The Hunt is On (The Patroness) Read online

  “I got a letter from Chastel. For my birthday.”

  Ah. Jean Chastel was a bounty hunter and he’d helped us out a few months ago as a rogue and a divine serial killer had chosen Paris as their playground. Chastel had fallen in love with Pauline along the way. They’d dated a bit after the mess was taken care of, but it hadn’t worked out. So one morning he’d vanished and moved on to wherever something or someone needed to be hunted down.

  “He’s a nice guy.”

  “I know, he really is. But...” She sighed heavily.

  “But?”

  She threw up her arms, a sad expression on her face. “There’s just no buzz. Well, there’s a buzz, but just not the right one. There’s a nice tingle, but no fireworks, and I want them. I like him, I really do, but...he’s just not the one, you know.”

  “I know. It’s not easy, but hey...yes, if it makes you feel better it can’t be that bad. One day you’ll find someone, and he’ll, too.” I squeezed her shoulders to give her some comfort.

  “I hope so.” Pauline stumbled. “Wow, is that just me or the booze, or what? I can hardly see a thing.”

  She was right, the fog had gotten thicker. A white veil of mist was blocking our way, daring us to discover its secrets. How odd.

  Luckily the cold helped to clear my mind. “Let’s go home,” I said and picked up a little speed. Soon the fog surrounded us and we couldn’t see a thing through its white mists, so we were practically blind.

  “Maiwenn?” Pauline asked, her voice laced with a hint of panic.

  “I’m here. I’ll get us home, don’t worry. Don’t let go off me, okay?” She grabbed my arm a little harder. Good. Then I imagined a map of the city and remembering the street’s lay-out, I guided us towards our building, my ears straining to hear something, anything. Oppressive silence. Once I thought to hear drums, but I wasn’t sure. Maybe music playing in a bar.

  I sighed in relief when I was finally able to make out our entrance door to the old six-story building we lived in. Pauline punched in the security code while I turned around to glance back at the ghostly wall of fog.

  Two weeks left until The Turn. Like the Mayans had foreseen the world would end, or rather change, on December twenty-first. Earth’s magnetic field would reverse and the gates between other realms would open and magic would flood our world once again. The magnetic and magical field changed rather regularly – roughly every thirteen hundred years – but sometimes also very unexpectedly. So it was no surprise that magical creatures like faeries, vampires and shapeshifters lived right next door to ignorant humans; some had stayed out of free will, others had been left without a choice. The Council, an institution established to govern the magical community, located in the USA had tried their best to inform and prepare the human governments for the things to come. The humans now knew about us, well in theory at least. Out of respect the Council had asked the magical community to not go out (yet) doing all kinds of magical stuff that might frighten the humans. They needed a little time to acclimatize, and we would at least try to give it to them.

  Still, for weeks now nature and its creatures have been walking a tightrope. Weird and sometimes inexplicable natural disasters and bursts of panic fear, resulting in hoarding groceries when everything went well or in violence when not, were the stuff our daily news were now made of.

  Looking at the white, seemingly impenetrable haze I wondered whether it was just another weird pre-Turn phenomenon. But I knew my luck - I didn’t have a lot of it. There was something about this fog, it just felt wrong and that got me edgy.

  The door finally clicked open and we got inside.

  THREE

  The next morning I sat up in bed. And moaned, grabbing my head with both my hands to keep it attached. Maybe that had been a little too much tequila last night...and throughout the early morning. I freed myself from the covers and wanted to force my feet to drag the rest of me into the kitchen, but they denied, demanding I should put some warm socks on since the wooden floor was rather cold. It didn’t seem to be such a bad idea so I did exactly that, and then padded out of the room.

  Bright, very bright sunlight was streaming in through the big double-casement windows offering a breathtaking view of Paris. Right now, I didn’t give a damn though. For Christ’s sake, we were in the middle of December and except for an hour or two it practically hadn’t stopped raining or storming for the last week. But today of all days, after my second, in-alcohol-soaked night-off in a year there had to be a freaking bright sun in a freaking bright and cloudless, blue sky shining down on me, squeezing my sandpaper wrapped eyeballs in a tight grip. A really nice addition to my already throbbing skull, exactly what I needed. Grrr. I marched over and jerked the curtains closed. Ah. Better.

  That taken care of I went over and behind the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room area, and filled water in a pot to set it on the stove to boil. Meanwhile I prepared coffee and set out a small bowl with food for Malo who was circling around my feet. Really that cat slept when I slept and woke up when I did. Every witch had a cat, a constant protector, sometimes without even knowing it. The cats not only housed the souls of deceased witches, but they also guided the witch they assigned themselves to by warning her of evil or by lending her an extra boost of power if they deemed it necessary.

  When the water in the pot on the stove was boiling I added some herbs and plants such as feverfew, meadowsweet and milk thistle, and let it all simmer for a few minutes. I heard Pauline’s door open and close, and sure enough an instant later she was standing in the doorway looking like I felt. A brave smile tugged at her lips despite the obvious suffering.

  “Salut sunshine, how do you feel?”

  “Been better,” she murmured and rubbed sleep out of her eyes. “But last night was definitely worth the pain.”

  I blew a breath over the liquid in the pot, and the herbs went up in teal colored flames. Smiling I stirred one last time, and then filled two mugs with the magical brew I made and held one out to her. “Good. Here, drink this. You’ll feel better, witches’ word of honor!”

  We slumped down on two of the high stools standing around the counter and downed the green content of our mugs.

  Pauline licked her lips and frowned, while studying her mug and what was inside it. “It tastes not really bad, but definitely weird. What the hell is that?”

  “It’s medicine. My best remedy for a hangover. You won’t need an aspirin, believe me.” When we finished, I put our dirty mugs into the sink and poured some coffee into clean ones. “You can rinse with the coffee.” Already I was beginning to feel better and myself again, and not like a slave to alcohol.

  “Thanks. What’s on your agenda for today?” Pauline asked.

  I grimaced. “Work. Hopefully Anouk and I will have something to go on regarding those missing persons, and keep your fingers cross that there aren’t more. And what about you? What are your plans for today?”

  “Viviane and I wanted to make sure we had everything for the opening. God, I can’t wait for the first load of flowers to arrive.” She rubbed her hands in expectation, a happy smile on her face.

  “Hold that thought.” I quickly vanished into my room and came back, a piece of paper in my hands and trying to hide a smile. “So apropos first load of flowers.” I gave the note to her. It was an official order for some medicinal herbs, coming from Saints Investigation. “Usually I use dried leaves for my potions but the real thing has more power to it and so I thought we could try growing them ourselves. Plant them on the rooftop terrace. They like a little warmer climate but, hey, who knows what it’ll be like after the Turn.”

  She was looking up from the paper, grinning at me. “My first order?”

  I grinned back at her. “Looks like it.”

  She bounced of her chair to hug me tightly, rocking us slightly and her transparent wings fluttering with excitement.

  We laughed, settling on our chairs again and then Pauline tilted her head to the side, “Apropos
Viviane. You think she’s already home?” Answering her own question she went on, “Well, if it was any good, she shouldn’t be. Sex...”

  I held up my hand. “Stop right there. I so don’t wanna go down that road. She might be a friend to you but, please, keep in mind she’s like a mother to me. And there’re certain things I really don’t need to know…or to picture.”

  “Right. Sorry. I forgot.”

  “Maybe you could make up for it with a nice lunch?” I asked hopefully, wiggling my eyebrows at her.

  She grinned. “Sure. You know how much I like to cook. Want something special?”

  “No, no. Whatever you do, it’s always delicious. I won’t put a stop to your game.”

  “Alright. Ro Sham Bo for the shower?”

  “Okay.” It had become our little tradition to play for the right of the shower. We balled our fists and started to count, “One, two...three.”

  “Ha! Rock beats scissors. Shower’s mine. See you later.” I threw up my arms in victory and bounced off.

  After a refreshing and reviving hot shower my little gloating friend named ‘hangover’ had disappeared and I felt much better.

  “Shower’s all yours now,” I called out to Pauline who was lounging in one of the red, comfy armchairs in the living room as I passed her with a soft towel wrapped around me and returned to my room to get dressed. I donned black jeans and a russet brown, knitted sweater, braided my dark blond hair, and then completed my outfit with two of my favorite silver coated Trident Daggers – one could never know what happened. Then I strapped my magical, leather harness across my back and sheathed Cutter, my lethal, double-edged sword, whereupon the harness disappeared from view. Cutter, better known as Excalibur and allegedly lost, was a powerful sword and a gift from Viviane. The sword protected me from getting killed, and I protected Cutter from falling into wrong and evil hands. We were a good team.

  I grabbed my laptop and another mug of coffee on my way out, and shouted, “I’m downstairs. See you for lunch.” As a muffled ‘okay’ came back from the bathroom I headed downstairs, and when I turned to take the flight towards the third floor I nearly collided with Viviane. A clearly dishevelled, flushed and embarrassed Viviane.

  “Maiwenn,” she gasped surprised.

  “Viv.” I couldn’t hide a grin. Really, I tried but this situation reminded me just a little too much of the many times when I used to try to sneak up unseen and unnoticed – in vain. “Well, well. Look who’s finally decided to come home. And where have you been all night young lady?” I asked in a perfect imitation of her.

  That at least made her laugh out loud and the embarrassment I noticed earlier vanished. “Away,” she replied with a sweet smile, imitating my teen-me.

  “That you’re whole and alright is all I need to know. Pauline’s upstairs, getting ready. She said the two of you want to take a look at the shop again.”

  “Yeah. It already looks great and couldn’t get any better but, you know, she’s nervous.”

  In a lower voice I asked, “And for the opening party, is everything going as we planned?” Viv and I knew how much the shop meant to Pauline and wanted to celebrate this part of her new life here with us accordingly. I took care of the balloons, banner and drinks, and Viv handled the food and entertainment part.

  “Yes, no need to worry. Did you go to Celine like I told you?”

  Viv had wanted me to go to her friend’s boutique to find a dress for the occasion since she didn’t deem me capable doing so on my own. She might have been right. I would have tried to find something that wasn’t a dress to begin with. I nodded.

  “Good.”

  “I’ll be in my office, if you need me.” With that I hopped down the rest of the flights.

  Later that day a phone call from Anouk ended with me putting up a ‘Back Soon’ sign with my coordinates for emergencies on it and locking my office door behind me before I headed towards the police station.

  The sun had surrendered to black clouds once more. A torrent of rain and a howling wind greeted me and a wet strand of hair that had escaped my braid whipped against my cheek.

  Increasingly heavy armed police and army patrols roamed the streets, on foot, by car or on horse. I shook my head at the sight. The Council had advised against the weapons. Those soldiers and officers might have been human now, but no one could know what would happen to them once the magic hit. The thought of these wannabe Rambos turning into panicked furballs or legendary monstrosities was bad enough as it is. Imagining them holding machine guns in their hands on top of that, somehow failed to make me all warm and fuzzy inside.

  Jogging up the few stairs to the entrance I really hoped Anouk had good news or at least the vague possibility of a lead for us. The woman at the reception desk recognized me, nodding her head in greeting, and let me pass without any delay.

  My hopes plummeted when I walked into Anouk’s office. A big, fat map of Paris was pegged to an easel in the middle of the room and had too many little, colourful pins stuck in it.

  A soft knock on their open door got me Anouk’s and her Agents’ attention. “Bonsoir.” Four tired faces looked back at me. “Good or bad?”

  Anouk who had been talking to Perrin straightened, walked over and rubbed a hand over her face. “We found seven other cases that might be linked.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Bad it is.”

  She motioned towards the map, where the nine colourful pins formed three distinctive clouds in the north, south and south-east of the city. “Two more in the area between Montmartre and Gare du Nord. Three around Montparnasse and two near Place d’Italie.”

  “The colors mean anything?”

  Anouk nodded. “The magical background. Four humans,” she pointed towards a red pin then towards the green and blue ones, “a fairy and two witches.”

  Perrin, sitting behind his desk and playing with his pen, spoke, “Isn’t it weird that there aren’t any vampires among them?”

  Rodriguez replied, “There aren’t any shifters missing either. Though we can’t say for sure.”

  He looked at Anouk.

  Anouk looked at me.

  Oh, oh. I had a bad feeling about this.

  She explained, “The Pack, let alone Lilith, wouldn’t come to the police to declare one of their own as missing. They would take the matter to their alpha, or master, but they sure as hell wouldn’t file a missing person report with the police. But what if this is linked? What if they are missing people?” I knew where this was going. She wanted me to bring Kylian in on this. “And by the way, nine missing persons...that’s a lot of tracks to sniff, Maiwenn. I can’t do it alone. Since you know each other and have worked together before, he might be more inclined to tell you whatsoever. So I think it’s time to call in the Pack.”

  Do I really have to? My stomach clenched, forming into solid and very uncomfortable rock at the prospect of seeing Kylian again. Annoyed with my reaction I punched it to smithereens and inwardly squared my shoulders. “Sure. But what about Lilith?”

  She waved a hand. “Already took care of it. Hopefully we’ll have an answer by nightfall.”

  Oh, is that so? And how exactly did our lovely new cop manage to contact Lilith? It wasn’t like the entrance to her Den was wildly known. When Anouk had first mentioned having send an invitation to Lilith I had thought she might have found a vamp to deliver the message, but now I wasn’t so sure. Wheels started to turn in my head.

  I strolled to her desk, picked up the phone and punched in the number of the Pack.

  After five rings a male voice finally answered, screaming to be heard over what reminded me of the noise from the renovation works I had had to endure not long ago. “Yeah?”

  Kylian needed a secretary. I screamed back, “This is the Patroness. I need to talk to Kylian.”

  “He’s busy right now. We’ll call you back.” The line went dead.

  Just peachy.

  I sighed, opened the bag around my hips and pulled out a piece of paper and a smal
l white candle. I lightened the candle and pushed it into Anouk’s hands. Then I quickly drew a sigil, in the form of a flourish mix between a peace and infinity symbol and an anchor for hope, before burning it. The flames quickly licked at the paper, briefly flaring a greenish blue.

  “You called?”

  The reactions were quite interesting to say the least.

  Agent Rodriguez jumped, and had Anouk and me exchange a surprised look. Only those with magic in the blood could actually see ghosts, even the most perceptive human couldn’t do anything more than sense them. Given his startled expression which he didn’t wipe off fast enough I knew this encounter was a first time for him. But at least he didn’t cross himself or did anything equally stupid. Anouk and Moreau remained calm, proving my theory that the latter was not human either, and poor Perrin had no idea what was going on since he was obviously the only one not able to see the straight-out-of-the-60s ghost standing in the middle of the room.

  I turned to look at the ghost, Philippe, who was glancing around at his new surroundings. He was eighteen years-old and had shoulder-length, brown hair. Philippe was always barefoot, and wore always the same clothes – those he died in: faded jeans and a colorful died T-shirt with a peace symbol emblazoned across his chest. A life-sized cliché for sure, but also the most adorable.

  As a ghost only other magical creatures or humans that weren’t totally ignorant of the magic stuff going on all around them, could see or sense him. He could neither eat nor drink. No one could touch him.

  Yeah. Being a ghost was a rather lonely existence, a shadow of a life. After death some souls stayed in our realm either because they were somehow magically trapped, by a curse for instance, or because they were simply bound to fulfill a mission, something they had to take care of on our side before finally being able to move on. I’ve always wondered what kind of ghost Philippe was. To say he didn’t like talking about his death was an understatement; so we only knew he died some time in the sixties. Nothing else.