I swallow hard, but luckily, before I can even break a sweat, Collin is right there, doing his Cyrano de Bergerac thing. In an eyeblink, he’s shifted from across the room to the couch next to me, his shoulder warmly pressing into mine.
“Alvin, you’ve got this. Tell her that in researching the Benevolent Society on the Internet, the city records showed they had been paying the property taxes on a house on Lake Street. You figured if there was anywhere they’d be hiding Emma, it would be there.”
Is it actually true that the Benevolent Society was paying those taxes? (Possibly.) Is it likely that I’d be smart enough to do that kind of research? (Clearly not.) This will be me lying to her. Again. But I roll with it and repeat Collin’s words—which lets him save my bacon, yet again.
Ms. Striker’s lips curve appreciatively, even slyly. “I’m impressed, Alvin. But not surprised. Fine detective work. Go on.”
I myself am surprised by the compliment. She’s notexactly free with those. But it’s certainly better than the alternative!
The goal now is to lie as little as possible and motor through until we get to the kids. I tell her I found the front door of the house on Lake Street unlocked, that I looked around a bit, heard the vampires come in, and then Rafa had to save me from them. (I focus a little more on that part, because it takes the spotlight off myself.) I’m just about ready to move on when she interrupts again.
“And so you didn’t findanythingin the house? It was a total bust?” Her eyes are shrewd, the corner of her mouth quirking down.
That makes me realize the next huge flaw in my story. Assuming Rafa’s willing to let me skip over the part where I got attacked by an elf in my apartment and stole a car, there’s still the stuff I did in the Benevolent Society. I’m going to have to claim all kinds of abilities and skills that she knows I don’t have. Maybe Rafa was willing to accept that I have a way to “talk to spirits,” but Ms. Stryker will know that’s bullshit. And even if I came clean as a paranormal (dangerous, because she also hunts monsters!), it still wouldn’t account for how I knew exactly where Emma was, how I found the secret passage into the Society from the sewers, how I thought I could pick military-grade locks… Collin can only prompt me so well—the lies would be too big.
I have to tell her about the watch.
“No,” I say. “You know I can detect magic. When I was in the house, there was a big bright flare of power on the second floor. It led me to an enchanted artifact.” I glance over at Collin, who looks uneasy but doesn’t sayanything. “A watch that contains a spirit. The Avatar of Knowledge. It’s how I was able to find the kids.”
This, of course, is not just new information for Ms. Stryker. Rafa’s shoulders stiffen next to me.
“Sorry, Rafa.” I wince. “This is one of the things I wanted to tell you earlier.”
He nods, frowning only a little.
But he’s not the only one that’s frowning. “I’ve heard of this artifact.” Ms. Stryker’s voice is measured. “May I see it?”
I give Collin one more look. He eyes Ms. Stryker, wary. He looks vulnerable. Maybe even a little scared.
But my boss is one of the most powerful and accomplished paranormal investigators in the world, not to mention a true hero. She literally saved my life on the day we met. Collin has to know I can’t refuse her.
He rests his fingers on my forearm.
“I’ll see you soon, Alvin, right?” His bright blue eyes are fixed on mine. Still looking nervous.
I give him a reassuring nod, then remove the watch from my back pocket. He disappears immediately.
Stryker crosses the short distance, slides the coffee table toward Rafa, and kneels down in front of me. Again, I’m struck by how luminous her skin is. She’s probably gotten even less sleep than I have, and she looks like a million bucks.
She studies the decorative metalwork of the artifact in my palm, and her lips thin. “This is ancient druid magic. Very powerful. I’m sure with your abilities, you can recognize that.”
“Yeah,” I say, squinting a bit against its blaring, brain-freezing iciness. “If I deliberately look for magic, it’s like I’m holding a flare in my palm.”
“And… you used its power?”
I can tell from her tone that she doesn’t think that was a great idea. But there’s no point in lying about this, either.
“I have. The spirit can answer pretty much any question. He’s who helped me get into the vampire lair and then helped us get out in one piece.” I picture the Irish boy’s roundish cheeks and his tousled mop of golden hair and can’t help smiling. “His name is Collin.”
Stryker’s eyes widen. “Is that so? A very modern name for an ancient spirit.”
“Yeah. He, um, looks like a guy my age.” I shift uncomfortably, reminded of my conversation with Tara, where she made a similar observation. “He’s also in trouble, so I told him I’d try to find some way to free him. Maybe after you save the children, you can, uh, help with that, too…” That last part comes out as a mumble. I realize I’m piling on the requests for favors.
And I don’t get a great reaction. Her head pulls back. “The spirit asked you to set it free?”
“Uh, no,” I stammer. “No. That was my idea.” I realize I should be getting us back on track, but I can’t help trying to appeal to her sense of justice. “People have used this artifact to torture him, Ms. Stryker. Like real bad.”
She looks away and seems to do some mental calculus. “Right. The spirit told you it had been abused, tormented—so, of course, you’d want to help him.” She scans the room. “Can you see him now?”
