Dark Currents (Agent of Hel #1)

Dark Currents (Agent of Hel #1) Page 46

“We do.” The chief nodded. “But time’s not on our side. I’ll put a call in to Sheriff Barnard and let him know exactly what we’re dealing with here.” His expression was somber. “I don’t think any of the families involved will be interested in seeing this play out in the public eye once they know what their sons have been up to.”

Cody shuddered. “No, I wouldn’t think so. How the hell did this even happen? How did a bunch of frat boys from Van Buren end up here?”

“According to Matthew Mollenkamp, there was a website,” I said.

He gave me a blank look. “A website?”

“Uh-huh.” I went to fetch the department’s laptop, opened a browser, and typed in Schtupernatural.com.

Yep, there was a website.

All three of us stared at it in fascinated revulsion. The banner at the top featured a graphic with someone’s idea of a fairy, a pretty, sparkly fairy with gossamer wings that Amanda Brooks would approve of, kneeling in ecstasy as a faceless mundane man hammered her from behind, her head thrown back, her silvery lips rounding in orgasmic pleasure. The protruding green nipples and cobweb hair were a nice touch.

The site was cross-indexed by species and locale. I clicked through a handful of links. Some of the posts were obviously fake, like the entire vampire forum. I’m sorry, but vampires simply don’t show up in photographs.

Others looked . . . real.

“That’s not right.” Cody pointed a shaking finger at a photo of a werewolf in midshift braced between the spread thighs of a mortal woman, a ridge of sprouting hair running down his spine, his snarling, distorted face pressed against her shoulder, all wrinkled muzzle and pointy teeth. “It’s not!”

“It’s all right, son,” the chief murmured. “Daisy, I think we’ve seen enough.”

I found the want ads. “I just want to check something.” I did a quick search for Pemkowet and came up empty. “Okay, the site’s been scrubbed. Dunham must have deleted his posts.”

“As Lord Stefan Muckety-Muck observed, the unfeeling have a strong sense of self-preservation.” Cody’s tone was bitter.

“Yeah.” I closed the laptop. “Someone tech-savvy could probably retrieve them if it came to it. So what now, Chief? How do you want us to proceed?”

He leaned back in his chair, his deceptively sleepy eyes half-lidded. “At this point? As far as I’m concerned, we have two priorities.” He lifted one finger. “The first is finding the remaining victim in this tragedy. If she’s out there, we need to find her. Fast. Before they decide she’s too big a liability and get rid of her. Cody?”

Cody nodded. “I’m on it, sir.”

“The second is keeping a lid on the tension in town.” His gaze shifted to me. “How did your meeting with Amanda Brooks go?”

Unable to help myself, I made a face. “She wants me to keep vampires off the streets and put pretty, sparkly fairies on them. Preferably at prearranged times suitable for paranormal tourism.”

The implacable weight of his gaze pressed on me. “I’d say that’s a damn fine idea if it’s doable. Is it?”

I sighed. “I’m on it, sir.”

Although it felt like it ought to be nearly time for bed, in fact it was barely past two o’clock in the afternoon yet. Checking my phone as I exited the station, I found a voice mail from Mom, sounding a bit worried. Feeling guilty at having neglected her, I called her on my way to the Fabulous Casimir’s shop.

“Hey, Daisy, baby!” Her voice brightened. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just busy. I’ve been working long hours.”

“I know.” She sounded sympathetic. “Lurine told me. She said you stayed at her place last night, and left at the crack of dawn.”

I yawned. “Don’t remind me.”

“But you’re all right?”

“Yeah.” I smiled fondly at the concern in her voice. “Remember Meg Mucklebones? From behind the Cassopolises’ place? She almost got Jen’s little brother, Brandon, this morning.”

She drew a sharp breath. “Oh, Daisy!”

“It’s okay.” Tucking the phone under my chin, I touched dauda-dagr’s hilt. “Honest, I swear. I got her to back down.” I wanted to tell her about my father and the whole temptation scenario, bat wings and fiery whip and all, but with tourists already eyeing the girl with the phone pressed to her ear and the rather large dagger on her hip, I figured it had better wait. “Look, I can’t talk long. I just wanted you to know I was fine. And your reading’s been really, really helpful.”

“Oh?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Pieces are falling into place. Everything but the arrows. Las Jaras, right? Any thoughts?”

“No,” she said apologetically. “I wish I did. Has everything else been as literal as the bottle?”

I thought about La Sirena. “Very much so.”

“Keep it in mind,” she suggested.

“Thanks. I will.” I’d arrived at Casimir’s shop. “Okay, I’ve got to go. Love you!”

“Love you, too, Daisy, baby!” Mom blew a kiss into the phone. “Be careful. Be safe, honey!”

“I will,” I promised before ending the call.

Bells chimed as I opened the door to the Sisters of Selene. The Fabulous Casimir, leaning on one elbow behind the counter, glanced up as I entered. Today he was sporting powder-white makeup, a geisha-style wig, and an ornate kimono.

I found the sight heartening.

“Hey, there, Miss Daisy,” he greeted me. “I’ve been asking around in certain circles, and I have a piece of news for you.” He shook his finger at me. “I didn’t know whether or not I should call the station with this. And you didn’t give me your personal phone number.”

“I didn’t?”

“No.”

Well, that was an incredibly stupid oversight. Way to go, Daisy. I winced. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry. What do you have for me?”

Casimir fished a file from under the counter, passing it to me. “I got this from a coven in Seattle and printed it out for you. Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow’s one true thing.”

I flipped through the file.

The images were grainy and low-resolution, scans of screen captures. But all of them showed the same thing: a mermaid in a tank, her face contorted with an expression that was meant to convey pleasure, but was more likely distress. And on every image, there was a different phone number to call.

Casimir watched me beneath his artificial lashes. “They were pimping her, Daisy. Is that what’s happening here?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “We think so. How did this happen, Cas?”

He shook his bewigged head. “All anyone knows is that she vanished after Dr. Midnight’s carnival was shut down in Seattle. What do you know?”

I stared at the images. “I think someone stole her. One of the carnies.” I glanced up at him. “Thanks—this helps. And I promise we’re doing everything we can to find her. But that’s not why I’m here.”

The Fabulous Casimir arched his painted eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I need cowslip dew,” I informed him.

He looked dubious. “It’s expensive. And it doesn’t work as well as it does if you harvest it yourself.”

“I know.” I fully planned on invoicing the PVB for the cost. “But I need it in a hurry. Do cowslips even grow around here?”

“No, but primroses work. Didn’t you ever try it when you were little?”

I sighed. “Yeah, and I’ll gather the acorn caps myself, but I don’t have time to harvest that much dew. How much is it, anyway?”

Casimir withdrew a little key on a long chain from beneath the folds of his kimono and emerged from behind the counter to unlock an apothecary case with glass doors. He plucked a stoppered flagon filled with clear liquid from an upper shelf. “It’s three hundred dollars an ounce, Daisy,” he said with sympathy. “And I can only get it in three-ounce containers.”

Gah! “Can you sell me a third of a bottle?”

“No can do, sweetheart,” he said. “Once the seal’s broken, the magic starts to evaporate.”

“Okay.” Nine hundred bucks for a bottle of dew. I took out my credit card, calculating how much I had left on my limit. I really, really hoped the PVB didn’t quibble at the cost. Also that they paid their invoices promptly, or I was going to have a hell of a time making my rent next month. “There’s no invocation, is there? I never used one as a kid, but it didn’t always work, either.”

“No, but to do it properly, you need a spotless, round white tablecloth, preferably Irish linen.” The Fabulous Casimir nodded at the door with a sour look. “Try across the street. I used to stock them, but they undercut my prices.”

An Irish linen tablecloth from the Elegant Table set me back another eighty bucks. I was beginning to realize I’d gotten off cheap summoning naiads. Apparently fairies were a lot pricier when you went the commercial route. No wonder the naiads took offense.

After depositing my purchases and the file on Dr. Midnight’s star attraction in my apartment, I ducked into the park, where there were a couple of spectacular old oak trees. I hunted around beneath their shade, scrabbling my fingers through the thin grass that grew there, rooting in the hard-packed dirt. In mid-July, it was harder than you might think to find acorn caps.

“Whatcha doin’?” a small voice asked me.

I looked up to see a chubby boy some six or seven years old, wearing a striped shirt, khaki shorts, and kid-size Crocs on his feet, watching me gravely. “Looking for acorn caps.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to have a tea party for some fairies.” I sat back on my heels. “Where are your parents?”

He pointed toward a pair of exhausted-looking women seated on a park bench surrounded by shopping bags. “That’s Mom and Aunt Nancy. They’ve been shopping all day long. Can I come to your tea party?”