Page 5 of Mystic Justice
I returned the gesture and the greeting. ‘Thank you for coming,’ I continued. ‘We need to wait a few moments for the Common realmers to be dealt with.’
‘Witterhall was parking up as we drove in,’ Jingo confirmed.
It was telling that Jingo knew the sub-wizard. Corruption and bribery were rampant in the Connection and Jingohadto have people in his pocket. Witterhall might well be one of them.
Sure enough, lanky Dwayne Witterhall was striding towards the humans. As they moved to greet him, he held up a hand with a flourish and they froze. ‘Clear,’ he intoned. A moment later there was a flash and the old man and his grandson started blinking rapidly while their brain assimilated their altered memories.
Channing strode over and quietly explained that they were free to go before Frost gently escorted them away, the Cornels still blinking rapidly.
Witterhall and Channing joined me and the dryads. ‘I removed the memories of the tree being in the lake, the cocoon and the green skin,’ the ginger sub-wizard confirmed. ‘I left everything else.’ The less we modified, the easier it was for the new memories to take.
‘Thanks.’
‘Need anything else?’ he asked ostensibly to me, though his eyes flickered to Jingo.
‘No, we’re good here. I appreciate your time.’ I did, even if I didn’t trust him. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that.
The wizard grunted, gave a second pointed glance at Jingo then left to go back to his government sanctioned bolthole orto another job. The internet and smartphones kept sub-wizards busy wiping minds of things they shouldn’t have seen.
The Other realm could protect itself to a degree: if a human glimpsed a griffin soaring through the skies, they’d simply see a large eagle instead. The Other was always ready with a whisper, an alternative explanation to soothe the rational mind. But some things defied even the firmest of suggestions and that was when we needed a sub-wizard.
With the humans gone, we could focus on gaining access to the body. I turned to Fern. ‘Can you get the tree to open up its—’ I gestured to the cocoon ‘—leafy pod?’
‘It’s swaddling the deceased,’ Fern said softly. ‘Comforting her.’ She walked towards the willow tree.
‘Could you do that?’ I asked Jingo curiously. ‘Get the tree to unfurl?’
‘My dryad powers aren’t the strongest,’ he admitted. ‘The very nature of dryads conflicts with the doppelganger instincts. Still, being a dryad has its uses. For now.’
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear; the last thing I needed was Jingo shucking off his stolen form because at least now I knew what he looked like. Not to mention that he’d need a host to die in order for him to assume a new form.
Fern’s hands lit up then she sank into the tree up to her elbows. A beat passed before the nest of foliage slowly unfurled like a flower turning to the sun to reveal the corpse cradled heartbreakingly within.
Chapter Three
Sam took a few quick snaps of the body in situ before we did anything further.
‘Check she’s dead,’ I instructed Channing.
His eyes swept over to the deceased and then back to me. ‘Ma’am … she’s very dead.’
I stifled a sigh. ‘Appearances can be deceptive. She could be alive and being hidden under a witch’s illusion, but no matter how good the illusion is – and the image can be perfect – it can’t hide a heartbeat. Hold your fingers to her neck for at least two minutes. Some magical creatures can survive in a coma. When unicorns suffer grievous injuries, they go into a catatonic state with a barely detectable heartbeat. You can’t assume anything in the Other realm is dead just because itlooksdead. Rule one, Channing,alwaysverify death.’
‘Right.’ Looking a little squeamish, Channing moved forward to touch the dryad’s skin, pressing his fingers to the pulse point in her neck. ‘Nothing,’ he called back after a long two minutes.
The body was face up, eyes wide, face stuck in an expression of total despair. Channing went to close her eyes and lookedshocked when he couldn’t do it. ‘It’s not like it is in the movies,’ I explained. ‘You can close a corpse’s eyes if it’s fresh, but you can’t if it’s been a few hours and rigor mortis has set in. Well, youcanclose them but they’ll spring open again – and let me tell you, that shit is nightmare fuel. The mortician will use stitches or glue to shut them if the family wants to see her body.’
I moved closer to examine her more closely. ‘See here?’ I pointed with blue-gloved fingers. ‘The frothing under her nose and mouth?’
Channing nodded.
‘That’s one of the signs of drowning. The clothing is still waterlogged so the tree hasn’t held her out of the water for long. Look.’ I pointed to her hands, which were bound to her side, and to her feet. ‘You see the wrinkling of the skin? That shows lengthy exposure to the water.’
Channing leaned in to study what I was showing him. ‘Will the wrinkling fade once she’s been out of the water for a while?’
‘No. Post-mortem wrinkling doesn’t change once it’s set in. And cold water delays the onset of rigor mortis, but since she’s already stiff I’d estimate she’s been dead less than twelve hours.’
I continued to examine the body. Her wrists had marks around them beyond the bindings: she had cuts around her wrist that had clotted, started to scab and heal. Those wounds were days old. My gut said this girl hadn’t been missing at all, she’d been snatched, restrained against her will and ultimately she’d been killed.
