Hekate's Chalice Read online

  “The witch’s name is Bathsheba White and she lives in Lakeside.”

  “Send Jason over to join Nikki–she’ll text you the address–he can take a taxi. Send me the Lakeside address and tell Gemma to head over there right away, ‘cos it’ll be a while before I can get there. And let her know my strict instructions are to observe and tackle nothing on her own. Good work, Zhanna.”

  ***

  Gemma slouched behind the steering wheel. She was proud of the secondhand Jazz Blue Pearl Dodge coupe, the first car she’d owned in a while, and only possible because JB had taken her and Jason on six months ago. Jason was good with machines and sorted any problems. The steady money made life bearable, and the new apartment was better than the old even if it was in the same shabby area of town. At least they had a bedroom each, instead of Jason on the sofa in the living room.

  With the lunchtime traffic, it might take JB the better part of an hour to get here from the hospital. Gemma thought about the way he’d studied her in the bar last night. She knew he liked her, but wouldn’t do anything about it because she was in a relationship, though she wasn’t sure this thing between her and Xander fit such a description. She admired her boss for having standards—not something she’d seen a lot of growing up in care homes and being shuffled from one foster home to another, and heard of his bad boy reputation, but she hadn’t yet seen any behavior that warranted the rumors.

  The sight of a sleek black Mercedes pulling up outside the witch’s condo, one of four set on the corner of the quiet tree-lined boulevard, dispelled her ruminations. Sliding down a tad more, Gemma grabbed the camera and took half a dozen photos. “Now this is interesting,” she muttered to herself as the daemon from the nightclub’s security footage climbed out of the vehicle. She took more shots as he entered the apartment block. Grabbing her phone, she called JB.

  “Gemma? Everything all right?”

  “I’m outside Bathsheba’s place, and that daemon we saw her speaking with on the tape from the club arrived and went inside.”

  “Do nothing till I get there. Even if he comes out and leaves, don’t follow him, but make sure you get the plate number–”

  “Got it.”

  “And wait. That’s an order. We have no idea how much power this daemon possesses, but he’s running around town in daylight, which means none of us can handle him alone. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but the traffic through Central is a nightmare.”

  “Okey dokey, boss. Will do.” She smiled. Cute but he gives too many orders, she thought. Turning her attention back to the street, she took another shot of the daemon’s car. She was flattered and annoyed when JB acted protectively toward her—as if she hadn’t been looking out for herself and Jason since as far back as she could remember.

  Ten minutes later the daemon hurried out of the building and toward his car.

  Gemma took a few more shots, this time getting several clear pictures of his face.

  As he opened the car door, his head came up, and he searched around slowly as if he sensed someone watching him.

  Gemma slid further down behind the wheel, hoping she’d been quick enough to avoid detection. Her phone buzzed, and she stretched out a hand and snatched it off the dashboard.

  Xander’s text message was short. ‘So sorry to end things this way. It’s me, not you, but I’m not ready for a serious relationship. Take care of yourself.’

  She stared at the phone in disbelief. He’d dumped her by text! “May you catch every disease, venereal and otherwise, on the planet. May the devil shrivel your bits and you die sad and alone, and in great pain.” She continued cursing Xander as she heard the daemon drive off, and waited, muttering under her breath till the street was quiet again before she sat up. At least JB hadn’t been here when she got the message. She was about to ring him when the witch walked out the door. What had Zhanna said her name was? Bathsheba? Picking up the camera, still swearing, Gemma quashed the surge of envy as the woman, a fashion plate in a red beret, matching red coat, and over-the-knee, red leather boots climbed into what looked like a brand new red Chevy Camaro, revved the engine and drove off. Whatever she was up to, Gemma thought, evidently paid well.

  Chapter Six: Wednesday, 2.30pm

  The neighborhood was derelict with hardly a soul in sight, and an air of abandonment and decay permeated the district. The rising wind blew tattered bits of trash along the sidewalk, and the sky had clouded over with sullen steel-gray clouds heavy with the threat of rain as Jason joined Nikki outside thirty-six Russet Avenue. The single story bungalow built around the turn of the previous century was one of three positioned between two empty dilapidated apartment buildings, which looked as if they’d collapse of their own volition if someone didn’t come and demolish them soon.

  Jason and Nikki looked distinctly out of place and made an odd couple–the suavely dressed young man and the slender Goth–as he led the way up to the house, and rapped on the outer screen door. Even from where they stood they could hear a woman’s raised voice and a kid crying. Jason knocked again.

  A solidly built middle-aged man, complete with potbelly and hamburger in hand, opened the door. Two young boys of about eight and ten pushed in front of their father and gazed up in wide-eyed in astonishment at Nikki. The man shooed the boys inside and stepped out onto the porch. “What do you want? I paid the rent two days ago,” he growled. “And you’re interrupting my lunch.”

  “Oh, no, sir,” Jason replied smoothly, “we were admiring your car, and wondered how long you have had it. You see my ...” he paused for the barest fraction, “sister here is looking for something similar.”

  Nikki blinked and swallowed a laugh, somehow keeping a straight face.

  Once the man, who gave his name as Jack Bailey, discovered they hadn’t been sent by his landlord, he was more than willing to answer their questions. He told them he’d bought the vehicle at a secondhand dealership the same day he’d paid his rent and showed them the registration papers.

  “We need to check out Marco’s dealership,” Nikki said as they walked back up the weed-choked path. The woman’s shouting and the kid’s crying started again. “Did you notice the previous owner was listed as Jane Dough, spelled as in bread? I mean, really? How much intelligence can this Marco have? I get the feeling he’s not a very upstanding a citizen. Here, you drive.” She tossed him the car keys. “You know you’ve got a real easy way with people. That’s very useful for this job. Think I’ll rename you Jason Silvertongue. What’s your heritage?”

  “Thank you.” Jason gave a little bow as he slid into the driving seat. “By the way, how are things at home?”

  Nikki noticed he didn’t answer the question about his parents. She knew the twins were orphans, and wondered if he knew what talents his parents had possessed. She let it slide. Whatever his history, he wasn’t ready to share it with her. “If you mean how are my mother and Juan getting along, well, they’re trying, and it’s fine at the moment. Her MS is in remission and Juan’s away on business. He’s a pharmaceutical rep and travels a lot, otherwise, even temporarily, this wouldn’t work.”

  “I thought you seemed calmer,” Jason said as he started the engine. “It can’t be easy having your mother and your boyfriend in the same small apartment.”

  “Juan’s back tomorrow, and we got two larger apartments lined up to view, so, fingers crossed. How’s things with you?”

  Jason grinned ruefully. “Well, as it turned out, last night’s date was the best friend of Milly, and I went out with Milly on Tuesday. The second she realized I was that Jason, she threw her wine in my face and walked out. Ruined a good shirt, too.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever want a serious relationship?”

  “Yeah, sure. One day. When I’m ready.”

  “And I’m guessing that’s not going to be anytime soon, eh?”

  Jason was saved from answering as Marco’s dealership came into view. They were on the outskirts of the city’s old industrial district, and the area was fu
ll of empty rusting factories left for nature to reclaim as people moved from manufacturing to newer more lucrative businesses.

  “This is shade-loka. Can’t you feel them? I wouldn’t want to be here at night.” Nikki shivered.

  The banner at the front of Marco’s lot said ‘Quality Cars for Cash’ and was filled with used cars in various states of disrepair. A battered trailer, presumably the office, sat at the rear.

  They threaded their way through the vehicles, most of which on closer inspection were ready for the junkyard, and found the owner sitting on the steps of his so-called office reading a dog-eared car magazine.

  “Afternoon,” he flashed a set of yellowing teeth below a thick graying mustache. “See anything you fancy, I’m open to negotiation.” He stood to greet them, his sales pitch tripping off his tongue with practiced ease.

  “Mr. Marco?” Jason asked.

  “None other,” he flashed the cheesy smile again. “And how can I help you, fine folks, today?”

  Jason pulled out a card. “We’re from Staywell Insurance, and one of our clients has made a claim. We’re here to verify the client’s information,” he explained. He offered the business card to Marco for inspection.

  Marco glanced at his hand and nodded. “So what’s the name of your client?”

  “Jane Dough,” Jason said.

  Marco’s expression morphed from the phony salesman smelling a sucker to a hard-eyed shyster. “Don’t recall any such customer. When did you say this was?”

  “We didn’t.” Nikki stepped in front of Jason, catching Marco’s attention.

  His eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down and recognized she wasn’t fully human. Before he could respond, Nikki leaned forward, fixed her silver-gray eyes on him, and froze him in place. “Who sold you that vehicle?” Her eyes held him motionless—he didn’t even blink. “Tell me,” she insisted.

  “Perry White,” Marco replied in a monotone.

  “That’s a good boy, Marco. You’ve been more than helpful. Sit and read your magazine and forget we were ever here. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Marco obediently sat and picked up reading where he’d left off, ignoring Jason and Nikki as they walked away.

  “Wow, I’m impressed. That was a neat trick. Can you teach me how to do that?” Jason said as they returned to the car. “I feel sorry for Jack Bailey, but I’m sure Mr. Slipovatch will be happy to have his car back. “

  “If we inform the police that is. “

  Jason’s eyes widened.

  “What? I’m sure Slipovatch’s insurance will provide him with a brand new car, and you think ol’ Marco back there is going to refund Bailey his money?”

  “Okay. It’s your call. Are we mentioning this to the boss?”

  “I think he’s got enough on his plate right now. Maybe later, if your conscience is bothering you?”

  “My conscience?” Jason snorted. “Hey, phone Zhanna and get her to look into this Perry White will you?” He turned up his jacket collar as a fine rain began to fall.

  “Nope.” Nikki’s lips drew into a thin line.

  “But I’m driving.”

  “I’ll drive, and you can phone. After all, I obtained the info we needed.”

  “What is your problem?”

  “The problem is Zhanna! That flying know-it-all interfering vain little splodge of a puffball!”

  The puzzlement on Jason’s face cleared, and he grinned. “Oh, I see.”

  Nikki glared at him. “Well, hurry up. I’m getting wet.”

  “No worries. I’ll phone.” He tossed her the car keys.

  Jason smiled, and his eyes twinkled as he spoke to Zhanna. She was back to him in less than a minute. “What a surprise. It seems this Mr. Perry White has a sister, one witch, of the name, Bathsheba.”

  Chapter Seven: Thursday, 10am

  JB drained the last of his expresso and put aside the constant worry over his father. “Before the Sanderson soap opera begins, let’s summarize what we know so far about the chalice case.”

  Gemma opened a giant box of donuts and pushed them into the center of the table.

  As eager hands reached out to snatch favorites, Zhanna squeaked, “The one with the sprinkles is mine!” Today she’d assumed the guise of a CEO, her silver blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, smart black suit, and high heels.

  JB talked right over the munching and smacking of lips and slurping of coffee. “First, we saw one of Hekate’s witches, Bathsheba White, meet with a daemon at the Sweet Blood vamp nightclub last week. And I sensed something of a daemon presence when I talked with Hekate at the coven house the other day.”

  “You never mentioned d... d… daemons.” Zhanna wings fluttered in anxiety. Daemons coveted faeries with a greed greater than that of humans for gold. “Yes, sorry Zhanna, I have a lot on my mind, and I didn’t want to worry you till we found out a bit more. Anyway, I’m mentioning it now. Second, the same daemon was seen going in and out of the apartment block where one of the coven witches, Bathsheba White, lives. I think we can safely assume it was her he was visiting. And third, what this connection means, we still have to find out, but it’s too much of a coincidence that Bathsheba’s brother, Perry White recently sold the stolen car that tried to tail me. And the car that hit my father has disappeared from the face of the earth. Any thoughts, people?”

  “Perhaps whoever stole the chalice, knew Hekate would ask your father to help, so increased their chances of success by removing him from the picture first?” Jason offered.

  “Seems a convoluted way of doing things,” Nikki answered.

  “Unless that person already has a grudge against your father, and wanted to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.” Gemma chimed in.

  “Yeah, literally kill.” Zhanna scooped up a large dollop of icing loaded with sugar sprinkles. “Mmm,” she licked a sprinkle and closed her eyes in ecstasy.

  “Thank you for that, Zhanna. It’s a possibility. My father has enemies for sure, but I can’t exactly ask him who’s the most likely candidate. After we finish with the Sanderson’s we’ll pair up–”

  Gemma gave a loud sigh and rolled her eyes.

  JB refused to be baited and continued. “Jason, you’ll pair with Nikki, and stake out Perry White. By the way, good work yesterday. Zhanna will give you the address, and Gemma and I will sit on his sister. Zhanna how are we progressing with Hekate’s database? Any other names we need to check out?”

  “Thanks for everyone’s help over the last two days, and especially Jason this morning,” she waved her hand and a starburst of multicolored x’s flew toward Jason, “I’m nearly finished. I have a few more names for consideration if the Bathsheba daemon connection turns out to be nothing but some crazy cross-species love affair.”

  “Good. Nikki, you’d better get going for your meeting with Mr. Sanderson.”

  The buzzer sounded.

  “That’ll be Mrs. Sanderson. Everyone say a prayer for me.” JB looked around the workspace. The coffee cups and the donut box were empty. “Zhanna, buzz her in. Gemma, clear this lot away.”

  Zhanna flew over, and tapped the intercom, while Gemma glared at the offending items, choked back a sharp retort, and grudgingly did as ordered.

  A minute later Mrs. Ellie Sanderson’s stone gray Manolo Blahnik boots rapped a staccato across the floor as she extended a manicured hand to JB and displayed her dazzling dental work.

  “Is that suit Chanel?” Zhanna whispered in Gemma’s ear. “The black trim on that blue and gray tweed is divine.”

  Gemma flicked Zhanna into the air with a snort of derision. “I’ll channel you and Barbie over there into the garbage with these boxes if you’re not careful.”

  Zhanna eyed Gemma’s uniform, the plaid shirt over T-shirt and jeans with equal scorn. “Anytime, grunge girl,” she said and zoomed out of Gemma’s reach.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Sanderson, this way please.” JB shook her fingertips, breathing in a hefty waft of over-sweet perfume. He gave Mr
s. Sanderson’s aura a quick check–a skill he rarely used as the results often ruined his day–and the amount of dull lifeless splotches in various parts of her body, indicating how much plastic surgery she’d had done, contrasted vividly with the bright shiny exterior she cultivated. He shut down his second sight.

  “Oh, please. Call me Ellie. We’re good friends now.” She flicked her platinum extensions over her shoulder.

  JB led the way toward the first of their two private consultation rooms situated at the opposite end to the kitchen and glanced back, his jaw dropping in horror as he observed Bob Sanderson rush into the office. He put his hand on Mrs. Sanderson’s back, scooting her hurriedly inside and closed the door behind him. “Please, have a seat, Ellie. Let me get you a coffee.”

  “A double shot skinny latte, please. No foam.”

  “Right. Don’t you move, and I’ll be back in a minute.” JB exited the room as Nikki noticed Mr. Sanderson. She gave their unexpected visitor a stiff grin and opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  “I know the meeting was at the Winston, but an emergency came up, and it seemed easier for me to drop in rather than call and make another appointment,” Bob Sanderson said without a trace of apology. His biceps and pectorals bulged beneath a suit equally expensive as the outfit his wife wore. With his boyishly styled blonde streaked hair, he was the perfect jock and complement to his wife’s cheerleader.

  “That’s absolutely fine, Mr. Sanderson.” JB bustled up. “Nikki, use the second office, okay.”

  “Sure, sure. This way.” Nikki recovered and grabbed the brown envelope she’d put in her satchel for her meeting at the Winston Hotel, before hustling Mr. Sanderson passed the room where his wife waited. “Sit, Mr. Sanderson,” she said urging him inside the room. “I’ll get you a coffee.” She shut the door.

  JB laid a hand on Nikki’s arm and whispered, “Go real slow, and I’ll be as quick as I can. I’ll try to get her out before you finish with him. Hey, Gemma, a couple of coffees, and make one a skinny latte. Bring it to the office.”