Hexed (9 page)

Buck said, “Girls, you want to give us a moment, please?”

Kenna nodded and rose from the couch while Olivia said, “Yeah, sure. Lucifer, can I get you anything else? More water?”

“No, I'm fine. Thanks, though.”

“No problem.” Olivia started to follow Kenna out of the room, but stopped and looked back. “Mr. Pierce. I'm really sorry about Gina. We didn't know. We . . . we just didn't know.” She turned and left.

Buck leaned forward, his thick leather belt creaking as he did so. “I see you told them what really happened. Are you sure that was a good idea?”

Lucifer peered at him from under the ice-filled towel. “I'm not so sure getting out of bed this morning was a good idea.”

“I'm surprised they believed you.”

“Well, it wasn't that hard to convince them. Sneezing up a filcher demon tends to persuade even the most hardened skeptic.”

“What?”

There was no point in worrying Buck any further by telling him about Olivia's possession, so Lucifer gave him a dismissive wave with her free hand and said, “Bad joke, sorry.”

“Lucifer. Are you okay? Did he . . .
hurt
you?”

“A face full of pepper spray isn't exactly a day at the spa.”

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant. No, he didn't.” Lucifer repositioned the ice over her eyes. “He was after the book.”

“Lucifer, this is very important. Can you tell me what he looked like?” Buck's voice was strained, and the veins in his thick neck bulged like tree roots trapped under his skin.

“White guy. Tall, thin.”

He pulled a small black notebook from his pocket and scribbled on its pages. “Hair color?”

“Dark with bits of gray, but most was missing on top. Cheap suit. Brown, about two sizes too big.”

“What else? Can you remember anything else? Anything at all?”

“Buck—”

“Was he wearing a tie? A hat? Any scars or tattoos? You have to help me, Lucifer!”

“Buck!” Lucifer forced her eyes open as wide as her swollen lids would allow. “He doesn't have your daughter.”

“You don't know that!”

“Yes, I do. Gina was pulled into
another
dimension
. But this guy comes at me with pepper spray? Doesn't exactly scream ‘mystical mastermind' now, does it?”

Buck sat back, his nostrils flaring. “It was mace, not pepper spray.”

“Are you sure it wasn't napalm?” Lucifer touched the swollen tissue around her eyes. It was still sensitive, but the pain was tolerable. “I'm sorry, Buck. I wish I could tell you more, but I couldn't see much with my eyes, you know, melting inside my skull.”

Buck pressed the palm of his hand against his temple and sighed. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles hanging beneath them. It was obvious that he hadn't slept much since Gina was taken. “I'm going to find him, Lucifer. And when I do—”

“You'll come get me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to find Gina?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then you come get me. This is my world, Buck. I know what I'm doing. And I know the right questions to ask. You don't.”

Buck stood up, his broad chest swelling with every deep breath he took. “You said it yourself. This guy isn't a mystical mastermind. That makes him part of
my
world. And I've been a cop longer than you've been alive. I know how to question a perp. He might not know where Gina is, but he damn well knows someone who does!”

Lucifer sat back and shook her head. “You don't get it, do you? That guy knew about the book.”

“So? What's your point?”

“My point is that someone knows I'm looking for Gina and doesn't want me to find her.”

“Yeah, the witch that took her.”

Lucifer wiped away a stream of cold water dripping from her cheek. “Yes, but why? She pulled Gina into another dimension. The witch wouldn't have any worries about you following after her. Why would she? You don't know anything about dimensions, and even if you did, you don't have the first clue about how to travel among them, let alone find the correct one and then get you and Gina back safely.”

“No, I don't. But
you
do.”

Lucifer slowly nodded. “Yeah. Which means that the guy not only knew about the book, he knew about
me
. And I work very hard so that
no
one
knows about me. Buck, my survival depends on it. I'm a thief who's stolen some very powerful things from some very powerful . . . people. If the wrong person finds me, I'm dead.”

Buck's mouth pursed in thought. “If he wanted you dead, it wouldn't have been a can of mace he pulled on you. So maybe he doesn't know about you. Maybe he just knows someone with knowledge of
your
world is looking into Gina's disappearance.”

“Maybe.” Lucifer carefully placed the towel down next to her and watched Buck a moment before speaking. “Buck . . . how, exactly, did you find me?”

Buck frowned. “I told you. A friend of mine said you could help me.”

“What. Friend?”

“Lucifer, we've had this conversation. She asked I not tell you and I'm not going to break that promise. It's not her, if that's what you're thinking—”

“Is her name Helen Peltier?”

“No. Who's Helen Peltier?”

Lucifer strained her ears but couldn't hear anything off in his voice. He was telling the truth. Or he was at least lying well enough that she couldn't tell the difference. “The name was written on the cover of the book.”

“Is that the name of the witch?” he asked.

“I don't know. It could be, but I doubt it—”

“Dispatch, this is Officer Pierce.” He was suddenly speaking into the handheld microphone hanging from his shoulder. “Give me what ten-fourteen you have on a Helen Peltier. Start with the web to get a DOB then cross-reference with NCIC.”

“You think she might have an outstanding ticket or something? Parked her broom in a handicapped spot?”

“I think that if she's in the system, we can get an address. Or at least a phone number.” Buck tucked his notepad back into his pocket then stopped. He looked at Lucifer and asked, “They don't really fly brooms, do they?”

Lucifer just glowered at him.

“I didn't think so.”

Lucifer stood up. Her back was getting stiff from having been slammed against the pavement. It was going to be tough for her to move tomorrow.

“Lucifer, you should really rest for a while. At least until I can get some info on this Helen Peltier.”

Lucifer slung her trick bag over her shoulder. “If you do find any info, send it to me. You've got my number. Same thing with the guy who mugged me. You find him, you let me know. I'm serious, Buck. It's very difficult to question a dead body.”

Buck shirked back, clearly offended. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind of person who would have no trouble going to jail for putting the hurt on a suspect if it meant finding his daughter. Besides, if anyone has the right to hurt this guy, it's me. I don't want you bogarting my payback.”

When Buck spoke, he didn't bother disguising the worry in his voice. “Are we going to be able to find Gina without the book?”

“I don't know,” she said, “but I do know that we can't leave it out in the wild. It's dangerous in the wrong hands. And if you do find it before I do, whatever you do, don't open it.” She grabbed the glass and downed the rest of the water in one big gulp.

“Where are you going?” Buck asked.

Lucifer was halfway out the front door when she said, “To the mall.”

CHAPTER 9

The mall was cold and crowded. Small groups of people lumbered down the halls like blood clots being flushed through bright, fluorescent veins. Some groups would duck into every store they passed while others moved from display window to display window without ever committing to anything more than a casual glance at the merchandise.

Lucifer listened to the sounds of laughter, shouts, and the occasional baby's cry bouncing off the walls. She saw several children taking turns on a coin-operated rocking horse until a woman huddled them together to give them each a fistful of candy. The woman glanced up and saw Lucifer, gave her a weak smile, then quickly ushered the children in the opposite direction.

Everyone who walked past Lucifer looked at her, letting their stares linger for a second or two longer than was comfortable before stepping aside to give her a wider berth. Though the swelling in her face had gone away, her eyes were still bloodshot and her skin red and irritated. She thought about putting her hood up over her head to hide her face, but she knew that would only make her look even more suspicious. She wasn't used to being noticed. Lucifer prided herself on her ability to move through the world without attracting attention. It's part of what made her such a great thief. But she didn't have the several hours to wait for her face to heal. Lucifer needed to find Brooklyn and Isis, not just to make sure they hadn't been possessed, but to find out just where the book came from. She highly doubted it came from a library.

As Lucifer looked in her trick bag for Gina's yearbook, she took quick stock of the items inside. Thankfully, nothing was damaged during the attack. The only thing the man stole from the bag was the book. But that was small consolation. He had taken something from
her
. And not just the book. He had taken her sense of security.

It wasn't the first time Lucifer had ever been attacked. Such things were, sadly, a part of life for a street kid in Recife, not to mention a thief in an underworld of the mystical and magical. But this . . . this was just an old guy with a can of mace. Lucifer had survived death squads and roving street gangs, stood against hordes of unnatural horrors, and had come face-to-face with things that have driven men mad just to look upon. But some bald asshat in a cheap suit had come along and made her feel
helpless
.

And that
really
pissed her off.

Lucifer realized that her anger must have been showing on her face. Coupled with the aftereffects of the mace, it was no wonder people were giving her strange looks. As if she didn't feel out of place enough as it was.

All the people Lucifer's age didn't seem to be doing a great deal of shopping. Instead, they wandered the halls, laughing at each other's jokes, flirting with other groups of kids that happened by, just enjoying being together. This was the life of the average American teenager. No fear, no concern of where their next meal was coming from, no burden of inconvenient knowledge that underneath their world of friends and boys and music was a seething nation of darkness that wanted nothing but to swallow whole everything they knew and held dear. It was as if Lucifer was at a zoo, watching some exotic animal exhibit, though Lucifer couldn't help but feel that
she
was the one caged behind six inches of plexiglass.

She took a deep, calming breath and flipped through the pages of the yearbook, looking for circled pictures of Brooklyn and Isis. Both girls were photogenic and, judging by the number of times their photos appeared, nearly as popular as David. Lucifer stopped turning the pages when she came across a picture of David in a suit and tie, speaking in front of a small group of students. He photographed equally well, but Lucifer thought he was even more handsome in person.

Lucifer slammed the yearbook shut and shoved it back in her trick bag.
Focus,
girl.
She scanned the various groups of girls meandering through the mall until she found the ones she was looking for. Brooklyn and Isis were with several other girls and one boy on the level below her. They were coming out of a shoe store, all following behind Brooklyn like ducklings.

As she rode the escalator down to the lower level, Lucifer watched Brooklyn and the others stop in front of a kiosk to try on some hats. They all took turns showcasing their favorite finds with grand poses and gestures while the poor young woman working the kiosk did her best to smile.

Brooklyn slowly pulled a red bowler from off her head when she saw Lucifer approaching. The others stopped their conversations and stared as well. Brooklyn smiled, her teeth bright and perfect. “You must be the devil girl who tied Olivia to a chair,” she said.

Lucifer glanced around to see who was listening in, but everyone other than Brooklyn's friends were too busy going about their own lives to pay any attention. “So, she called you. What all did she say?”

“Enough to make me think she got into her mother's medicine cabinet. That girl was talking cray-cray. Did you really try to kill her with paprika?”

“I thought it'd be cleaner than a butcher knife,” Lucifer said as she pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. “Tell me, what do you see?”

Brooklyn didn't bother looking at the screen but continued to stare at Lucifer. “If I say I don't see anything, that means I'm
possessed
, right?” She made air quotes when she said the word.

“What you say doesn't matter. What you
see
does,” Lucifer said, giving some air quotes of her own.

Brooklyn held Lucifer's gaze for a moment before glancing down at the screen. “I see spirals.”

“Good.”

“Good? So . . . that's it? You're not going to try and tie me to a chair?”

Lucifer winked at her. “Not unless you want me to.” She walked over to Isis, who was standing at the back of the group of friends. Unlike Brooklyn, Isis didn't appear to find any of this amusing. “Isis, what do you see?”

“I see the scaly bitch who's about to get my fist down her throat for kicking my boyfriend.”

“You want to go that route, fine,” Lucifer said, “but mall security would most likely call the cops and have us arrested. Now, I'd be fine in jail, but you look a bit . . . fragile. So why don't we skip all that and you just tell me what you see.”