“You’re not responsible,” Ari said. “Angela lived a wild lifestyle, took a lot of risks. She got in over her head this time. That’s what got her killed. And whether you paid her or not didn’t change anything.”

Ari left him seated in the booth, staring into space, occupied by his inner demons. He didn’t notice when she stopped and paid the bill.

Chapter Twelve

Ari couldn’t wait to share the news with Ryan, but she caught him in a foul mood.

“Dammit, Ari. What’s the matter with my department?”

He was putting in long hours and made no secret he felt harried about the vamp murders. He grumped that his superiors were pressuring him to close the case, stamped ‘random vampire violence.’ With both suspects dead, police officials didn’t want to waste further resources. Ryan thought he had a duty to resolve the matter.

“If someone triggered the vamps, with drugs or whatever, I’ve got to stop them. Or this just happens again. Right? One human dead this time. How many the next? Command’s making a bad decision.”

Since Ryan was on the lower end of the food chain in the police hierarchy, Ari and Ryan both knew who’d win the argument. He figured they had another twenty-four hours before his chief ordered him to shut down the investigation.

Ari interrupted, hoping she could cheer him with the information on Angela’s undercover work. He wasn’t very enthusiastic.

“And how’s this get us closer to naming her killer? We can’t prove a damn thing. Victor, Simpson, the she-wolf, some unknown druggie or dealer…any or all of them could have been Angela’s source. And decided to keep her quiet.” Ryan’s frustration seeped through the phone. “I don’t know, Ari. It could also be somebody we haven’t heard of. I’m going home and have a beer. Maybe I’ll feel different when I’ve thought it over.”

When Ari didn’t get a call from Ryan the next morning, she figured he was still in a funk. No biggie. She had plenty to do.

Finishing the written reports consumed most of her day. This was one part of the job Ari could live without, especially this week. The Magic Council required each Guardian to provide a written report whenever an Otherworlder in that district killed someone, especially humans, or was the victim of human violence. There had been five such deaths and the still unsolved Goshen Park attack in the past eleven days. Although two of the deaths occurred in Martin’s territory, the suspect resided in Olde Town. Ari had the unhappy task of facing an inquiry on every incident.

Her hardest report was explaining the stabbing death at the Second Chance Saloon. It shouldn’t have happened, wouldn’t have, if the vamp had been the least bit rational. He had plenty of time to avoid the blade. The vampire, now identified as Lawrence, didn’t have the history or reputation of a troublemaker. And although Ari was convinced Lawrence had been affected by Fantasy, she had no proof. Some of the Council members would want more than a written report. Based on Andreas’s reaction, she expected Lucien, the vampire representative, would be especially difficult.

She made the reports as detailed as possible, and it was mid-afternoon when she delivered the documents to the Council’s clerk. He went away shaking his head, dismayed either by the size of the reports or the lateness of the hour. Whatever his concern, Ari knew each member would receive copies before the day was over. The Council would have plenty of time to read them prior to the weekly Friday meeting.

Finished with desk duty, she turned her thoughts back to the Canadian wolves. Talking to them became more urgent by the moment. While she worried that Andreas’s continued silence meant he’d withdrawn his pledge to help, she wasn’t ready to give up. She’d figured out how her original plan could work. If she waited outside the bar until the she-wolf left, then any discussion with her or arrest would not involve the club. To set it up, she still needed to talk with Andreas. So Ari decided to take the initiative. He sang at the club on Thursday nights. If she was standing in front of him, it would be hard for him to ignore her.

She called Claris and Brando. After a lot of fast-talking on her part, they agreed to join her for dinner. She suspected Claris gave in because she was afraid Ari would go alone if she didn’t.

* * *

Ari paid special attention to her attire. Green silk blouse to match her eyes, long black skirt with a slit to the knee, and spike heels. Not her usual jeans and casual top.

Brando started laughing when he saw her. “So there is a woman inside those jeans,” he said. “And you don’t intend to play fair with this guy. I see the plan.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a supper club. Isn’t this appropriate?”

Ari’s escapades had involved, and amused, Brando for as long as she could remember. He’d played Little John to her Robin Hood, always game for the next adventure. But Brando’s square, open face, carefree laugh, and jovial demeanor concealed a very serious side. Born into a family notable for its powerful wizards, Brando had dedicated most of his life to science. He’d written technical journals with titles Ari couldn’t pronounce. Tonight, however, he was that childhood sidekick again, prepared to be entertained, and his brown eyes twinkled as he escorted his companions through the entrance of Club Dintero.

Right away Ari noticed the visible security guard next to the door, a change from the night she interviewed Victor.

“Arms up, please,” the doorman intoned as the guard stepped forward and produced a security wand.

Ari’s eyes widened. At a supper club? What was the deal? She shook her head and stepped back, digging out her ID. Claris shook her head at her friend’s refusal. At least she was in a better mood, Ari thought. Claris and Brando followed instructions without protest. Just another unique experience to them.

When Ari produced the ID, the doorman scrutinized it with care before handing it back. “Guardian,” he acknowledged, his tone flat, impersonal. She felt a tension from him that hadn’t been there before. Maybe he didn’t like cops. Or maybe he remembered her first visit.

Once a hostess seated them, Ari turned her focus to the stage. The comedy duo drew friendly laughter, a good warm-up act. She expected Andreas to take the stage soon and looked forward to hearing him sing. Her plan was to snag him during a break.

When the comedy team continued through appetizers, entrées and even after-dinner drinks, it was clear Andreas wouldn’t show. Adding his absence to the increased scrutiny at the door, Ari started asking questions. When the waiter said he didn’t know why Andreas wasn’t singing, she was more curious than before. She watched for Victor. Finally seeing him across the room, she caught his eye and motioned him over.

Victor gave Ari a blank face when she asked about Andreas and delivered a canned speech he must have used all night. “I apologize for the inconvenience,” he said, “Andreas was unexpectedly called away. If you return next week, I’m sure you will not be disappointed again.”

“I noticed the security. Has something happened? Where’d he go?”

Victor’s bland face hardened. “I believe it was personal. Now if you’ll excuse me?” He gave their table a too-polite smile and walked away.

Well, fine. She’d just been told it was none of her business. Fair enough. But nothing could have piqued her interest more.

“He’s Mr. Personality, isn’t he?” Claris laughed softly.

Ari didn’t care how Victor behaved, except she knew he was lying. An absent star performer. The security. The tension. She didn’t need witch senses to recognize trouble.

“Now what was that about?” she mused. “Andreas is tight with the vampire leader, Prince Daron. I wonder if there’s a problem at the court.”

“Vampire politics,” Brando offered. “I understand theirs are even messier than ours.”

Ari smiled, allowing Brando to distract her. His comment led to jokes about the latest foibles in Riverdale city politics. Speculation about the vampires was dropped, and after another drink, they ended the evening early.

As they left, Ari watched for Victor again. She still wanted to ask him about Angela and the drugs. He wasn’t around, but two additional security guards had been added to the front entry. Her witch senses stirred. Not just trouble, something really bad had happened, and Andreas was right in the middle of it. Ari wished she knew what it was.

The night ended on another down turn. A small white envelope had been slipped under her apartment door during the evening. Ari knew what it was before she opened it. An official summons to appear before tomorrow’s meeting of the Magic Council.

Chapter Thirteen

Heads swiveled in her direction as Ari walked into the Magic Hall. The forty members of the Otherworld governing council, dressed in suits or other formal attire consistent with their race and gender, sat in three rows of raised seats, forming a semi-circle facing the massive south doors. The first row held the representatives of five of the six major magic races: sorcerers (including the witch clans), vampires, lycanthropes, elves, and nymphs. Demons, considered the sixth race, were not represented. There were no treaties with the devil’s offspring.

In front of and facing the arranged seats stood a small podium, and behind that a glossy dark wood conference table which currently had two chairs. Ari was surprised to see Martin occupied one of them. Even though the fight at the Were Fest had occurred in his part of the city, the combatants had been vampires, Ari’s problem. Martin nodded as she took the other seat.

Both Guardians were dressed in traditional white uniforms. No jewelry or accessories. Although rarely worn outside these halls, the uniforms were required for Council appearances. Ari smoothed her skirt a couple of times and waited.

The Magic Hall, unlike the modern offices and cultural center attached, was built of stone along grand lines. Its style was copied from 13th century cathedrals with statuary and elaborate adornments, many depicting magical events in history. It was a reminder of continuity. Ari usually enjoyed looking around, but this morning her thoughts were on the pending inquiry.