Page 34 of Shadow Seeking

I nodded. “I wish it could be more for all of you, but next year, we’ll do our best to raise your salaries again.”

Dante glanced at his watch. “Hey, shouldn’t we be going? We need to stop at Penelope’s shop, and then go meet Holden White.”

We finished up, and got ready to head out.

Moonbeams& Meadows was located on Aurora Avenue North, near the cross street of North 140thStreet. It was tucked away in a little strip mall, near a Thai restaurant, and a nail salon. All around were car dealers, but even though the area felt industrial, the energy was clear—though busy—and the rent wasn’t bad.

Penn was behind the counter, wearing a lavender dress with black trim, and she had on chunky heeled pumps. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a big bow, and she was bustling around, taking care of a customer who was buying what looked like a jumble of herbs and candles.

“Hey,” she said when she saw us. “Come in.”

As the customer left, she flipped the sign to ‘closed for an hour’ and locked the door.

“You sure you want to close just because we’re here?” I asked. I knew how precious every dollar was.

“I can’t very well focus on the mandrake root if I’m always watching for customers. Have a seat—the table to the side works.” She pointed out a round table to one side with four chairs around it.

The air smelled faintly of frankincense, and the energy felt squeaky clean and protected. Penn knew her magic, all right. She poured herself a cup of coffee and settled down at the table with Dante and me.

“So,” she said. “Show me.”

I took out the root, wrapped in black cloth, and set it on the table. “Warning before you touch it—the root seems to have gotten tainted. We’d like to know anything you pick up from it.”

She motioned for us to sit down as she carried a large crystal ball over to the table and settled behind it. Then, unwrapping the mandrake, she slowly picked it up.

“Oh man, bad juju,” she said, closing her fist around it. With one hand on the crystal ball and one hand holding the root, she closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.

“I see…deception. Lies. Hidden agendas. The root was used…by someone not its owner. The root was twisted—and that sent its owner into a paranoid panic. Demon energy, all right. But not just any demon—this was tormented by a major demon. Hatred and chaos…” She paused, as the energy thickened around us.

Dante glanced at me, and his nostrils flared. Wolf shifters often had a problem with magic. Another moment and Penn slumped deeper into the trance that came upon her.

“There are layers here, secrets being revealed. Things are not as they seem. She tried to keep them from finding out about her, but there are eyes and ears everywhere. They’re coming…and she knew it. She wanted to put an end to it. Her death was no accident, but an accident it seems.”

She shivered and opened her eyes. “This must be destroyed.”

“Can you do it?” I asked.

She nodded. “I can, but you have to let me do so now. The mandrake has become a portal to the UnderRealms.” She stared at it silently. “Poor mandrake—they feel, you know. They feel our pain and our joy. And this mandrake felt so much pain when its owner was killed.”

I had been recording everything she said, and now, Dante and I stared at one another. More secrets, more clues, more confusion. We thanked Penn, who had a tarot client coming in, and told her we’d see her on Saturday, then silently left the building.

We didn’t talk muchon the way over to Alf’s. We agreed to save our thoughts for later so we could focus on the task at hand.

Alf Lindstrom lived over on the Eastside. The greater Seattle metropolitan area included several counties on both sides of Lake Washington, topping out at about four million people. The Eastside meant east of the lake—cities like Bellevue, Kirkland, Woodinville, Redmond, and others. While still highly developed, they weren’t quite as dense and included more rural areas.

There were a number of urban farms scattered around, as well as forested areas with hiking trails and campgrounds. Snoqualmie Falls, where they had filmed the introduction to the show Twin Peaks, was less than an hour away, with its picturesque falls that swelled into a thundering downpour during the rainy season.

Alf lived out in Redmond, near the end of a dead-end street—39thWay. His house backed up to a greenbelt area. As we parked in the neighbor’s driveway, I saw that Alf was home—or at least, there was a car in the driveway. He hadn’t mentioned a wife, so I wasn’t sure if he lived alone.

Holden White’s house was gorgeous—a two story monstrosity that somehow managed to blend in with all the trees so it didn’t look like the typical cookie-cutter McMansions that littered the entire region.

As Dante and I stepped out of the car, Alf caught sight of us. He’d been outside when we pulled in, and now he saw us. He waved at us, rushing over to Dante’s sedan.

“Are you going to arrest him?” he asked, all too eager.

“No,” I said. “We’re going to talk to him. Besides, we aren’t cops. We don’t arrest people—at least not in the usual sense of the word. Now go back inside. If he sees us talking to you, he might not want to give us any information.”

“Right! Okay, I’ll scram.” Alf took off at a jog for his house.

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