Which probably won’t take long, so summon that fire fast.”
“I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”
Gemma meets my eyes and smiles. “I know. I believe you.”
“Just stay behind me. Let’s go into this suspicious but not obviously so.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
We round the corner of the house, and I look right into the driver’s seat of the sedan. Whoever is inside stiffens, and if the sun weren’t so bright and reflecting off the windshield, I might be able to get a look at who’s inside.
“Can I help you?” I call out, causing the man on the porch to jump. He looks at the front door and then at us, blinking rapidly. He hurries off the porch, moving with grace. The guy has to be hot in that suit on a day like today.
“Yes, I certainly hope so. I’m looking for the homeowner.”
Homeowner…interesting. He didn’t ask for me by name, which means he might not know it.
“May I ask why?”
The man beams. “Of course, and my apologies, ladies, for not introducing myself. I’m Charles Miller, here on behalf of Mr. Trent.” He pauses as if that means something to either of us. “Mr. Trent sends a warm invitation to the owner of this historical home to meet with him for lunch tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Mr. Trent is a history enthusiast and is interested in purchasing the house.”
I blink, keeping my calm demeanor. Gemma, on the other hand, stiffens and grabs my wrist.
“The house isn’t for sale,” I say with a polite smile. “Sorry you drove all the way out here, but the owner isn’t interested in selling.”
He steps forward and I lean in, trying to see if he smells like sulfur. I might have crossed a social line right there, but fuck it. Charles gives me a weird look and extends his hand, giving me the envelope.
“Perhaps you’ll change your mind. Old houses like this require a lot of upkeep that can be quite costly.” He looks past us to the spot on the porch where Thomas and Gilbert used to sit in stone form.
“The house is in good shape,” I press. “And the homeowner is more than happy to pay for the upkeep.”
“Right.” He gives me a pleasant smile and turns to look at the house once more. “Good day.”
I nod in response, watching him scuttle to the car and get in the back. He pulls a phone from his suit pocket as soon as he’s in, and I see the glow of the screen through the window as they drive away.
“Well that was creepy,” Gemma says, shaking her head. We both turn and watch the car drive away. “Do you think that’s what that guy wanted? Your house?”
I look at the envelope in my hand. “Maybe. It would make sense, and support your theory of something valuable being hidden inside.” I turn the envelope over and see the same symbol pressed into the wax seal.
“The house itself is big and fancy and all, but I don’t think it’s magical on its own.
” I peel off the wax seal and pull an invitation out of the envelope.
“What does it say?” Gemma asks before I even get a chance to read it.
“Uh,” I start, scanning the invite over with my eyes. “Some guy named Mr. Trent wants me to join him for lunch tomorrow at some swanky hotel in the city.”
“What?”
“It’s an invitation,” I say, and hold it up for her to read. Everything is written in black ink, and the handwriting is the same as the writing on the letter.
Please join me for lunch at the High Tower at noon tomorrow. Come alone. Kindly RSVP by eight-thirty tonight by texting the number provided below. -Mr. Trent
“Please tell me you’re not going to go.”
I shake my head. “No, no way.” I make a face. “Well, I mean probably not. I’d be so out of place at a fancy hotel like that.”
“Ace!” Gemma takes my arm and whirls me toward her. “Even I know it’s a trap! This guy has been watching you for God knows how long, sent a golem to terrorize the city, and knows too much about you already.”
“I know.” I take a step toward the front porch. “But I’ll meet him. Meet the guy who’s behind it all. Get the chance to end it all.”
Gemma rolls her eyes. “You’re good, Ace, but come on. You don’t think he’s already ten steps ahead? This meeting is his idea, probably on his turf.”
I frown. “I know. But the restaurant inside the hotel is a public place. If he wanted to attack, I think he would have instead of inviting me out for lunch. I’ll question him, put a spell on him, hell, I’ll even arrest him.”
“On what charge?”
I shrug. “I’ll make something happen to warrant an arrest if need be. I won’t be able to keep him, and everyone at work will think I’ve lost it, but there’s a good chance they already do anyway.”
“It’s not that bad at work, is it?” Gemma unlocks and opens the front door. We closed all the blinds and curtains today and have the AC units cranked up as high as they can go. It helps, but it doesn’t replace central air.
“Not yet. I might not seem crazy, but I definitely will seem like I’ve suddenly lost my talent. And common sense.” I shake my head. “That’s not the point right now.”
“Right. The point is you’re considering saying yes to this weirdo’s lunch date.”
“It’s not a date. And look.” I hold up the invitation. “It’s the same handwriting as before. It’s the same guy. This Mr. Trent is the one who sent me the files and the letter the other night. He has answers about my parents’ deaths.”
“And he also has some magical abilities,” Gemma points out. “He did summon and send a golem. That’s not beginners’ magic, Ace. That’s complicated stuff that I don’t even think Lyra would say is possible.”
“I know,” I agree.
“See? Promise me you won’t go. That you know this is a setup.”
I close the door behind me and shoot the deadbolt into place. “I think it’s a setup too. But what other choice do I have? What if he sends another golem out into the city? Or something worse than a golem?”
“There are worse things than golems?” Gemma’s shoulders tense.
“Yes. A lot worse.” I exhale, realizing for the first time since the motion sensor went off that my heart is still racing. “I have to go, Gemma. There’s no way around it.”