“So, what? More questions about the people who spelled me?”
I shook my head. “No. There’s another were I need to find and I thought maybe you’d know him. He’s a big guy, tall and wide. Dark curly hair, bushy beard and moustache.” I closed my eyes, trying to recall the image of him I’d seen in my scrying at Sweetwater Park. “I think he may have a tattoo on his left shoulder. A hawk, or maybe an eagle.” Opening my eyes again, I said, “Do you know of anyone like that?”
“A were, you say?”
“That’s right.”
“The tattoo is an angel, I think. But yeah, I know him. His name’s Bear. Least that’s what he calls himself.”
I wanted to say that I’d been calling him that, too, but I kept it to myself, asking instead, “He have a last name?”
“Martell. I think his real name’s Carl, but don’t hold me to that.”
“All right. Do you know where he lives?”
“Not too far from here. Avondale, I’m pretty sure.”
“Thank you, Gary. That’s helpful.”
I reached for the door, ready to leave.
“That’s it? That’s all you wanted to know?”
“It’s all I’m willing to risk asking. Someone’s watching one of us-you or me. We learned that the hard way yesterday. And besides, I think I know what the guy who spelled you looks like.”
“You do?” Gary asked, his eyes widening.
“Yeah. Take care.”
Rolon and I left the mobile home and got back into the Lexus.
“You still have that tranquilizer gun?” I asked, as I backed up and got us turned around.
“Sí, it’s in the trunk. Jacinto told me to bring it. Why? You expecting more doggie trouble?”
“No, I’m pretty sure this next guy shifts into a bear.”
While I drove to Avondale, Rolon used his smartphone to track down an address for Carl Martell. Bear lived in a working-class neighborhood on the west side of the town. His house was small, and similar places stood shoulder to shoulder with his. Kids played in one yard; an older couple sat on a narrow porch in front of the other, eyeing us with understandable mistrust. Rolon managed to retrieve the trank gun and slip it under his jacket without drawing too much attention to himself, but still I thought the old woman was going to run inside and call the police.
Lacking a better plan, we walked to Martell’s door and knocked. “I’ll do the talking,” I said, my voice low.
“You’re the boss, amigo.”
After a few seconds, the door swung open and Martell stood before us in a black Nickelback T-shirt and baggy cargo shorts. “Yeah, what do you-” He stared at us, his mouth hanging open, one mammoth hand clenched. I knew he could see the magic on us; I was counting on that getting us in the door.
“What do you guys want with me now?” he asked, his gaze flitting back and forth between us.
“Just to talk, Carl.”
He squinted, chewed his lip. “Do I know you?”
“No. But I know a bit about you, and we need a word.”
“What about?”
“Inside,” I said.
He crossed his arms over his massive chest. “What about?”
Rolon reached into his jacket, probably for his pistol, but I held out a hand, stopping him.
“About Jeff.”
“Who the f-?” His face went white. “Shit,” he whispered.
“Let us in.”
He nodded and pushed open the screen. Rolon and I stepped into the house. Bear closed the door and faced us. Big as he was, he appeared terrified; I swear I thought he was going to cry.
His place stank of cigarette smoke and was sparsely furnished: There were a couple of chairs and a coffee table, but otherwise the living room reminded me more of a playroom. He had a nice stereo system and a good-sized flat-screen TV set on the wall between his speakers. Closer to the front door was a rack of compact discs that must have been five feet high. Martell was a music fan.
“You guys must know that it wasn’t my idea to kill Jeff. I mean, I swore to Palmer that I’d do it, but I didn’t know . . . I thought it was going to be different-after I mean.”
I stopped surveying the room and focused on Bear. “You knew that Palmer was going to kill him.”
“Well, yeah, sure. I mean, that’s how blood spells work, right? You know that as well as-”
He clammed up, his eyes narrowing as the realization hit him. He even took a step toward me, but as soon as he did, Rolon drew his pistol. Bear halted.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Not who you thought we were,” I said. “But I guess that’s pretty clear by now, isn’t it?” I gestured toward the nearest chair. “Sit down.”
“Not until you tell me who the fuck you are, as if I don’t know already. Cops, right?”
There were laws against lying about such a thing, and on this day in particular I wasn’t in the mood to run afoul of the police. Any more than I already had. “I’m a private detective,” I said. “Jay Fearsson. I’m helping the police with an investigation.”
“And him?” Bear asked, eyeing Rolon.
“A concerned citizen,” Amaya’s man told him. “Now, sit.”
He glanced again at Rolon’s .45 and sat.
“How did you get hooked up with Palmer?” I asked.
Bear stared back at me and said nothing.
“I can make you talk, cabronzote,” Rolon said. He held up his weapon. “I don’t even have to use this.”
“It won’t come to that,” I said. “Bear wants to help us, because he realizes now that he’s in over his head.” He remained silent, but he wasn’t glaring at me anymore. In fact, he refused to look at me at all. I pressed on. “You thought they were going to make you more powerful, didn’t you? You thought you’d have control over when you shifted. You probably even imagined that tonight would be easier for you because of the spell Palmer cast. And Jeff, he was collateral damage. An old homeless guy, living alone? No one was going to miss him, and it’s not like his life was that great, right?”
Still nothing.
“C’mon, Jay,” Rolon said. “Let me soften him up a little. Just enough to get him talking. We’re wasting time here.”
I didn’t know if Rolon was serious, or if he was playing a role, trying to get Bear to answer my questions. Either way, though, he was helping. Martell might have had a few pounds on the guy, but he seemed to understand that he was no match for him in a fight. He’d gone pale.
“Yeah, all right,” I said.
Rolon took a step in Bear’s direction. That was all it took.
“No, wait,” Bear said, holding up his hands.
“Hold on.”
Amaya’s man glanced my way; I could tell he was disappointed.
I recited a spell in my head. The three of us, the room we were in, and a thick blanket. The idea was to mute the sound of our voices so that anyone listening in-namely Saorla-wouldn’t be able to hear us. I repeated the elements three times and released the magic.
“What was that?” Rolon asked.
“A muffling spell,” I said. “The last time I had a conversation like this, it reached the wrong ears. This time it won’t.”
Bear frowned.
“How did you meet Palmer?” I asked.
He chewed his lip for a few seconds, his gaze settling again and again on Rolon and his SIG Sauer. “He found me,” he said. “I’m not entirely sure how. But he knew I was a were, and he said he wanted to help me.”
“How long ago was this?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. Just a few months, though. Not long.”
“And what’s his first name?”
Bear’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Palmer’s first name: What is it?”
“That is his first name,” Bear said, frowning at me like I was the dumbest guy on the planet. “Palmer Hain.”
“All right. My mistake. Go on.”
“Well, it’s like you said. He made it sound like a great idea. I’d be able to control when I shifted, maybe skip a phasing or two if I wanted. That sounds pretty good. I was ready to go for it right away. But then he starts putting me off, you know? One week to the next I don’t know when we’re going to do the spell. I’m eager, but he’s suddenly hard to reach. First he’s my best friend, and then he’s nowhere, right?”