Chapter 64
The Gentleman Warlock
Five days! That’s how long it had taken me to recover from my exhaustion. There had to be a problem with the form I’d used to go to Beatrice’s house. Some people had their body spelled so someone couldn’t duplicate their form after death. I’d never failed to recognize those types of spells in the past, so it seemed unlikely the problem was a spell. No matter the reason, I’d spent most of the last few days languishing in bed. Tatiana was lucky I’d recently stocked the room she was being held in. I’d been too exhausted to drive out to bring her food and water.
With any luck, she’d have enough for another day or two. There was no telling how this next change of form would affect me, considering how I’d reacted to the last. It was unavoidable. I needed a voice that wouldn’t be tied to me. The easiest way to accomplish that was to use a woman’s form.
Looking over at the corpse of the old human woman, I focused on taking her shape. I hadn’t killed her. She hadn’t deserved to die, but life was tough for a woman living on the streets. She’d died because someone wanted the few measly dollars she’d panhandled that day. I’d taken her body for two reasons. First, I figured no one would miss her. Second, I’d been the one to deal with her killer. The least she could do was allow me to use her form.
Looking down at my withered hands with the dirty nails, I realized the transformation was complete. Drawing air into my lungs was difficult, making me worry. This wouldn’t do. I was already weak again, and I’d just shifted to this form. I had no idea what was going on. It enraged me further to remember how strong my sister had seemed when she’d changed into a falcon. Before I killed her, I would force her to reveal her secret. She’d come nowhere near succeeding when we were children. It simply wasn’t possible to change into anything with that much of a weight difference. She’d also done it without the body of the bird anywhere nearby, making me wonder if she’d learned to create her own form like a shade.
Shaking myself out of my useless ponderings, I grabbed the disposable phone. It took me some time to get the person answering the phones to transfer my call. They acted like I was wasting their time. I knew mentioning Beatrice by name would get my call transferred to the right place eventually, but I was angry about the wait.
“Hardy,” the shade answered impatiently.
“Am I speaking to a police detective?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Detective Hardy replied. “I’m a detective. What can I do for you?”
He sounded bored and annoyed. From what I’d seen of Detective Hardy, he didn’t care too much about helping people.
“I was told you could help me,” I began, trying to sound frightened. “I went to visit my friend at the witch trailer park in Pinole, and something happened.”
Hardy let out a huff. “Could you just get to the point? I have a lot of cases to handle.”
“There was this young witch, Beatrice LaCroix,” I began. “She was arguing with a man. His name started with a D, but I can’t remember what it was.”
“Was it Desmond?” Hardy asked.
“That sounds right,” I replied hesitantly. In order to sound more believable, I had to pretend to forget some of the details. “I’m not completely sure. He was a handsome young man with black hair and blue eyes. He looked quite a bit like the witch, Beatrice.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” Hardy pushed.
“He dragged the poor witch out of her trailer,” I began in mock horror. “When I asked my friend about it, she told me it was a family matter and I should just leave well enough alone. According to her, that family always had problems.”
“How long ago did this happen?” Hardy pushed.
“It was earlier today,” I lied, knowing that if I told them the truth, they’d be less inclined to believe Beatrice was still alive. With no family pushing for her to be found, and little chance she could be used as a witness, Detective Hardy wouldn’t be that concerned with finding her. He was not a good man, and if I could find a way to pull it off, I’d see that he was punished for all he’d done. For the time being, the detective’s moral flaws and laziness worked in my favor.
“Why didn’t you call as soon as you saw what was happening?” Hardy demanded.
“Oh, dear,” I uttered in a shaky voice. “My friend seemed convinced it was just a family squabble that would resolve itself. The longer I was away from there, the more it bothered me. I think that poor witch is in danger. Someone needs to help her.”
“I’ll need the name and address of your friend at the trailer park,” Hardy told me.
“I don’t think I should provide that,” I hedged. “My friend doesn’t really like talking to the police. No one over there does. I doubt you’ll find a single person there who’ll admit to seeing that girl being dragged off in broad daylight.”
“This is a police matter, and I’m going to have to insist you answer my question,” he ground out.
“I hope you find her, but that’s all the information I can give you,” I told him before ending the call and tossing the phone in a bowl equipped with an incineration spell. I wasn’t sure if the lazy prick would try to trace the call, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
When I took a step, I nearly collapsed.
“What the hell is happening to me?” I asked in a slurred voice.
Distantly, I heard Katya’s voice, but much like the other times in the last few days it was tinny and far away. Unable to handle two more changes, I changed back to my own form and collapsed onto the bed. With any luck, the police would locate Beatrice for me.