Page 62 of Up in Smoke

That isn’t what usually happens.

Saturday, June 27, 2043.

Tulsa, Oklahoma.

The Alley.

In order toprotect me from myself and give me time to cope with Frankie’s death, Sandro showed me a bunch of tricks he could use in the house, from polishing cabinets to eradicating dust before he took me up to Tulsa, where we headed westbound in search of clues—or bodies. I preferred the idea of finding clues, but I expected I’d be wading through bodies, most of them long dead and rotten to the bone. While scryers were somewhat rare, there were enough of us running around that the disappearances would number in the hundreds, possibly thousands, depending on how long Mansfield had been working to silence anyone who might reveal how the storms weren’t natural and where they were coming from.

Playing the part of an excitable vixen let off her leash, I did as expected of a scavenger: I poked my head into every hole, rummaged through debris strewn far from Tulsa, and sought out treasures.

In ruins I couldn’t identify they’d been mulched so badly from the storms, I found an intact but battered jewelry box. The elements had broken the catch beyond repair, but Sandro presented a pocketknife, which I used to peel away the rust and open it.

According to my witchcraft, the jewels within had belonged to an old witch of a woman, one who cared only for herself. I wondered why my magic had opted showing me the flashes of her life, where she’d followed up one betrayal with another. Then, understanding struck me in the final flash my magic opted to show me, of her accepting money, in the form of a check, for identifying a scryer to Mansfield, money she’d then used to buy herself a diamond necklace.

Diamonds held little value in Tulsa, and the person she’d gotten them from wanted to eat and had been willing to part ways with the precious stones for a chance at survival.

The diamonds had proved to be the old woman’s undoing, as once she’d had them, she had wanted no one to steal them from her. The storms cared nothing for wealth or diamonds, and a twister had killed her while she sought to find a place to hide her treasures.

Puzzled, I regarded the box and its jewelry with interest.

“What did you see?”

“A lot, actually. Spread out over time. That isn’t what usually happens. I guess I got a chaotic mess of images due to how many imprints there were. The woman who owned this was horrible, and she bought these diamonds with money she’d gotten from Mansfield for turning in a scryer.” I picked up the piece in question. Beneath it, I spotted a card with a seal on it. “Oh, there’s some paper with it.”

Sandro picked up the card and read both sides, raising a brow. “How did she get this? It’s a certificate of authenticity.”

“Someone in Tulsa needed money for food, and she had cash and wanted the necklace. I don’t know how she knew about the necklace. But she got the money from Mansfield turning in a scryer.”

“He had bounties open for scryers, then.”

“We knew he was looking for them.”

“Ah, but I didn’t know he was paying cash—and substantial amounts of it—to get his hands on them. All the necklace’s owner had to do to get out of Tulsa was take the necklace to the East and sell it. That’s it. They would have gotten a small fortune for it without much effort.”

While the diamonds sparkled, shaped in a V meant to be worn close to the throat, I tried to imagine how it could be worth that much. Then again, Sandro wore a fortune around his throat because his mother was insane. Then again, he could hide the choker when he wore a suit if he needed to. “How much could she get for it?”

“If she took it to a jeweler just for diamond value, at least a hundred thousand. The stones are good, with a variety of larger carat stones, which sell for a good amount. With the craftsmanship, she could get more for it. It’s a good piece.” Sandro returned the card to the jewelry box. “If she had one real necklace, the rest of the stuff might be real, too. What happened to the owner?”

“A twister got her.”

“Then it’s all yours. But your magic wanted you to see what she had done.” Sandro frowned. “And you’re positive Mansfield paid her?”

I nodded. “He wrote her a check.”

“Then there’s a money trail—and if there are bodies at the end of the money trail, we might be able to bring him and his associates down. Murder is still illegal, even in the Alley—and if we can prove the choir has been killing people and that Mansfield is behind it, we can get to the end of this.”

Mansfield’s behavior worried me, especially when it came to the kids he’d brought down into Asylum. “Why do you think he brought the kids down into Asylum, Sandro?”

“They’ll be easy to cultivate and control later in life.” That Sandro hadn’t hesitated when replying, not even for a moment, bothered me. “That’s how a lot of politicians play the long-term game; they need their constituents to teach their children to vote for them—and if their constituents won’t, they need to get to the kids while it’s easier to manipulate them. Once someone gets to a certain age, it doesn’t matter how much you scream in their face that something is right or wrong, they will stick with their preconceived notions. Being wrong, to a lot of these people, is inconceivable. They’d rather die than admit they’re wrong. It’s unfortunate. Some people change, but change is not easy.”

“And if you provide someone with enough direct benefits, they’ll do the wrong thing because of those benefits. Like with me and being your uncontested courtesan. Enough direct benefits made it a really good idea to go along with it.” I eyed him. “It doesn’t hurt that my fox likes you.”

Sandro raised a brow. “And what about you, hmm?”

“I’m willing to be convinced, tonight, in bed,” I replied. “That’s definitely one of the benefits of going along with this arrangement. But then again, you didn’t need a contract to convince me. A wet shirt and some posturing probably would have gotten you a similar result. I may have held out for being fed salsa more than once to be convinced. But not all uncontested courtesans are in my shoes, are they?”

Most also didn’t have a lonely vixen with a strong desire to form a family every winter.