off and hesitated. “I think we’re going to have to consider shifting—even if our enemies are actual shapeshifters.”
“Possibly,” Declan said, glancing at Mick. “Possibly. But shifting’s dangerous. It takes a lot out of you—and you could wind up in a precarious situation after shifting. There’s got to be a better way.”
“Mark and Brodie are getting a search warrant. I’m sure they’ll find out something today,” Barrie said with confidence.
“And don’t forget Merlin,” Alessande said. “The day we figured out I’m in line to be a Keeper, Merlin was telling me about Sebastian. We need to talk to Merlin again—get him to tell us everything he possibly can.”
“Great idea—maybe Merlin can steer us in a better direction,” Barrie said.
When they reached the estate of the House of the Rising Sun, Wizard greeted them enthusiastically in the yard. He preferred watching over the house from outside, but when they went inside, he followed them. He and Jonquil began racing through the living room. Barrie told the two massive dogs to behave or take it out to the yard. Both whined and looked at the door, and she let them back out.
“I’ll make tea,” Barrie said.
“Yes, of course, tea—we drink tea a lot, don’t we?” Declan asked.
“Tea grows from the earth and brings strength,” Alessande said.
“So do carrots,” Declan said.
Alessande laughed. “Ask any Brit or Irishman—they’ll tell you to have a cup of tea. Besides, its known for its medicinal powers.”
“I think I’ll have a beer,” Mick said, heading to the refrigerator. “Cool and refreshing—add a hot dog and it’s good old-fashioned American medicine.” He looked around at the empty air. “Merlin? You here, Merlin? We need you.”
There was no response.
“I’ll head over to Pandora’s Box, see if he’s there,” Declan said.
“I’ll try Gwydion’s Cave,” Mick said.
“Good idea. He likes to hang out at my place,” Barrie said. “I get several papers, and he loves to read them. He’s so proud that he can turn the pages.”
“Next thing you know, we’ll be getting him his own e-reader. He’ll have a heyday once he masters it,” Alessande said.
“That’s a great idea,” Barrie said. “He’s always so helpful. Providing him with a new challenge would be a nice thank-you.”
She left to brew the tea—no matter that they had just left a coffee shop—and Mick and Declan went off to look for Merlin. In a few minutes they were back, with the ghostly magician in tow. Everyone adjourned to the dining room with their tea, or beer, and Merlin sat at the head of the table.
“I’m not sure what else I can tell you,” he said, addressing the group. “As I said, I remember Sebastian. He entertained at the House of Illusion often enough. He liked to bill himself as Sebastian the Magnificent or the Dark Enchanter—he loved to saw people in half and that kind of thing. He practiced his scripts—not just his illusions. He told the audience that ‘the lords of the shadows’ listened to him. He was very dramatic, and audiences loved him. In fact, sometimes his illusions weren’t all that good, but people didn’t care, because they enjoyed listening to him—they liked his showmanship. He told me once that I should honor him as a god, and then he could see to it that I lived forever. Thankfully, I never fell for his malarkey.”
They were all silent. Merlin might not have lived forever, but he had figured out how to stay around in his own way.
“Maybe those are key words,” Alessande said thoughtfully. “‘Lords of the shadows’ and ‘Dark Enchanter.’ Maybe we could find something about what he was up to in old newspaper stories,” she said, looking over at Barrie and Mick.
They seemed to be considering it. “To go back that far...” Barrie murmured.
“We’ll need to go to the office and see what we can find,” Mick said. “But we can do that now.”
“Let me see....” Merlin said thoughtfully. “Oh, yes! He claimed that he was a high priest of the cult of...something or other.”
“Something or other?” Alessande pressed.
“Something...pagan,” Merlin said. “Ah! I remember. He said he was a high priest in the Cult of Tyr. But I can’t remember just who—”
“Laptop!” Barrie said, rushing off to grab Sailor’s.
“Tyr is a Norse god,” Alessande said. “He’s the god of combat, among other things. In English, the day of the week Tuesday comes from his name.” They all stared at her. She shrugged. “I was born in Scotland, but my parents were Norse. I heard all the stories and legends when I was very young. Tyr is also the god of victory and triumph.”
“Victory and triumph—over death?” Sailor asked.
Barrie had found a website on the Norse gods and spoke up. “Alessande is right.”
“But you could be on to something,” Mick pointed out to Sailor. “Victory—triumph. Sebastian saw himself as a priest, a warrior—a ruler. Someone to have victory over death.”
Barrie had started typing again. “You won’t believe what I just found! This is a site on the history of L.A., and there’s a picture of Sebastian Hildegard here.” She stared at them in disbelief. “He was a suspect in the murder of a young woman found in a vacant lot off Sunset just weeks before his own death.” She hesitated, reading quickly, then looked at them again. “Her throat had been slit. He was never charged, and his name never hit the media, but he was considered a person of interest, and he was interviewed.”
“Merlin, did you know about this?” Alessande asked.
Merlin shook his head. “The most scandalous murder of my day was the Black Dahlia,” he said. “I don’t remember hearing anything about this case.”
“It was never solved,” Barrie said, still reading.
“Why would he have been a suspect? Sunset is long and well traveled—why would a body discovered there arouse suspicion about Hildegard?” Alessande asked.
Barrie gasped softly. “Because of the cement the cops found on her.”
“Cement? What are you talking about?” Alessande asked.
“The Hildegard tomb was just being built when the girl was found,” Barrie said. “They found cement dust on her that looked like the same cement being used to build the tomb.”
“What did Hildegard die of?” Mick asked, leaning over Barrie.
“Cancer,” Merlin said. “He’d been treated for it for a while. Unusual for a shifter, but it can be just as fatal as for anyone else.”
“So he knew he was dying,” Alessande said. “And he was in that cult, so...maybe he killed her so her blood could be used for some kind of sacrament when he was laid in his tomb. And maybe the people who want him back revived the cult, or maybe founded a version of their own, knew that somehow.”
“Or maybe they were familiar with the family tales,” Sailor said thoughtfully.
“Is there a description of the victim in the article?” Alessande asked Barrie.
“Not here...let me try searching the name....” She typed for a moment and then started reading aloud to them. “‘Aspiring actress Belinda Bevin was twenty-six, five-eight, blue-eyed and blonde. Her friends described her as
“Elven,” they all said in unison.
Alessande considered everything for a moment. “Neither of the recent victims was Elven. And we have no way of knowing for sure if this victim was, either. Let’s say she was, though, and that she was killed because her blood was important for Sebastian’s burial, maybe to ensure that he’d be able to come back someday. And now they need Elven blood to accomplish that return.” She looked around at the others to see what they thought of her theory.
Sailor gasped softly. “Elven don’t get cancer,” she said.
“Or,” Declan suggested, “maybe Elven blood was chosen because Elven have magic in them, but they’re not as deadly as, say, a vampire or a werewolf. And, in mythology, vampires and werewolves are associated with darkness and death, while Elven are associated with light, life and healing.”
“Whatever the reason,” Alessande said, “I believe that whoever wants to raise Sebastian from the dead
