Stuart scraped back his chair and took his coffee cup with him. “I appreciate that, Chief. I don’t want to take up any more of your time. You’ve got other interested parties waiting.” He smiled at me.
“Oh, she’s not interested,” the chief said, and we both blushed at the remark.
Stuart shuffled toward the door, still smiling.
“You’re providing security detail for chickens now?” I asked in a teasing tone.
“Those chickens are defenseless,” the chief said. “It’s our job to protect those that can’t protect themselves.”
I couldn’t resist a smile. “In that case, I have a few newts in my garden that need protection from my grandmother’s cat.” Candy was a relentless hunter. Grandma might be the one attacking Little Critters on her phone, but Candy was the real life culprit.
“Sounds like poor Shelley Riggin is in the early stages of dementia,” Corinne said.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Chief Fox said. “Poor guy. That’s got to be rough.”
“Corinne, we need you,” the barista called from behind the counter.
Corinne flashed a bright smile. “Thanks so much for doing this, Sawyer. I think it’s going really well.” She hurried to the busy counter.
Not Chief Fox.
Sawyer.
I shoved the thought aside and slid into Mr. Riggin’s vacant seat. “I bet you didn’t expect Coffee with a Cop to end up as a therapy session.”
The chief shrugged. “It’s a community outreach program. If the guy wants to vent about his wife, then I’m here to listen.” His pleasant expression faded. “Besides, I understand what he’s going through.”
“You do?”
The chief swilled his coffee. “My grandfather went through something similar. He developed dementia after my grandmother died and could never remember that she was gone. Each day was a fresh hell. We’d explain to him that she died—cancer—but that didn't stop him from buying her birthday and anniversary cards and wondering why she never opened them. At one point, he assumed that she left him for another man because her clothes were gone.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Man, I forgot how horrible that whole thing was.”
“Where is he now?” I asked. “Iowa?”
“He was. He died about a year later.” He inhaled deeply. “It was a blessing, really. Nobody should have to live like that, day in and day out, believing that the woman you loved didn’t love you back.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“I hope Mr. Riggin has better luck.” He reached down to scratch Achilles behind the ear. “So what brings you in? Corinne said you’d be going back to The Daily Grind.”
I stiffened. “She said that?”
“She did. She said she was sure that you preferred the coffee there and that she doubted you’d be a regular customer.”
I wondered whether that was wishful thinking on her part. She knew the chief had been interested in me and that I shot him down before she swooped in. Did she suspect that my rejection wasn’t genuine? Or did she just not like the idea of competition for the chief’s affections? It was bad enough that our families were constantly at odds. I’d hoped that she and I could do better.
“I think a little competition is healthy,” I said.
He grinned. “We are talking about coffee shops, right?”
“Of course. What else?” I fiddled with the strap of my handbag. “So how are things going between you two?”
“Nice and easy,” he said. “Corinne’s got a laid-back personality. Doesn’t get caught up in nonsense. I like that about her.”
“Have you met her family yet?” I asked.
“It’s very casual, Fury,” he said. “If I meet her family, it’s because I need to issue them a parking ticket.”
“You’re lucky you don’t have parents nearby breathing down your neck to get married.”
He chuckled. “Thankfully not. Neither of us has marriage in mind. I’m still getting a handle on my job and she’s got this place to run.”
“Speaking of places to run, I need to get to the office before Neville sends out a search party.” I looked wistfully at the counter, thinking of the delicious latte I’d enjoyed here, before it was discovered that the beans had been illegally imported from Otherworld. I wondered how the drinks tasted here now.
Corinne emerged from behind the counter, carrying a disposable cup. “You look like you’re heading out.” She thrust the cup into my hand. “One for the road.”
I glanced at the cup in disbelief. “Really?”
“I added a dash of cinnamon,” she said. “I seem to recall you like that.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” I bent down to pet Achilles before I left and the playful pug licked my hand. “Nice to see you, Chief. Keep up the good work.”
I scuttled from the shop before my emotions betrayed me. It was harder than I expected to see that their relationship was thriving, however ‘casual.’ It was even harder to have Corinne be nice to me despite our families’ history. Maybe she’d think twice if she knew that I secretly coveted the man she was dating and had only rejected him for his own protection.
I left the pretty downtown area with its waterfront backdrop and crossed the railroad tracks into the seedier part of town on Asiago Street where my office was nestled between a donut shop and a tattoo parlor. Apparently, the Federal Bureau of Magic wasn’t willing to splurge for a view of the Chesapeake Bay.
I arrived at the office door, but was unable to open it. At first, I thought it was locked, until I realized that Neville had set up a new protective ward. My wizard assistant took his duties too far sometimes.
“Neville!” I yelled. “It’s me! Open up!”
“How do I know who ‘me’ is?” he called.
I pulled out my phone, took a selfie in front of the door, and sent him a text with the photo attached.
“Still not convinced,” he called.
“Who else would I be?”
“It could be an illusion,” Neville said.
“Why would someone go to the trouble of crafting an illusion in order to access the office?” I asked. “Our computers aren’t that interesting.”
“There are other objects of interest in here,” he said. “What’s the secret word?”
I hesitated. “Did we come up with a secret word?” And was I drunk when it happened?
“Maybe we should.”
I leaned against the door, losing patience. “Neville, I need to pee. Drop the ward right now or I’m going to go full fury on your…”
The door swung open and I fell forward, spilling part of my latte on the floor.
“It is you,” Neville said cheerfully.
I scowled up at him before jumping to my feet. “I think maybe we should have a secret word to avoid these situations.”
Neville scurried back to his desk as though I might punch him. “How about ‘fury?’”
“Too obvious,” I said. “We need something no one else could guess.”
Neville scratched his chin, thinking. “Boston cream donut?”
“That’s three words.” I tossed my handbag on the desk and dropped into my chair. I rolled to the side and switched on my sun lamp, a gift from Chief Fox when he first moved to town. I was a big fan of natural light—something that was lacking in both my attic bedroom and the office. When I eventually moved into the barn that straddled my parents’ properties, I’d have my fill of natural light, at least according to John Maclaren, the carpenter working on the renovation. He knew light was a priority for me.
“How about just donut?” Neville asked.
“That works,” I agreed. “Anton and I used to have a secret word when we were kids.”
“For what purpose?” Neville asked.
“Usually to let the other one know if our parents were on to us,” I said. “It was the hint to change up our story or confess before we made things worse.”
“What was the word?” Neville asked.
&nbs
p; I stifled a laugh. “Mucus.” We would find inventive ways to work the word into the conversation. Somehow, no one in the family caught on.
Neville wrinkled his nose. “You couldn’t use a more pleasant term like ‘bunny?’”
“My brother’s a vengeance demon and I’m a fury,” I said. “I think they got off easy with ‘mucus.’”
“Fair point,” Neville said.
I swiveled my chair toward him. “Have you gone through today’s transmissions yet?” Every day, we receive notices from Otherworld that we need to review. Escaped demons, potential threats to the area, new guidelines. It’s one of the main tasks required of our satellite FBM office. That, and check that the dormant portal to Otherworld located near Davenport Park isn’t ready to bust open and spill dangerous supernatural creatures into this tranquil, primarily human town.
“Already finished the review, O’ Majestic Goddess of Retribution.”
I gave him a stern look. “I’m not majestic, a goddess, or in need of retribution.”
“But you could be,” he said. “It’s in your nature.”
I shuddered. “Let’s not discuss my nature, please. You know how I feel about it.” I hated every aspect of it, that’s how I felt about it. If someone came to me tomorrow and said they could strip me of every fury trait I possessed, I’d empty my bank account. Take the wings. The immortality. The strength and speed. I would be more than happy to be a normal twenty-six year old woman with an annoying family and an excessive number of cat T-shirts.
He lifted a sheet of paper from his desk. “There’s an arrest warrant for a demon in this world. Known smuggler. Location unknown. All offices are on alert.”
“Show me.”
Neville set the alert on my desk. “His name is Handel Gottsberg.”
I examined the page. “Wait a minute. I know him. He’s the distributor that Corinne used for the coffee beans, the ones imported from Otherworld. Her mother recommended him.” No surprise that Rosalie LeRoux kept questionable company. Her antics didn’t rise to the level of my family’s, but her hands weren’t exactly squeaky clean either.
“Any reason to think he’d come to Chipping Cheddar to see her?” Neville asked.
“Can’t hurt to ask,” I said.
Neville seemed unconvinced. “Isn’t she the scary one in that coven?”
“Scary is probably an overstatement. She’s not the most trustworthy LeRoux, let’s put it that way.” And she happened to have a small place a couple blocks away where she conned unsuspecting humans with her fake psychic abilities. Rosalie was a LeRoux witch with ties to New Orleans, but her psychic abilities were limited to knowing my family’s opinion of her without needing to hear the words spoken.
“I’ll accompany you then,” Neville said. “No need for you to take one for the team.”
“Why not?” I asked. “That’s basically my specialty.”
Chapter Three
I strode into Rosalie’s place with Neville practically stepping on my heels behind me. With clashing animal prints and jewel-toned acrylic vessels scattered across every surface, the interior was as tacky as its occupant. Corinne certainly didn’t get her eye for style from her mother.
“Hey there, Rosalie,” I said.
She took a long drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out in a paper cup on the table. “Well, well. Eden Fury. Say, did you know they have entire conventions for your type? Freaks.”
I flinched. “Those aren’t furies. Those are furries.”
Rosalie inclined her head. “What’s the difference?”
“The extra letter ‘r,’” Neville said matter-of-factly.
Rosalie smirked. “I like this one.”
Neville straightened. “Why, thank you.”
“What do you need?” Rosalie asked. “Palm reading?” She wiggled her fingers. “No charge.”
“Funny,” I said. “I’m looking for information on a friend of yours.”
Rosalie leaned back in her chair. “You’ll have to be more specific. That’s a pretty long list.”
Neville held up the sheet of paper with Handel Gottsberg’s image. With his hooked nose and sunken eyes, he wasn’t the most attractive man on the planet. “This friend.”
Rosalie arched an eyebrow. “Is this because of the borer demon? I thought we’d moved past that little snafu.”
“I didn’t issue the alert,” I said. “This came from Otherworld.” Although I had no doubt the FBM passed along details of Handel’s involvement in the demon’s appearance in town.
“He’s a known smuggler,” Neville said.
“Handel’s a distributor,” Rosalie insisted. “That’s not a crime.”
“It is when he distributes items from Otherworld.”
“He sources hard-to-get items and distributes them.” Her lips curved into a smile. “For a price, of course.”
“Well, right now I’m a distributor,” I said, tapping the page. “And I’m distributing his image so I can find him.”
“Haven’t seen him,” Rosalie said. She picked up an emery board and began to file her nails. “Is that all?”
I inched closer and injected a pleading tone into my voice. “Rosalie, I’m really trying to bridge the gap between our families, so help a sister out. Tell me where I can find Handel.”
“I would’ve thought my daughter’s decision to date your beloved Chief Fox would wedge that gap wider than the Grand Canyon.”
My stomach tightened. “Not at all. Corinne knows we’re cool.”
Rosalie cackled. “Like she needs your blessing. Chief Fox was more than happy to indulge her…interest.”
Neville shot me a cautious look. “Perhaps we should stay on track.”
My hands clenched into fists. “I’m not looking to cause trouble, Rosalie, but I’m authorized to use my powers to get you to comply.”
Rosalie appeared impressed. “How about that? Sweet Eden Fury is finally turning sour. I wondered how long it would take to follow in your family’s footsteps.”
“I am nothing like them,” I snarled.
Neville stepped between us. “Ms. LeRoux, I don’t want to create drama here, but I have a weapon in my pocket and I’m not afraid to use it.”
Rosalie glanced down at his trousers. “I hope you mean a banana.”
Neville stuck his hand in his pocket. “One of my jobs is to make toys for Agent Fury to play with. Has she mentioned that?”
“Toys?” Rosalie repeated. She started to smile, but the expression on Neville’s face seemed to make her think better of it. “Fine.” She dropped the emery board. “Handel was here last week. We had lunch.”
“What did he want?” I asked.
“To apologize for what happened,” Rosalie said. “Whatever you might think of him, he felt terrible. He had no idea a borer demon had taken refuge in a coffee bean sack. He’s not trying to cause trouble. He only wants to make his clients happy.”
“He stopped by Chipping Cheddar to issue an apology?” I asked.
“That's right,” Rosalie said. “Just because he's an alleged smuggler doesn't mean he’s inconsiderate.”
“I like that you felt the need to say alleged,” I said. “I think everyone in this room has first-hand experience with his crime.”
“Did he say where he was off to next?” Neville asked.
Rosalie tapped the emery board on the table. “He mentioned something about Nashville.”
“Business or pleasure?” I asked.
Rosalie clucked her tongue. “Oh, Eden. So shortsighted of you to think it has to be one or the other. He might not be much to look at, but half his business model is being charming.”
“Does he have any plans to return here?” I asked.
“If he does, he didn't share his plans with me,” Rosalie said. “Does the FBM have a Nashville outpost?”
“You seem perfectly at ease with throwing a business associate under the bus,” I said.
Rosalie shrugged. “It might surprise you to learn that
I care about this town. Just because I don't run around with a badge doesn’t mean I don't have its best interests at heart.”
“In that case, why didn't you contact me when he came back to town?” I asked.
“Nice one,” Neville whispered and elbowed me.
“I didn't realize anyone was looking for him or I would have,” Rosalie said. “I know you’re still relatively new to the job, but you might want to think about brushing up on your communication skills.”
“Don't play ignorant with me,” I said. “You knew he was responsible for bringing the borer demon to town. Common sense dictates that I’d be interested in speaking with him.”
“Well, he was only here for an hour or so and he came unannounced,” Rosalie said.
“Did he see anyone else while he was here?” I asked.
“After lunch, yes, but he didn’t mention any names. His client list is confidential.”
“I guess so, considering they engage his illegal services,” I said.
Rosalie looked at me. “It’s not any different from an American tourist sneaking a bottle of wine in their suitcase after a visit to a French vineyard.”
“Actually, it’s a lot different,” I said. “And if you can’t see that, maybe you should ask your mother to explain.” Adele LeRoux served on the local supernatural council with me and was a respected community leader. She had no interest in breaking the law.
Rosalie snorted. “I don’t need any lessons from you, thanks. As far as this town is concerned, you’re the loser that destroyed the world’s biggest wheel of cheese.”
“Which I used to trap the borer demon,” I huffed, not that I could explain that to a town of unsuspecting humans.
Rosalie plucked another cigarette from inside her bra. “Any more questions before my mouth is otherwise engaged?”
Neville and I exchanged glances.
“No, I think we’re done for now,” I said, “but if you hear from Handel, I want you to contact me immediately.”
She waved the hand with the cigarette. “Yes, yes. You’ll be the first to know.”
After our fruitless visit to question Rosalie, Neville and I headed to Davenport Park for a training session where I defeated three simulated demons and leveled up. It was like a real life version of Little Critters. If I weren’t afraid of Grandma decimating half the town, I’d let her join in next time.
Bedtime Fury Page 2