She was holding a closed black folding fan in one hand and pointed it sharply at the altar. Weaving the fan in the air she sketched out a series of runes. Each took the shape of a complex Chinese character. They hung in the air glowing fiercely.
Esoteric Asian magic outside of anime cartoons was a mystery to Nessa.
The woman slapped the fan into her palm with a pop like a handgun going off.
“Jeezus,” Nessa screeched, nerves jumping.
The runes rushed at the altar, trying to burn through the protective wards. At first, it looked like they might do it. But after pressing forward a few inches, they burst into flames. Black ash rained down in a half circle before the altar.
Turning her steely gaze on Nessa she said, “You did not set these?”
“No way,” she declared. “I only walked in a few minutes ago.”
“My daughter is not capable of setting wards of this strength.”
‘My daughter’? Was this Reiko’s mom?
Her English was softly accented. Not Japanese American, Nessa thought. Native Japanese.
“Mrs. Sömmerhaulder?”
“Yes,” said the woman her attention still on the altar.
“I’m Nessa Scott from Barracuda Bail Bonds.”
She snapped her attention to Nessa. A prickle of energy crawled up from Nessa’s toes to her eyebrows.
Yikes.
“Bail Bonds? Why are you here?”
She said ‘you’ like Nessa was a lower form of life.
Nessa was just impressing all the moms today.
“Your daughter missed her date at the Infernal Court. She needs to report there as soon as possible.”
The woman’s lips became a hard, thin line.
“Do you know where she is?” Nessa asked even though she figured the question was futile. Reiko seemed to be keeping mom out of the loop. “You did notice there’s a dead guy in the hallway?”
The woman hissed out sibilant phrases in Japanese.
Nessa’s hair stood on end at the words.
Pim crouched, baring his teeth.
Not answering either question, the woman turned back to the altar.
Exchanging a quick look with Pim, Nessa did too. Mentally running through her considerable knowledge of Japanese anime, she knew altars like this usually had a statue of Buddha in the center or maybe Kannon, the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy. This one had neither.
Instead, a fierce-looking man-like creature with oversized fangs jutting out of his upper and lower jaws posed fiercely. His upper chest and muscular arms were bare, robes draped from the waist down. The figure was carved from wood, maybe a foot and a half tall. The wood was darkened with age and probably candle smoke and incense. Candles and incense were necessary parts of Buddhist worship.
“Oni?” she whispered to Pim.
He peered at the statue, curling his lips back over his teeth. Pim, she guessed, was sensing bad Juju.
Oni were Japanese demons, however, some protective gods looked demonic. Generally, you could tell the good guys by the swords they held. She’d studied up on the subject after Mr. Barracuda lent her the Fudo binding cord to catch the Soul Eater a few days before.
Fudo were Fire elementals, semi-divine beings who protected people from demons. Though looking at them you’d never know. They had jutting fangs exactly like the one in the altar. They were super muscular and wore a lot of heavy jewelry. Fudo statues were shown with their demon-binding cord in one hand and a sword in the other.
This one didn’t have either.
Mrs. Sömmerhaulder pointed with the fan to the open altar doors. “Notice there are no lotus blossoms or Buddhist angels.”
She was right. Instead, complex carvings of skulls and bones were arranged to look like flowers.
The candles on either side of the figure were black.
Somebody had set up a magic circle around the altar and armed it with defensive wards. Or offensive wards. Or both. Maybe it was set up to keep whatever they summoned inside as well as prevent others from reaching it. If they were summoning a demon, safety precautions would make sense. Demons liked nothing better than to turn on their summoner.
“Oni?” Nessa said. “Demon altar. What kind of shi… um, stuff was your daughter in to?”
Opening and closing the fan with a sharp snap, Mrs. Sömmerhaulder walked out of the room on quick small steps. Despite the constraints imposed by the close-fitting symmetry of the kimono, she was out the door in seconds.
She didn’t even glance at the dead guy on the way.
Nessa sucked in her breath as she followed the woman to the front door. Outside under the bright sun, Nessa thought she saw a shadowy shape around the woman. Nessa clenched her fists, concentrating. A white furry tail peeked out of the kimono swinging in rhythm to Mrs. Sömmerhaulder’s steps.
“Fox, fox, fox!” squawked the bird. She’d waddled over to stand in the doorway with Nessa.
The bird was right. Reiko Sömmerhaulder’s mother was a shapeshifting Kitsune Fox Spirit hiding behind a glamour.
Glamour was how supernaturals of the not-quite-human persuasion hid in plain sight. The spell twisted perception until humans saw only what the magic user wished.
Glamour spells did not work on Nessa. Her dad said it was a side-effect of being able to see ghosts. Supernatural beings appeared exactly for what they were to her. Nessa had never encountered a glamour capable of almost fooling her until today.
What manner of amulets could suppress such powerful magic?
The woman walked to a black Mercedes parked one house up, engine idling. Slipping artfully into the back seat, no easy feat in clothes that turned women into an elongated tube, she sat back as the door closed automatically.
The Mercedes sped away.
“Fox, fox!” screeched the parrot again.
“How did you know?” Nessa asked the bird. “Her glamour is crazy strong.”
The bird bobbed its head up and down in an agitated manner.
“Can you see through glamour ?” Nessa asked.
Cocking its head, the bird squawked, “Clever bird,” and flew back to sit on the dead guy’s chest.
“Why didn’t you sense her when you walked through the house?” Nessa asked Pim, shutting the door behind her with a swing of her hip.
Pim’s eyes went wide, his whiskers at attention.
“You didn’t, right? Jeez. Wonder where she buys her amulets?”
She had to have them. Shield amulets like the ones Aunt Emerald crafted for Nessa. Aunt Emerald’s amulets suppressed Nessa’s witchy aura, keeping her safe from Frank, the Fallen Angel after her soul. He had Sniffers out constantly hunting for traces of Elemental witch magic. Hunting for Nessa.
Perhaps Reiko’s mother had sniffers hunting her too.
Whipping out her phone Nessa went back to the demonic altar. Careful not to get too close, she snapped a dozen pictures from various angles.
Pim snagged her pants leg. A signal he had things to say.
She set the Speak and Spell on the floor.
“Does the shrine play into the energy drink effects on supernaturals?” the flat female voice droned.
“Oh, you’re typing much better,” she said, patting him on the head.
He gave a feline shrug.
“The altar is obviously demonic,” he typed.
Her stomach did a deep dive at the thought. Asking demons for favors was a good way to get murdered. The body in the hall a case in point.
“Most Potion Makers are not magical,” Pim typed, his clever paws once again flying easily over the keys. “They have a witch in-house to give the potions their special zing. The lore is having magic would impair their potion-making skills. Contaminate them.”
“Sounds stupid,” Nessa declared with a snort.
“Stupid or not, the tradition has been followed in many Potion Clans for thousands of years.”
“Then why is Reiko’s mom super magical?”
“We don’t know she works with the clan’s Potion Masters.”
“We don’t know a lot of things,” Nessa said flatly.
“The shrine is not a good object. We know that much.”
Glancing at the altar, she had to agree.
“Come on. Let’s look at the rest of the house. We still need to call the Infernal Court.”
Pim switched off the machine with a flick of his paw. Nessa packed it away.
Everything was in place in the dining room.
All six chairs were pushed into a rectangular modern wooden and metal table. Three coffee mugs were at one end and a half-full cardboard box of oversized cinnamon rolls. Reiko, the dead guy in the foyer, and one more person had been here.
It no longer smelled like incense.
Pim sneezed, rubbing his nose with one paw.
“I smell it too.”
They moved cautiously into the doorway connecting the kitchen.
This room told an entirely different story.
The kitchen had been ransacked. Cupboard doors were open, drawers pulled out. the cupboards empty. Everything had been thrown or dumped on the floor. A gallon-sized bottle of bleach lay on its side with two more in the sink.
This explained the smell.
Pim sneezed two more times.
Nessa stepped carefully around the piles of broken glass, dishes, groceries, and silverware. A clumpy white powder coated the kitchen counters and the wood island in the center.
Running a finger through the powder she thought it didn’t feel like either flour or sugar. Holding her fingers to her nose she couldn’t smell anything. She wasn’t going to taste it. Reiko was studying to be a Potion Master; the powder could be anything including poison.
The trail led to the kitchen door. The door stood slightly ajar. Nudging it open with her elbow, she waited as Pim slipped out ahead of her. They followed the trail to the big wooden shed at the end of the driveway.
Pim made a ‘stay here’ motion with his paw. Silently he padded out to scout around the shed. He disappeared for maybe a minute before running to the shed door. Nessa joined him. He jumped up, pressing both paws against it. The door fell inward.
Pim jumped, twisting into a back-breaking somersault in midair. He ran back into the kitchen, sneezing.
Nessa gagged. Her eyes and nose immediately began to water. She pulled off her backpack, unzipped her hoodie and reversed it, putting the hood in front. Dashing to the scooter she grabbed her helmet. Putting it on, she pulled the clear face shield down while shoving the hoodie up around her nose and mouth to block off as much air as she could from her eyes.
Cautiously she edged inside the shed stepping around the fallen door. The wooden frame was splintered along the hinges. First, they’d physically broken the door down, then replaced it to look like it was closed.
Getting as close as she dared, she saw the shed had been turned into a laboratory. Reiko had probably started brewing her energy drink in the kitchen, expanding to the shed as her idea took off.
The shed was a wreck. Jars, beakers, gas burners, and labeled jars were scattered across a long metal worktable. A large industrial size sink to the left of the door was filled to the brim with glass bottles.
Reiko, she assumed it was her, had been destroying her stock of the energy drink. And not just emptying it down the drain. She’d used bleach and the white powder to remove any traces of the liquid.
Looking to the right she jumped, swearing. Two men lay rigid on the floor. Both face up. She began to reach for her taser then stopped. These guys were no danger to her. Not anymore. They were petrified, exactly like the guy in the hall. Well, not exactly like him. Because these dead guys were dead again . The skin on their faces sagged and had even peeled away on their forehead and cheeks. No gas had done this.
They were Zombies. ‘Were’ being the operative word.
She walked around the back of the shed. Broken bottles littered the ground. Some still had the yellow and purple Bee Buzzed label on them.
Cavalier must have been here. He was the South Bay’s very own Zombie wrangler. Reiko’s potion supercharged Zombies, making them faster and more coordinated. Cavalier and his master, the Voodoo Loa of the Dead, Baron Samedi, were very interested in Bee Buzzed. Cavalier must have sent the Zombies to get more of the formula – or Reiko herself.
He hadn’t petrified the guy in the hall. Nessa guessed the Zombies interrupted whoever did that and gotten zapped. Cavalier had wisely cut and run.
She went to find Pim.
He’d retreated to the foyer, desperately rubbing his muzzle on the hall carpet.
Time to call the cops. Witch cops.
The supernatural community didn’t have a lot of laws except regarding exposure. Nessa and her month-long magic ban a case in point. Investigators like Ravi handled supernatural crimes threatening their community with being outed to the public.
“Petrified?” Ravi said, echoing Barracuda’s surprise after Nessa explained about the body.
“Sure looks like it. Stiff as a board from what I can tell. No bodily fluids or blood.”
“What’s this about?”
“Reiko Sömmerhaulder missed her court date. She’s one of the people behind the energy drink making supes go wackadoodle. You know the one. The Infernal Court charged her with reckless potion making.”
“Wait, wait. You’re after Reiko?”
“Why are you surprised?” Nessa bristled at his tone. “I’m capable.” Sort of, she thought.
“Yeah, sure, I know. Only, the Sömmerhaulders are a powerful family. Like powerful with a capital P. We belong to the same country club. Our moms golf together. The dads play tennis. I’m sure Fiona knows them as well. I’m the one who brought Reiko in. What? A week ago?”
The wheels of justice turned fast in the Infernal court.
“And she didn’t show up for her court date?” He gave a shake of his head. “Jumping bail doesn’t sound like Reiko at all. When I brought her in, she said it was all a misunderstanding. She’d clear it up in court ASAP.”
“Well, she didn’t.”
Nessa heard the soft click of keys on a keyboard. “You’re right, her court date was two days ago.”
“Mr. Barracuda said she wouldn’t give me any trouble.”
Famous last words.
“And the dead guy is in her house? The one in Pasadena?”
“Why is there another one?”
“Hell, yes. The family has an estate in Beverly Hills, a beach house in Malibu, a place in Big Sur. And that’s just the West Coast.”
“Can you send me the address in Beverly Hills and Malibu? Maybe they’re hiding her.”
More clicking drifted over the speaker. “Sure. Okay but I doubt it. They have no reason to hide her. The Sömmerhaulders and the Court have an understanding if you get my drift. I can’t believe they even allowed Reiko’s case to come to trial.”
“Are the Sömmerhaulder’s trouble?”
He blew out an audible breath. “They’re rich which is its own kind of trouble for us. They run a beverage empire. Everyone knows they spike them with spells. Keeps the public coming back for more.”
“Well, their alchemists, of course they’d spike it with spells.”
“Yeah, not the Potion Masters, though.”
“What do you mean? Are we talking about the same kind of alchemy?”
“What kind of alchemy do you think we’re talking about?” he countered.
“You know, the kind that empowers magical objects to turn back time. Or cause earthquakes or floods, lift up trains and toss them at the enemy. A flame alchemist or a silver alchemist, or, or...”
“Are you talking about Full Metal Alchemist?”
Nessa paused at his tone, “ Maaaaybe.”
“You do know Full Metal Alchemist is a Japanese anime.”
“Well, yeah, of course, but…”
“Have you ever met a real alchemist?”
He definitely had a tone.
“Ummm, no.”
Ravi started laughing. Nessa felt her cheeks flame as he laughed on and on. Thanks to dad, her understanding of magical hierarchies was incomplete to say the least.
“Okay. Listen. The Sommerhaulders are an old, old, old potion clan who have gone corporate. They have a different way of doing things than individual alchemists or Japanese animated alchemists. Their Potion Masters are not magic.”
“What? That’s crazy. How can you create a potion without magic?”
“The Potion Masters create the base formulas then witches or warlocks on their staff add the magic. They think using magic would contaminate the base alchemy.”
Nessa couldn’t help snorting in surprise. “That’s so stupid and weird. I prefer the Full Metal Alchemist version.”
“Who wouldn’t? And there are kick-butt alchemists out there. However, the corporate potion clans do things differently.”
“Well, this is all super disappointing. But getting back to my runaway girl. Is it weird she was summoned to the Court?”
“Normally, I would say yes. Money can buy your way out of almost anything in the real or magical world. Except, this was a very public mess. Supes going crazy all over the South Bay. You were there. You know.”
“My personal favorite was the witch who caused all the Slurpee machines to go crazy at Seven Eleven while an enchanted flock of ducks quacked out a song. What was it?”
Ravi laughed. “Blue Danube, by Strauss. It was awesome. The machines shot colored slushies in time to the music. Red, green, blue, red, green blue.”
“The file from Mr. Barracuda is bare bones. Her address, school, not much more. Anything you can give me?”
“ Ummm , let’s see. She’s the youngest of the Sömmerhaulder children by the oldest brother, Phillip. He’s head of the clan. She’s from his second marriage to…umm, Izumi Kotani. Reiko is their daughter. Rieko has a much older sister, Elizabeth. She’s an executive at Sömmerhaulder Holdings. Reiko is going for her master’s in chemistry. That’s about all I’ve got.”
“UCLA, right. I read as much. Her mom was here. She didn’t seem to know about the Bail Bonds thing. Gave me such a look. Could Reiko be keeping her family in the dark about the summons?”
“Possible, yeah. In fact, it makes a lot of sense. Given their position, I never would have expected this to go to court. No Potion Clan lawyers have been here pounding on the Judges’ chamber doors as far as I know. Mrs. Baptiste was mentioned in the original deposition. You know she was working with them?”
She sure did. Nessa had met Mrs. Baptiste in pursuit of her bail-jumping cursed-sword-carrying no-good son, Tommy. Tommy was a small-time car thief who missed his court date after triggering a cursed sword he’d found in a stolen car. Predictably, chaos followed as Baron Samedi and a herd of Zombies plus some Warlocks tried to get the sword for themselves. Nessa and Ravi barely made it out alive.
“The Court decided Mrs. Baptiste didn’t understand Miss Sömmerhaulder was making an unlicensed drink and removed her from the warrant. The charges are only against the other two. I can’t remember the other woman’s name. I was only on the Sömmerhaulder side. Let me look.”
A flurry of quiet clicking followed.
“Found it. Reese Villanova. Wait…what? A Villanova and a Sömmerhaulder working together?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Nessa had no clue about witch clans or coven politics. Witches didn’t like Elementals like her. Too much Fae blood. Nobody seemed to like the Fae.
“Traditional rivals. The Villanovas are another Potion Clan. They work primarily in vitamins and supplements for regular humans. Since the Sömmerhaulders are in the beverage business they don’t compete directly in the real world. Magical world is a different story.”
Nessa did some quick thinking. “An energy drink sort of combines those two fields, though. Wouldn’t the formula put the two families into competition or…” she thought, “or maybe a partnership?”
“Like a Capulet and Montague, Romeo and Juliet thing?”
Nessa snorted, “Not sure if there is kissing involved.” She thought of the dead guy lying stretched out. “Poison maybe.”
“Like Romeo? Or was it Juliet?”
“I always forget who drank what and who stabbed who. Anyway, not relevant. Did the Villanova girl show up for court?”
Ravi hissed out a breath. “No. No, she did not. Someone else put-up bail for her, not Mr. Barracuda.”
“Who?”
“Regency Bail Bonds. Glendale.”
“Do you know them?”
“A little. They do Infernal Court bonds and regular bonds like your boss.”
“Competition?”
He chuckled, “Competition. They must have agents out looking for Ms. Villanova.”
“Can you check the details of the charges against Reiko? See if the Court ordered her to destroy all traces of the drink?”
“Sure, give me a minute.”
While she waited, she walked back to the entryway. The parrot squawked, flapping its wings, pacing back and forth across the dead man’s chest.
“Back,” said Ravi. “She has a cease-and-desist order to stop producing and distributing the drink. Nothing I can find about destroying existing supplies. Though I imagine the court would confiscate those or already had.”
“Not the court. Looks like Miss Sömmerhaulder and her partners were in the process of destroying them here at her home lab. They made a toxic gas with bleach and I don’t know what else. Your guys are going to need HazMat suits probably.”
She described the scene to Ravi ending with, “There are two petrified Zombies inside the shed.”
“Jeez Nessa, maybe you should have led with that.”
“I was getting to it. The gas or whatever makes it impossible to set foot inside. I’m pretty sure the corpses are Zombies. They look…” she paused searching for the right word, “decayed. Saggy skin. Scabby faces.”
“Well, crap.”
“I agree.”
Nessa had never encountered Zombies of any sort before being shanghaied into the bounty hunting business. Now they were popping up all over the place.
“For sure Cavalier wants the drink to power up his corpses,” Nessa said. “He loved those fast Zombies. They were smarter too.”
“And the last thing we want are fast Zombies sparking all sorts of rumors,” Ravi agreed. “Let me see. You’re at the address in Pasadena?”
He read out the street and number.
“Yep. You’ve got it.”
“Poppy daddy, poppy daddy!” squawked the parrot.
“What was that ?”
“Angry parrot. The dead guy has a parrot. It’s currently guarding the corpse.”
“Magical parrot?”
She thought of the parrot recognizing Mrs. Sömmerhaulder’s dual nature. “Maybe.”
“Leave it. We can take care of it.”
His tone made her pause. “Take care of the parrot how?”
“Well, the dead guy certainly isn’t going to be needing a parrot anymore. Magical or not.”
He clicked off.
The parrot squawked.
Her next call was to Jun Hee Kim. He was the newest member of the Barracuda Bail Bonds team. Even newer than her. Well, by a few days. Jun Hee was a bounty hunter from Colorado who’d decided to relocate to the bright lights/big city vibe of L.A. Her boss had been thrilled. Jun Hee could throw down a magic circle like nobody’s business and kick serious ass with his martial arts skills . Plus, he was a bird whisperer. As in the magical sense.
Nessa and Pim learned this startling piece of information only a few days before. They’d been chasing the murderous Soul Eater who got her jinxed with the Infernal Court.
Jun Hee had been with Nessa – even though she hadn’t asked for his help. Later she learned he was only there for the bounty Madame Valencia had registered with the Infernal Court.
Jerk.
Anyway, he’d produced a covey of magically enhanced California quail. With a little clever spellwork, the quail tracked down their quarry.
If anyone knew what to do with an angry parrot, Jun Hee should.
He picked up after the second ring. She half feared the call would go straight to voicemail when he realized it was her. They had a prickly relationship.
“I’m busy. What’s up?” he said shortly.
She got directly to the point. “Bird trouble. Angry gray parrot cursing me out over the body of a dead guy. It already bit me once.”
“You on a case for Barracuda?”
“Yes. Looking for a woman. She missed her court date. The usual. I’ll send you a picture of the bird.”
Snapping a photo, she texted it over.
“African Gray,” he said immediately. “Super smart. The dead guy must be the owner. Poor bird.”
“Well poor bird is in my way. What do I do? I mean Pim could probably take it down even without werecat powers.”
“No! Get a blanket. Drop it over the bird.”
Pim snorted a kitty laugh. It wasn’t very different from Barracuda’s suggestion to put a bag over the bird.
“Gently, okay? Emphasis on gently. Gather it up; put the bird in the car.”
“Scooter,” she pointed out.
“Where’s Fiona?”
“No idea. She hasn’t checked in today.”
“God, Nessa. You need a car.”
“I need money more.”
“What’s its name,” Jun Hee asked.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the bird’s name must be Poppy.
“Poppy,” she said. “Can’t I leave it here for the Infernal Court?”
“No!” he said sounding alarmed. “They’ll probably kill it.”
She narrowed her eyes at the bird. Poppy gave her a beady-eyed stare right back.
“What do you think, Pim?”
“You’re asking your cat?”
“We’re partners. What do you think?”
As an answer, he trotted out of the hall into the living room. A moment later he backed in dragging a lap blanket. Probably from the couch.
“Looks like we’re wrapping up the bird,” she said into the phone.
“Bring it to Barracuda’s office. I’ll pick it up.”
“I don’t think the bird is going to like that.”
“It will be fine. Please, Nessa?”
Nessa paused. He never said ‘please’ to her for anything. She remembered his little covey of magical quail and how careful he was to keep them safe during the Soul Eater’s attack.
“All right, all right. I’ll get it there somehow.”
As soon as she dropped the blanket over the bird it began to scream hysterically.
She had to shout into the phone to be heard. “Jeezus Jun Hee, is it going to do this the whole time?”
“Maybe. Or it will quiet down. Where are you?”
“Pasadena.”
“I’m in Long Beach on an apprehension. I’ll get to the office when I can.”
Putting the blanket and parrot to one side, Nessa pulled a pair of disposable gloves out of a plastic bag in her backpack. She’d recently picked up a box at the ninety-nice cents store. Not all her cases were supernatural. Barracuda dealt in a lot of run-of-the-mill felons too. Fingerprints were not a casual thing she wanted to leave here and there. Years of staying off the grid had left their mark.
Grimacing, she looked for the dead man’s cell phone. He really had been petrified. His skin felt like stone. Cold and hard. The cell was in his back hip pocket. He was so stiff she had to cut it out with her silver pocketknife.
Thumbing the screen to open, she saw the security lock was set for his face.
“Sorry, dude,” she murmured, aiming it at him.
If he hadn’t died with his eyes wide open this never would have worked.
Silently the screen opened to the menu. Tapping into the settings she turned off the security lock timer, then put the phone in her backpack.
His wallet was in the other pocket.
The wallet was the flip-open kind with clear plastic inserts. Driver’s license on one side, student I.D. on the other.
Brian Samejima.
Japanese last name.
He hadn’t been mentioned in the court papers. Maybe he was a silent partner.
Age: 25. Height: Five feet ten inches. Hair: Black. Eyes: Brown. The address was here in Pasadena. His student I.D. said UCLA.
Damn. He must have worked hard to get in to such a competitive school. And for what? To end up petrified on a hardwood floor in Pasadena. Poor guy.
After snapping pictures of both cards, she checked for receipts. Receipts, she’d learned, were a good way to trace the activities of bail jumpers. Where they’d been. Where they liked to go. Two were from Dunkin’ Donuts. The one on Lake Avenue. Four drinks.
Four drinks, four people. The dead guy. Reiko. Reese Villanova. Who else?
Someone had to know where Reiko was. Unless she was already dead.