Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) (18 page)

In confirmation of this, Anna popped out of the group of officers surrounding the victims, holding two vials of blood. “I’ve got what I need. I’m taking these into the lab so the analysis can start right away.”

The group of officers shuffled as she left, their attention shifting to the people from the coroner’s office who’d showed up. I caught a glimpse of the two bodies—
victims
—in the light, and clasped a hand over my mouth. Aside from the scenery, this was exactly like the Newton case.

Had the two died simultaneously or one before the other? I didn’t know why I cared other than the idea of lying with a dead person added to the horror of the whole thing.

The man and woman both appeared to be in their twenties. She’d passed out on top of her partner, her head landing crookedly on his chest. He must have pulled her dress up at one point because it remained in a heap around her hips, but his arms had long fallen to the ground. Except for their lifeless stares, they almost appeared comfortable. Sleeping.

I winced, partly in sympathy and partly from the creepiness. At least no one was making jokes this time. I supposed these two deaths felt a bit more tragic than the unusual show in Newton. I could taste the soup of emotions all around me, everyone a different flavor of unhappy, but I could deal with that.

Bad jokes about going out with a smile? Not so much.

“Hey.” I nudged Andre’s arm as I noticed something on the male victim’s right leg. “Can I get a closer look?”

“Yeah.” He was distracted, watching a couple cops, then he snapped out of it. “Yeah, of course. That’s why I wanted you here—for your insight. Come on.”

The remaining cops and the two Gryphons moved aside so I could kneel next to the bodies.

Andre squatted next to me. “You find something?”

“That.” I pointed to a tattoo on the guy’s thigh. His leg hair obscured it, but I was certain I’d seen it before. “That woman from the club—what was her name, Natalie?—I think she had the same one. I thought it was some tribal thing or a kanji, but what if it’s not?”

Andre rubbed his chin. “If you’re thinking it could be a glyph, I’ve got to say it doesn’t look like any glyph I’ve seen before. But then, I’m not an expert.”

Neither was I, and my memory could be totally wrong. But if it wasn’t?

What had I been lecturing myself about an hour ago? Making connections where none existed? I could be leading us down a completely irrelevant path. I did have a strong motivation for not wanting the satyrs to be responsible for this, after all.

I stood, biting my lip with apprehension. “Can we check and see if she has one too?”

“Yeah, can’t hurt.” Andre beckoned the other Gryphons over for their opinions.

We checked her legs first, and there it was. It was also difficult to see—this time because of her darker skin—but it was clearly the same symbol.

“Could be matching tattoos,” one of the younger Gryphons said.

I stuffed my hands in my pocket. “Could be. One way to find out. If that Natalie person from Purgatory has one, we’ll have a better idea.”

“Tomorrow,” Andre said. “We’ll track down Natalie tomorrow.”

Natalie English, age twenty-one, was an undergrad at Harvard. Go figure. Andre found this out when he called the phone number associated with the address on her driver’s license. Natalie’s mother had answered.

Since she wasn’t aware of what had happened to her daughter, she was less than pleased to have a Gryphon call and was highly alarmed. So Natalie and I had something in common besides our love for dark music and a preference for black underwear—we liked to keep our mothers sheltered.

Andre assured Mrs. English that he’d remind Natalie it was nice to keep her parents informed about her life.

“I wouldn’t,” I said as Andre snagged the first spot we found in relative walking distance to Harvard’s campus. “There are reasons a girl might want to keep her family clueless about certain aspects of her personal life.”

“Know this from experience, do you?” Andre laughed as he locked the SUV.

“If my mother knew half of what I’d gotten into, her blood pressure would be as high as mine gets when you drive.”

“Oh, please. I have a perfect driving record.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure you do. What cop is going to ticket a Gryphon?”

Even in the summer, the paths around the university were swollen with undergrads taking summer courses and grad students slaving away without a break. We crossed the tree-filled campus, an oasis of green in the middle of congested Cambridge. Andre had gotten directions to Natalie’s dorm, and we managed to find it with minimal confusion.

Natalie, however, was more of challenge. Her roommate told us she was in the library, and finally we cornered her after much searching.

“A tat on my hip?” Natalie repeated several minutes later when we were standing in the sun near the library. “Which side?”

I motioned on my own hip to the general area. “Left. About this big.”

She wore a pair of low-cut jeans, and she pulled the waistband down even farther without a care in the world. And here I’d worried she was going to be horrified when videos of her half naked showed up online.

Good for her that she wasn’t modest, but not good for us. There was nothing there. Her skin was pale and pristine.

“You sure I had something?” She squinted at her hip.

Andre peered at me over his sunglasses. “I second the question.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, biting down a curse. “Glyphs wear off.”

“It hasn’t been a week. They last longer than that usually.”

“Wouldn’t it depend on what the glyph was made of?”

Andre acknowledged the point with a shrug. “Possibly. And also how fast the magic in it got used up.”

Natalie chewed on a particularly ragged fingernail. “So you’re saying it wasn’t the F making me act crazy but something someone drew on me?”

“We’re saying it’s possible,” Andre replied. “Do you remember anyone doing that?”

“Dude, I still have like almost no memories of that night from the time Jake decided to score F until I came to in the hospital. It’s a blur.”

Andre gave her his card for a second time after ascertaining she’d lost the one given to her at the hospital. “If you get any memories back, call me immediately.”

“You think she will?” I asked as we returned to the car.

“Unlikely. If there was a compulsion put on her, they’re probably gone for good. But then again, sometimes preds screw up. That’s how we busted a satyr producing F down in Austin a few years ago. The guy in charge made a mistake or got lazy, and some people started getting their memories back. We figured out how to put the pieces together.”

The SUV was like an oven. Silly Gryphons and their black cars. “Now what?”

“Now we might as well check out the other victims from Purgatory. If what you saw really was a glyph, they’d have them too, and there’s a chance not all of them would have faded yet.” Andre adjusted the mirrors and scowled at the traffic. “We can also pull the reports from Newton and see if the autopsies mentioned any tattoos.”

“I hope I’m not leading you on some pointless chase.”

“Eh.” Andre smiled at me. “It’s not like we have much else to go on.”

We managed to track down two of the three guys involved at the club, but it was for nothing. Neither of them remembered getting a glyph, temporary tattoo or simply someone drawing on them with a pen that night. And neither had noticed any unusual marks on their skin. We asked them to check again while we waited, but their answers didn’t change. Barring requiring them to strip so we could check ourselves, we had to take their word for it. Under the circumstances, odds were there truly was nothing on them. Not anymore.

After that, we returned to the office. Andre had another case he had to check in on, so I went over the Newton autopsy reports. It didn’t make pleasant reading. Less so because, once again, I discovered nothing.

I kicked my chair away from my desk and rested my head on the back. I was so close, I could feel it. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that this was the answer. Somehow this glyph was interacting with the F in such a way as to make people insatiably and uncontrollably horny. F already stimulated sexual desire, so this was like a stimulant on steroids. A curse that overrode the body’s ability to stop even in the face of deadly exhaustion.

Remembering I’d seen books on glyphs and charm-making, I headed to the library for more research. Unfortunately, I had no way to search for a specific symbol, and frustration set in quickly. I had to rely on possible meanings to pick out the glyphs, then compare the books’ symbols to the crude recreation I’d drawn of the one in question.

With a sigh, I put my head down on the table. This was going nowhere. I needed a new idea for my new idea.

Rolling over, I gazed blankly at the ceiling and found myself staring straight into one of the security cameras. That was it. Devon had security cameras around Purgatory. What if they’d caught something—either a shot of Natalie’s hip, or better yet, someone drawing the glyph on her and her friends in the first place. Devon had claimed the club’s cameras were for real-time surveillance only, but I wondered. With the secrets he hid in the club’s basement, I’d be surprised if he didn’t record and more. And if I explained my new theory and the glyph, he might be willing to cooperate.

Of course, there were legal means the Gryphons could use if he wasn’t willing, but it would be best to keep this relatively friendly. Assuming Devon was willing to talk
to
me, and not just
about
me, at this point.

I called Lucen, half expecting he wouldn’t pick up because he was angry about yesterday evening, but he did. “I was hoping you could give me Devon’s number. I need to track him down.”

There was a pause filled with suspicion. “I could. Why?”

I drummed my fingers against the table in annoyance. “Nothing bad. I had a new theory about the F case, and I wanted to talk to him.”

“Little siren, you remember when the Gryphons first called you in? You were furious. You considered it blackmail.”

I lowered my voice, but the library was as dead today as it had been yesterday. “I still do. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to help people too. Look, I’m not going to interrogate Devon or anything. I have a couple questions he might be able to help me with. He was a witness to what happened last Friday, and I need a witness.” Or his security footage.

“All right.” Lucen sounded skeptical. “But I don’t know if you’ll get hold of him. He’s at Purgatory, I think.”

“Perfect. That’s where I want to meet him. Wait—why is he there so early?”

“That’s where he meets his addicts.”

Peachy. I groaned and Lucen laughed. “Then I’ll be sure to call before I start banging on the door so he knows to put on some pants.”

Chapter Eighteen

When Devon let me into Purgatory, not only was he fully clothed, he looked as put together as ever. His joy at seeing me, however, didn’t seem as strong as it used to.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” I said, stepping inside.

“Just work.”

“I see. Is that what sex is for you?”

Devon shut the heavy door behind me. “Not in a long time, although I’m concerned about you and Lucen if that’s what jumped to your mind when I said work.”

I flipped him off. “Lucen suggested you were coming here to meet an addict. I thought maybe that was considered work.”

“I did, but no. Sorry you missed it if you were curious about the difference between the two.”

“Not curious, but sad for your addict given how quick it must have been.”

His lips twitched. “Sadly, there are days when all you have time for is fast food.”

Nice. I made a disgusted face, which was surely his goal. “That’s very unhealthy.”

“I’m touched that you care.”

“I meant for your addict.”

Devon clutched his chest. “You know that hurts.” He took out his phone and began typing.

Pausing in the entry to the club proper, I sighed. In the empty room with its high ceilings and hard floor, the noise sounded louder. More piercing. “You know, it’s rude when people text instead of paying attention to the conversation they’re having with the person right in front of them.”

“Actually, you’re at my side,” he said without glancing up. “Not in front. And I’m not texting. I’m making a note. ‘Jess doesn’t like quickies.’ Could be useful someday.”

“I didn’t say that. I believe in variety.”

“Aha.”

“Now what?”

He smirked. “In the past, your first response has always been to say something like ‘you wish.’ This time your first thought was to correct me. Interesting.”

Damn it. He was right. I felt blood rush to my cheeks. “You wish.”

“Too late.”

I glowered at him. He was being more infuriating than usual. “Whatever. I came here for a reason. Can we talk about that?”

“Yes, and yes. You have a new theory. I’m curious.” He tucked the phone away and headed toward the main bar’s seating area.

“Did Lucen call to warn you?” I scuffed my boot against the smooth dance floor in frustration.

“Yes, but that’s all he said. Also, now you know the real reason I rushed my addict out of here. I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.”

“I wish you hated to piss me off.”

“That’s not going to happen. You’re very entertaining when you’re angry.”

I put my head in my hands and took a deep breath. “And you’re very good at being infuriating.”

“Not a coincidence.” Devon pulled a chair around from one of the bar tables. I didn’t move. “Oh, come on. Admit you like me in spite of everything, I’ll admit I like you in spite of everything, and tell me your new theory. I’m sure Lucen’s explained that we want to clear this up as much as you do.”

I sat but admitted nothing. “Something like that.” There was no need to relive the same argument I had with Lucen with Devon, as well. I had enough futility in my life.

“So?” Devon prodded.

“So I have an idea.” I explained to him about the marks we’d found on the Wonderland victims, and the mark I thought I’d seen on Natalie.

Devon tapped his fingers together, his impishness appearing to have succumbed to the serious business at hand. “But there were no marks on the first set of victims noted in their autopsies, and nothing on the other people who were affected here?”

“No, but glyphs fade. Hours had passed by the time the Newton people were found.”

“Glyphs don’t generally fade that fast.”

“
Generally.
” I scanned the bar area and the ceiling for hidden cameras. “You have security cameras. All the victims from the club were exposing a lot of skin at one point or another. If we could go through the…”

I paused because Devon was shaking his head. “I told you and your friends last week—we have cameras, but we don’t record or keep footage of anything inside. It’s for real-time monitoring only.”

“I just thought with—”

“I know what you thought, Jess. You thought I was lying. I’m not, sorry. For liability reasons, I would never record.”

I swore. Maybe that was true. Especially since the satyrs—or
a
satyr—regularly dealt F here. “I don’t suppose you remember seeing anything like I described, do you?”

“I can’t say I remember it, no. Do you remember what the symbol looked like? I might be able to help identify it.”

“Sort of.” I’d brought my drawing with me on the off chance I’d have something to compare it to, and I passed it to Devon.

He smoothed out the folded paper on the black bar table and examined it from different angles. “Interesting. Parts of it are similar to a very generic glyph for endurance, but then other parts… I don’t know what they could be.”

Endurance. Of all the symbols I’d looked up in the library earlier, that was one I hadn’t thought of. “It could be my lousy memory or lack of artistic talent.”

“I’d blame your memory over your skill, but it could be neither. That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Devon slid the paper back to me. “How much do you know about glyphs?”

“Only the basics. Lucen’s taught me a bit, and I learned a little at the Academy, but that was years ago.”

He sat back in his chair. “Glyphs are like all magic in that they depend highly on the skill and sensitivity to power of the person creating them. Even beginners can make basic ones, but it’s possible for someone who’s highly skilled and experienced to create their own—either from scratch, or more often from combining glyphs of known power into something new. How they get put together will determine their effect as much as the spell ingredients used to draw them.”

I closed my eyes in frustration. “So what you’re saying is—I have nothing.”

“You’re always the pessimist. No, not nothing. I can’t tell you if this glyph is causing the deaths, but if it is, that tells you a lot.”

“Such as?”

Devon got up and opened a fridge behind the bar. He took out two beers and handed me one. “If you’re going to make me do all the work, I should be the Gryphon consultant.”

“Excuse me for not having proper training in any of this shit. The Gryphons kicked me out, and I’m not a…” I twisted the cap off the bottle. “I don’t have a Dom teaching me Intro to Magic.”

Devon chuckled into his beer. “Now that’s a good visual of Dezzi. Can’t you picture her in front of a chalkboard?”

“No one uses chalkboards these days.”

“Really? Well, what do you want? I’m old.”

I paused with the bottle pressed to my lip. Devon was dragging this conversation a long way off track, but I couldn’t help myself. “How old?”

I wasn’t sure how long the average pred lived other than that it was far longer than humans. Their magic made them fairly indestructible and resistant to human diseases, but they could be cut down by the right weapons or curses, and isolation from humans could kill them too. They had multiple ways of starving to death.

Historically, I didn’t think many preds died of natural causes. Something—or someone—always got to them first. It was why they’d started to live in such tightly organized, hierarchical communities. For protection.

But that was then. Now, although they still lived in those communities, they’d wormed their way into human and magi civilization.

Devon’s blue eyes filled with humor. Any coldness he’d felt toward me when I’d arrived was clearly long gone. Possibly, he’d never been truly upset with me, or he’d simply amused himself long enough at my expense to let it go. “I’m old enough that I shouldn’t be here anymore. Let’s leave it there, and let me answer the question you really want the answer to.”

“What the glyph tells us?”

“Yes, and what the glyph tells us is—assuming it’s responsible—the person behind it is very magically skilled. That will narrow down your search considerably.”

I frowned. “If you’re implicating a human, yeah. But not if it’s a pred.” I was careful to say pred instead of satyr, although odds were it
was
a satyr. From Devon’s point of view, though, life would be much sweeter if it wasn’t, and I wanted to be on his good side.

For that matter, it would be better for me too.

“Either way. Many preds—” Devon said the word with the same distaste Lucen did, “—are better at magic than Gryphons because we have a greater sensitivity to it, but most don’t use it on a regular basis. It’s like any other skill. The more you practice, the better you get. Most preds don’t use it and wouldn’t be able to create their own glyphs. Whoever did is either a very powerful pred or a master charm-maker.”

I sipped my beer thoughtfully. If he was telling the truth, that would definitely narrow down the suspect list. Assuming I was on the right track with any of this. “I guess that’s something.”

“It is. Sorry I couldn’t be more help, Jess.”

I made a wry face. “I’m sure you are.”

“It’s the truth. Part of my job is to minimize the damage this could do to me and mine, and I don’t like to see collateral damage either.”

“Meaning?”

“You and Lucen.” I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off. “You being a Gryphon, working on a case that on the surface involves us—it’s harsh. I get why the Gryphons wanted your help. Very slick of the Director there. And I’m going to guess none of your coworkers actually understand your tenuous connection to us or know about your relationship with Lucen. But it can’t be fun for you. I’d say this is about as unhealthy for a relationship as fast food.”

“This time
I’m
touched by your concern.”

Devon shoved his empty beer bottle aside. “You can lay off the sarcasm every now and then. I’m being serious.”

That was debatable. In my experience, a serious Devon was a pissed-off Devon.

“I just don’t like talking about this sort of thing.” Particularly with someone I couldn’t trust. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Fair enough.” He grinned. “Should I make a note of that too? Doesn’t like to talk.”

I punched his arm. “You know, this is why you’re impossible to take seriously.”

“I’m very serious. If you give me the chance, I’ll show you just how serious I’m willing to take you.” He draped the arm I’d punched around my shoulders.

My muscles tensed, not in fear but in anticipation as I breathed in his clove scent. Damn traitorous body. I scooted out from his grip, annoyed at myself. “Ha-ha.”

Before Devon could say or do anything else to mess with me, the sound of heels clicking and clacking echoed off the walls and ceiling. Lucrezia appeared around the partition that separated the long entry hall from the main club. Her bright red lips formed an “Oh” as she noticed me.

“Ah, Crezi, you’re here.” Devon turned his shit-kicking grin on her.

Lucrezia glared at him with the disdain she usually reserved for me. “Do not ever call me that again.” She tossed her long auburn waves over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at me. “What are you doing here, pet?”

I took a few steps away from Devon. “I had to ask Devon some questions about the case.”

Lucrezia clucked her tongue. “Honestly, hasn’t Dezzi made her feelings on your questioning quite clear?”

“Actually, Dezzi hasn’t said anything to me at all.”

“Really?” She climbed the steps up to the bar. “Perhaps that’s not so surprising. I hope her lieutenant has risen to the occasion then.”

Devon cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner. “Jess, in case you haven’t figured it out, we don’t like you questioning us.”

“Honestly.” Lucrezia crossed her arms, scolding him with her eyes before turning to me. “We’re looking into this ourselves. Believe us as depraved as you want, but we’re not killers or furies. We don’t enjoy death and destruction, and dead humans don’t do us any good.”

Lucen had once said something similar to me, back when the bodies of Victor Aubrey’s victims had started piling up. “I know that.”

“I like Jess’s new idea,” Devon said. “Jess, explain it to her.”

I wasn’t sure what good it would do, but for the second time in the last hour, I summed up my theory.

Lucrezia picked up my drawing of the glyph with a dubious expression. “That doesn’t look like a glyph so much as someone pretending to write Chinese.”

“But the idea has promise,” Devon said. “If it’s not the F that killed those people, then anyone could be doing it.”

Lucrezia set the paper back on the table. “It’s a nice idea for our sake, but I disagree. Two lovers at a train station with matching tattoos isn’t so shocking. Nor is people buying very temporary charms at Purgatory.”

Devon acknowledged the point with a shrug, but I snatched my drawing back, confused. “People buy charms at Purgatory? Since when?”

“Since always, pet. Cheap disguise charms to make themselves look different, or charms to make themselves appear more attractive, or energy boosters—they’re for sale if you know where to look.”

“But drawn on as glyphs? Those sorts of charms are usually sold in vials.”

Lucrezia inspected her nails, seemingly bored with my ignorance. “One vial can contain a lot of magic. If you only want something to last the night, you could have someone paint it on you for much cheaper.”

Devon pushed his hair behind his ears. “Fair point. But I still like the glyph idea, for what it’s worth.”

“Damn it. I thought I’d been on to something.”

“You might be.” Lucrezia didn’t sound convinced. “Find more victims with markings on them and you’ll know.”

“I’d rather not find more victims.”

She yawned. “Understandable. Personally, I’d rather not be here so early in the day, but since I am, can we get to work already?”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re being kicked out, Jess,” Devon said. “Crezi and I have a complicated task ahead of us before the club opens in a few hours. Too bad Jess cut my snack short. I hope I have enough energy to get through it.”

Lucrezia frowned at him. “You’d better after dragging me out of my apartment before the sun set. I’m not even sure what we’re doing is necessary. The wards seem plenty strong to me.”