Dr. Josefine Wolfe didn't realize there was something wrong until Judge Harford suddenly fell silent. She'd zoned out a while ago, somewhere when he'd started talking about the Oracles of the Obscure and their latest research, this time into the subject of elemental demons and spirits. Josefine had tuned him out not because the subject matter was boring, though he seemed to be making a great effort to make it sound that way, she'd tuned him out to observe the other guests at the event.
The party was meant to promote a sense of comradery between the police, FBI, and handful of Private Investigators operating in the island city of Otsha, but Josefine was only good with people when there were strings attached and even then most people had a sort of instinctual response to her presence, or more accurately, to the presence of the Monster in her head she referred to as Wolf with something like affection.
Josefine was off-putting to anyone with any sort of instinct and most investigators relied heavily enough on it that they tended to know something was wrong about her even without seeing the Monster move behind her eyes.
Thus at this party meant to build feelings of trust, Josefine was an unwelcome presence and most of them made sure she knew it.
She'd started the evening alone against the wall and remained that way until Detective Janzen Andries found her there and approached with an amicable smile.
"How've you been, Jo? Mingling with the law enforcement? Making new connections?" She raised an eyebrow at him as he leaned against the wall beside her and he seemed to read that she wasn't in the mood for his teasing in her body language; he was probably one of the only people she knew who could read her despite her lack of expressiveness. "I know," he rubbed at the dark scuff along his chin—he looked like he'd come straight to the event from an all-nighter working some case or another with the two days worth of stubble and dark circles around his cognac eyes almost as dark as her own dark circles. "I heard some of the Feds trash talking you earlier." Josefine shrugged noncommittally.
"Let them talk," a remarkably prideful and almost sinister smile flickered across her lips before she continued, "I hear their solve rate in violent crimes has dropped considerably since I quit." Quitting was probably too nice of a way to put it when they'd parted after she'd told her boss to breeze off, but really they'd been looking for a good excuse to chase her out for a while and she refused to give them the satisfaction.
She'd never quite figured out how politics could be more important than investigative skill and deductive reasoning in a job that revolved around solving crimes, but somehow it was.
Andries laughed at her comment and her matter-of-fact delivery before turning his gaze to survey the room the same way she was. "I see none of the other PIs seem keen on making friends with you either," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a side hug despite the fact she initially flinched away from the contact, "Don't worry about that too much, you're still pretty new to that business even with your background."
Another smile split Josefine's lips at that, all teeth and no real emotion in it beyond mild amusement.
"Bullshit." Then the smile was gone and she opened her mouth to say something else when Judge Harford approached them with a jovial smile and an almost empty glass of bourbon.
"Detective Andries, I hear you pulled an interesting murder a couple weeks ago. How have you been doing with the loose ends of that case?" Andries released his grip on Josefine's shoulder, watching from the corner of his eye as she took a discreet step away as if she planned to run before Harford's attention was turned on her.
"Actually, most of the legwork for that case was done by Doc here. She just recently opened up office as a PI." Judge Harford raised his eyebrows in surprise and turned an appraising eye on Josefine, making her skin crawl under it until he met her grey eyes and the tapping started—fingers on the side of the untouched glass in her hand.
He barely lasted a second before Wolf snickered and he quickly looked away.
He cleared his throat and looked to Andries again, "Doc? Well I think an introduction is in order, don't you, Detective?"
"Yessir." Andries planted a hand on Josefine's shoulder that she supposed was meant to be reassuring if one ignored that fact physical contact usually still meant pain in her mind. "This is Dr. Josefine Wolfe of Wōden Private Investigations. Jo, this is Judge Jeffrey Harford, he might've handled some of your cases before you left the Feds."
Josefine nodded slightly, she'd heard about Judge Harford occasionally before she'd quit, but she'd never paid much mind to any of it, just enough attention to know he had a reputation for being ruthless in the courtroom and a womanizing alcoholic outside of it.
She knew there was a reason she didn't like the way he was looking at her and supposed that was probably it as she glanced around for another chance to escape. There wasn't one, not now that he'd turned his full attention on her and Andries still had a hand almost as if protectively or possessively on her shoulder.
At least he hadn't abandoned her to him altogether, she supposed.
In another life, they might have been friends, but unfortunately in this life Josefine was fairly certain she wasn't really capable of that sort of relationship.
A homicidal Monster living in one's head didn't exactly make for a good foundation for such things.
Judge Harford wasn't deterred or put off by their often one word or noncommittal replies and kept chattering on, drifting in subject from various cases and what sounded like it was meant to be flattery to talking himself up to the Oracles of the Obscure after he’d caught Josefine staring at a silver Infiniti pin on his lapel, a group somewhere between cult and secret society that studied magic for wealthy normal humans who didn't have even a drop of real mana running through their veins. There's an almost instinctual response to magic in some people in a similar way to how some people are more sensitive to Wolf than others; some are more sensitive to it than others to the point they can differentiate between casters. Josefine had been in the presence of powerful magic before, she knew of two individuals off the top of her head who could probably raze Otsha to the ground with it if they wanted to, so little groups like the Oracles held no real interest to her.
The Judge didn't hold her interest either…
not until he broke off mid-sentence and she glanced his way again in mild curiosity.
“Blood,” Wolf pressed against the walls of her mind as Josefine watched red bloom across the white of Judge Harford's shirt under the suit jacket.
For that one second, time seemed to stand still.
Then Josefine's eyes met the suddenly panicked expression of the attacker—some rookie beat cop based on his young age—and the young man seemed to recognize that she was a threat on instinct alone.
He let go of the knife as Judge Harford collapsed into Andries and bolted.
Josefine's grey eyes flicked across the room at the shock and panic on other people's faces before she dropped her glass and went after him as Wolf's calls for a hunt echoed in her thoughts.
Josefine had recognized the magic on the attacker almost as soon as she'd recognized the knife in his hands, even if she couldn't quite put it into words.
The young officer was fast, but so was Josefine once she'd kicked off her heels on the sidewalk outside; she kept up even if she couldn't quite close the distance on her own. She was just starting to debate handing control over to Wolf for the extra speed of hysterical strength as her hair came loose from the bun she'd tied it up in, weighing the pros and cons without much thought as to her surroundings beyond where her prey was. She didn't see the man about her age stepping out of the bookstore in front of her until it was too late and they collided with enough force to topple them both over.
Familiar magic sparked in the air around them with the muttering of some kind of spell in an equally familiar voice, cushioning their fall before he reached up as if to grasp at something and a ghostly hand grabbed hold of the fleeing officer before he could get away.
"Hey Josie," the familiar voice reached her ears clearer now, "you alright?"
The only reason Josefine wasn't in a rush to immediately get away from the man was because even without looking or hearing his voice, she knew who it was based on the feel of his magic alone. Still, she lifted away from him to meet his gaze and scan over his expression for any signs he might be in pain after their collision and fall.
"Emil," she forced a smile that was meant to be reassuring even though she knew he was one of the few people who could see right through it, "thanks for catching me," she sat up, though she didn't bother untangling her legs from his just yet; Wolf would laugh at her endlessly for thinking it but human warmth was comforting every now and then when it came from someone she felt she could trust.
Emilus Solomon was probably the only person in the world Josefine trusted, at least in part because he was the only one who knew about Wolf and Josefine's extracurricular activities other than Anna Manhattan, who just seemed to know things regardless of how well guarded they were and felt far too dangerous for trust.
"Thanks for catching him, too," she continued as Emil sat up as well with a quiet groan; she wasn't surprised, she'd hit him pretty hard, it would've been impressive he'd been able to react quickly enough to cushion the impact with the ground and catch the fleeing officer even in that situation except Josefine knew Emil.
He was one of the two people she knew who could raze the city to the ground, though thunder and lightning was more his forte than fire and brimstone.
"So," he began after a moment of taking in both how she and the officer were dressed and the blood on the officer's hands, "you look really pretty and all, but since I'm sort of involved now, would you mind explaining why you were chasing someone down the street barefoot?"
“He stabbed someone to death,” Josefine explained as she climbed to her feet and offered him a hand up, “we were at an event for law enforcement and I sensed magic.” Emil took her hand and let her help him up, his brow furrowed in question.
“Alright, but barefoot?” She glanced down at her feet and wiggled her stockinged toes against the sidewalk.
“I wasn’t going to chase him in heels.” Emil chuckled to himself as he turned to start reeling in the young officer who was struggling frantically against translucent silvery blue binds.
“That’s reasonable, I suppose.” He closed his hand on the back of the young officer’s neck and steered him towards the door into Raven’s Roost, his book and magic supply store. “Let’s move this discussion inside,” he gestured toward the door with his free hand and Josefine nodded, moving forward to push the door open and hold it for him to follow her inside with the young officer. She moved around the counter and pulled the chair out from behind it so that Emil could settle him into it.
“I didn’t do it,” the officer tried to explain, “I just woke up with the knife in my hand—I didn’t—” Emil hummed at his words.
“No memory?” He glanced at Josefine, “You said you sensed magic?”
“Yes.” He looked down at the frantic and confused young officer again.
“Alright,” Emil planted a hand on both arms of the chair and met the officer’s gaze. When certain magics run through your veins, divination magic comes easier and with it comes the ability to look into a person’s eyes and see into their soul. Emil was one such person with abilities to the point he rarely met anyone’s gaze at all for fear of seeing too much. Josefine watched as his eyes went cloudy, forgetting to breathe for a moment as she waited. Then she exhaled all at once as his eyes cleared back to the familiar blue.
“What did you see?” Emil straightened up, taking a deep breath.
“You were right,” his gaze flicked her way, “he was controlled by something.”
#
Josefine was woken the next morning by the FBI knocking on her door bright and early. She opened the door and, for once, visibly deflated at the sight of them.
“Schultz,” she addressed her old partner with an even tone, “I’d say it’s a pleasure but I’d be lying.”
“Relax, I brought coffee,” Schultz held out a paper cup and Josefine took it almost on reflex, “the Bureau would like to hire your services for a case.”
“Better be some damn good coffee then,” she muttered as she took a sip from the cup.
“Look, I don’t want to be here either, but the case is your kind of weird,” Schultz coaxed and her interest was piqued.
“Alright, call me curious,” she took another long drink of her coffee and then gestured into the apartment, “let me go put some real clothes on and I’ll follow you down to the crime scene.”
#
Josefine got off of her motorcycle while Schultz and the other agents who’d come to get her got out of their car ahead of her. She smoothed out the lines of her woolen green overcoat, waiting for Schultz before approaching the cordoned off crime scene. Police and FBI agents milled about in the plaza in front of city hall discussing in muted voices how what they were looking at was possible. They were looking at the body of one Peter Lukas, which wasn’t all that unusual, except that it was frozen solid through in the middle of the hottest time of year.
“Name was Peter Lukas,” Schultz took the notepad from one of the officers as Josefine approached the body, “witnesses say last anyone saw him he was working late last night in city hall. The morning shift found him when they were coming into work.” Peter Lukas was dressed the part of city official, Josefine supposed, examining his frosted three piece suit. Something shiny caught her gaze in the lapel of his jacket, a familiar double “O” pin to tie him to the Oracles of the Obscure.
“May I?” She gestured toward the body and Schultz waved her on so she reached out to check the frosted pockets of Lukas’s jacket. In one of his pockets was a piece of paper so she slipped it out between two fingers and unfolded it. There was an address scrawled on it and something dropped in the pit of her stomach when she recognized it. She discreetly tucked the paper into her pocket; this magic she felt coming off the body felt off from anything human; Emil didn’t need to be dragged into this case just because the vic was a patron of Raven’s Roost. Then she returned to checking the other pockets but all she found was a wallet frozen into an inside pocket so she moved on to check the watch on his wrist. The ice had gotten into the gears; it was stopped at 11:15 so Josefine knew the time of death at least even if she couldn’t explain the cause. She straightened up and turned back to Schultz, “Any suspects so far?” It was early in the case, they probably hadn’t come up with a list of suspects yet.
“Just one,” Schultz answered to her mild surprise and checked his notes, “One Emilius Solomon, he claims to be some kind of wizard.” Josefine bit her tongue to resist correcting him. He smiled wide like he was taking some personal satisfaction from all this, “He’s a friend of yours, isn’t that so?”
#
Emil had just opened his shop an hour or so ago when he heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle pulling up outside. He placed another book between the pages of his book and set them aside just as Josefine came inside looking rather grim and followed closely by four rather serious looking men in black suits.
“Good morning, Josie,” Emil began hesitantly, eyeing the men with wariness, “this is about work, isn’t it?” Josefine forced a grim smile and nodded slightly as he stood from his chair.
“‘Josie’, eh? Maybe you weren't just friends,” the lead agent of the trio pushed past her to take the center of Emil’s attention and Emil hardened at his words, static crackling across his scarred knuckles as he flexed his fingers behind the counter. Then he caught Josefine's pointed look over the agent's shoulder and shifted that hand behind his back. “I’m Agent Schultz,” Schultz flashed his badge, “we’re here in regards to the death of Peter Lukas,” he took a sketch of the victim out of his notepad and placed it on the counter between them, “Have you seen him before?” Emil looked down at the sketch and shrugged.
“I don't know him from anyone else, he may have come in at some point or maybe not,” he slid the paper back toward Schultz.
“Where were you last night between 10pm and midnight?” He blinked in surprise at the accusatory tone behind the question, shrinking back slightly even as he didn't want to falter in front of someone like Schultz. His brow furrowed and he forced himself to straighten up again.
“I was here with Holmes,” he gestured toward the white raven perched on one of the shelves overlooking the shop, “after turning over that runaway cop from last night,” there was more than a little bite to Emil’s answer before he looked past Schultz toward Josefine. “What is all this about, really?” Josefine pushed forward so that she was shoulder to shoulder with Schultz.
“Lukas was killed with magic—”
“That’s not what the Bureau believes—” Schultz began to argue but Josefine cut him off.
“He was frozen solid mid-stride in the middle of the hottest time of year.”
“Oh, I see,” Emil’s gaze narrowed into a glare at Schultz and the other agents, “you couldn't explain how he died so you blame the local sorcerer.” Electricity crackled across his hand again, “Come back when you have evidence,” he came around the desk to herd them out the door and slam it behind them. Then he turned back to Josefine, “You sensed magic?” She nodded slightly.
“I don't think it was human, it felt…” she cocked her head to one side thinking over the right word to describe what she’d felt, “off.”
“Something supernatural? That bodes well,” Emil paused, debating over his network of supernatural patrons and, “Manhattan,” he looked up, “have you heard from Ms. Manhattan?” Josefine’s brow furrowed.
“Not recently, why would I need to speak with Anna?”
“She’s got a finger on the pulse of all things supernatural here in Otsha, if you want to know how this Lukas fella died, she’s the one to ask.” She seemed to think it over for a moment before nodding slowly.
“Suppose I know where I’m going next,” she started to leave, but something made her stop and turn back, her hand lingering on the handle of the door, “I suggest you keep your head down until this blows over, I know you’re not the only one in Otsha with magic, but the Bureau is operating off the assumption you are.” Emil nodded his understanding.
“Stay safe, Josie.”
#
Josefine started her search for Anna at Pluto’s Hardware and Accessories—where the ‘accessories’ referred to the alcohol. Her Uncle Finn then directed her to Marconi’s Refrigerator and Supply, which, last Josefine had heard, belonged to the Italians, but she went anyway. Otsha’s underground is divided almost exactly in half between the Irish and the Italians, everyone else just picks a side—Josefine’s father was bottom rung of the ladder for the Irish, but all she remembered him doing was drinking and gambling. She didn’t learn more about the feud between the two sides until she joined the Bureau. They have nicknames for the leaders on both sides: Rufino Vitali is called the Saint, mainly for the irony that a man named for St Rufinus explodes on an almost daily basis just to keep his temper in shape. Anna Manhattan is called the King because beneath all of the skirmishes and sudden take-overs, she’s there pulling the strings; Anna is Vitali’s polar opposite, calculating and soft-spoken, but nonetheless terrifying the rare times Josefine had seen her angry.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Needless to say, whatever Anna was up to at Marconi’s, she was hoping it had her in a good mood.
Anna’s laugh reached her almost immediately as Josefine gave the password and was let inside, so she followed the sound to find her raking in cash at the poker table.
“Ah, my little Wolfe,” Anna sounded in a well enough mood as she urged her into the seat next to hers.
“Anna,” Josefine began, waving off the dealer when they offered to deal her in; she knew better than to play against Anna even if her father hadn’t permanently put her off gambling, “I’d like to speak with you if you have a moment.” She wondered briefly if she sounded as nervous as she was as Anna flashed her a knowing smile. That smile on her lips felt predatory, enough so Josefine could swear she felt Wolf—Wolf who laughed at the idea of danger—shrink back in fear.
“I know why you’re here, little Wolfe,” Anna said as she checked her cards, the little four-leaf clover tattoo on her hand on full display under the bright lights; ‘who needs luck anyway’, it read to go along with the scissors cutting off one of the petals.
“Then can we—” Josefine focused back on the topic at hand, trying not to react when Anna raised the bets to an even two hundred despite the mediocre cards in her hand. Two of the other players folded, the third called with a look like he stuck around for pure spite.
“We can discuss your murder in a bit, let me finish my business—Ah, here they are.” Josefine followed her gaze to find a pair of large men in neat suits—both armed beneath them—approaching the table. They came to a halt on either side of Anna, both towering over her lean frame, but the predatory smile never faded.
“Boss wants a word, miss,” one of the large men spoke, voice low with hidden meaning.
“Word it you’ve been swapping cards,” the second didn’t bother with discretion. One brow quirked up at the accusation before Anna laughed again, amusement the only thing Josefine could read in her liquid mercury eyes.
“In this dress?” She gestured to the form-fitting dress that hugged all of her curves and the men’s eyes followed, “Do tell b’ys,” raven hair fell over pale shoulders as she smiled up at them, her normally odd mix of Scottish and Glastonbury accent dropped like a switch had flipped and suddenly it was all New York Bronx in a medley of stolen sounds with a thick undertone of Irish attitude, “where did they say I was hidin’ the cards?” The two men—Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, Josefine had decided—exchanged looks she didn’t get the chance to dissect before Tweedle Dee straightened.
“Boss wants a word,” he repeated and she watched as Anna’s smile widened further.
“Fine b’ys, lead on.” He turned to lead the way while she and Josefine rose to follow, Anna’s firm grip on her wrist enough to deter Tweedle Dum from stopping her before he brought up the rear. Tweedle Dee led them into the back behind the bar and stopped to knock at an office door.
“Bring ‘er in,” a voice called from inside thick with Italian so he opened the door and ushered the two of them through where they found a short, greasy man seated at a desk with his fingers tented in front of him. “So you was caught cheatin’,” he eyed Anna, gaze lingering on curves in a way that had her stifling a laugh. “You think it’s funny? Do ya know what we do to cheaters here at Marconi’s?”
“You pour them a pair of cement shoes and introduce them to the edge of Otsha,” Josefine broke her silence with a deadpan answer to a question she belatedly realized had been rhetorical, but that didn’t slow her down, “I’ve always wanted to ask about the cement shoes ‘cause people don’t float up here and the cement usually breaks on impact down there.” Anna really did laugh then and the man—Marconi, Josefine supposed?—turned red with anger as he shot to his feet and slammed his hands on the desk.
“I’ll be fitting you both for cement shoes—” he began and her hand drifted to the pistol secure under her over coat—it wasn’t a shootout Josefine would win, or even survive in all likelihood, but she figured she could take a few of them down with her.
“Wait,” Anna cut in, stifling residual snickers with her hand, “I wasn’t cheatin’ but I have a counteroffer for you if this is how we’re gonna play this.” She smiled as she approached the desk, all supernatural charisma as she reached out to pull him closer by his tie. For that moment, it didn’t matter how much the Irish and the Italians seemed to hate each other because Anna was a very attractive woman and he was a healthy heterosexual male; Marconi was about an inch from her with a sort of dazed and aroused look when she pulled a lot harder, dumping him headfirst over the desk and onto the floor with more force than he or Josefine expected. Then Anna twisted on her heel to settle on the desk, making a show of crossing one leg over the other in the picture of power. “I like the setup here, so I’ll ask once that you hand it over,” her predatory smile was back, “if I must ask a second time, I’ll just feed the lot of you to my Hounds,” she gestured briefly to her side as a massive Theron Hound—a breed of wolf-dog Josefine could swear was more monster than dog—slipped out of the shadows beside her as if he’d been there all along, “and take it by force.” At her words, the Hound stalked forward with a silent snarl.
“You’ll die for this, you bitch! Vitali will have your head!” Marconi spat the words, about to scramble to his fleet again except the Hound was that much closer, sharp, vicious teeth on clear display.
“Oh?” Anna only looked mildly amused at the threat, a reaction that would’ve seemed almost suicidal coming from anyone else, “By all means, let him try.”
#
Once Marconi and his men were driven out and the Hound had settled at Anna’s side, she looked up at Josefine from her search through the desk drawers.
“Now, let’s discuss the matter of your murder.” She gestured for Josefine to take a seat but nerves and Wolf’s urge to flee her presence kept her upright.
“Peter Lukas. He was frozen solid mid-stride at 11:15 last night. The magic that did it wasn't human and Solomon tells me you keep tabs on all things supernatural in town.” Anna smiled.
“Things like your little Monster?” Josefine chilled as she was called out and she could swear she felt Wolf shrink back in fear. “Yes, I suppose I could tell you what you've stumbled across, but where would the fun in that be?” Her brow furrowed at Anna's words, “No, I won't give you the answer, but I'll give you a hint: your man was killed by an Ala, a demon, and as you know, demons can be bound and directed.” Josefine actually smiled as she thought over the hint.
"The Ala is just a tool in this, I work the case as normal and the trail will lead me to the summoner.” Anna's smile widened.
"Off you go little Wolfe. Send Solomon my regards.” She'd barely finished speaking when Josefine was out the door.
#
Between her in with the Otsha Police Department through Detective Andries and her official sanction to work the case from the Bureau, Josefine was able to get her hands on every file they had regarding Peter Lukas. The contents ranged from recent projects he'd been on—a request to refurbish the city’s lighthouses—to who’d been the last to see him alive—his head secretary when she'd left the office at 9pm that same evening.
A day had passed but all Josefine had really learned that might serve as motive for murder was that most of Lukas's "late nights at the office" had been spent with either his secretary or a gentleman down the hall doing everything except work.
Only problem with that theory was that the wife didn't know about any of it and neither of his intimates knew about the other; Josefine had already asked and dealt with the resulting mix of grief and anger they'd each responded with so she was certain they weren't lying about it.
She'd returned to combing through the files for some other lead when there was a knock at the door and she set aside what she was reading to answer it.
“Schultz,” she resisted the urge to close the door in his face, “What is it this time?” He shoved another paper cup of coffee into her hands like it was some kind of bribe.
“There’s been another body.”
#
Shanti Misra was found by her husband in her bed at home. There were no marks on her body to say she’d died of unnatural causes except that she was frozen just as solid as Lukas. There was no watch to tell Josefine the exact time of death this time, but based on the husband’s summary of events, it was a safe estimate to say Misra had died sometime in the night as well.
Before this body, Josefine and the Bureau had been operating under the assumption that Lukas was a one off, but now things were looking like the beginnings of a spree.
Josefine and Schultz now stood in a small room off Misra’s living room that was populated by a strange altar within a salt pentagram with various rune-esque shapes, herbs, and trinkets between the points; to Josefine, who was at least somewhat familiar with real magic, the set up looked like a hodge podge collection of things that were supposed to have power according to various cultures but really didn’t unless they were in the right hands.
Schultz crouched to pick up what looked like a business card and whistled as he looked it over.
“Your boy is looking a lot like our best suspect,” he said as he flashed Josefine the card and she recognized the raven on its perch motif that represented Raven’s Roost.
“So they frequent the same bookstore,” she replied even as she knew that was exactly the sort of coincidence that she’d normally take as a red flag, “there are only two bookstores in the city, the odds were fifty-fifty.” Except Emil sold more than just books, the various herbs and crystals arranged around Misra’s altar probably came from him and the evidence was painting him in a very bad light.
#
Emil had no alibi for Misra, nor did he when a third body showed up the next day with just as damning ties to Raven’s Roost. Between that and his almost hostile response to Scuiltz’s accusatory questions, it was no surprise when he was arrested on suspicion of three counts of murder. Without actual evidence though, they couldn’t exactly bring him up on charges so the longest they could hold him was 72 hours, and Josefine explained as much to him when she came to visit on day three of his incarceration.
“I do remember them,” he kept his voice low and leaned against the bars so that only she would hear him, “they came for magic supplies, but not one of them had a lick of it to speak of.” Something about the way he said it reminded her of the death of Judge Harford and suddenly she had an idea.
“Could an Ala control someone’s actions?” Emil raised an eyebrow and hummed quietly to himself in thought.
“Most demons can manage a minor form of mind control, so I suppose so. Why?” Josefine smiled.
“I need to check something, but I think I figured it out.”
#
Josefine pulled up outside the Oracles of the Obscure chapter house and turned off her motorcycle, studying the building for a moment before she dismounted. Judge Harford’s case had been open and shut as far as the police and the Bureau had been concerned, but if the young officer who’d stabbed him had been controlled by inhuman magic, it was too much of a coincidence to believe at least two members of the Oracles were murdered within the span of a couple of days. Add to that Misra and the last body that both had evidence of attempting to practice magic hidden away in their homes, Josefine drew the connection.
So she’d looked into Harford’s files and found a building on the outskirts of the city under his name.
The building looked relatively normal on the outside, so she approached the door and tried the knob. She exhaled a breath she hadn't meant to hold when she found it was locked, as if her instinct knew something was off about this place. Wolf shifted on high alert in her head, setting her on edge as she fished her bump key from a pocket and worked to get the door unlocked.
The corridor it opened to was dark and cold, enough so that Josefine's breath fogged in the air before her.
She pulled her revolver from its shoulder holster under her coat.
“Anybody here?” She called out as she took a few steps over the threshold, pausing to listen for movements or voices.
Nothing.
Josefine made her way down the hall, pausing when she came across a large room built like a small chapel, a large eight-point star mosaic on the floor. At two points were two figures in what looked like ceremonial robes. Neither moved or made a sound and she began to suspect they were frozen, like the others. She kept her pistol leveled with chest height and approached, peering up at their faces beneath the hoods to find glassy-eyed individuals she recognized from the DA’s office back when she’d worked for the Bureau.
She turned away, making a mental note to call the police in once she was done. Josefine moved further into the building, clearing it room by room until she heard the hiss of a snake and shivered. She followed the sound all the way into a small closet, but even as she’d been about to turn around and go back out of the room because of her aversion to small spaces, there was a spike of cold and the door slammed shut behind her. She reached for the knob but ice was spreading rapidly across the surface and the cold bit into her skin as she jerked back. “No,” Josefine slammed her fist against the door as the walls began closing in on her, “no, no, no, no.” She pounded on the door a few more times before she stepped back against the back wall and fired three rounds into the handle and holstered the pistol to try again, but the door wouldn’t budge.
The space shrank further and her breathing went ragged. Her fingers bit into her arms as she shrank down into a tight ball against the door.
“Let me out,” she begged, “please.”
#
Emil paced the entryway of Raven’s Roost bookstore. The store wasn’t open yet but he’d left the door unlocked when he’d come home from holding the night before because Josefine had promised to swing by after she finished checking “something”, but now the sun was rising outside, painting the cloud sea in vibrant reds and oranges and there was still no sign of her.
Emil was certain something was wrong.
Josefine, for all her secrets, didn’t make promises she didn’t intend to keep, and the way she’d talked about this “something” she had to look into made it sound as if she hadn’t expected it to take long, but even if Emil had initially assumed she was simply running late, this was too long.
“Something went wrong,” he stopped pacing and looked over at the white raven picking through the pages of a newspaper for pine nuts, “You’ll watch the shop for me, Holmes?” It didn’t react to the name Josefine had given it despite his telling her it’d been in poor taste.
Her obsession with serial killers wasn’t something he would ever really understand even as he accepted it.
At least he was talking to the bird now and not himself as he tended to. “Right then,” Emil grabbed his coat and scarf from the hook beside the door and rushed out into the street.
#
Tracking spells are relatively simple as far as most spells go; all one really needs is something that belongs to the target and the ability to focus the caster’s intent to find them into the object and whatever it is will lead the way. Emil didn’t have anything recent enough that belonged to Josefine so his first stop was her newly opened Private Investigator’s office and apartment. He stood banging on the door for a few minutes before Bates—Josefin’s roommate and assistant —opened it with sleep still in her eyes and curlers in her short blonde hair.
“Mr. Solomon? What are you doing here so early?”
“Did Josie come home last night?” Bates started to answer, thought about it, and then shook her head.
“Now that you mention it, I don’t think she did, she’s normally back before dawn even if she’s out late.” Emil slid past her inside and rounded the partition, moving forward to root theough Josefine’s desk in the corner. “What are you looking for?” Bates followed him in after closing the door.
“Something I can track her with,” he trailed off as his fingers brushed a strip of black ribbon and his mind’s eye was overwhelmed with an image of Josefine reading a book while she combed her dark hair back to tie up in the ribbon. Then he blinked and was back. “This will work,” he murmured as he lifted it.
“Is Doc all right?” Emil looked up at the worry in Maggie’s expression.
“I’ll find her,” he replied because he could at least promise that.
#
The tracking spell took Emil all the way to the edge of town where the invisible pull lead into the Oracles of the Obscure chapter house that sat there among a few trees. He confirmed Josefine was inside the building somewhere before tucking the ribbon into his coat pocket and adjusting the fabric as if in nervous habit. Then he approached the door, opening it slowly just in case someone or something was waiting on the other side. A dark corridor was all he found but a chill still ran down his spine as Emil stepped inside, his breath fogging in the air.
Bad things happened in this place, he could feel it as strongly as the inhuman magic in the air.
“Scheiße,” he cursed under his breath as he flexed his fingers and kicked himself for not grabbing his bar ring on the way out the door; casting without a channel was dangerous, small spells like tracking spells rarely blew up but if he had to defend himself and Josefine when he found her, that magic would have more severe consequences. He took a moment to double-check his pockets for any bit of metal to use but came up empty. “Well, let’s go,” and hope for the best, he kept to himself just in case he jinxed it somehow. Emil rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.
The room at the end of the corridor was built like a small chapel, with a large eight-point star tiled into the floor. At two of the points were two figures in what Emil assumed were ceremonial robes. Neither of them moved or made a sound and another chill ran down his spine as he wondered if maybe they were dead, flash-frozen just like the other bodies.
Then he heard the scratching.
It was an immensely unsettling sound, but maybe Josefine’s curiosity was rubbing off on him because rather than avoiding the source of the sound, Emil went looking for it.
Then he heard the voice, hoarse and rough as if the speaker had cried themself raw.
“Please mor… I’ll be good… I’ll be quiet… just let me out…” Emil started running then because he knew that voice.
“Josie?” He called when he came to a few doors. The scratching continued from behind the nearest door and he pressed his ear to it, listening close to be sure it was the right one.
“Please…” the voice whimpered on the other side.
“Josie,” he tried the door but it didn’t open, “it’s alright, I’ll get you out of there.” He stepped back and put his hands out toward the handle and top hinge to direct his intent as he began muttering a spell under his breath. At his command, the metal melted and he made short work of the other hinge as well, gritting his teeth against the painful burn in his fingers.
Then Emil stepped back as the door fell his way, hurrying forward again when Josefine fell with it. Her grey eyes seemed haunted and her fingertips were torn and bloody to match the deep gouges on that side of the door otherwise covered in ice.
Emil felt his heart break.
#
“It’s alright Josie, you’re okay, you can leave whenever you want.” Josefine started coming out of the panicked and desperate haze to Emil’s soft German accent lilting over soothing words and curled shaking into a hug. She took a deep stuttered breath, wide eyes flicking up to meet his blue as if to confirm it was him and she was really out. A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, you’re alright,” Emil rubbed his hand in soothing circles against her back. She took another deep breath, letting the scents of paper and ink and ozone that made up Emil’s scent wash over her and distract her from the icy cold that had made her throat raw hours ago even before she’d started crying. Josefine took another deep breath, steadier this time, though the air that filled her lungs was still painfully cold, and she started to thank Emil for coming to find her and getting her out when slow applause reached their ears. She straightened up, looking past Emil at the approaching figure in ceremonial robes that matched the two dead Oracles in the chapel. Emil shifted, twisting around to face them with Josefine protectively at his back, his hand dipping into her coat pocket for the handful of coins she kept on hand for coffee.
“Now that’s real magic,” the man said with delight twisting the expression on his shadowed face. “My name is Matija Vlahović,” he made a theatrical bow in Emil’s direction, “you will be a worthy teacher.” Emil raised an eyebrow at the man.
“I politely decline,” he replied simply and Josefine suspected he could feel the residual inhuman magic coming off of Vlahović as well—that magic matched the flash-frozen bodies exactly. “I don’t need any homicidal students.” A massive snake-like demon took shape in Vlahović’s shadow, rearing up behind him as fury overtook his expression and the temperature began to drop.
“Then I’ll kill your little friend.” Josefine’s breath fogged in the air, her fingers beginning to turn blue and numbing the pain from where she’d torn them open. “If you came this far for her, she’ll make a good hostage.” Despite the cold seeping into her bones and the raw state of her voice, she laughed in disbelief at that.
“He doesn’t like me that much,” she began, but Emil seemed to actually be considering it when he glanced back to meet her gaze and she found herself falling silent in mild surprise. She watched as Emil climbed to his feet, taking his time to brush off his pants before he looked up at Vlahović again, glancing past him at the demonic creature in his shadow.
“The answer is still no.” Before Vlahović could react, he struck out with high-level magic that filled the room with lightning arcing from the coins in his hand as he threw them at Vlahović and the demon with a crack like thunder. The snake-like demon curled protectively around Vlahović as he let out a bewildered shriek and threw up his arms to protect his head. Josefine took the opportunity to scramble to her feet and quickly surveyed the situation as something clouded over Emil’s blue eyes and the lightning began to die out. She took one look at him and sent a silent prayer that this would work up to a god she didn’t believe in as she drew her pistol from its holster inside her coat and leveled it with Vlahović’s head. There was no hesitation as she pulled the trigger and Wolf laughed its delight in the back of her mind, the shot ringing out loud enough to shake Emil out of his quasi-catatonic stupor as Vlahović’s brains exploded out against the wall on the other side. The demon let out a high-pitched scream as the contract was forcibly severed and Josefine felt the temperature plummet rapidly before Emil’s arm wrapped around her waist and he threw up a shield around them moments before everything within a ten-foot range exploded with ice. “You alright?” Emil shifted back to look her over and Josefine started to answer when she noticed the magic still sparking along the lines of his scars on the hand that had held her coins.
“I’m fine,” she made a pointed nod toward his hand, “are you alright?” Emil shifted the arm in question behind his back and gave her his best reassuring smile, which wasn’t convincing at all.
“I’ve had worse.” His answer didn’t actually answer her question but she supposed that was all the reassurance she was going to get.
“Thank you,” she paused, “for coming to find me.”
“Any time.” Josefine laughed a little at that.
“I’m hoping this was a one-time event.” Then she cleared her throat and stepped back out of his grip, “I should see if I can find a working phone, call the police over.” She was gone before he could argue that she was allowed to—and really should—take a break given what she’d been through.
#
There was one phone in the Oracles of the Obscure chapter house, but the line was dead when Josefine picked up the receiver. She breathed a long-suffering sigh and set the receiver back down. There was another option for a surefire way to get the police to an area, but she hadn't wanted to go that route because it was a waste of ammo and relied on other people. Josefine made her way outside to join Emil and then a few places further into the middle of the gravel road.
“Did you already—?” Emil broke off and clamped his hands over his ears as she pulled her pistol and fired her last two rounds into the road rather than risk them hitting someone on the way back down—she wouldn’t really care if they did but there was a lot of paperwork involved with an accidental shootings that she’d rather not deal with. Then she returned it to her shoulder holster very calmly as Emil hesitantly lowered his hands. “Josie,” he began slowly so Josefine met his gaze.
“The line was dead, now the neighbors will call for us.” True to her word, the distant sound of sirens reached their ears a few minutes later.
#
Detective Andries and Agent Schultz arrived at the scene at about the same time. Josefine explained to the two of them what had happened and Schultz, with something that looked an awful lot like disappointment, apologized to Emil. Josefine and Emil went their separate ways as soon as they were dismissed from the scene and she’d gone home to clean up.
Then she visited Raven’s Roost, pausing in the shop to say a quiet hello to Holmes, stroking through his white feathers with bandaged fingers.
A storm thundered outside, dying the cloud sea and the sky both in dark greys as lightning arked between clouds, and Josefine withdrew her hand. She moved to climb the stairs up to the living area and then up through the roof access hatch into Emil’s greenhouse, built with metal runes and magic in the glass panes. Emil sat on a bench among the plants watching the storm roll across the sky outside.
“Emil,” Josefine broke the silence and blue eyes flicked her way, looking her up and down.
“You look better.” She glanced down at her bandaged fingertips and supposed she really did look better than she had earlier. Then she joined him on the bench, watching the static crackle across his scarred hands. They sat in silence for a long time before Emil glanced her way again. “Are you alright?” She looked up in question so he clarified, “You did kill someone.”
“People die easy,” Josefine spoke the words simply, an unspoken double meaning to them.
“I know,” Emilius flexed badly scarred fingers as if to ease the aching that came with the storm and for that moment, she was certain he did know. Then he swallowed and began again, “I know, but I still want to be sure you’re okay.” She looked up, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away again to watch the static crackle across the scars on his hands like lightning up from his palms. In that moment, she could swear she saw the blood on his hands too.
“Have you ever been okay?” Wolf snickered from the dark of Josefine’s head.
No, came the silent answer, I don’t remember ever being okay.