Leo—perhaps picking up on the tension between us—disentangled himself and stepped aside in an obvious attempt to give Jimmy and me some privacy. Unfortunately, he also took that opportunity to introduce himself to Max—presumably so he could interrogate the brujo under the pretense of small talk. And I refused to let that happen.
“He’s a friend,” I warned Leo, feeling way too much like a girl bringing a boy home to meet her father for comfort. “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice,” Leo replied as he extended his hand. “Hello there, sir. I’m Special Agent in Charge, Leonardo Jeffries. And you are?”
“Maximiliano Velez,” Max replied, though he made no move to shake.
“Something wrong with my hand, Mr. Velez?”
“Sí, it is attached to a hedge witch.”
Leo froze, the trademark smile he used to charm women and disarm bad guys locked into a grotesque caricature of itself. At that precise moment, Jimmy reached the top of the ridge, looming over us all like somebody from the goon squad. Or maybe that was just the way he was dressed; between his tight black t-shirt and seam-popping jeans, Jimmy could have had any security job he wanted.
“Everything alright, Leo?” he asked.
“That depends on Mr. Velez, here.”
Max studied both men with a cool gaze, though I could tell Jimmy’s height had thrown him. That’s the thing about being abnormally tall, though: you get so used to being as big or bigger than everyone else that you forget what it’s like to feel small. Not that Max had much to worry about in that department; what the brujo lacked in inches he more than made up for in mass.
“What seems to be the issue, Mr. Velez?” Jimmy asked.
“You are behaving like I have insulted you, Agent Jeffries,” Max said, ignoring Jimmy’s question. “But where I come from, it is a sign of respect to fear another practitioner.”
“Is it, now?” Leo relaxed so visibly that Jimmy extended both arms to catch him. “I had no idea that was customary.”
“Is it not the same where you come from?”
Leo shrugged. “Might be. Might not. I learned most of what I know from my grandmother, but she passed when I was ten and my dad didn’t possess the gift.”
Max ducked his head. “Lo siento.”
“De nada.” Leo waved that away, smiling. “Funny thing is, some members of my family called her a hedge witch, though never to her face. I thought it was some sort of joke, or a snide comment. Like calling someone a hermit. I take it I was wrong?”
Max gave me a look.
“Go ahead,” I suggested. “Ye know a lot more about this than I do.”
“You were not wrong, no,” Max said in answer to the agent’s question. “It can be an insult, depending on one’s heritage. Broadly speaking, hedge witches are what you might call general practitioners. They do not specialize in any one thing, and most exhibit only minor powers. Some are not even aware of what they are. You see them from time to time selling healing crystals and reading auras. It is very sad. There are a few, however, who display a great deal of untapped potential, or those who have inherited a powerful curse. Like you.”
“Did Quinn tell you that?” Leo asked, stiffening.
“No. Quinn told me very little about any of you, in fact,” Max replied, radiating displeasure.
“Then what makes you think I’m cursed?”
“I can see it. It is there, in your ears and on your tongue. I cannot tell what manner of curse it is, not without casting my own spells. But I have seen others like it among the old families, especially in the Southwest.”
Leo’s eyebrows climbed at that.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m from Arizona, and my mother’s maiden name was Vasquez. My uncles always swore we were descended from Coronado, himself. Illegitimately, of course.”
“So does that make you a witch, too, Mr. Velez?” Jimmy asked, tilting his nose up as if scenting the air.
“A brujo,” Max corrected. “We have more in common with shamans than we do witches. Some might even call us witchdoctors. But the appropriate term is brujo, or bruja for a woman.”
“Yeah, you don’t smell like a witch,” Jimmy remarked, his voice sounding gruffer than a moment ago. “But then you don’t smell human, either.”
The two men locked eyes. I briefly considered butting in—if only so I could get this proverbial show on the road—but opted to let this run its course. So far, the boys had managed to talk without challenging each other to an arm wrestling competition; I could wait a little longer. Fortunately, Leo appeared as eager to wrap this up as I was.
“Let’s table this for later,” he said. “Jimmy, did you or Officer Nelson find anything down there?”
“Not a thing,” he replied, turning his attention to the older man. “Whatever or whoever did this one, they left no tracks. No scents, either. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this guy was dropped out of the sky.”
“This one?” I asked, struck by the curious way he’d phrased it. “D’ye t’ink there’s more than one killer?”
The two federal agents exchanged looks before turning to me as one wearing identical expressions—the kind all cops wear when they’re about to interrogate you. The only question was who would be playing bad cop.
“Leo,” Jimmy drawled, “why do I get the feeling this isn’t a social visit on Quinn’s part?”
“Because you aren’t stupid, that’s why.”
“Oy, that’s not fair!”
“Definitely not a social visit,” Jimmy quipped.
“Look here—” I began.
Before I could defend myself, however, I was interrupted by the belligerent shouts of another man hiking up the ridge from the same side we had. From that distance, all I could really make out was a pale face beneath a mop of dark hair—and the fact that he was pissed. His words were largely lost to the wind, and yet I caught enough to know two things: this man was the notorious Sheriff, and we were all in serious trouble.
Chapter 19
I stood over a mangled body not some fifteen minutes later, wondering what karmically fucked up thing I’d done lately to deserve to see that while Leo and Sheriff Terry Watt went at it behind me. Everyone else—including a baby-faced Officer Nelson—loitered at the top of the ridge, waiting for us to return with a verdict. Was it an unfortunate accident, or a horrific murder? Personally, I was on the fence. But then, my vote didn’t count anyway.
The valley in which we stood was surprisingly barren of trees, dominated instead by rocks and brush; I’d had to surreptitiously alter my footwear to avoid twisting an ankle on our descent. Worse, between the sun overhead and the white rocks baking below, I’d had to tie my jacket around my waist by its sleeves to keep from sweating all over the crime scene.
“I’ll say it again, Jeffries, this was an animal attack,” the sheriff was insisting. “They‘re rare as hell, but they do happen. Why can’t you just admit you’re grasping at straws? We both know they’re bound to call you and your people back home any day, now.”
“It’s Special Agent Jeffries, Sheriff. Though you’re right about one thing. I am grasping at straws. It’s been weeks since the last killing. And most cops would be happy about that because it means they got close enough to spook their suspect, or that their killer got caught doing something else. But for us, all that means is waiting for another body to fall somewhere else and starting all over again. Because the job doesn’t end for us until our suspect is dealt with.”
“What’s your point, Agent Jeffries?”
“My point is, we have a dead body with almost no forensics. And I’m not going to overlook that inconvenient fact just because you say it’s an animal attack.”
The body—which I’d taken one good look at before pretending I was anywhere but here—was a meat puzzle held together by bits of stringy ligament and bony protrusions. The result was a mutilated, malodorous mess shrouded in black cloth. At first, I’d assumed someone had tried to cover it up, but a s
econd stolen glance suggested he’d been garbed from head to toe in black—possibly robed, even.
“Hikers come up here all the damn time,” Watt argued. “Shit, two of them found the body. It’s obvious a bear or a cougar got a piece of him and the vultures did the rest.”
“Please,” I said, snorting. “He wasn’t hikin’.”
“What was that?” Watt barked.
I pointed to the tattered clothes while trying not to think about the remains of the person beneath. “No one goes out for a hike in all that black. It gets too damn hot. Hell, it’s not even 9 o’clock yet and I’m startin’ to sweat. Also, I get the pants, but why the long sleeves? Why the robe?”
“Tick season,” Watts supplied, though I could hear a kernel of doubt in his voice. “Or maybe he was up here at night. It gets cold at night.”
“Okay, sure, but then where’s the flashlight? What about a water bottle? A backpack? Also, why is there no blood trail? Even if he were attacked, wouldn’t he have tried to run away, or at least gotten dragged?”
“I thought you said this woman works for Homeland,” Watt said to Leo.
That felonious falsehood, surprisingly, had been Leo’s brilliant idea. Apparently, the Department of Homeland Security was one of those sprawling federal agencies with more fingers than there were pies, which made the claim tough for anyone to immediately disprove. Especially once Leo started dropping phrases like it’s above your pay grade and you’d have to be read in and so on. In the end, the Special Agent in Charge had made a strong enough case to let me stay that Watt had insisted I weigh in on cause of death. Unfortunately, while hiding my identity from the deputy had lent some credence to the whole thing, it hadn’t earned me any points with the locals; Watt watched me like a dog he couldn’t wait to kick, while Holt had actually looked a little hurt to discover how big a lie I’d fed him.
If only he knew.
“That is what I said,” Leo replied, smoothly.
“Then how come she’s talking to me like she’s Nancy fucking Drew?”
I whirled on the man only to find Leo’s hand on my shoulder, his expression telling me not to let the sheriff get to me. What Leo hadn’t expected was to see me smiling. I patted his hand, reassuringly. There was a time, perhaps, when I’d have launched into a tirade and gotten in Watt’s face—badge or no badge. But now? Now, I just wanted to know why a cop who was sworn to protect and serve was working so damn hard to ignore the evidence sitting right in front of him.
“What’s the matter with him?” I asked Leo in a hushed voice.
“The fuck did she just say?”
“Nothing important,” Leo replied, though I could tell from his expression that he agreed with me, and that there was something wrong with Watt. “Sheriff, why don’t we take a breath and—”
“No, I want to know what the bitch said.”
“I’ll have ye know I’m a very nice lady,” I remarked, nonplussed.
“That’s what all you cunts say.”
“Watt!” Leo was suddenly in the sheriff’s face, his right hand making a chopping motion as he berated the other man. “You talk to any of my people like that again, and I’ll have your badge if it’s the last thing I do!”
“Fat fucking chance, Jeffries. You don’t have the authority.”
“I can pull every case you’ve ever worked and have it under review by sundown. How many infractions have you had, Watt? How many complaints?”
“None,” Watt spat.
“Well, I’ll still find something, Watt. Something you don’t want me to. I’ll talk to your neighbors. Your family. I’ll—”
“You’ll stay the hell away from my family!” Watt bellowed; his face contorted with blind rage. I took a step forward in alarm, but it was too late; Watt had already drawn back to sock Leo in the jaw. The blow caught Leo square on the chin with a sickening clap of teeth, and the federal agent collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap.
And then Watt pounced on him.
Chapter 20
A dark-skinned doctor in her late thirties shone a light in both of Leo’s eyes, one after the other. A tense moment of silence ensued until at last she made a satisfied sound in the back of her throat. She scribbled a note on his chart, walked to the end of his hospital bed, and hung it over the edge before addressing the room.
“Agent Jeffries suffered a concussion, according to the CT scan we performed, but the MRI showed no sustained damage. We would like to keep him overnight for observation, but I expect a full recovery.”
“Hear that?” Leo asked, too full of painkillers to mind his busted lip and swollen jaw. “The doctor says I’m right as rain.”
The temperature in the room dipped fractionally, sending goosebumps up my forearms. A stunningly muscular blonde leaned over the side of the hospital bed, her expression obscured by a curtain of the finest, palest hair I’d ever seen. But I didn’t need to see her face to imagine the look Agent Hilde Thorsdottir was giving her immediate superior and mortal lover.
It wasn’t a friendly one.
“Rain isn’t right,” she said, her voice low and menacing. “It’s wet. And cold. And if you ever get into another situation like that again, Leonardo Jeffries, I swear on Odin’s missing eye that I will drop you into a storm cloud so you can see that for yourself.”
Leo coughed out what sounded a lot like an apology—proving that he had a brain. After all, Hilde’s threat wasn’t an idle one. As a full-fledged Valkyrie, she could sprout wings and fly whenever her heart desired. She could also convert her clothes into armor with a thought and pull weapons out of thin air on a whim—none of which I’d mastered, yet.
And yes, I was jealous.
“Ahem.” The doctor waved a hand, awkwardly. “I hate to interrupt, but which one of you two was it who broke Terry’s arm? When I heard it was a woman who did it, I have to admit I was surprised. But, no offense, I could honestly imagine either of you pulling it off.”
I started to prevaricate, but the two agents gave the game away immediately by pointing at me in unison. Great, I thought. Now I was going to get a lecture on snapping poor, defenseless bones. To my surprise, however, the doctor clapped her hands together like a child, grinning at me from ear to ear.
“So it’s true!” she exclaimed. “That’s just...awesome.”
“Hilde,” Leo whispered, his eyes almost comically wide, “I think we should ask for a new doctor. This one’s broken.”
“Oh, you must think I’m terrible! Please, let me explain. Terry is my former brother-in-law. People say he’s a good cop. A great guy, even. But he was a crappy husband, and he’s made my sister’s life a living hell since they divorced. Anyway, what I meant was that he had it coming. So, thank you.”
“Anytime,” I replied, too amused by the Midwestern tendency to overshare to say much else. Fortunately, it seemed to do the trick; the doctor flashed me another dazzling smile before turning her attention elsewhere.
“That reminds me. Agent Jeffries?”
“Yes, Doctor?” Leo’s gaze was much sharper, now. Which meant either the drugs had worn off, or his doctor’s little confession had piqued his interest. Knowing Leo, I was betting on the latter.
“Make sure you have someone nearby to monitor you, just in case. And don’t be afraid to report unexpected visitors to the nurses.”
“Not to the guard on duty, the one whose office is on the first floor?” Hilde asked.
“Greg?” The doctor shook her head, her smile dimming considerably. “He and Terry’s little brother went to school together, and Greg wants to be a cop. A good word from the sheriff could go a long way.”
“Should we be expectin’ trouble?” I asked, struck by the implications of what she was telling us.
“Just a precaution,” she assured me, patting the edge of the bed as she left the room, though not before shutting the door firmly behind her.
“Watt must have more pull around here than I gave him credit for if he’s got hospital staff looking the
other way,” Leo said after a moment of silence.
“We know he’s not involved with the killings, though,” Hilde interjected, gripping the rail of his hospital bed hard enough to make the metal creak. “You tested him and his people as soon as we arrived. So why would he be threatening us?”
“I wish I knew. It’s entirely possible this murder had nothing to do with the others, and that he’s somehow involved. There’s no way to be sure without asking, and he won’t talk to me.”
“Or me,” I chimed in.
“Or you.” Leo shook his head in bewilderment. “I still can’t believe you broke his arm.”
“He was goin’ to hit ye again.” I shrugged as if that was all that needed to be said. But, in my mind, I watched Watt launch himself at Leo in slow motion. He’d already cocked one arm back as though planning to deliver a second blow to Leo’s defenseless face. I could tell from Watt’s face that it wasn’t the heat of the moment or a bad judgment call. He’d wanted Leo out of the way—for good. “Ye were already knocked out, so ye couldn’t defend yourself, and everyone else was too far away to step in. So I took care of it.”
“By shattering his arm in three places.”
“I wasn’t goin’ to let him hit ye, again, Leo.”
The senior agent actually looked embarrassed, as though my stepping in on his behalf was something shameful. It was a guy thing, of course. Some macho pride thing. But that was alright, because the fierce approval on his partner’s face was more than enough thanks, under the circumstances. In any case, the moment passed before I had to say anything else.
“Quinn,” Leo began after clearing his throat, “you should know that we are all extremely glad to find out you’re alive. But—”
“Ye want to know why I’m here,” I finished for him.
“He is worried it has something to do with this case,” Hilde interjected. “If that is why you’re here, it would complicate things for us.”
Moonshine: Phantom Queen Book 11—A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries) Page 13