West Coast Witch Page 4

  “Exactly.” She nodded. “A witch keeps themselves guarded from threats, and often guarding yourself is a solitary thing.”

  “So, watch who I keep around. Got it. But that still doesn’t answer my question. What do I do with power?”

  Amy’s lips curled into a smile. “I just told you. You guard it.”

  “Wait.” I held up a finger. “So, I have this power. And what, I do nothing with it?”

  “You are Victoria’s son.” Her voice was warm, almost proud. “What would you do with power, Eric?”

  I shrugged. “Help people. It’d be a waste if I didn’t do some good with it.”

  “But what about personal gain? Magic is a powerful tool, and one you could use for your own benefit.”

  “Come on, I've watched Star Wars. And I’m a reader. I know what happens with abused power.”

  “It is not always so simple as stories would make it believe.” Amy warned. “Evil, as you would call it, can often triumph.”

  “It shouldn’t.” I said, firmly.

  “Then, Eric, you would help others with your gift? Use it so you can protect, aid, and heal?”

  “I’m not a hero. But I’m willing to learn what you’ve got to teach.”

  She held out her right hand. “You will learn from me then. You will learn how to use your powers, and I will teach you as best as I can.”

  “You’ve got it.” I shook her hand. “So, when do we start?”

  I realized that was my first mistake. Never give the universe that sort of invitation.

  “Why, tomorrow.”

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, I was hiding under my covers when the sun peeked though my blinds. I grumbled to myself in muted frustration.

  Amy had paid for my cab home, and I crashed the moment I was in bed. From the encounter with Darius, the information overload Amy had heaped on me, and my first time sensing magic, I was exhausted.

  I wanted to say that I was able to just get up and go about my business. But that part of life was over. Amy yanked the blanket off. “Come on, Eric. Get up. We have got work to do.”

  I looked up at Amy. She was wearing a t-shirt, olive drab jacket, and jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and the look on her face was stern.

  “Work? What the hell are you talking about?” I was maybe more than a little drowsy. I’m not the best morning person.

  She rolled her eyes. “You said you wanted to help people. We are getting an early start.”

  “Early?” I mumbled. “What time is it?”

  “Eight.” She said. “Come on, we have got places to go, things to do.”

  I rose and sat up. “Well, okay, where are we going?” I asked as I immediately trudged towards the bathroom.

  “We are going to be looking into Samantha Coolidge’s disappearance.”

  “Wait, what?” I stopped, and looked back over my shoulder. “You’re kidding. You want us to look into the disappearance that already got one guy killed?” I paused a moment. “Yea, I would suppose that makes sense.” After all, his death meant someone else was looking for Coolidge. And if Darius last night was any indication, we wanted to be the first people to find her.

  “Good.” She said. “Get showered, and…well, do you have anything better than that?” She gestured generally towards me.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “And, just what is that?” I asked, mimicking her tone.

  “Your clothes. We are going to be masquerading as private inspectors. The least you can do is look the part.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I said, and turned back to my dresser. I rummaged through it, finding a pair of jeans that were the least beat-up, and grabbed a black button-down.

  I showered and dressed while I was still in the bathroom. I came out to see Amy eating at the small table that sat in a corner of the main room. “Yea, sure, make yourself at home.” I murmured as I went to grab a bowl of cereal.

  Amy explained the game plan for the day as we ate. “We have to figure out where Raymond Francis had left off. We are going to his office today, and we are going to look around. Hopefully, that will bring us some sort of information on what Francis knew.”

  “And we just go from there?” I asked.

  “That is the general idea, yes. After that, we might want to see if we can track down this Darius vampire, see what he knows.”

  “I might just be able to help with that.”

  One of her eyebrows perked, Spock-style. “Really, and how is that?”

  “Well, I think he might be dating one of the girls at the bar. After all, how many vampires named Darius are living in San Francisco?”

  “That is not something I can say. After all, I could not tell you how many vampires, period, there are in this city.”

  “I thought there was supposed to be a supernatural registry or something.” I said.

  “Yes, but many are not registered. I, for example, lack any classification, so I am not registered.”

  “And just what are you? And don’t just say a guardian.”

  “I am someone interested in your future. My nature is a long story, and not one I tell people quickly.”

  I ate my cereal in silence, not really sure to say for the rest of the meal. When we were done, I grabbed our dishes and put them in the sink to soak. “Okay, so where do we go first?”

  “To Mr. Francis’s office. I have the address.” She said. “We will drive there.”

  “Driving twice in a twenty-four hour period? Damn, feels like I’m special.”

  A confused look crossed Amy’s features. “I do not follow.”

  “I don’t drive much, not in San Francisco. The hills, the parking, and the crazy drivers are enough to make anyone swear off of it.”

  “I do not blame you.” She said. “But, it is much quicker than most ways. Come on, Eric, we want to get there before most people show up.”

  “Show up? What are we doing?”

  A little smile crossed her face. “Why, gathering information.”

  I didn’t know it then, but ‘gathering information’ was Amy-code for ‘breaking and entering.” We drove down to one of the business districts, and parked on the street.

  “So, Amy, do you have a last name?” I asked her.

  “Amy will do for now,” She reached for a messenger's bag in her back seat. “We are going to be looking through the office. Hopefully Mister Francis kept a case file.”

  “So, how are we getting in ?” I asked as we got out of the car.

  “Leave that to me.”

  Raymond Francis’s office was rented out of a red brick building that had been around since the twenties. We walked up to the front door, and I opened it up for Amy.

  “Why did you do that?” She asked, furrowing her brow.

  “Hey, I got raised right. I always open the door for a lady, when I’m not drained of half the blood in my body.”

  “Darius hardly drained half your body.” She rolled her eyes. “And I am not a lady.”

  “Well, yea, whatever.” I said. “Force of habit.”

  We took the stairs up to the second floor. We found Francis Investigations, the first door on the left. I looked at the lettering. It was inked on the glass proudly, and looking at it was a bit of a downer. I’d been one of the last people to see Raymond Francis alive, and what did I have to tell anyone? That he asked a few questions, and that was it. But, here I was, looking for his murderer.

  “So, how do we get in?” I asked.

  Amy smiled, and reached inside her jacket. She withdrew a small leather case and unfolded it. “Simple.”

  I laughed a little. “You’re seriously going to pick the lock?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s illegal!” I exclaimed.

  Amy looked at me with a look of quiet suffering. “Do be quiet. Someone might hear you, and I would rather have silence to work.”

  “Fine.” I put my hands up in mock surrender.

  She went back to wo
rk, her fingers moving with nimble, inhuman motions. She moved too fast and accurately for a person. I’d never seen anything like it. Lock picking wasn’t supposed to be that fast. Hollywood tells you a ton of bullshit about how easy it is. You can't just use a bobby pin and work some magic. But here she was, just breaking all that truth. It was about a minute before the lock opened.

  “There we go.” She said, and opened the door.

  I paused as she walked in. “How did you do that?” I followed her into the office.

  “Practice, practice, practice.”

  I shrugged, figuring that if I ever did get a straight answer out of her, that would be her decision.

  The office itself wasn’t anything special. There wasn’t any reception area. His desk was cluttered with papers and files. A few file cabinets set off against one wall, next to a water cooler and a small trash bin with a few take-out boxes stuffed in it. The computer on the desk was at least five years old, and the keyboard was dirty with all sorts of grease and food. “So, what do we look for?” I asked.

  “Put these on.” Amy tossed me a pair of rubber gloves, and I slipped them on.

  “Okay, so, now that you’ve made me an accessory, what are we looking for?”

  “Any information or notes that Francis made regarding Samantha Coolidge.”

  I went to the desk, and started to look through the folders on it. Each was labeled with a name. “So, what kind of cases did Francis handle?” I asked.

  “It seems that he mostly did missing persons cases, but he also did divorce work and occasionally some consultations for insurance companies. I looked into him after yesterday. Is there any file for Samantha Coolidge?”

  I shook my head. “No, a few notes.” I said, having set those aside. “Haven’t taken a look at those yet.” She looked over at the pile I set aside, and started to thumb through them. There was hardly anything there to look through, but it was a start. “Anything interesting?”

  “A few things. Her address, some information. She lived with a room mate, so that might be some place to start. But nothing that could be called his file.”

  “The room mate seems like a good place to start, though, uh…I’m not exactly an investigator.”

  She chuckled. “Ah, for every witch I have heard that from. You are naturally curious creatures. It will come naturally to you. Trust yourself.” She said, and stuffed the notes into her jacket pocket. “Come on, we will stop off at her place, see if you can grab a brush.”

  “A brush?” I furrowed my brow. “What are we going to use with a brush, Amy?”

  “Why, I am going to teach you your first spell, Eric. Let us leave this-” She said. She held a finger to her lips, then whispered. “Listen.”

  My mind raced for a moment. I didn’t know what was going on at first, but then I heard two voices, muffled through the walls of the office, drawing nearer.

  I mouthed the words “What do we do?” to Amy.

  “Follow my lead.” She said, and I followed her out of the door. I could feel something in my back, tensing as we went out into the hallway, anticipating trouble.

  The voices had come from two men. They were both stocky fellows, with matching leather jackets and the same tattoos on their necks. I wondered to myself it it was some sort of gang mark.

  “Morning.” Amy said, nodding to them.

  One of them seemed to sniffle a little. “Morning, ma’am.” He said. The man seemed to stiffen, annoyed at seeing us here.

  “Can I help you two? This office is closed for a police-related investigation.” Her voice turned hard, more authoritative.

  “Of course.” The man said, and he turned around. “Right, sorry.” He said, and the other man followed him off in a swift retreat.

  Amy hurried me down the stairs. She was breathing hard by the time we hit the street.

  “I’m sorry, but what the hell was that?” I said.

  She leaned against the brick wall of the building. “I think they were there for the same reason we were.”

  “You mean to snoop around Francis’s office?” I asked. “And how do you keep doing that thing with your voice?”

  “I cannot, not any more now. That particular trick has tired me out.” She pulled out her keys. “Can you drive?”

  “Yes, bu-“

  “Good.” She pushed the keys into my hand. “You go talk to her room mate. I need to go sleep this off.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes, alone.” Amy grunted as she grabbed the notes and handed them off to me. “If you run into any trouble-“

  I interrupted her this time. “If I run into trouble? Jeez, this is really driving me crazy, you know that?”

  “If you run into trouble, do not fight longer than you have to.” She finished. “Fight dirty, fight mean.” She flipped out the knife she’d wielded last night. “The blade is silvered. Do you understand the importance of that?”

  I shook my head. “Uh, not really.”

  “Silver is very effective against Arcanes. A wound caused by silver will heal slow, and can slow a vampire or werewolf. But that also goes the same for you. You are weak against it too. That is something to keep in mind.”

  “Uh, got it.” I said, and put the folding blade in a back pocket. “What if I need help? How can I get in touch with you?”

  “Right.” She murmured. We swapped phone numbers, and she told me what to expect from her jeep.

  “So, how are you getting home?”

  “Do not worry about me, Eric.” She said. “I will be fine. I have just overexerted myself in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “All right.” I said. “I’m just worried for you. I mean, hell, this is all a lot, and-“

  She put her hand on my shoulder. “Eric, I have faith in you. And that is not something I say lightly. This will come naturally. Do this, and we will talk tomorrow, all right? Just keep the car for the night, and make sure you bring her back all right?”

  “Deal.” Now I just had to survive driving San Francisco’s streets.

  Chapter 8

  It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, even with driving stick. I’d driven with Matt several times and I’d driven outside the city on a few road trips. One of the first things I noticed about the car was that, the radio was set to static when I turned it on. I didn't think anything of it at first, but it started to eat at me. What kind of person never sets their radio?

  I drove to the address in Francis’s notes. It was a small house, sandwiched between two others in true San Francisco architecture. As I walked up off the sidewalk, I walked up to the front door on the second floor. The first, I surmised, was for the garage and laundry rooms.

  As I approached the front door, I felt a tingle run across my senses, like a leftover static charge. It didn’t shock me, but it certainly made my back stand a little straighter. Something was here.

  I stalled on knocking for a moment. Instead, I closed my eyes and focused. When I felt my mind was clear, I tried what Amy had shown me last night. I tried to let go, to just experience. It took a bit longer than it had the last night, took more focus, but it hit me eventually.

  The feeling that first came on my senses was something basic, primal. It was an instinct, something we knew from before we relied on computers and technology to solve problems. This was a mark, left by someone. I was infringing on another’s territory. I was only here because whoever this was allowed it.

  I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present. The feeling was much less potent than the power I had felt in Pax, more subdued.

  Whatever it was, I would have to figure it out. Maybe Samantha Coolidge was linked to the Arcanes in some way?

  My knock was answered promptly by a girl I assumed was Samantha’s roommate. Her red hair hung loose around her shoulders, wavy and with a hint of bed head. She wore a tank top and sweats, hugging her curves nicely.

  “Hi, can I help you?”

  “Yea, you can. My name is Eric Carpenter.” I searched for a quick lie
to cover why I was here and asking questions. “I was working with Raymond Francis on Sam’s disappearance.”

  “Liar.” The growl that rose from her throat was inhuman. It sent shivers straight through my spine.

  The part of my genetic ancestry that stretched back a few dozen million years started screaming at me to run. Beneath the cute redhead’s exterior, there was a predator, one who wanted nothing more than to rip my liar’s tongue out.

  She raised up a tattooed hand to open up the screen door, and stepped outside. I stepped back, staying on the small landing in front of the door. My mind immediately went back to the knife in my back pocket. Would I have to use it?

  She looked up to me. The woman was only about five-eight, but she moved like she knew what she was doing. “Tell me why you are really here, and I may not just call the police. Or worse.”

  I figured that, with what this woman was putting off, honesty would probably be the best policy here. “The first part was true. I’m Eric Carpenter. I want to help.”

  She laughed at me. “Help? That’s not a word I hear often. And just who are you, that you think you can help?”

  “I used to be involved with Sam. I just want to help, honestly. She's a good person, and I want to see her safe.”

  She sniffed the air for a moment. “You don’t smell like a were, but you’re not human. Not completely. And you’ve been bit by a vampire.”

  “Not by any desire of mine,” I replied.

  She paused a moment before speaking. “Come inside, Eric.” She smiled lightly, and opened the screen door. “We’ll talk.”

  I followed her into the house. Again, the sense of home and hearth hit me, but I didn’t even need to reach out with my senses for it. It was more powerful here, so much that I could feel it without focus. I told myself that I’d think on it later. Something to ask Amy about.

  “So, Eric.” She started. “You’re looking into Sam’s disappearance. How did you get pulled into this?”

  “We dated for a while, Miss, uh..?” I asked her, realizing I hadn’t asked for her name

  “It’s Diana. This must have been before she moved in. I don't recognize your scent.”