A Terrible Fall of Angels

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  “We got plenty of hands at the crime scene. What I don’t have is enough people covering these girls.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I sent a quick text to Ravensong, apologizing for canceling our meet-up and promising to reschedule as soon as I could. I’d pressed SEND when the first pictures came through. They all had long, straight, dark hair and looked eerily like our first victim. Cookson really did have a type. Then a fourth picture came through that was a blonde and it wasn’t a school photo, but something more candid.

  “Are we looking for three or four other potential victims?” I asked.

  “Three, but the last girl dyed her hair blond recently, so I’m sending you her school shot and one her roommate took this week.”

  I stared at the last two photos. “Can you send me a better full face of the blonde, sir?”

  “I’ll check, what’s up?”

  “I think I know where she is, but I want to be sure I’m guarding the right person. I don’t want to divide our resources on the wrong blonde.”

  “I’ll check with the roommate, hold on.” Then I was listening to silence on hold.

  I went to Emma, who was between customers. “I have to go to work, please hug Jamie for me.”

  “The hugging is easy.” Then her eyes were less full of smiles and more serious. “But whatever is at work is bad, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t try to read me on this one, Emma, because you don’t want these images in your head.”

  She nodded, almost briskly, sending her thick hair bobbing. “It’s more your emotions that I’m reading, but I’ll shield harder.”

  “Thanks, and thanks for all you’ve done for Jamie.”

  She was all smiles again. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

  I realized I didn’t have to wait for a picture. “The blonde in the café, what was her name again?”

  Emma looked less happy. “I thought you had better taste than that, Zaniel.”

  “I do, but there’s been another incident on campus and we’re trying to locate a girl who dyed her hair blond recently and that wasn’t her natural hair color, so just checking before I run off to the university to look.”

  “Oh,” Emma said, “it’s Shelby Jackson and she dyed her hair a week ago, or less. Is that the name?”

  “I’m waiting to see a second picture to make sure of the face, but now I’ll just check the name.”

  “Havoc, sending you another photo,” Charleston said in my ear.

  “What’s the name of the blonde?”

  “Shelby Jackson.”

  “She’s next door to my location, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “The Cozy Cauldron, it’s a tea and coffee shop just off campus two doors down from the metaphysical shop I’m at.”

  “You’re at Harm None?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good shop, now get eyes on Shelby Jackson.”

  “Moving that way now, sir, can I tell her she’s in danger?”

  “We don’t know that she is in danger, so just keep an eye on her. We’re not supposed to start a panic if it can be avoided. If any demons show up, then the panic will start without us.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, sir, the coffee shop is packed with customers.” I waved at Emma and went for the door.

  “I’ll send uniforms your way ASAP, Havoc.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

  “Havoc, be careful; the demon or whatever it is just tore the latest victim’s boyfriend into pieces.”

  “You mentioned it, Lieutenant.”

  “I wanted to mention it a little more forcefully since you’re on your own.”

  “Thanks, I understand what’s at stake.”

  “Good, uniforms are en route to you.”

  “I’m going in.” I reached for the door.

  “Keep your phone to your ear and pretend to be having a normal conversation while you order your coffee.”

  “Can do,” I said, voice already heartier and guy-guy than my normal. I was dressed like I was headed to the gym in a tank top cut to expose more of my muscles than normal; the usual guy who went with that had a certain attitude. I fell into that attitude and undercover between one step and the next. I was now playing the part of a guy who had been with friends and come back to check out someone that he didn’t want his friends to see him with, or maybe tell his wife/girlfriend/husband/boyfriend.

  “I’m just getting another cup of coffee. I’ll meet you after. What’s with all the questions, honey bunny?” I said.

  Charleston said on the phone, “You always did do good undercover.”

  “You say the nicest things, baby.”

  Charleston chuckled.

  I chuckled back like he’d said something sexy. I made it the guy equivalent of that laugh that turns heads in bars. People in the line glanced my way, but the only person I cared about was still sitting in her booth across the restaurant. She was too far away to hear the laugh and she’d been joined by a man who was as tall and blond as she was; Reggie called couples like that Barbie and Ken couples. It had taken me years to figure out that there was a certain amount of envy in the teasing. We’d even talked in therapy about her desire to be blond and blue-eyed as a little girl instead of the Hispanic beauty she was; since I preferred dark hair to blond I hadn’t had much to add to the conversation.

  I also knew that Barbie had been a brunette less than a week ago, which would have amused Reggie. It made me want her with me to share the joke. I stopped being the confident dudebro who was trying to cheat and started to sink back into myself. I didn’t want to cheat, I wanted to go home to Reggie so bad it literally hurt.

  “Whoever is making you so unhappy on the phone should lighten up,” a woman standing behind me said. She had short brown hair styled to follow the curve of her oval face. The makeup was understated except for the lipstick, which was a red so bright it made her lips the first thing I saw. They looked small and full and kissable, but she needed darker eye shadow to balance it, because I had to fight to make myself notice that her eyes were gray, or maybe I just preferred that shade of lipstick on my wife.

  “What’s going on, Havoc?” Charleston asked in my ear.

  I felt that sexy, untrustworthy smile that I had literally practiced in the mirror before one undercover operation. I’d been so good at playing the part that Charleston had loaned me out a couple of times.

  “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just waiting in line, honey.”

  The woman beside me smiled with those crimson lips. Her gray eyes matched the color of her skirt suit, and the fact that she was wearing that with sensible black heels made me think maybe she wasn’t a college student, maybe grad school?

  I widened my smile and debated how old she thought I was.

  Charleston said, “Do you see the subject?”

  “Of course, honey, just tell me what you want, and I’ll bring it home for you.”

  The woman mouthed, You, with her red lips.

  I looked past her to the table with Shelby Jackson and her boyfriend. The woman in front of me noticed me looking and frowned. “Sorry, honey, what did you say? I think I see some of our friends at a table here.”

  The woman in the red lipstick glanced behind her, but she was only about five-eight in the heels so she couldn’t see through the crowd.

  The barista called out, “Miranda, coffee for Miranda.”

  The woman looked up and started to move forward, then glanced at me. She mouthed, Wait here.

  I gave her a smile I hoped meant I was willing to wait, then realized that I might have been too successful at the flirting. That was my downfall when I did undercover; sometimes I was too good at it. Not just the flirting douchebag, but I’d scared myself a couple of times playing the threatening muscle. I’d asked Charleston to not have me do that one again.

  I stayed in line while Miranda went for her coffee. It gave me time to check the room for threats and to make sure that Shelby and her d
ate were still settled in at their table.

  “Are you being too successful at flirting again?” Charleston asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Let me know if you need an out and I’ll call you a cheating bastard. I’ll make sure to use the deep, ghetto voice like the one I did when you pretended to be my leg breaker.”

  The thought of Miranda’s face when she heard Charleston play my ghetto boyfriend made me laugh out loud, not the sexy chuckle, but just a real laugh.

  Charleston’s deep chuckle on the other end made two of the men in line look at me, which made me laugh more; if only my real love life was as good as my pretend one.

  I saw Shelby’s boyfriend stand up. I told Charleston, “Keep sounding like that and I might have to leave before I get the coffee.”

  Charleston’s voice was serious now. “Is subject moving location?”

  I grinned like he’d said something flirty. “Maybe.” The boyfriend went toward the bathroom; Shelby stayed sitting at the booth.

  “I really would like that coffee, sweetheart. Sure, I can bring you something, what do you want?”

  “I take it the subject isn’t moving after all,” Charleston said.

  “That’s right, baby.”

  Miranda came back through the crowd with her coffee in hand. She stood close enough to brush the back of her hand along my biceps. I did what she expected and flexed for her. Reggie would have laughed at me or rolled her eyes; Miranda smiled like she’d enjoyed it. Maybe she had, or maybe she’d tolerate it until after she got what she wanted from me, which was at least a coffee date.

  “What’s your major?” Miranda asked.

  “Who’s that?” Charleston asked.

  “Someone I met in line, I told you it was long, we’re reduced to making small talk with each other.”

  “Gotta take a call,” Charleston said, and hung up. His voice sounded urgent, but I knew better than to try to keep him on the phone when he sounded like that.

  I put my phone in the pocket of my exercise pants and said, “Pre-law.”

  Miranda smiled up at me; her red lips looked somewhere between sexy and predatory. Even if I’d been free to take her up on the invitation, I wasn’t sure about that smile.

  She looked me up and down like she was thinking about buying more than just the coffee. “You know my name,” she said, motioning with the coffee, “but I don’t know yours yet.”

  I looked over her head to the table where Shelby was still sitting. Her boyfriend was coming back from the bathroom. “I’m Havoc.”

  “Friends of yours?” she asked.

  “Not my friends.” I put too much emphasis on the my, but I also raised my hand so she could see the wedding ring.

  She moved the coffee cup so I could see the wedding set on her own hand. “Everyone needs friends of their own, Havoc.” Then she giggled and that was a better sound, a real sound that she’d probably been making long before she started wearing scarlet lipstick. I liked the sound and fought to stay in character and not give her my real smile, which didn’t match the act.

  “Agreed,” I said, then looked back over the crowd like I was worried that my spouse’s friends would see us together.

  “I’ll make it quick, how old are you? The truth.”

  “Thirty-two,” I said.

  “Liar,” she said.

  I wasn’t lying, but I gave her that fake roguish smile and said, “Thirty-two.”

  She looked me up and down again and sighed. “With your friends here, I won’t make you show me ID.”

  “I swear I’m legal,” I said.

  “Sorry, but I’m too old to believe you without proof.”

  “You’re not that old,” I said, and meant it. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Shelby and the boyfriend were getting up. “Her friends are coming this way,” I said, voice lower.

  “Nice to meet you, Havoc, if that’s really your name.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miranda, and yes, it’s really my name.”

  “No one is really named Havoc.”

  “I am,” I said, and looked past her to Shelby coming closer through the crowd.

  “Good luck, Havoc, or whatever your name is,” Miranda said, and went for the door.

  I didn’t argue with her this time, just let her go and realized I was almost up to the coffee counter, but Shelby and her boyfriend were headed for the door. I looked at my watch like I had run out of time, just in case Shelby recognized me from earlier. She was so wrapped around the arm of her boyfriend, I don’t think she noticed anything else. Her face had been perfect and almost harsh when I’d seen her earlier, but now she was soft and happy, and the makeup and hair now seemed to match the boyfriend’s natural coloring. I wondered if she’d done it on purpose, or if it had been subconscious. Either way she looked like a woman in love as she went out the door arm in arm with her Ken.

  My phone rang as I put my sunglasses on and followed them out. Charleston said, “The crime scene at the dorm wasn’t the first, it was the second. Three of the five women Cookson was stalking are dead.”

  I strolled down the sidewalk, trying to look like I was enjoying the conversation and not following anyone. I smiled while I lowered my voice and said, “Is it definitely Cookson?”

  “The ME is messengering over the skin to me.”

  “Doesn’t this prove he’s on this side of the veil?” I asked. Shelby and her boyfriend slowed to look in the window of a shop just ahead, so I turned to the shop near me.

  “Yeah, this proves Cookson is here. I’m going to ask the loa to help me locate his ass.” Shelby and her boyfriend were still looking at the shop window as if it was fascinating, so I turned to my shop window, trying to seem as interested. It was a florist; staring at the flowers and plants made me wonder if sending flowers to Reggie would be too much; yes, it would be too much, but I filed it away for later. If tomorrow went well, and the date night went well, then maybe flowers.

  “Did you hear me?” Charleston asked.

  “I’m sorry, sir, no.” I felt incredibly careless.

  “The uniforms should be driving by any minute. Bridges and Antero, and the MacGregors are en route to you.”

  “The subject is window-shopping with the boyfriend just ahead of me. Street is clear.” I saw movement in the window behind the flowers and realized that Miranda was in the shop. Dear God, she was going to think I was following her. I tried to move away, but the look on her face let me know she’d spotted me.

  I couldn’t think of what to say as she came out with a wrapped bouquet of cut flowers. She knew exactly what to say. “Do I need a policeman to stop you from following me, or a hotel room so we can cure this sexual tension?”

  I said loudly on the phone, “Honey, of course I remembered it was the anniversary of our first date. I wanted it to be a surprise, but that’s why I’m running late.”

  “The skin is here, make sure your angels guard your ass until your backup arrives,” Charleston said.

  “Of course I remember what your favorite flower is,” I said, but Charleston had already hung up. He had a voodoo ceremony to perform that would hopefully help us locate Cookson.

  “Are you off the phone?” Miranda whispered.

  I put the phone in my pocket and nodded.

  “Wow, almost cheated on your anniversary, you would have been in hot water.”

  “She reminded me in time,” I said.

  “Do you really remember her favorite flowers?”

  “Sunflowers, and if they’re out of season, gerbera daisies in as many colors as I can find them.” I smiled saying it, because they were Reggie’s favorites. I glanced down the street and saw Shelby and her boyfriend still cuddling in front of the window two shops down.

  I looked at the mixed bouquet of flowers in Miranda’s arms. “Who are you buying them for?”

  “Me,” she said.

  I raised eyebrows at that, using the dark glasses to hopefully hide the fact that I was looking at the couple
down the street. They’d started to kiss, which was good for me since it kept them stationary.

  “Shouldn’t the person who put a ring on your finger be buying them for you?”

  “I could say that’s sexist.”

  “You could, and if you prefer to buy your own flowers I apologize.”

  She smiled, but it left her eyes dull. “No, I don’t prefer to buy my own, but I got tired of hinting years ago, and outright asking got to be humiliating, so now I buy my own.”

  “I would say shame on him, but it would sound hypocritical.”

  “That you noticed that puts you ahead of most men.”

  “Then I’m sorry on behalf of all of us. You deserve better.”

  “Doesn’t your wife deserve better?”

  “She wanted a separation, not me.”

  “You cheated on her?”

  “No, she wanted us to date other people.”

  “And now she’s calling about anniversaries and wanting you to come back? Looks like dating didn’t go like she thought it would.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, and I was genuinely interested now. There was no threat to Shelby and her guy, and me talking to another woman made it less suspicious when I would have to keep following them on a nearly empty sidewalk.

  Miranda gave me a look that made me feel younger, or maybe just naïve. “Your wife either thought you would be bad at dating and come crawling home, or she had someone in mind to date and it hasn’t worked out.”

  I frowned and couldn’t keep up the undercover persona, because what she was saying made sense and I didn’t want it to make sense. I couldn’t tell her that Reggie wanted the separation because of my job, because I was a pre-law student who didn’t have a job yet. “That’s not why she wanted the separation.”

  “If you say so, and that look on your face says there is no way you’re thirty.”

  Shelby and her boyfriend wrapped themselves around each other and started kissing even more passionately; maybe that’s why she was wearing the neutral lipstick? Miranda looked at them, too; maybe she’d noticed me looking even through the sunglasses. “We all start out that way, and then it changes,” she said.

  “They seem like they’re in love,” I said.

  “They’re standing in front of a jewelry store that’s known for helping college students get nice wedding sets at discount prices, so they think they are,” she said.