Roll The Bones: Corbin Cases, #1

Roll The Bones

Corbin Cases – Book One

Ken Hughes

Windward Road Press

LOS ANGELES, CA

Copyright © 2022 by Ken Hughes

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Windward Road Press

11923 NE Sumner St Ste 879426

Portland, OR 97250-9601

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

Cover © 2022 by Sleepy Fox Studio

Roll The Bones/ Ken Hughes—1st ed.

To Elizabeth

— who herds judges and transplants mice

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE: THE MAGICIAN

CHAPTER TWO: NEVER

CHAPTER THREE: REVEALS

CHAPTER FOUR: SECRETS

CHAPTER FIVE: UNTIL

CHAPTER SIX: THE OBSERVER

CHAPTER SEVEN: KNOWS

CHAPTER EIGHT: NEEDS

CHAPTER NINE: LEAVE

CHAPTER TEN: NO CHOICE

CHAPTER ELEVEN: ONLY

CHAPTER TWELVE: ACCEPTING

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: TRUTH

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: OUTSHINES

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: ILLUSION

PREVIEW from A BONE TO PICK

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE: THE MAGICIAN

I had the door locked, I know that. But she swung it right open.

I need your help.

The woman’s hushed voice was a poor match for how she walked boldly into the little library room, as if she were the one who’d put her name on its time slot.

A dull green coat hung over her, and a shapeless old hat hid most of her dark hair. Her face was pale—too pale, like makeup trying to soften the contours of her beauty and make her look barely eighteen. Nobody that young walked like that.

The song line came to me again, A face that takes all in... This time I heard it as A face that glides away from all, but that would only make the song harder to finish. And I was writing it about Helena, not this stranger.

I nudged my tablet on the table as she closed in, nudging it next to my bike jacket and blanking the screen from her. Two new reports of strange phenomena had been peeking out there, along with my database of possible allies for the Plan. Officially I was just here for some privacy to help the library with their website.

"It is Adrian Corbin, right?"

Her eyes flicked over the jacket and the tablet, the room I’d gotten at the library. I waited for her to ask if I’d been out of college long enough for detective work, but then she took a closer look at my face.

I said I need your help. Two men have been harassing me—as in, threatening to set things on fire.

Two men... It couldn’t be the Duvals, not yet...

I rose to my feet before she could settle herself in one of the wooden chairs. My height gave me an edge there.

Sounds like you need the police. I could hand her the card for one cop I knew, simple. Except, if this was magic, it was exactly what the Plan was for.

Sure I need the police. She flashed a sharp, rueful smile. And sure, Jericho’s Finest need a solid crime before they can step in. I don’t have time for that, so I had to track down someone who could help me.

Flattery? She looked too thin, too hunched under that coat, to have any guess what kind of danger she could be under.

I wished my magic could read her. But of course the Bones were sealed away in their thick box in my pocket, and I could barely feel their cold. Instead I watched her sink into a chair, soft as the library’s murmurs outside the door.

She watched me as I sat back down. You made Jan Reynolds’s boyfriend back off. You tracked down a witness about the library water’s contamination last year... or that’s what I think Ms. Travers was hinting at.

She talked to Helena? I kept my eyes on hers. None of that proved she actually was dealing with the Duvals, not while the Plan was still coming together. This could be a simpler threat.

And Helena sent her here because she expected I could handle it. The thought brought a curl of warmth inside me... and then a more cramped side of me added, Or Helena’s noticed my interest in her, and she thinks helping this woman will distract me.

I frowned. Just what are you asking me to do? I’m not a PI, or a bodyguard—

"I want you to fix it, she said. The way it’s getting, it’s not safe for a girl to do magic anymore."

A card skittered over the table toward me, but her hands never lifted from the wood—

I jerked back, the sudden word magic ringing in my ears—

That card. Beside the bright red name Maya Grant, it featured a shower of multicolored ribbons erupting from a classic top hat.

She added Sorry to startle you. I’ve worked hard on that one.

And she, Maya, brushed both her thumbs against her middle fingers, and the card twitched on the table again before I saw hair-thin strings sliding free of her hands. I’d never seen a trick so flawless.

I may be a victim of my own success, she went on. I’ve built up a whole set of techniques, sleight of hand and escapes—

Like opening locks. I waved at the door behind her.

Maya tilted her head to the side, studying me. Mr. Corbin... tell me, if you ask someone for help and they say they can’t do it, what do you do then?

Then? I try to ask them something they can’t turn down. But after that...

You find another way, she nodded. From what I hear, you’ve been finding ways for a while now. Helena Travers doesn’t seem like a woman who’d hire just anyone. But those two men are stalking me, and they seem to be stuck on the ‘asking louder’ approach. Twice now they’ve come to one of my gigs and said they need me for something. And they keep saying it with fire.

Her voice caught, just for an instant before she pushed the word out of her throat. I could feel that fear, even with the Bones boxed up in my pocket.

Of course it was the Duvals.

But I had to ask, What fire?

It’s their signature. They’ll push in close, like—

Maya leaned in. The pale-washed lines of her face sharpened into a scowl of warning at barely a foot away, as she brought up her hand between us.

Then there’d be a tight burst of flame, right there, and she gave her fingers a sharp snap, and finally leaned back. "In fact I still have a professional interest in how they do that. But they said they ‘have a job for me’—I could almost hear the offer you can’t refuse part."

And I’m the one to fix that?

I wasn’t ready, not for them... but I felt the eagerness starting to build in me. This was still the Duvals, not the Eye.

The door rattled open.

Maya pulled back, hunched down a fraction, stealing a glance from under her hat back at the figure in the doorway.

Barry Alonzo had a tall stack of books in his hands, pinned expertly under his chin. Adrian? You almost done here?

I took the chance to stand up and cross past Maya. Better to get some distance from her before I tried this. Something up? I asked Barry.

The young librarian grinned, and his words started gathering speed. Oh, just an idea that would reshelve everything faster. I thought I’d run it by you before I wrote it up for Gina.

To make the books more available... just in time for my new webpage on what’s getting read?

It wouldn’t hurt, would it? He rushed on, oblivious to Maya watching us now. See, we tweak the algorithm that tracks the shelf locations of what books are returned. Then when we’ve got a few ready we bundle them together and run them right back out, no waiting to fill up a cart. Easy, if we just get the numbers that pace it right—can’t be running up and down all day either—

It could work, sure.

I glanced over his shoulder at the familiar floor of the library. Two boys were strutting between the stacks, the wild waving of their hands a contrast to their hushed whispers about the band displayed on their shirts. Beyond them, some kind of nervous rumble came from the stairs toward the first floor.

Turning my side away from where Maya sat, I slid my hand into my pocket. Just long enough to slide the thick wooden box open.

The four dice slid free of that insulation. The Bones felt cold as blocks of ice, as the magic of the Pulse stirred against me.

That was a trace of fear downstairs—that certainty sprang into shape along my nerves. That was the one emotion the Pulse wouldn’t miss, even with Barry’s eagerness whirring away right beside me.

—get the size right and we get the books back out there even faster.

If, I made myself add, you get someone taller for the high shelves.

That too. He laughed.

Sorry to break in, Maya said. But I do need him first—understand? She smiled, looked at him.

Sure, sure... Barry stepped back, and I saw his feet catch and almost stumble as he pulled away. The stack of books never slipped.

Steadying my senses, I shut the door and moved back to my chair. So, you’re certain I’m the best one to help you?

And I stretched my will into the Bones’ coldness, to the Pulse running through their ivory that carried and pushed at the emotions all around me.

Maya’s were fluid—cinnamon amusement rippling to metal-bright irritation, shifting so smoothly it felt unnatural for anyone’s to be more simple. But I needed to know what I was dealing with.

That drifting restlessness contrasted with the focused look she fixed on me. I heard you’ve taken on problems like this before. Unless you lost your nerve.

I clicked my teeth to drag myself back from the flow of emotion. Cheap shot. I’m trying to see all the angles you could take here. I do know a bodyguard or two, and a cop that might listen to you. We want the best answer for this, right?

Right. She leaned closer, just an inch now. But, I think now you’re curious.

I felt the frown bend on my face—she was right. But with the Pulse ready, I’d pick up more if I kept her arguing. I centered it on her—

A force dragged my focus away, a roiling anger outside this room, this floor, fierce and demanding—

She was searching my face as if she’d already seen my attention wander. I locked my eyes on hers. Curious? Are you so sure?

Sure enough. People say it’s the weirder stories that you listen to. And the people in the most need.

That presence below us, someone paced back and forth, not just angry but frustrated, or searching.

It could be anything. Stranger, wilder people had pushed into the library before... but my feet shifted under the chair. I should be out there now.

Right, I said to Maya.

I’ve had to stay away from my home, she went on. Yesterday these two came right up to my show, and they could have gone after the audience. Just seeing those bruisers sent a scare through them, believe me...

The pressure I tracked drew away a fraction—how far, how near the stairs up was it? My fingers twitched, a bit of motion to push back the Pulse’s numbness.

I bet it did, I said.

"They should be scared. These two are enormous—are you listening?" and her voice went sharper.

One big man, with a scarred face, right? A smile was tugging at my lips. And the other’s even bigger?

Her eyes narrowed. You know them. You know who they are... alright, what does that mean? How do we get them off me?

Willard and Dom Duval. Cousins. From what I’ve heard, and my fingers tapped against the tablet, and the Plan’s files in there, they’ve been seen near several crimes, but I think not connected to anything solid. And a couple of those do involve fire.

The threat below came nearer, nearer through the building...

We should get out of here, I said.

What? She searched my face. Are you helping me or not? If it’s about your fee, I hear you can cut that way back. You know this isn’t some petty problem anyone could chase off—these ‘Duvals’ are real trouble.

Not that. Can we just... How could I explain it?

I pushed to my feet. The pressure was closer still.

Are you alright? Maya’s voice softened. If you’re not up to it now I can look after myself, until—

No—

My phone buzzed.

The sound at my belt shocked us into stillness, like all the colliding problems of the world would always stop for someone’s message. I grabbed the cell out.

A text from Barry said simply trouble.

And with the sharp flare of anger I could feel outside, that could be all he had time to send.

Something’s wrong out there. My voice came out low and certain. What are the odds that—

They followed me here? Didn’t think so, but... She shook her head, not a denial but a brisk motion like throwing off what she’d assumed.

We need to get you out of here. If you’re fast enough, they could think you just ducked through here to shake them off, and move on.

The Duvals could not be coming back here looking for more traces of her. For one moment I had an image of them turning their fire magic loose in the stacks...

One motion scooped up my riding jacket, another slid the tablet into its inside pocket. I shrugged the heavy leather on for protection as I made for the door. At least the Duvals hadn’t met me, wouldn’t see me coming.

I cracked the door open and looked out, toward the rage.

The floor looked almost clear—but I spotted the two boys crouching behind a corner, staring helplessly at the broad reference desk. Where a huge figure of a man leaned right over it, right into Gina’s graying face, while Barry stood frozen at his elbow.

So I duck out back? came Maya’s voice behind me. I’ll find my way.

I nodded. As I pushed outside, I heard her slip away in the other direction.

The Duval—my guess was Willard, reports had him as the leader—was just a scrape of black hair above a massive jacketed back, bending over the desk and ignoring Barry beside him. Whatever threats he was saying to poor Gina were too low to carry, even with the floor frozen so still. My footsteps were clear, and so was every rustle and murmur of the people scattered around the stacks and tables.

There should be two Duvals. I kept my eyes on the first Duval I closed in, but I took a moment’s tug at the Pulse.

A second, even steadier spark of violence moved among the shelves off to my side, working in the other direction. Toward Maya, if nothing drew him away from there.

Hey!

I shouted it, and the volume pushed my feet faster, and roused hushed sounds of reaction from the people watching.

Willard ignored it.

Closer now, I could catch a glimpse around him, around where Barry stared at the intruder.

Staring at the open bottle Willard had set on the desk, full of sinister gleaming liquid. At the rag in his gloved hand, as the scarred face growled Where’d she go? Before I—

Flames burst from the rag.

Gina shrank back. One wild breath later Willard crushed the fire out within his glove—playing that all these were simply tools that could have turned that bottle into a flaming Molotov, as if he needed them.

Barry lunged past him to grab at the bottle. Willard swung an arm and sent him stumbling away.

The Duvals could crush them in moments, or one stray spark from their magic could wipe the whole floor out. If I let them strike that spark.

I seized Willard’s wrist, with my other arm straining for a grip around his huge midsection. I had a moment to wrench him backward before I felt his startled grunt, and him catching his balance.

Barry was gasping "Sir, we’ve got this—" as if acting like he knew me and Willard connecting me with the library was the greatest danger here. No need.

I let the Pulse loose.

The Bones were only in my pocket, but with my hands full of my target their magic only needed me to release it, to flood the Duval with the emotion at the root of their power: fear.

Cold, shattering fear, the Scarecrow’s lesson to me, like pouring freezing water on my enemy’s rage. Willard Duval shook, crumbled, and I twisted him around to his knees.

Too late for your tricks now. My voice came out cold too, but Willard had to believe what I said. One move and I’ll break you.

Willard’s free arm flailed, scrabbled in a pocket. The stubborn bastard was going for his own weapon, to get the magic right into his hand.

I yanked him around. My strength wrenched his flopping bulk over and slammed him into the base of the desk, then shoved him to the carpet.

A flash of yellow-brown metal skittered from his hand, bouncing away across the floor.

I stared after it. If I’d just disarmed Willard’s magic... his cousin was still out there. I pressed Willard down harder and forced more terror into him—too much of the Bones’ energy used up, already. Then I leaped clear and ran after the fallen magic.

Dodging around one table brought me almost colliding with an old man, all wild white hair and flailing cane as I veered past him. Where, where was—

Something moved from the shelves off to the side. Dom Duval stepped out, looming like an unscarred copy of his mountainous cousin.

Metal glinted under a table ahead, still my best chance to shut their power down. I scrambled toward it.

Orange flame flared on the ground in front of me, what someone might have taken for a small splash of burning liquid on the lime carpet. It leaped up right beside a rickety easel crowded with papers.

I wrenched my jacket off and slammed the leather down over the flames. A scream rang out behind me, that an instant later was choked off by a fire alarm’s shrill howl.

He could have torched the papers, or the whole wall. The thought crashed into me as I whirled around: Dom Duval had used just a fraction of his power, to get my attention.

He stomped toward me, a full head taller than me and even wider than his cousin. My fists came up—Willard had been on the slow side, like any avalanche that hadn’t gathered speed yet. At least facing him hand to hand might limit the flames.

Over past Dom, I saw Willard struggling to his knees already. I braced as Dom closed in, tried to picture the block and the grab that would let me unleash the Pulse again.

Something arced through the air. I caught one glimpse, of Maya ducking back between the stacks, as something hurtled across the room. It struck the corner where the corridor branched away, ricocheted back...

And thumped into the side of Dom Duval’s face. Just a wad of tight-crumpled paper, it must have been wrapped around some kind of weight to fly that far.

Dom froze, looked around.

Then he spun, and stomped over to scoop up the bit of fallen metal, and he lumbered toward the corner where the missile had bounced off. Away from her.

I caught at my coat, crushed a shoe over the last embers in the carpet. The alarm was still stabbing at our ears.

Willard Duval staggered after his cousin, keeping a warning eye on me.

I reined in the urge to rush him again, and stepped backward in among the bookshelves. A pull at the Pulse let me track the growing haze of fear and confusion, louder than what voices I heard under the alarm. But the two Duvals’ rage was drawing away into the next wing, still chasing the false trail she’d thrown at them. So, the cleanest answer was to get her out safe and see if they stayed to make more trouble here.

High, familiar shelves of metal flew by me as I raced for the wall at their back. No time to pick out emotions from the haze—instead I glanced through the gaps in the books, and the breaks in the rows of shelves, for a glimpse of where Maya might be among them.

I, we, had taken on the Duvals and gotten away, so far. But they’d come here—after years of my slow searching and building the Plan. All that slower-paced searching for traces of other magic, looking for who might have met the Scarecrow, or traces of whether the Eye was real, but now...

I reached the back wall. Three rows away, Maya stood pressed against a shelf row’s end, sheltered from the sight of everywhere except this edge.

Her smile flashed out at me, gleaming under her shapeless hat and through the pale makeup—all crafted to blend in. I grinned back, and motioned her forward along the wall. The emergency stair back there would be perfect; even the alarm it would trigger might tell the Duvals we were done with the library. If they could hear that sound over the shrilling their fire had already set off.

She scrambled for the door, quick and quiet. I started after her, and the alarm went silent.

I slowed, tried to search the suddenly-clear murmurings around the floor for any screams or fighting, anyone else the Duvals might be going after.

If we made it out without more fires... then I’d have every chance to pick my moment with those two, and dig up what they were after. Maybe bring the cops down on them after all, if I got enough leverage and someone who’d listen.

A footstep sounded, behind the shelf I’d just passed—an aisle that had been clear an instant ago. I twisted back, reached for any emotions.

You could lose this place.

A dry whisper behind me, close as the prickle on the back of my neck.

I spun around, but the figure was already sidestepping away behind a shelf. Simple dark clothes, face out of sight.