Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) - Melissa F. Olson Page 0,70
creepy connection to death. I ran through my mental list of resources, but I wouldn’t be able to speak to Nellie until nightfall, and by then Quinn would be awake. What the hell could I do with the next seven hours?
Then I thought of someone else I could call. I wasn’t sure if he could help me, but I didn’t think asking him would make things any worse. I scrolled through my phone contacts until I found the number for Jesse Cruz, formerly of the Los Angeles police.
Cruz was the detective who’d investigated Sam’s murder, and he and I had a complicated relationship. Although he was a human, he had connections in the LA Old World. Through them, he’d actually helped destroy my sister’s body, ensuring that my parents and John would never have the closure they needed.
On the other hand, he was also the one who’d caught Sam’s killer. And when I flew to LA last fall in search of answers, he was decent to me. He even gave me back Sam’s watch, which I wore every day. My instincts said he was a good guy, and could be trusted—as long as I didn’t ask him to compromise his contacts.
He answered on the third ring. “Hi, Lex,” he said warily. I couldn’t really blame him. The last time we’d spoken I’d just punched his friend in the face. “What’s going on?”
“Hey, Cruz. I’ve got kind of a situation over here. Are you on good terms with any witches?”
He spent a few seconds digesting that before he said slowly, “You could say that. You could also say that my friends don’t like me to talk about things on the phone.”
Right. The LA Old World was bigger and more complicated than it was here, so they kept off cell phones—which are, in all fairness, basically tiny radios—as much as possible. Ordinarily I didn’t like to talk on them, either.
“I’ll get a disposable phone and text you the number,” I promised. “Can you call me back from a pay phone?”
“Uh, yeah. If I can find one in this town. Call you back.”
It took about forty-five minutes for me to get to Target, buy a prepaid cell phone, and get Cruz the number. Within minutes, the new phone buzzed with an LA number. “You found a pay phone,” I said.
“In an IHOP, of all places. This better be good. I swear I’m already sticky.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ve got several things going on, and I can’t figure out how they’re connected. I think it has to do with witch magic and gravitational magic.”
“Go ahead.”
As concisely as I could, I told him about the belladonna attacks, the mysterious deaths in Boulder, and the magician using crystals to attack and sedate people. I didn’t mention Maven or my familial connection to Emil. “Can you find out if your witch knows anything about people dying with no apparent injuries, in connection with gravitational magic, or maybe boundary magic? Or if she knows anyone dealing belladonna on this side of the Mississippi?”
“I’ll try,” he said. “I’ll call her now, but she probably won’t be able to talk until after five.”
Which wasn’t until six my time, but the sun wouldn’t set until eight, anyway. “Thanks, Cruz.”
“Call you back at this number.”
I went back to the cabin to take care of the herd and check my yard for any new crystals. It seemed clear, although I had no idea how far out he could cast—would the spell still work if the circle was fifty feet away from the house? A hundred feet? In my experience, magic did have to obey a certain amount of logic, and I was guessing that the bigger the net, the harder it was to control. But I didn’t know for sure.
After I’d fed and watered everyone, I paced back and forth in my living room, racking my brain for something I could do. I felt like shit, and the bruises hadn’t even begun to fade, but I was too restless to be still. I ended up cleaning and loading several firearms, which made me feel a little calmer. Then I finally realized exactly who I wanted to talk to.
He didn’t answer his phone, but I barely had time to feel disappointed before he called back. I answered it. “Sorry, we’re right by this really long line for rides,” he shouted. “I couldn’t hear my phone!”
“That’s okay. How’s Mickey and the gang?”
I knew my dad well enough to picture him rolling his eyes.