Ethan rested his hand on the mouse again and clicked on the button on the screen before he read it. A Victorian house done in gold and olive appeared on the screen.
"Stop wasting time," he snarled at himself, and his hand slid the mouse up to the red "x" in the corner of the screen, shutting down the page before it finished loading. Ethan cleared out of the search results screen and clicked on his email.
Ten emails waited for him. All were junk mail, in a language he didn't even understand. Some of the symbols looked like they were a foreign alphabet, but he could recognize Chinese, Arabic, and Cyrillic, and these symbols didn't even faintly resemble those alphabets. A flicker of anticipation, the pleasure he used to have in doing enormous, complicated jigsaw puzzles, washed over him. He reached to click the mouse button to open the first.
More dust motes danced across his eyes. Instead of that high, childish laughter, he heard whispers. No distinct words, but the urgency in those voices made him shudder and sit back and rub at his temples, wondering what was wrong with him all of a sudden.
Hadn't he been worried about the time he had been wasting, just a minute ago? Why was it suddenly so important to open those junk mails and figure out what language they were in?
Ethan's gaze fell on the courier envelope, still unopened, sitting on top of his unnaturally clean desk pad. He had work to do, paying work, and that was what he should concentrate on. With resolute motions, he marked all the junk mails and deleted them, then closed down his email and got off the Internet. Time to check that courier packet.
Just a few seconds of glancing through the contents of the packet gave him an even clearer image of the other investigator as a man who thought clearly and knew how to organize. Stanzer had known what he was doing when he put together the information for Ethan. He started by stating the owner of the books hadn't filed a police report because of the esoteric and secretive nature of the books, the fact that she couldn't file an insurance claim because she had no proof that she had ever had custody of the books, and that no one was supposed to even know she had the books.
Stanzer's report on exactly how the thieves had dismantled the security system was sketchy. Ethan didn't like that. It went against the mental picture and file of information he had already assembled on Stanzer. He found it interesting, and very telling about the value of the items stolen, when he read how the thieves had shoved the owner out a third story window. She had hung from the sill, so the other people in the building were focused on bringing her back to safety, leaving the thieves to make their escape unhindered. Stanzer included information on the books that had been dropped during the escape, as well as photos and descriptions of contents and the titles of the books that had been stolen. Some of the books didn't have titles--none written on their spines or covers. They could only be identified by the diagrams drawn and dyed or cut into their ancient leather and wood covers.
Ethan felt that prickle of unease travel his back and up into his scalp as he studied the photos of the stolen books. The images were grainy, as if they had been captured in low light and enhanced. Or maybe they were low resolution to begin with, and blown up. Or they had been taken from surveillance camera footage. As soon as he rolled that theory around in his mind, Ethan knew that was the answer.
So why didn't the owner have photos of the books already in her files, if they were so valuable?
"The easy answer is that the contents of the books are so dangerous, Angela didn't even want to have photos of them lying around," Stanzer said later that day. Ethan had called and left a message for him with a list of questions, then the other investigator had to call back.
"Dangerous how? Dust containing anthrax? Samples of the bubonic plague?" He choked back the next words that wanted to come out, realizing half a second before that he was about to say "evil magic spells."
"These books belonged to some pretty nasty people in the past," Stanzer said slowly, making Ethan think he knew the whole story and was editing as he went along. He could respect that--he had done the same for his clients, who had trusted him with treacherous information but depended on him to protect them. "Combine the Borgias and Vlad the Impaler with the worst movie sorcerers... "
"Sorcerers? Come on--you can find all kinds of nasty spell books in any New Age shop. Just because people believe in it doesn't mean it's real." Ethan put his feet up on his desk and frowned at the sudden shifting in the shadows of his office. That didn't make sense--the shades were down, blocking out the noonday sunshine altogether.
"Yeah, well, mixed in with all the spells and curses and mumbo jumbo, there's some pretty nasty real stuff. Poison, stuff that makes modern chemical warfare seem like pepper spray. Know what I mean?"
"Okay. I get what you're trying not to say." Not quite, but Ethan was used to playing word games to protect his clients. He found it interesting that Stanzer's client--whoever this Angela was--worried more about what someone would learn from the books than about the value of the books themselves as antiques. Then again, the contents might have historical value, maybe even damaging historical impact. Like a document proving a royal pedigree was false, or a hero had been at home on the day of his career-making battle, or that Hitler hadn't committed suicide and he was living in Brooklyn with Eva and doting on twenty great-grandchildren.
When he got off the phone, Ethan had a plan of action roughed out in his head. He wouldn't look for the books themselves. They wouldn't be on the market. He agreed with Stanzer and Angela's fear that the books had been stolen for a specific purpose, for a specific person. Stanzer's description of Angela's security precautions and the setup of her library confirmed that the average cat burglar or drug addict thief wouldn't have been able to find those books in the first place. Only someone who knew the books existed and that Angela had them could imagine the security precautions to be circumvented, and where they might be hidden.
That meant Ethan would start his search by looking for the people who wanted those books. His trips into the darkness had netted him contacts and sources of information and networks that people went to when they were in the market for the strange and dangerous. The people who wanted Angela's books wouldn't do the stealing--they would hire professionals. Ethan would go to the marketplace where those professionals communicated with prospective clients. If his theory was correct--and he usually was--he had a narrow window of opportunity to catch the communication between the thieves and their clients, announcing the job had been done, and making arrangements where to meet to exchange the stolen goods.
* * * *
"We might have them." Stanzer came bombing through the front door of Divine's Emporium just before closing, a week after the break-in.
"Who? The thieves or their boss?" Maurice swooped in from the front room to meet him. He settled on a shoulder and held onto his collar as Stanzer hurried into the front room.
"We think the thieves." He grinned and wiped sweat off his forehead.
"But?" Angela said. She nudged the Wishing Ball a half-inch to the left. "And who is 'we'?"
"Another P.I. I'm working with. Ethan Jarrod. He has quite a rep for finding the un-findable. People, things, doesn't matter." Stanzer hooked one of the tall stools tucked against the wall with his foot and dragged it over to the counter, to sit down. "He's setting up a meet with them very late tonight. Well, almost tomorrow morning. If I leave in the next hour, I'll get there just in time."
"And do what?" Maurice wanted to know. He hopped down off Stanzer's shoulder and onto the counter. "Beat a confession out of them?"
"Mostly likely you'll be able to scare a confession from them, if they stole the books for someone else, and they get a glimpse of what's under the disguise," Angela mused.
"Hey, Angie? You're getting kind of scary."
"Maybe I should have been scary sooner." She shook her head and offered them both a flicker of a smile.
"Whoever wanted those books, they're up to no good. They know enough to work around your safeguards," Stanzer said. "You think maybe it's the same people who blackmailed Troy last year, to steal that book?"
"That's what I hope we find out. And I hope it's not the same person."
"Why?" Maurice jumped up, fluttering his wings to hover for a few seconds before landing on the top of the old-fashioned brass cash register. "It just means we have more enemies here."
"True, but the book that our enemy tried to steal last year is of a very different type than the ones that were stolen last week. Different implications. I would much rather it be two different people, two different forces, than one enemy able to reach in different directions and dimensions."
"Makes sense. Kind of like Gahlmorag turning out to be that thing Lanie ran into, year before last." Stanzer's face grew more somber.
"Gal--who?" Maurice said.
"Galactic despot who gobbles up planets by enslaving the ruling families. It's a bonus if he can enslave people with talents. That's why Dandova and I are here, instead of in our home world."
Maurice whistled softly, getting a wider, deeper glimpse into what Stanzer and Dawn were up against. His friend didn't slip up very often and use Dawn's real name, not even in front of friends who knew their story. Trying to think of Gahlmorag already being on Earth and causing trouble in Neighborlee for years shook him up.
"Anyway, I thought it might be smart to get some insurance," Stanzer continued, and thumped his fist on the counter for punctuation. "Want to come along?"
"Oh... I'd like to, but I don't want to leave the shop alone," Angela said. "Not when those thieves left behind so many books. Whoever hired them might send someone else back."
"I'll go," Maurice said, resisting the urge to jump up and down, waving his arms. This was too serious for his usual foolery. "Hey, I'm small but mighty. And I haven't used much magic at all today. Got lots of ammo, just in case."
"Maurice, would you?" She leaned closer to the cash register, bracing her arms on the counter. "I would appreciate it immensely."
"Anything for you, Angie-baby."
* * * *
Maurice decided Stanzer had a nasty joker streak that he didn't get to show very often in his line of work. For the first hour of their drive to the New York border, they earned quite a few odd looks from people passing them on the highway, who saw Stanzer talking and laughing with apparently no one in the car with him. Each time, Stanzer turned his head and maintained eye contact with the passing drivers or their passengers, his face wide-eyed and innocent. The mask cracked as soon as the other car sped away, and he and Maurice laughed, sometimes so hard the car swerved in the lane.
Half an hour from the Pennsylvania-New York line, they turned off the highway to get burgers and coffee. Stanzer suggested they actually go in and sit down to eat, and made a wager on how long it would take someone to notice the half a burger hovering a few inches off the table, slowly vanishing as Maurice ate it. For a few seconds, Maurice considered taking him up on it. He liked how the P.I. thought.
"How are we doing for time?" he asked instead, and choked a moment later when it occurred to him that he was acting a lot more responsible and mature than usual. Maybe it was the mystery facing Angela, or maybe it was the growing pressure of wondering what he and Holly were going to do when his exile ended and he regained his normal size and magic levels.
"Yeah, didn't think of that." Stanzer didn't sound too disappointed. He pulled into the drive-thru lane instead of parking. "I'd be interested in finding out if Jarrod can see you."
"What makes you think he would?" Maurice hopped out of the seat that had been rigged for him so he could see out the window--essentially a paper cup with chamois lining, hanging from the headrest of the passenger seat--and flew to land on the dashboard underneath the rearview mirror.
"His rep. A lot of close calls, some conflicting testimony when things went sour during an investigation, but he came out smelling like a rose. He seems to specialize in weirdness, if you know what I mean."
"Things that would be a lot easier to understand if there was some magic involved?" Maurice chewed over that idea while Stanzer pulled up next to the speaker and placed their order. "So what do we do if he does see me? How you gonna keep the guy from freaking? I mean, I'm not that easy to explain without a playbook," he said, once they had their order and were on the road again.
"We'll deal with it when the time comes. Sometimes that's the best way to approach everything and anything in life. Just relax and see what happens. You get a lot fewer ulcers."
"Yeah, but it gives the dragons a chance to sneak up on you and take your head off," he muttered. Maurice could hardly keep a straight face when Stanzer glared at him. Then a few moments later, they were both laughing.
Ethan Jarrod waited for them in the parking lot of the municipal center--city pool, baseball diamond, soccer field, skateboard arena, library, and mini-golf course. Half the tall lights were either burned out or went off with timers to conserve electricity at four in the morning. Maurice went up for a bird's-eye-view reconnoiter as soon as Stanzer parked. He found the man waiting in the shadows of the bleachers, just as arranged.
"I think I have your answer," he said, dropping down to land on Stanzer's shoulder. He gestured with a lift of his chin toward the dark blot on the edge of the baseball diamond.
At least, it was a dark blot for those who couldn't see or sense magic.
"Whoa," Stanzer said, barely keeping his voice soft. "No wonder the guy seems kind of sour on the phone. I'd be ticked to have those things hanging around me all the time. Gotta make it hard to sleep."
"Yeah. I feel for him." Maurice muffled a snicker, but at the same time he did feel some sympathy for the other P.I.
Winkies swirled around him like a swarm of killer bees around their queen. They spiraled in and out, creating a cloud of neon light in streaks of pink and green and yellow and purple. Oddly, the little magical fireflies never landed on the man who stood there, arms crossed over his chest, watching Stanzer walk toward him. He didn't wave away the winkies, didn't even blink when little blobs of light spun up toward his face and back out again.
Which, now that he thought of it, Maurice found rather odd. This Ethan Jarrod had to be a man of infinite patience, because the presence of that many winkies would have driven Maurice crazy long ago. He'd have been investing in fly swatters and the strongest insect repellent he could find in the Human and Fae realms.
Either Ethan didn't care...or maybe he couldn't see them?
"Could be," Stanzer murmured, when Maurice posed his theory. Then they were in the shadows of the bleachers and Ethan was extending his hand.
Maurice studied Ethan as the two private investigators exchanged information and finalized their plan for confronting the thieves. Hovering in the air only six inches from the man, he felt a faint itching in the magical atmosphere. Like sand. Or maybe sandpaper was a more accurate description? And heat. Ripples of it. After a good ten minutes of observation, he picked up the pattern. The winkies didn't land on Ethan and they swirled away from him when the hot, itchy sensation in the air grew stronger--meaning the man was generating whatever it was that repelled the winkies.
"Wish you could have taught me that trick a couple centuries ago when I was a kid," Maurice said, flying in close enough he could have landed on Ethan's shoulder. "You know how my big sister and my mom kept an eye on me? Winkies. Everywhere I--"
Ethan's head snapped around, and for a second Maurice was eyeball-to-eyeball with him. That big blue, bloodshot eye narrowed, and Maurice fluttered back away from him, swallowing down the rest of what he was going to say.
"You think the guy heard me?" he said, coming in for a landing on Stanzer's shoulder. He didn't expect an answer, since the two of them were too busy conferring.
He stayed on Stanzer's shoulder as the two men got in Ethan's car and drove around the municipal center to the darkened corner of the lot next to the swimming pool. The reek of chlorine in the warm air as the city prepared the pool for the upcoming summer swimming made him cough. It amused him a little to see Ethan look around several times, and then scowl and visibly make a conscious effort not to hear.
"The guy's got a lot of anger, and he's using it to fuel his own brand of personal shields, guess you'd call it," he speculated aloud to Stanzer. "He doesn't see what he doesn't want to see. Kind of makes me wonder how he got his reputation, if he's choosing to be blind."
Stanzer let Ethan get ahead of him a good dozen yards. "Look at it this way," he whispered. "Someone who can put up a shield like that without knowing what he's doing--that's strength and discipline. Not somebody I'd want to hack off at me. Know what I mean?"
"Oh, yeah." Maurice reached for a smart remark, just to ease off some of the tension that rippled through him and made his wings itch. But he couldn't think of a single thing to say.
He kept silent when the three figures dressed all in dark clothes came out from behind the snack shack next to the pool. He wanted so badly to snark about them wearing the same clothes since breaking into Divine's Emporium, but he didn't think it wise to distract Ethan. If these were the ones who had broken in, they had pepper sprayed Angela and tried to shove her through a painting into a pretty unfriendly alternate world. They knew how to deal with magic, and weren't afraid to be nasty about it. Chances were good, if they thought they were dealing with ordinary mortals here, they might not hesitate to bring guns. Or more pepper spray.
Maurice knew how to deal with that, at least. He wasn't in the mood to try to deflect bullets. Like Angela often said, preparation was worth ten times as much as innovation.
"Hey, fellas," he said, concentrating on the winkies swirling around Ethan. "Want to help out the good guys here?"
If these thieves had some rudimentary training in dealing with magic, then even though they couldn't see the winkies--evidenced by their lack of reaction to the light show swirling around Ethan--maybe they could feel when a tornado of winkies wrapped around them.
And while they were distracted, Maurice planned to do a little recon.
Stanzer flinched and opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself when the winkies arched up away from Ethan, and then swirled around and down. They reminded Maurice of the way the dragon in the first Shrek movie pounced on the evil lord. Ethan blinked, scowled, shook his head and kept talking to the three thieves.
But they weren't listening. All three let out yelps and twitched away from each other and looked around. Definitely, they could feel the magic at work. They were all maybe in their early twenties, just kids trying to look and act tough. They looked uncomfortable and scared as they flinched and twitched and stepped out of the shadows into the dim light, then back into the shadows. Over and over. Maurice watched for a few seconds as the winkies wove in and out through the black clothes to bite and scratch and tickle. Then he dove at the first suspicious-looking bulge tucked into the waistband of one pair of jeans, in the small of the spokesman's back. It took some doing, but he yanked up the heavy black T-shirt and exposed the gun, despite the twitching and flinching of the Human. Maurice thought he might be seasick by the time he got a firm grip on the butt of the gun and flew up and away.
Stanzer glared at him and stepped around, trying to get behind the three twitchers and Ethan, to take the gun from him. Maurice saluted him, two fingers flicked off his eyebrow, and dove back into the growing whirlwind of thieves and winkies. They were getting louder and Ethan scowled more.
"What's wrong with you? Are you high?" the other P.I. demanded, grabbing hold of the shortest one's shoulders.
"Good job, pal. Thanks," Maurice said, and dove down to tug up the T-shirt on this one while he held still. "What's wrong with you guys? Everybody has to dress alike and hide their guns in the same place. This is the last of them," he added as he pulled the gun out.
Just in time, he broke free, because the kid let out a yelp and turned, scrabbling at his back with one hand and reaching for the gun with the other. Maurice turned a somersault in mid-air--not that easy, even with the help of his wings--and flung the gun Stanzer's way.
Ethan caught it, his scowl so deep Maurice thought the grooves in his forehead and around his eyes had dug in permanently. The three thieves let out shrieks and cowered back into the shadows.
"Hold it right there, kids," Stanzer said, and drew the gun Maurice had given him.
"He said it wouldn't follow us. Honest, we were just doing a job. We didn't mean anybody any harm!" the tallest one whined, while putting his hands up in the air.
"What wouldn't follow you?" Ethan snarled.
"There is something just plain freaky about that place we robbed to get those books you wanted. We don't want nothin' more to do with the place or the guy."
"What guy?" Stanzer said, and stepped closer.
The three yelped again when the winkies settled into a hollow pillar, enclosing them from head to toe in a swirling of pink and green and gold sparks. Maurice grinned when he caught the angry humming of the winkies. It took a while for them to catch on, but he suspected some of them had caught the news from whatever information sharing network the winkies used, and recognized these three as the ones who had broken into Divine's Emporium and pushed Angela into the painting. Winkies protected their friends.
One of the three thieves let out a shriek and went to his knees, pressing his hands over his eyes. The sting of pepper spray wafted softly through the air. Yes, definitely, the winkies had identified them, and returned the favor, returning the pepper spray to the one who actually shot Angela. Winkies were kind of scary at times, Maurice admitted, but he was glad they were on his side for once.
"What guy?" Ethan echoed, and stepped forward. The muzzle of his gun almost touched the swirling wall of winkies.
"Where are the books?" Stanzer said.
"Here! Take them. We don't want them. Couldn't get rid of them anyway," the middle one said. He wriggled free of his backpack and tossed it through the wall of winkies to Stanzer.
Ethan and Maurice stood guard while Stanzer opened the backpack and turned on the slim flashlight he kept in his back pocket.
"That's three of them. You took eight altogether from Divine's Emporium. Where are the others?"
"We got rid of them right away. The guy paid us and was pissed we didn't get all the books he wanted. He only paid us half what he said. Told us to sell these books to make up for messing up." Fear barely gave way to sullen tones.
Maurice considered asking the winkies to tighten their walls around the three prisoners, but he doubted they were going to get anything useful out of the thieves if they were scared enough to mess their pants. Besides, there was the stink to deal with.
Ethan and Stanzer took turns snapping questions at them.
Maurice hovered several feet away, out of the orbit range of the winkies, to watch and listen, and admire their skill. The two P.I.s had never met each other before, never worked together, but they were a good team, ratcheting up the pressure, changing the angle of the questions, getting the three to stumble and contradict themselves as they slowly wrung the details out of them.
Their employer had contacted them through the Internet. He'd met them in an abandoned warehouse, staying in the shadows. He had provided them a shopping list and drawings of the images on the covers and inside the pages of the books he wanted. He gave them charms and talismans to wear, to help them get through the safeguards of Divine's Emporium.
From the way the hapless thieves talked, they didn't realize what they had gotten involved in--at least, until odd things started happening, like people not seeing them when they did some early reconnaissance of the shop a week earlier. They actually thought the bits of metal and wire they wore would short-circuit the burglar alarm and monitoring system inside the shop. It wasn't until they got inside Divine's and the shop started to defend itself, and then react to the attack on Angela, that they had realized Divine's Emporium wasn't their normal breaking-and-entering, snatch-and-dash job.
"They're definitely wasted," Ethan said. "Look at them. Probably hallucinating right now." He gestured at the three punks, pressed close together, shivering, twitching whenever a winkie did a diving run at them.
"Doesn't mean they aren't telling the truth." Stanzer glanced at Maurice, then tipped his head toward them.
"Ease up?" Maurice guessed. When Stanzer nodded, one corner of his mouth twitching up, he made a mental image of what he wanted, and then focused on the winkies. "Thanks, guys. Job's almost done."
The walls of the prison slowly eased outward, giving the thieves some breathing room.
"They're useless," Ethan said. "Your client still hasn't filed even a basic police report, has she?" He sighed loudly, and his scowl deepened when Stanzer shook his head. "Won't do us any good to drag these three all the way back to Ohio, then. No authority to do anything here, no charges to file with the locals."
"What do you suggest, then?" Stanzer said.
"Think anybody'd notice if they just vanished?" He turned his head so that only Stanzer--and Maurice--could see his wink. "Clean up the place a little. Bury the trash, y'know?"
"Hey," one of the punks yelped. "We didn't--"
The tall one bent within the relaxed confines of the prison of winkies and snatched a knife from his ankle sheath. Black and purple light flared from the knife. For a split second Maurice could have sworn it dragged the kid after it, leaping through the air at Ethan.
Stanzer shouted, while whipping out the gun he had just put in his pocket. He fired into the dirt at the punks' feet.
Ethan cursed in a language Maurice only vaguely recognized. He spun, kicking and punching, ducking under the arch of that blade that trailed poisonous black and green light. The spark of purple light at the blade's tip flared, almost blinding, but it missed Ethan's shoulder and scorched through his jacket. Ethan punched up with one fist, then the other, tossing his attacker into the air with the force of his blows. More light exploded, separating Ethan and the kid.
The knife went flying.
Winkies and Maurice raced to catch it.
The winkies won--and lost.
Maurice came to a screeching halt in mid-air--only possible with magic--and stared as the winkies erupted into flames when they touched the knife. They screamed and half of the cloud vanished altogether, flittering back to whatever dimension birthed them. The knife tumbled end over end, shedding a cloud of burned winkies and a trail of foul-smelling smoke, before clattering to the asphalt.
When he turned around, Maurice saw Ethan sprawled on his back. His attacker was curled up with wisps of smoke drifting up from his body, maybe ten feet away. Stanzer stood over the other two punks, who cowered on their knees with their foreheads to the pavement and their arms over their heads.
"You okay?" Stanzer glanced back at Maurice, but kept his gun trained on the two still-standing thieves.
"Yeah. How about you? How come the big bad wolfies didn't show up?" Maurice decided he would have welcomed some interference from the Hounds of Hamin about now. He caught a whiff of burned winkies and fought not to choke and heave at the same time.
"My life wasn't in enough danger." He shrugged, baring his teeth in an attempt at a grin. "How's Jarrod?"
Maurice shook himself free of the repeating images of winkies bursting into flame, and flew over to land on Ethan's chest and check his vital signs. Before he could do more than listen to the rhythm of his heartbeats and make sure his chest rose and fell with breathing, the big man groaned and put a hand to his forehead. His eyes flickered open.
"Stanzer?" Ethan groaned.
"How you feeling?"
"Like I went a dozen rounds with a guy who had bricks in his gloves." He sat up, rubbing his face with both hands, and looked around, blinking rapidly as if his eyes wouldn't focus. "What happened?"
"I'm guessing he had a Taser or something nastier, maybe black market. You got a couple blows in before he got you. What do you guys think?" Stanzer gestured with his gun at the two whimpering thieves who remained conscious.
They just whimpered louder. It sounded to Maurice like they were begging the two P.I.s not to hurt them.
When Ethan was on his feet again, he and Stanzer took care of securing the unconscious one--still breathing--and then his buddies. Maurice kept watch on the knife, but he didn't want to get too close. He was inclined to think that if anybody showed up to try to take the knife while Stanzer and Ethan were getting their three prisoners to Ethan's car, they were welcome to it and whatever problems it caused them.