The Good, The Bad and The Undead. Ким Харрисон

I sank back. “Don’t you want to question some of his neighbors?” I asked.

      “I’ll do it tomorrow when the sun is up and you’re at class.”

      My eyebrows rose. According to the receipt Edden had given me, class ran from four to six. It was an excellent time to be knocking on doors, when humans would be coming home, diurnal Inderlanders well up, and nightwalkers stirring. And the area felt like a mixed neighborhood.

      A couple came out of a nearby apartment, arguing as they got into a shiny car and drove away. She was late for work. It was his fault, if I was following the conversation properly.

      Bored, and a little nervous, I dug in my bag until I found a finger stick and one of my detection amulets. I loved these things—the detection amulet, not the finger stick—and after pricking my finger for three drops of blood to invoke it, I found that there was no one but Glenn and me within a thirty-foot radius. I draped it about my neck like my old I.S. badge as a little red car pulled into the lot. The cat on the railing stretched before dropping out of sight onto the balcony.

      It was Sara Jane, and she whipped her car into the spot directly behind us. Glenn took notice, saying nothing as we got out and angled our paths to meet her.

      “Hi,” she said, her heart-shaped face showing her worry in the light from the street lamp. “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” she added, her voice carrying the professional air of the office.

      “Not at all, ma’am,” Glenn said.

      I tugged my leather coat closer against the cold as she jingled her keys, fumbling for one that still carried a shiny, new-cut veneer and opened the door. My pulse increased, and I glanced at my amulet with thoughts of Trent going through me. I had my splat gun, but I wasn’t a brave person. I ran away from big-bad-uglies. It increased my life span dramatically.

      Glenn followed Sara Jane in as she flipped on the lights, illuminating the porch and apartment both. Nervous, I crossed the threshold, wavering between closing the door to keep anyone from following me in and leaving it open to keep my escape route available. I opted to leave it cracked.

      “You got a problem?” Glenn whispered as Sara Jane made her confident way to the kitchen, and I shook my head. The town house had an open floor plan with almost the entire downstairs visible from the doorway. Stairs ran a straight, unimaginative pathway to the second floor. Knowing my amulet would warn me if anyone new showed up, I relaxed. There was no one here but us three and the cat yowling on the second-floor balcony.

      “I’ll go up and let Sarcophagus in,” Sara Jane said as she headed for the stairs.

      My eyebrows rose. “That’s the cat, right?”

      “I’ll come with you, ma’am,” Glenn offered, and he thumped upstairs after her.

      I did a quick reconnaissance of the downstairs while they were gone, knowing we’d find nothing. Trent was too good to leave anything behind; I just wanted to see what kind of a guy Sara Jane liked. The kitchen sink was dry, the garbage can was stinky, the computer monitor was dusty, and the cat box was full. Clearly Dan hadn’t been home in a while.

      The floorboards above me creaked as Glenn walked through the upstairs. Perched on the TV was the same picture of Dan and Sara Jane aboard the steamer. I picked it up and studied their faces, setting the framed photo back on the TV as Glenn clumped downstairs. The man’s shoulders took up almost the entirety of the narrow stairway. Sara Jane was silent behind him, looking small and walking sideways in her heels.

      “Upstairs looks fine,” Glenn said as he rifled through the stack of mail on the kitchen counter. Sara Jane opened the pantry. Like everything else, it was well-organized. After a moment of hesitation, she pulled out a pouch of moist cat food.

      “Mind if I check his e-mails?” I asked, and Sara Jane nodded, her eyes sad. I jiggled the mouse to find that Dan had a dedicated, always-on line just like Ivy. Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t have been doing this, but as long as no one said anything…From the corner of my eye I watched Glenn run his eyes over Sara Jane’s smartly cut business dress as she tore the bag of cat food open, and then down my outfit as I bent over the keyboard. I could tell by his look that he thought my clothes were unprofessional, and I fought back a grimace.

      Dan had a slew of unopened messages, two from Sara Jane and one with a university address. The rest were from a hard-rock chat room of some sort. Even I knew better than to open any of them, tampering with evidence should he turn up dead.

      Glenn ran a hand across his short hair, seemingly disappointed that he had found nothing unusual. I was guessing it wasn’t because Dan was missing but that he was a witch, and as such should have dead monkey heads hanging from the ceiling. Dan appeared to be an average, on his own young man. He was perhaps tidier than most, but Sara Jane wouldn’t date a slob.

      Sara Jane set a bowl of food on the placement next to a water bowl. A black cat slunk downstairs at the clink of porcelain. It hissed at Sara Jane, not coming to eat until she left the kitchen. “Sarcophagus doesn’t like me,” she said needlessly. “He’s a one-person familiar.”

      A good familiar was like that. The best chose their owners, not the other way around. The cat finished the food in a surprisingly short amount of time, then jumped onto the back of the couch. I scratched the upholstery and he came close to investigate. He stretched out his neck and touched my finger with his nose. It was how cats greeted each other, and I smiled. I’d love to have a cat, but Jenks would pix me every night for a year if I brought one home.

      Remembering my stint as a mink, I shuffled through my purse. Trying to be discreet, I invoked an amulet to do a spell check on the cat. Nothing. Not satisfied, I dug deeper for a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Ignoring Glenn’s questioning look, I popped open the hard case and carefully put the so-ugly-they-could-work-as-birth-control glasses on. I had bought them last month, spending three times my rent with the excuse that they were tax deductible. The ones that didn’t make me look like a nerd reject would’ve cost me twice that.

      Ley line magic could be bound in silver just as earth magic could be kept in wood, and the wire frames were spelled to let me see through disguises invoked by ley line magic. I felt kind of cheesy using them, thinking that it dumped me back into the realm of warlocks in that I was using a charm that I couldn’t make. But as I scratched Sarcophagus’s chin, sure now by the lack of any change that he wasn’t Dan trapped in a cat’s form, I decided I didn’t care.

      Glenn turned to the phone. “Would you mind if I listened to his messages?” he asked.

      Sara Jane’s laugh was bitter. “Go ahead. They’re from me.”

      The snap of the hard case was loud as I put my glasses away. Glenn punched the button, and I winced as Sara Jane’s recorded voice came into the silent apartment. “Hey, Dan. I waited an hour. It was Carew Tower, right?” There was a hesitation, then a distant, “Well, give me a call. And you’d better get some chocolate.” Her voice turned playful. “You’ve got some serious groveling to do, farm boy.”

      The second was even more uncomfortable. “Hi, Dan. If you’re there, pick up.” Again a pause. “Um, I was just kidding about the chocolate. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you. ’Bye.”

      Sara Jane stood in the living room, her face frozen. “He wasn’t here when I came over, and I haven’t seen him since,” she said softly.

      “Well,” Glenn said as the machine clicked off, “we haven’t found his car yet, and his toothbrush and razor are still here. Wherever he is, he hadn’t planned on staying. It looks like something has happened.”

      She bit her lip and turned away. Amazed at his lack of tact, I gave Glenn a murderous look. “You have the sensitivity of a dog in heat, you know that?” I whispered.

      Glenn glanced at Sara Jane’s hunched shoulders. “Sorry, ma’am.”

      She turned, a miserable smile on her. “Maybe I should take Sarcophagus home…”

      “No,” I