Ah.
He turned over the story Judi and Frida had told him. The old mystery intrigued him in spite of himself, but the magic was less interesting than the personalities involved. The egos. That’s all it was in the end, clashing egos, and he was having trouble putting himself in that situation. There was a point where the only thing you were defending was your pride. He saw this kind of fight in prison all the time. Guys might call it fighting for dominance, to be top of the pecking order or to show some other asshole his place. But really, it was pride and not wanting to feel like anybody got the better of you.
Cormac figured out that he could walk away from those fights and his pride would survive just fine. He took care of his own pride, that wasn’t anybody else’s call. The petty fights and gang affiliations went on around him, and he didn’t give a fuck. Everybody knew it, too. He bashed just enough heads to convince everyone to leave him alone. And they did.
But Kuzniak and Crane—two monumental egos, and what exactly had happened there at the end?
As of now, Cormac officially had too many mysteries to deal with. Too many questions needing answers. Hard to know where to start.
One book at a time. One call, one journey, one piece of the puzzle.
She was right. He started with the answer he could get right now, tucking his hands-free over his ear and making a call.
Kitty answered. “Hi. How’d it go?”
“How’d what go?”
“You said you were going to Manitou; I assume you’re calling to tell me how it went. You find anything out?”
It hadn’t occurred to him to call out of the blue to tell her how the meeting went. Mostly because he still didn’t know how it was going to turn out. “No, not exactly. But I have a favor to ask.” One in what was turning into a long chain of favors.
“Oh yeah?” What did it mean, that she actually sounded pleased at the prospect?
“Amy Scanlon’s aunt wants to meet you. She wants to talk to the last person to see Amy alive.”
A hesitation. “That’s rough. I’m not sure I can tell her anything useful.”
“I think she’s just looking for a connection. The news about Amy seemed to hit pretty hard.”
Kitty had a good heart. A big heart. If she thought she could help, she couldn’t not help. That instinct had kept her as the alpha of the Denver werewolf pack the last several years. He felt like he was taking advantage.
“I’ll talk to her,” she said. “I’m happy talking to her. And can I just say I told you, you should have let me come along from the start.” She was smiling. Poking at him. He ignored her.
“We also need to talk about the book of shadows. Amy’s aunt says she can interpret the code, and I think I believe her.” I believe her, Amelia added. “We’re pretty sure she’s telling the truth. But she wants something in return.”
“That’s kind of fairy tale. What is it, you have to guess her real name or you have to give her your firstborn?”
That … he never knew how to respond to her jokes.
“She wants me to solve a hundred-year-old murder.”
“That sounds like … fun? Do you have a chance of actually solving it?”
“I’m mostly trying to decide if it’ll be worth it. You think we can figure out the book of shadows without her help?”
“Her help would make it a lot easier. If she can help. Might not hurt to dig a little, just to see. I’m kind of curious.”
“Then I’ll start digging. See where it goes.”
“Call me if there’s anything else I can do.”
“Yeah, will do.” He clicked off, and boggled yet again at the reality of his current situation: he had backup. He was calling people to ask for help. And they were willing to give it, gratis. He’d opened himself up to Amelia, and he’d had to open himself to the rest of the world. His instinct was to shut it all back down. Flee to the hills, go back to what he knew.
Too late for that, I think.
That wasn’t what bothered Cormac. Getting comfortable with it all—that was the weird part.
Chapter 6