Chapter 4:

Suspects

“Why don’t you go with Nonce for that,” Syd suggested. “I think I need to close the office for the day, and go home and cry.”

“I know how it is,” Nonce said sympathetically. “I had to brew a powerful grief-null potion just to get through the day after my cousin died. He was my closest friend.”

Syd nodded, appreciating the understanding. I realized that she had been functioning on desperate reserve power, to do what had to be done, but that was running out. “Will do,” I agreed.

“I’ll take you to my apartment,” Nonce said. “It’s comfortable and secure from snooping. Wear this.” She proffered a pin-on badge with the glowing letter A.

“What is it?”

“An anonymity spell, so that folk won’t recognize you and wonder what you’re doing with a Witch. Not that they’ll recognize me as such. We need severe privacy.”

I donned the badge. We stepped out to the street, and Syd exited and locked the office door behind her. Then we separated, Syd and Nonce going home, I tagging along with one of them. There were people on the street, but they glanced at us without really seeing us. Since Nonce was a remarkably pretty woman with more than enough flesh showing to attract attention, that indicated that she too wore an A-Badge. I would have to make a deal with her to get a couple we could use in the business.

Her apartment was in an upscale complex, on the third floor. From the hall it was just one door of five, suggesting a cramped efficiency apartment, but inside it was huge and opulent, with a picture window opening onto an inner court with palm trees, though this was not tropical country. The other doors must be dummies; she obviously lived anonymously well. Which wasn’t surprising, considering the gold she had given us. Witches did indeed have their resources.

There was even a neat broom. “No we don’t actually use them to fly,” Nonce said, catching my glance. “It’s more of a symbol.”

“A symbol,” I agreed.

“Now about my friendly thighs,” she said as she set her purse on the table.

“I didn’t come here for that!” I snapped. “My friend is dead.”

“You need to distance yourself somewhat from that, emotionally,” she said. “So you can be properly objective.”

Syd had taught me that technique, but I balked. “That will take time. I don’t think I can afford to wait. Not while the killer is loose.”

“I can help you with a potion. The same one I brewed for myself.”

“I don’t want a damned potion!”

“You’re being difficult, Phil. Maybe you would be more objective as Mena.”

I stared warily at her. “You knew.”

“I guessed. Now I know. I’m not stupid, especially about magic. I did spot research; Mena has no known identity. She appears only when you want her.”

I was disgruntled. “We Weres don’t regard ourselves as magical. It’s a form of science, or biology.”

“Science fantasy. Call it what you will. Here is my point of the moment: I just tricked you into admitting something you thought to conceal. You’re vulnerable, Phil, because of your understandable grief, and making slips. You can’t afford that, especially when interviewing suspects. Take the potion.”

She was maddeningly right. “Okay.”

She brought a steaming cup from her refrigerator. I didn’t question it; her magic was everywhere. I sipped the hot frothy brew. It was surprisingly good, tasting like soft summer air in a flower garden.

“It will take about half an hour to take proper hold,” Nonce said. “No point in talking business until then. So now the thighs.”

“Nonce, I don’t want your thighs!”

She slipped out of her clothing, showing them.

What a luscious creature she was! I did desire her.

She stepped into my embrace and kissed me before she murmured a spell that made my own clothing leave me and strew itself on a nearby chair.

Everything I had ever been told or ever dreamed about the eroticism of Witches was soon amply confirmed. We spent a remarkable half hour on her plush bed. Every time I thought I’d gotten enough of her, she took a new approach and my desire surged again.

“Are you using magic?” I asked.

“No. I don’t want to mix spells; that can lead to unintended side effects, like impotence or a sexual passion for frogs. But after the grief potion has set, which will be soon, I will do magic if you wish.”

“I prefer to be as objective as is feasible. I love your thighs, but maybe it’s time to turn it off for a while.”

“It has been fun. You’re so young and new and helplessly virile it turns me on. But all good things must come to a pause.” She made a gesture, and we were both clothed.

“How do you do that? I thought your magic was with potions and things.”

“It is. I clouded your mind briefly so that you were tuned out when I washed and dressed us both. It was hypnotism rather than magic. I did it for effect.”

I had mixed feelings about this. “You washed and dressed me?”

“We were pretty hot and heavy for a while. There was sweat and whatnot. I couldn’t let you go out in that state; any Witch would have known immediately what we had been up to. You might have been needlessly embarrassed.”

“I appreciate your concern about the state of my moods,” I said wryly.

“Oh, don’t be a bore, Phil. I’m trying to impress you so we can be a proper couple.”

“A couple? I thought we came here to work out a strategy for running down a serial killer. That it was a business association.”

“That, too, and it’s truly serious business. We’ll work better together if we really know and trust each other.”

I remembered how Syd had said something similar, and proved it. But she had not sought to seduce me, then. “Why do we have to be a couple?”

“Because one of the most powerful facilitators of magical empathy is love. We can do twice as much together if we are in love.”

“Love—as a business deal?”

“That’s putting it a bit unkindly, but yes.”

“So your friendly thighs aren’t just a spot inducement for me to take your case. They have a price.”

“They always do. Ever since Lilith seduced Adam.”

Lilith—the mythical first wife of the biblical Adam, before she was banished and the more conventional Eve substituted. “And Witches descend from Lilith.”

“Of course. That’s our legend.”

The problem was, she was getting to me, and not just because of the phenomenal sex. “Was there something else in that potion? Like love elixir?”

“There was not. You must love me naturally, Phil, or it won’t work.”

She plainly had the equipment to make me love her. Rather than admit that I was losing this game, I changed the subject. “You washed and dressed me. Can you show me how you did that?”

“I will be glad to. Remember my gesture?”

“Yes.”

“Focus on that.”

I focused. Then I saw her come to me where I stood, take my hand, and lead me to the bathroom. I seemed to be in a daze, obeying without resistance. She stood me before the sink, took a wet cloth, and ran it efficiently over my body, cleaning me all over, paying special attention to the thoroughly used genital region. Then she washed herself similarly. Then she led me back to the bedroom and dressed us both. When she was done, she repeated the hypnotic gesture, and I came alert.

“I’ll be damned,” I breathed.

“More fun the other way, no?”

“More fun for me,” I agreed. “You did all the work.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“Now how does love facilitate our mission?”

“True love is an overlapping of the spirits. It can amount almost to telepathy. To the sharing of awareness and abilities. To complete trust.”

“There’s that word again,” I said. “Why should we trust each other to such an extent?”

“Because we’re both suspects in murder cases. We have got to know, each of us, that the other didn’t do it. Telepathy can reassure us.”

“Suspects!”

“Review your PI classes, Phil. When there’s a murder, the earliest suspects are those closest to the victim, because that’s where the passions are strongest. You were closest to your friend Bear, except for Sydelle. Maybe you killed him to gain access to her.”

“Never!”

“Or maybe she killed him because she wanted better access to you. She’s a suspect too.”

“Ridiculous!

“And maybe I killed my cousin because I had a secret hankering for him and he repulsed me, making me a woman scorned.”

That got to me in part because I had entertained just such a thought myself. She was a suspect in that murder. And Syd and I were natural suspects in the Bear murder. “We are suspects,” I agreed morosely.

“An investigation should clear us, in time. But you and I need to trust each other now. So we can nab the real killer before he strikes again.”

“Or kills one or both of us,” I agreed.

“So now the trust. I am going to do my magic in your presence, so you will fathom my inner nature and know I am innocent, at least of that particular incident. You will do your transformation in my presence for similar reason. We will be connected. Telepathy doesn’t lie.”

“Telepathy doesn’t lie,” I agreed. “Unless a person is lying to himself.”

“It’s not perfect,” she agreed in turn. “But it’s the closest thing we have to absolute certainty. Now how close are you to loving me?”

I had to laugh. “Closer than I like. You are playing me, and I fear you are better at it than I am. But I doubt you love me.”

“Maybe we need another session on the bed.”

“That’s sex, not love.”

“The two connect. There are hormones, mental sets, associations.”

“I think you can make me love you,” I said candidly. “But I don’t see why you should love me. You are getting what you want from me without that.”

“Not entirely. I can let myself love. It would be easy with you, because you have a talent I genuinely admire. But I won’t do that unless I am sure of your love first. The bed?”

“No! At least not right now. This business of doing our—our magics—in each other’s presence. I don’t trust that.”

“I believe you are sincere and honest in a way my greater experience has spoiled me for. So I will trust you first. Except that if you don’t love me now, you will when I enchant you. Are you ready to risk that?”

“Enchanted love is temporary. I’ll risk it.”

“Temporary only when it goes against the natural grain. If you would love me in time naturally, the enchantment will merely make it happen now. It won’t necessarily fade.”

“Do what you’re going to do,” I said. The truth is I was curious about her actual magic in this respect. Could it really reach into my core and put me into love?

This time she didn’t gesture. She just stood there and gazed at me. I met her gaze. Her eyes seemed to expand into whirling saucers, or maybe miniature tornadoes.

And her power reached out and caught my mind and heart and wrapped them into her essence. Suddenly I was absolutely bursting with love for her, and sex was only part of it.

But I also knew her Name: Wons, a combination of Witch and Nonce, modified.

And I knew her inner spirit. Indeed she was innocent of the murder of the Warlock. She was guilty of many other things, such as seducing men to gain advantage over them, but her love for her cousin had been Family. They had grown up together and shared secrets. They had explored each other’s bodies as small children, she amazed by his penis, he surprised by her lack of any such member. They had advised each other on dealing with the opposite gender. She had been truly crushed when he died. The grief-null potion served like a wall between her and the dreadful desolation of his loss. She had been as close to him as I had been to Bear. I knew this with the certainty of mind-sharing.

And she knew me similarly. We were indeed telepathically connected, and it was as close as two people could be without sharing a body. She knew I was innocent too. I knew she knew this, and she knew I knew her innocence.

We came together and embraced. “Oh, Nonce!” I breathed.

“Oh, Phil,” she echoed. “I am letting myself go. I love you.”

After a timeless time we separated, physically. “I think now we have another problem,” I said. “All I can think of is you.”

“We’ll burn it off on the bed.”

We had another half hour session before, sexually exhausted, we lay beside each other and gazed at the ceiling. “Now maybe we can discuss investigative strategy,” I said.

“That is simple. You will interview the suspects, fathom their Names, and their states of guilt. When you find the right one, we’ll act.”

“How will we act?”

“We’ll kill him. No one will question it; the Supes will know that justice has been done. The mundanes won’t know anything. They never do.”

And all Supes labored diligently to see that it remained that way. Our peaceful residence scattered among mundanes depended on not arousing their superstitious terror of the supernatural. “They think magic is fantasy,” I said, laughing. “But how do we locate the suspects?”

“You know that, Phil. We’ll go to the Clan leaders. They’ll cooperate. None of them like Supes getting killed.”

They probably would cooperate. But I still had a doubt. “I can fathom Names when a Supe does magic in my presence. But that won’t necessarily give me the identity of the murderer. I may not even get to interview the right suspect.”

“We’ll get information on the victims from the Clan leaders, who they associated with, who their friends and lovers and rivals and enemies were. The main chore will be the tedious interviewing of scores of folk who will be innocent but maybe resentful about being suspects. You can’t make them do their magic in your presence. So there may be challenges, yes, but you can do it.”

“How can you be so sure? I’m not sure.”

“Phil, your WereWoman ability is unusual. But it’s your Name fathoming that really counts, for this. It’s a form of telepathy that I haven’t heard of any other Supe having. That’s your key asset. That’s why I wanted you in the first place.”

I sighed. “I hope I can live up to your expectation. It would be a shame for you to waste your love on a washout.”

“It would be a shame,” she agreed, kissing me. “Now let’s get busy on the case. Time is surely of the essence.”

“First we have to exonerate a major remaining suspect.”

“Your office girl,” she agreed.

“Sydelle is a hell of a lot more than an office girl. She owns the business. She set me up in it. She had a premonition that this was appropriate, and followed through. I owe my career to her.”

“Yes, I picked up on that when I researched you. And I’m sure she is innocent. But we need to prove it.”

“Yes. She’ll return to the office tomorrow, and I will update my take on her.”

“Meanwhile we can start with the Witches. I will contact the Coven Mistress. I know her well; I’m sure she’ll cooperate.”

“I’ve never talked with any Clan leader outside the Weres,” I said.

“Then this will be the first of several. You need to establish connections for future cases.”

“You’re assuming that I’ll be successful in this business.”

“I am. You have the potential.”

“That’s what Syd says. I’m not so sure.”

“I’m calling the Mistress.” She lifted her cell phone.

“Not magically?”

“Phil, apart from certain potions and hypnotic techniques, we’re pretty ordinary folk. Even if I could signal her telepathically, I wouldn’t unless it was an emergency. This is routine.”

“Routine,” I agreed.

“Temblor,” she murmured into the phone. “I have enlisted the PI Phil Were to investigate the murder of Warlock Standish. May we talk with you?” Then she smiled and disconnected.

“She agreed?” I asked, slightly dubious.

“She’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Here? I thought we’d have to get an appointment.”

“This case is important to us. We want it solved, so we’re facilitating things. It is also off the record, so there’s no formal appointment.”

“I don’t know what to say to her.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Just let her meet you.”

“This is almost too simple for me to grasp.”

Nonce smiled. “Simple on the surface. If she vetoes you, you can keep the gold and my love, but you’ll do no work for the Coven.”

“I’m being judged,” I said, catching on. “The rest is dross.” Not that gold and her love really answered that description.

“She respects my judgment. It should be okay.”

There was a single knock on the door. Nonce opened it to a homely short-haired older woman in a dull business suit. Nonce nodded silently, as if bowing to a superior, and ushered the woman in. “Phil, Temblor,” she said, introducing us to each other.

“You let yourself love him?” Temblor inquired sharply as if I were not there.

“I did.” No explanation, no excuses.

“You are satisfied with his competence?”

“I am satisfied with his potential.” Which was not the same thing.

Now the Witch turned to me, catching my eye. Suddenly she became a lovely young sprite with flowing knee-length hair and a dress made of green leaves that hardly concealed her remarkable curves. Her face would launch a thousand ships. But I had no hint of her Name; this was incidental illusion, not solid magic.

“He will do.” Temblor departed.

Nonce sank back as if released from an ogre’s grip. “That’s a relief.”

“You weren’t that sure she’d approve me,” I said.

“I thought she would, but there was doubt. Now we’re on.”

“You could have seduced me without love. You didn’t. That impressed her?”

“Yes. But she’d have vetoed you in an instant if she hadn’t verified your potential.”

“How did she verify it? I never picked up her Name.”

“She verified it through my mind.”

“Ah. Bypassing my mind, so as to protect hers.”

“We are not amateurs,” Nonce said half ruefully.

“Do we have information on suspects?”

“Yes. Now that you’ve been approved, I can share it with you.” She brought out a folder with files similar to those I had seen in the Warlock’s office. “There’s his business associate, his mistress, his—”

“Mistress? I thought you told me he was gay.”

“He maintained appearances. She shares a small apartment with her brother. When they went there she kept watch while he made out with the brother. The siblings were very good at keeping secrets. She could answer questions that only a lover would know.”

“Go on.”

“His leading client. No one else was close enough to him to have managed the killing. Except me.”

“So that’s four for me to interview: associate, client, mistress, brother.”

“And all are innocent, as I’m sure you will verify.”

“But if no one else was close enough—”

“That’s the mystery. I don’t see how he could have been murdered.”

I thought of something. “It is possible he’s not dead? That he faked his own murder, so as to get away from it all?”

“No. I would have known. I was close enough to have a bit of telepathic rapport, and I felt him die. He is definitely dead.”

“I will have to think about this.”

She did not argue with me, but moved on efficiently. “Meanwhile, you’d better see the Vampire Chief. We have time today. I have his name and address.”

I felt a cold clutch in my gizzard. I didn’t much like Vampires. “I don’t suppose you are personally acquainted?”

“Not at all.”

“So this is a cold contact.”

“Frigid,” she agreed.

I sighed. “Let’s get over there.”

Nonce drove me. Her car was a silent electric, breathtakingly expensive but a pleasure to be in. “It’s a far drive out to the castle,” she said. “Let’s get in the back seat; it’s shielded from observation.”

“While driving?” I asked, alarmed.

“It’s self driving. I put it on autopilot.” She lifted her hands away from the steering wheel, and I saw it steering itself.

What the hell. My passion was still new, and evidently hers was too. We climbed into the back seat and made out while the car found its own way to the programmed address.

“Approaching destination,” a soft voice said.

“Damn,” Nonce said. She gave me one more kiss, and put herself back together. We resumed our proper places up front just in time for the car to park.

VAMPIRE VANTAGE, the sign said at the entrance to the gloomy castle. It was a tourist trap, obviously faked up. The tourists didn’t know that the realistic Vampires weren’t men and women in costume, but real ones, and that when they sprouted fangs and wings they weren’t faking them. But of course they didn’t actually feed on tourists, because that would very soon have destroyed their secrecy.

We approached the front desk inside. “We need to talk with Vomish,” Nonce told the beautifully fanged desk clerk. “Business.” I noted mentally that some Clans had personal names starting with any letter, as was the case with Weres and Witches, while others all started with the Clan letter, like V for Vamps. To each its own convention.

“We can make an appointment for next week.”

“We need it now.”

“That is not possible. Vomish is away this week.”

Nonce reached out and touched the woman’s hand. “Supe business.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she recognized the aura of the Witch. Supe business indeed. She glanced at me. I extended my own hand, and she took it, becoming aware that I was a Were. Now she knew this was serious; a Witch and a Were did not just drop in on a Vamp leader to play tiddlywinks. “His assistant Vachelle is available.”

“That will have to do,” Nonce said.

We were ushered into a somber private office buried in the depths of the interior. A sultry black-haired creature greeted us. “Welcome to our humble demesnes, Phil and Nonce,” she said. “I am Vachelle, assistant to the Clan Chief Vomish.” She smiled, showing her dainty fangs. “Perhaps I can help you.” She wore a dark cape, a skintight bodice, and a very short skirt. She was clearly formidable in bed.

“We hope so,” Nonce said. “Our business is urgent.”

“A Witch and a Were,” Vachelle said. “An unusual combination.”

“We are lovers,” Nonce said. “Sometimes odd liaisons happen.”

“I might be able to serve you even so,” the Vampiress said. “I am what you might term a switch hitter, comfortable with both men and women, apart or together.” She stroked her bodice delicately, making her breasts quiver, and her skirt seemed to hitch up a notch. It was sexy as all hell, by no accident.

“Strictly each other,” Nonce said. “Our love is new.”

Now I understood why Nonce had mentioned our relationship. Vampires used sex as a device to make victims amenable. Who minded losing a little blood, considering the phenomenal sex? Nonce was letting her know we weren’t in that market.

“Ah, well. Maybe next month.” Then she gave us a straight gaze. “I was only teasing. What is your business?”

My turn. “There have been three recent murders of Supes. We suspect they are related. That a serial killer is going after Supes. This alarms us, and we want to stop it as soon as possible.”

“What Clans?”

“Were, Witch, Vamp,” I said. “The Were was my closest friend. The Warlock was Nonce’s cousin. We don’t know the Vamp. That’s why we need your help.”

“You are thinking of Vulcan. He died suspiciously four days ago. We have not publicized his demise. You evidently have your sources.”

“We Witched out the news of the death,” Nonce said. “Not the details. We would not have been so much concerned, had it not been followed by deaths among our own Clans.”

“We are interested in your quest,” Vachelle said. “But we require some authentication of your status. We seldom indulge in extracurricular liaisons.”

“By that you mean close work with other Supes?” I asked.

“We do normally prefer to stay within our Clan.”

“What kind of authentication?” Nonce asked tightly.

“A little blood. That will tell us whatever we need to know.”

“We don’t like giving blood,” I said. “There are said to be consequences.”

“Sit down. Perhaps I can reassure you.”

We sat in the plush low couches she indicated, and Vachelle sat opposite us, crossing her legs. Naturally this exposed her thighs to the crotch, which appeared to be bereft of panties. My own crotch pulsed in involuntary response; I had a sudden urge to make close contact. Nonce, oddly, seemed to be similarly fascinated. “Cut it out!” she snapped.

“There is a reason,” Vachelle said. “I am not asking to feed on you. Merely to take a single drop of your blood. That will enable me to attune to your sincerity of nature and purpose. If you are trying to deceive me, this will expose it. If you are sincere, this will conform it. Then I will assist you to the limit of my ability. The taking of that drop will not poison you or convert you to Vampire status. It is merely the way we invoke our magic. If you want my trust, you will have to trust me to that extent.” She smiled. “And the glimpse I provide you of my body will make the taking of that drop painless, even pleasurable. It seems a fair exchange.”

She had put it on the line, and it did make sense. Every Clan had its own ways. “I will do it,” I said.

“I am glad of that.” The Vampiress uncrossed her legs, in the process providing me an even better glimpse that nearly anesthetized me by itself, and came to me where I sat. She bent forward at the waist, showing me the marvelously intricate curvature of her breasts within the bodice. She kissed me on the mouth, and I seemed to float toward the ceiling. Then she kissed me on the neck and stepped back.

“Aren’t you going to take the blood?” I asked.

She laughed. “I have taken it. I sucked it in as I bit you on the neck.”

I touched my neck with my fingers. There was a bit of dampness there. “I thought that was another kiss.”

“It was. Our kind.”

“Oh.” It had indeed been a pleasure, both the glimpses and the touches.

Vachelle approached Nonce similarly, leaning down to kiss her mouth, then her neck. “I’m not a lesbian,” Nonce said. “But with you I could almost do it. You certainly have the touch.”

“Thank you. Now I will provide you full information for your quest. You both have satisfied me as to your sincerity.”

So just like that it was done. Vachelle produced paper files on all Vulcan’s closest associates, which were all females. I knew right away it was going to be devilish (bad word) to untangle similar motives. But at least we were ready to proceed. We thanked her and departed.

“You knew we’d face seduction,” I said back in Nonce’s car as we rode back to her apartment. “That’s why you tackled me on the way.”

“I suspected. Vampires have a reputation.”

“So do Witches. Is it okay with you if we focus on business now?”

She laughed. “We now have three sets of suspects. It’s probably best to tackle them one Clan at a time. Where do we start?”

“With yours?”

“There’s still time in the day. I can take us to the brother and sister.”

But at that point I realized that I had had enough for one day. “Let’s wait until tomorrow. I need to sleep on what I have.”

“At my place or your place?”

To spend the night in her embrace. I yielded to temptation. “Your place.”

“Done.” The car changed direction.