by Amir Lane
“Oh, you stupid girl,” I muttered to myself, sitting upright.
It was right there, her bragging to her friend about the incubus she'd messed around with last night. She obviously didn’t use the words ’rape’ or ’assault’, but she said more than enough to indicate he wasn't up for it. That included the exact words, he wasn't up for it. Her stupidity was my win. Judge Hennessy would sign this arrest warrant in a heartbeat.
I opened my email and scanned for any alerts about Rowan z-Biarozy Oak, the Black Birches, or Audra Jansons. There was nothing new. My enthusiasm deflated a little.
At least this case was still a win, even if it wasn’t a done deal yet. I hit compose to let Judge Hennessy know I would be submitting a warrant shortly. I typed out the subject first, then started on the body. I always put in who it was going to last in case I accidentally hit send early. I usually needed to rewrite a few times before my emails were coherent.
“’scuse me.”
I didn’t immediately recognize the man standing behind Rowan’s empty chair. Something about the way he stood, almost too upright with his feet a precise distance apart, didn't say civilian despite the rumpled street clothes — a pair of faded jeans and green plaid button-up — and messy brown hair. A black messenger bag hung off his shoulder. Even though he looked down at me, he held his head firmly in place. He was definitely law enforcement. No matter how I tried, I just couldn't place him. In my early days in the police force, I’d tried to learn the names of all the officers but the truth was, there were too many. I really only interacted with a handful on a regular basis. Learning everybody’s names was impossible.
“Can I help you?” I asked as Indira pulled out his earphones and tipped his head toward the man.
The man rested his hands on the back of Rowan’s chair and leaned his weight into it. He wore an easy smile but his eyes were guarded. For a moment, they flashed red, and his smile became too wide for his mouth. I blinked, and his face looked human again. Either I’d had too much coffee today or not enough.
“I'm looking for Kieron Harper. I was told I could find him up here.”
His accent was a more exaggerated version of Kieron’s. I could barely understand him. Indira and I both pointed to the office behind me. The man thanked us and walked in through the open door. As he strode past me, I caught a whiff of black liquorice. It was a strong, unexpected smell, one I only knew because Ariadne loved it. I turned to watch him let himself into Kieron's office. The plaque on the wall still had Sabine's name.
“Kieron fucking Harper!”
The shout made me flinch a little. It made me feel less embarrassed to see Indira do the same. I twisted around in my chair to see through the blinds.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, not you,” Kieron said, but he got up and walked around his desk to pull the man into a tight hug.
Their energetic chatter continued in what I had to assume was Irish. I hadn't even known that was an actual language until I'd met Kieron. I had always been under the assumption that people only spoke English in Ireland.
“Who is that?” I mouthed to Indira.
Indira shrugged, craning his neck to see into the office.
If the man was law enforcement like I suspected, they could have worked together when Kieron was in Guns, Gangs, and Covens, or they could have been in the army together. Kieron had been a sniper in the army for whichever Ireland wasn't owned by England — the Republic of Ireland? — for five years before immigrating to Canada and becoming a police officer. One of the photographs on his desk was of a military unit. I'd never looked at it closely enough to be able to recognize any of the faces.
Though I didn't speak Irish and barely even recognize the language, I did recognize four words when the visitor said them: Rowan z-Biarozy and Audra Jansons. I didn't have time to turn back around and pretend I'd been working this entire time as Kieron stormed out of his office.
“You!” That was definitely directed at me. His accent worsened with his anger. “You haven't got yourself in enough trouble? Or have ye already forgotten what happened last time ye went stickin’ yer nose where it didn’t belong?”
Reflex took over at the sudden shouting and a familiar burn of Arabic calligraphy snaked up my hip to form into a barrier around me. Kieron's eyes went wide. Immediately, his expression softened and he stepped back, holding his hands up and slumping his shoulders down to look smaller.
“I'm sorry,” he said in his usual soft tone. “I shouldn't have yelled.”
I swallowed down my nerves and forced myself to focus on dissipating the heat in my skin. The reflex shouldn't have made me feel as guilty as it did. How many calls had I responded to in Homicide that had included some variation of, ’he was yelling’? How many times had I actually needed one of those barriers when a man his size started yelling? I couldn’t feel bad for a reflex that had saved my life on countless occasions.
The man beside Kieron gave me a small nod.
“Finín Quinn, Interpol, selkie. Kieron here and I go way back.”
He pat Kieron’s arm with a grin.
Kieron muttered something before nodding to Indira, then to me.
“My team, Indira Krishnamurthy-King, alkonost, and Fairuz Arshad, barrier witch.”
I didn't like Kieron outing my powers like that. He didn't see me going around telling everyone he was a kitchen witch, did he? Even if he was my boss now and Finín had identified himself as a selkie first, it wasn't his place to disclose. There was an unspoken courtesy for police officers to identify their species to each other at crime scenes in case somebody had an ability that would be helpful or was the same species as a witness who might be more comfortable speaking to one of their own, but I should have been the one to say it, not him.
For a moment, as Finín looked Indira over, his expression tightened and I could have sworn his eyes glowed red again, just for a heartbeat. Indira returned the look with a cheerful smile. Finín hadn't seemed to have any immediate dislike for Indira before. It must have been the angle. He turned to me with a nod.
“Your recent searches got flagged in our system, the ones connected to the Black Birches, Audra Jansons, and Rowan z-Biarozy.”
He said Rowan’s name as if it was one syllable the same way Kieron did, pronouncing it more like Roan. I nodded, ignoring the way the corners of Kieron’s lips tightened. It wasn’t as if I could deny it anymore.
“His name is Rowan Oak,” I said.
It was an important distinction for me. Z-Biarozy was where Rowan came from, but it wasn’t who he was. Rowan was a better person than them. Finín nodded, but I wasn't sure he was paying much attention.
“Right. Apologies. How’d you hear about Jansons?”
I looked up at Kieron’s encouraging smile, scraping my nails over my thighs. He seemed to trust this Finín. Was that enough? It had to be.
“It was in a box Rowan had,” I said.
Finín’s eyes stayed the same colour, but an odd look filled them. I wanted to call it greed. He cleared his throat a little and nodded.
“Audra Jansons is scheduled to be transferred to a high security prison in a week,” Finín said. “We have reason to believe her transfer will be ambushed, and that she knows where Rowan is. I'm not sure if she'll be passing that along or if she's going to kill him herself, but either way. We want to know what she's doing before she does it.”
“Do you have any idea where Rowan is?” I asked, not trying nearly hard enough to hide my eagerness.
Finín shifted his eyes to Kieron, then to me. He seemed to go through the same thought process as I had. If Kieron trusts her…
“We're pretty sure he's in Europe, but I couldn’t tell you which part. There's been a very long string of murders of people affiliated with some of the European gangs, mostly the Birches. It's sort of all over the place, though, so we haven't been able to predict his movements.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Kieron beat me to it.
“I told you, Rowan isn't a murderer
.”
“Kieron, the man was raised in what ended up being one of the biggest dryad gangs in Europe, then sold to another equally violent gang. Hate to break it to you but if anybody was going to become a serial killing vigilante, it would be him.”
“It's not him, Flor,” Kieron ground out.
I wasn't so sure. I’d worked with Rowan for ten months. He had killed one person in that time, even if it hadn’t been intentional. Even if I didn’t want to, I could fully believe he would kill again if pushed hard enough.
“Kieron, he cut off a man’s penis, shoved it into his mouth while he was alive, then cut him open from navel to collar until he bled out. Your boy is psychologically unhinged.”
I shifted uneasily, saying nothing even as Kieron protested that there was no proof this was Rowan. Normally, I was the first to come to Rowan's defense. This time, I had nothing to say because honestly, Finín was right. If anybody was capable of this, it was Rowan. The question I had was if he was doing it alone or if his missing girlfriend, Kseniya, was helping him.
Behind me, Indira’s chair creaked. Shouldn't this have been a conversation between Finín and Kieron? If the twitch in Kieron’s jaw was any indication, this was the first he'd heard of it.
“Why are you telling us this about Audra Jansons?” Indira asked slowly. “For Interpol to come all the way over here for one person… It almost sounds like you want us involved.”
Finín gave a slight tip of his head, almost like a shrug. His eyes didn’t meet Indira’s. I didn’t want to believe it was because he was racist. He didn’t seem to have the same issues with me. Granted, Indira was several shades darker than I was and more obviously parahuman, with his blue and black feathers instead of hair and red irises, but Finín was a selkie. The parahuman part shouldn't have bothered him.
Kieron didn't even seem to notice. It made my stomach sink a little. Would he really ignore something so obvious just because they were old friends?
“Be nice to have someone familiar with the case on the inside,” Finín said.
“’Inside?’” I repeated.
Was he talking about one of us going undercover?
“No,” Kieron said firmly. “No way in fucking hell. My team’s been through enough.”
His team.
Now more than ever, he was responsible for what was left of us. It was impossible not to hear the protectiveness in his voice.
“I'm not asking for anything, Kieron. Just some help. I’m sure I don't need to tell you your team’s gotten themselves tangled up in a dangerous affair. Putting these worst of these bastards away might be the only way to bring your boy home.”
The slight lift of Finín’ eyebrows and another twitch in Kieron's jaw suggested that paternal instinct went back far enough that Finín knew just how to play into it.
“Kieron.” Finín’ voice was soft. “I just need you to help me find out what Jansons knows.”
He said something sweet-sounding in Irish that made Kieron sigh.
“I'll have to see if one of the other units can lend us an undercover officer. Special Crimes doesn't have—”
“I'll do it.”
All eyes turned to me. I hadn't meant to say it but now that I had, I meant it. I’d do whatever it took to bring Rowan home.
Chapter Four
“Are you out of your damned mind?”
Kieron's opinion on my offer to go undercover was clear. He did not approve. I opened my mouth to explain why it wasn't as insane as it sounded, but he raised a hand to stop me.
“No, no, of course you are. Because you are reckless and impulsive and likely to get yourself killed one of these days. And, of course, you are zero percent qualified to go undercover in a prison to get information from an international gang enforcer. Less than zero percent!”
The contrary part of me rose to argue against his sarcasm.
“I've been undercover before.”
Kieron snorted. “Oh, have you? When?”
“When I was in Homicide. And I acted in university.”
The undercover operation had been no more than a few hours long, and my acting career was a non-speaking role in a musical based on Elvis songs that my roommate at the time had talked me into signing up for, but I was still counting it.
“We ain’t got the manpower to send you undercover. You and Indira are busy enough as it is.”
He was right. It wouldn’t be fair to Indira to make him do everything on his own, even for only a week. What other choice did we have?
“I can hold the fort for a week,” Indira said. “It’s actually been pretty quiet. We’ll consider it like she’s out sick. ”
Kieron rubbed a hand over his face, then turned to Finín and jabbed an accusing finger into his chest.
“I'm blaming you for all of this. You’re a bad influence. I’m going to go make some calls. Don't break anything. And don' let her break anything, neither. Indira, you’re in charge.”
“Aye-aye, boss.”
Kieron disappeared into his office, muttering in angry-sounding Irish, and slammed the door behind him. Finín only laughed.
“He's still the exact same,” he said fondly.
Without another word, he settled into the chair behind Kieron’s old desk and pulled a laptop from his messenger bag.
I did my best to turn my attention back to the paperwork I’d been filling out. The words blurred together as I struggled to focus on anything but Audra Jansons. She could have the answers I needed about Rowan. And Finín could have had answers I wanted about Kieron. There was so much about him I didn't know.
Everyone had secrets. God knew I did. People were allowed to keep things to themselves, especially things that hurt them. Losing Rowan had made me hyper-aware of what those secrets could mean in our line of work. There was nothing I could think of in my own past that could come back to bite us, but Rowan's had. And Kieron's past was sitting not ten feet away from me.
Indira, who was full of mysteries of his own, saved me from letting my curiosity get the better of me.
“So what was Kieron like back in the day?” he asked.
Finín turned to look through the blinds half-hiding Kieron with another smile. There was something in that smile, something that looked almost like smugness that made my skin prickle. He turned back to Indira with a laugh that sounded genuine. The look must have been my imagination. Reading faces wasn’t something I had ever been good at, and my paranoia certainly didn’t help matters.
“We were in the same unit,” Finín said. “Wasn't a man, gay or straight, that didn't want a piece of that ass.”
“I can hear you!” Kieron shouted from the other side of the wall.
“And it still stands!” He paused for a moment to grin at Kieron through the window, then lowered his voice so only we could hear him. “He was quiet. Didn't talk much, especially in the early days. I think he was scared shitless. He never wanted to be in the army, you know. It's in his blood, but not in his soul. ’tween us, I didn't think he'd last. Figured he'd be one of those blokes who puts a bullet in his own brain the first time he has to kill someone. Some of us even had bets on how long he'd last. I had money on two months.”
It always made me uneasy when cops bet on cause of death or murderer, and not just because it could skew their outlooks on the case. It was insensitive at best. This was so much worse. I swallowed down the thin line of bile and forced a smile I didn't feel. If the tightness in the corners of Finín’ eyes were any indication, he didn't feel the humour either.
“Kieron’s always been a good man. Sensitive, honest. Not cut out for military life. I was surprised to hear he was a cop, but I guess there's not much else he coulda’ done. He never went to uni or college.”
“He was a step dancer before, wasn't he?” Indira said.
Finín nodded. “Aye. Best I ever seen. But his da’ got cancer, and they needed the money. Kieron hired him the best home worker he could afford. Bastard never deserved him. He was a mean old fuck. I don't thin
k Kieron cried an ounce when he died, and I don't blame him.”
The venom in his voice made me wince. My father and I had been so close when I was growing up. Even now, I got along better with him than I did my mom, even though I spoke to my mom more. She was the talker between them. It hurt to think someone as decent as Kieron didn't get to have that kind of relationship. It hurt to think that anybody didn't.
Kieron had never talked about his father, and he obviously had good reason for it. Listening to Finín tell this story was such an invasion of his privacy. It was even worse than poking through Rowan's box. At least Rowan had left it to me knowing I would poke through it, even intending for me to do it. My eyes met Indira’s, and I thought he felt the same. The silence that fell over our corner of the floor was heavy, only interrupted by Kieron's occasional muffled shouting into the phone. I'd never known him to be someone who shouted, but I supposed that was how management was. Sabine had been the same way.
“He called you Flor,” I said, subtly trying to shift the conversation in a less personal direction.
Finín gave a slight nod. “My English name is Florence. Don’t ask how it got translated. There’s a lotta’ guys from West Cork named Florence. Never much liked being called that, but I also never much minded Flor when it came from him.”
I couldn’t understand what that edge in his voice was. The words seemed so sweet, but still fake somehow. I wished I knew what it was about him that was putting me on edge. Later, when nobody else was around, I would ask Indira for his feelings about it all.
Finally, the shouting stopped and Kieron emerged from his office, scratching his short beard.
“Audra Jansons is scheduled to be transferred in a week. There are no undercover officers available right— Sit down, Arshad. That doesn't mean we're sending you. We're reaching out to some other cities, Ontario Police, even the RCMP if we have to.”