“Thanks.”
“No probs.”
I hung up, then ejected the USB and reached for the one Tane had given me. I kept it partially covered by the glove to avoid adding additional prints, but one fingertip nevertheless slipped across the metal shielding over the connector. Magic tickled my skin but didn’t in any way feel dangerous. Hell, as spells went, it didn’t even feel complete.
And yet, alarm stirred. I mean, why would anyone want to spell a USB?
I briefly debated the wisdom of looking at it when I wasn’t in any sort of controlled environment, but Tane’s warning echoed through my mind. That, more than anything, had me shoving it into the slot. I waited for the audio file to load, then hit Play. For several seconds, there was nothing but static, then a sharp voice said, “Is everything ready?”
The question came through so loudly I jumped and hastily turned the laptop’s sound down.
“Just about” came the reply. “She won’t know anything is wrong until it’s all too late.”
The first speaker was female, the second male, though it was hard to get a true feel for either of their voices because they both sounded very tinny—a situation not helped by the continuing background hiss. Either they were using some sort of voice modulation or whoever was recording the conversation didn’t have very good equipment.
“Monica is not to be killed or harmed in any way until I say—you do understand that, don’t you?” the woman said. “She is mine to kill, not yours.Mine.”
There was something deeply disturbing in the way that was said. Despite the modulator and the background hiss, a thick sense of underlying hunger seemed to leach through the woman’s tone. I could often sense that sort of stuff if I was in the room with someone, but it had never happened in a situation like this.
“Yeah, well, don’t take too fucking long, because she’s driving me insane.”
“Which hasn’t stopped you fucking her, I notice” came the woman’s retort.
“I’m a man. I have needs.”
“And whatIneed is for you to remember who ultimately runs this little show.”
The response was a derisive snort. “I’m the one with the fucking contacts, so don’t get too fucking mouthy, or you might find yourself suddenly being investigated. Or dead.”
“Try either and you’ll regret it.” It was mildly said but nevertheless sent a shiver down my spine. This woman, whoever she was, was not someone you’d want to mess about.
Her companion obviously didnotfeel that way, because he once again snorted. “Try anything andyou’llregret it. I’m not fool enough to glide by without any form of insurance. Not after the Glebe incident.”
What the hell was the Glebe incident? I hadn’t heard or seen anything about something untoward happening in the Sydney suburb, either via the Society grapevine or through the various news outlets, but if it had involved a high-profile witch, that was no surprise. It did at least give us another possible lead to work with, though.
“I wouldn’t let our so-called boss know about said insurance” came the calm response, “because he does not regard your presence in his life as highly as you seem to think, and he certainly wouldnotappreciate anyone drawing deeper attention to his cause.”
The faint sound of a third voice came through the background hiss; I frowned, rewound the audio, and fiddled with the volume, but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. It did sound like some sort of announcement, and that suggested they might be meeting somewhere very public.
“That is a statement you had best remember, too. Stephan owns you.”
“Oh, I know exactly where I stand in this world and who I owe my soul to,” she replied. “And trust me, it’s not Stephan or the organization he works for.”
The static returned full force. I wrinkled my nose and hit Replay so I could listen to the whole thing again. As I did, the trickle of magic flared to life, and smoke began to issue from the port. I swore, yanked out the USB, and tossed it onto the floor, where it not only continued to smoke but also disintegrate, until there was nothing left other than a few bits of metal and the rancid scent of burned plastic drifting on the air. Thankfully, it didn’t appear to reach as high as the smoke detectors, because no alarms or sprinklers went off.
I swore again, then quickly opened the notes section on my phone and jotted everything I remembered from the conversation down. With that saved, I did a search for any recent incidents in Glebe. Other than the usual assortment of minor traffic accidents, the only truly noteworthy event was the death of a man whose car went through a barrier and dropped down a ten-meter cliff. According to the all-too-brief report, the man was elderly and there were no suspicious circumstances.
A statement that could not always be taken at face value when it came to magic and the witch world.
I phoned Jack again.
“Still not resting I see,” he said dryly. “What is it this time?”
“Glebe. What do you know about it?”
“Fuck all. Why?”
“It came up in a conversation I was listening to. Could you do a news search and see if there’s a witch-related incident in that area recently?”
