by E. A. Copen
Han went over to stand beside Mia’s crib. “But I doubt you came here to discuss my medical interest in Mia Matthias so much as to check on her medical history and her condition.”
“That’s right. Were you treating Mia on a regular basis before she fell sick?”
“I am Marcus’ personal physician. I treat his entire household.”
I don’t know why, but when he said that, I found the fire reigniting in my chest. My fingernails dug into the meat of my palm, and I had to force myself to relax. “Mia isn’t a part of Marcus’ household. She never was, and she never will be.”
Han’s eyes slid up to me, half closed. He shrugged. “I take my orders from Marcus. I will continue to treat her until that consent is withdrawn, or someone else is qualified to make medical decisions on the child’s behalf.”
“Zoe can’t?”
“What do you think?”
I didn’t answer him. In my silence, I realized he hadn’t answered me either. “Was she generally a healthy kid? Hit all her milestones and such?”
He took up her wrist and stared at his watch a moment before answering, maintaining the same bored tone in his voice. “For your purposes, that information is not important. What you would really like to know is how fast her symptoms came on. You would also like a comprehensive list of her symptoms and to know if anyone else has been affected by the same indicators. Your theory assumes that this is a contagion, and if you can list a series of facts you can isolate a cause.” He dropped Mia’s arm. It fell to the mattress with a dull thud and he smiled at me. “Is that at all accurate?”
It took me a second to pick my jaw up off the floor. If Han wasn’t telepathic, picking thoughts from my brain, he was a damn good guesser. “Yeah, I guess.”
“I can email you her entire medical record. Marcus has already signed the necessary releases. I only need to know where to send it.”
Something about his smile made my skin crawl as he held a clipboard and pen out to me. The grin looked too big for his face. I took the clipboard from him and scribbled down my personal email. I was halfway through when he spoke again.
“It’s quite natural, your dislike of her.”
I looked up from the clipboard and narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Zoe. You feel threatened by her presence. From a biological standpoint, I suppose you’d be right. After all, even if you get everything you want, the best possible outcome for you is that you would be forced to raise another woman’s offspring. In warring bands of chimps, males often kill the offspring of rival males. It forces the female back into estrous and they breed with her. I have often observed this sort of mate competition among the females of your species.”
I finished jotting down my email and held the clipboard back out to him. “Our species, you mean.”
His smile widened, sending chills up my spine. “Do I?”
I let go of the clipboard, even though he hadn’t reached out to take it. It clattered to the floor between us, but he didn’t even flinch, nor did he make any move to retrieve the fallen clipboard. Instead, the doctor threw his head back and let out an uncharacteristically loud laugh. After a moment, he stopped and scratched at the corner of one eye. “I will not tell her you’ve been in to look after Mia, even though doing so would be far more interesting than keeping my silence. However, I will contact you if her condition changes.” He bobbed his head low and to the side as if dismissing me.
“See that you do,” I snapped in return and stormed out.
~
It was too early to call it a day and too late to do much else, so I drove out of the parking lot with my mind set to deal with my other problem. Werewolf boyfriends and sick children aside, I still had to worry about getting my house back in order and trying to find out who had wrecked it.
Keeping tabs on supernatural hate groups that moved in and out of the area was part of my job description. That happened more often than I cared to think about. The first amendment kept me from being able to arrest them so long as they staged peaceful protests in designated areas. My house was not a designated area. Neither was Patsy’s friend’s. Patsy said this wasn’t the first crime of its kind. A vampire’s house had been set on fire. I didn’t want to say out loud that I already knew who was behind both crimes. Hate crimes weren’t rare, especially against supernaturals, but Paint Rock was a supernatural reservation. Even though they didn’t get along, I didn’t think one group would target another. Oh, the hate was there. Just everybody understood that you didn’t throw matches into gasoline. Like it or not, the fae, werewolves, and vampires called Paint Rock home, and nobody wants to destroy peace in their home. It had to be an outside group.
There were dozens of species oriented hate groups: The Anti-Vampire League of America (AVLA for short), Iron Maidens (who opposed fae rights), The Humans First Coalition. The closest office for any of them was in Austin. While that didn’t eliminate them from the pool of possible suspects, the Vanguards of Humanity were the more likely candidates. They’d just opened an office in downtown Eden and helped back Sheriff Maude’s campaign for re-election.
After being gouged for downtown parking in the garage, I walked the block and a half down the sidewalk under an angry sun. November in Concho County meant the temperatures dipped down into the seventies on cold days, which meant the locals put on sweaters. Where I come from, seventy was shorts weather, but the people in Eden had donned their coats and long sleeves.
In front of a strip of glass store fronts, a middle-aged man handed out pamphlets. He stopped me, shoved one in front of my face and asked, “How about you? Do you hate crime?” The picture on the front page made my stomach reel and my head wonder how they’d gotten it. It was from the crime scene at Aisling, the last case I’d worked. Blood, gore, and guts were splattered all over a wall under film equipment.
“Get that the hell out of my face,” I growled, and then shoved the paper aside.
“You like crime in your neighborhood, then?”
The man obviously didn’t know who I was. I decided to swallow my disgust and play along. “Nobody likes crime. Not many folks like having a bloody picture shoved in their face either, pal.”
He ignored my objection once again and launched into his speech. “In neighborhoods densely populated by supernaturals, the crime rate is as much as thirty times higher than human-only neighborhoods. At the same time, more supernaturals than ever are on some form of public assistance. Your hard-earned tax dollars are feeding criminals, lady.”
I took the pamphlet he was holding out to me and leafed through it. “Your literature is citing a study that your organization funded. You’re not worried about confirmation bias?”
“No one else is doing the research, lady.”
“BSI is.” I held the pamphlet out to him. “And your numbers are a little off. In fact, BSI studies found that there was no strong correlation between the density of supernatural populations in an area and crime rates.”
The man blinked and stuttered, “Well, then how do you explain all the crime at the reservation down the road? A bunch of kids got snatched up by a murderer last year. That doesn’t happen here.”
“The perpetrator wasn’t even a U.S. citizen, let alone a resident of the reservation.”
“Everyone knows you go to Paint Rock to buy drugs.”
“Really?” I fished in my pocket and brought out my badge. He gave it a nervous glance. “You know who’s selling? That way I can do something about it.”
“What do you want, lady?” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Nothing you’ve got.” I knocked my shoulder into him as I passed on the way to the door.
A bell tinkled when I pushed open the door on a small storefront with printing materials in the back. Pamphlets like the one the man outside had tried to hand to me lined the counter and walls. There was a donation jar sitting to the right of a cash register. As soon as the door closed, the bell jingled again, and another middle-aged man came up from the back.
“Can I help ya?” he said in a very Texan accent.
I showed him my badge right away. “You know anything about someone throwing a flaming brick into a vampire’s house?” I hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but the guy out front pissed me off. Tact is hard.
The guy behind the counter smiled at me and gave a lighthearted chuckle. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about the Vanguard, miss, but we’re not a hate group. We’re a nationally recognized non-profit.”
“You’re a bunch of rich white guys who don’t like anyone who isn’t a rich white guy,” I snapped. “And if I ever see you, or any of your other members in or near Paint Rock, I won’t arrest you. I’ll give your names and pictures to my werewolf friends. How’s that for being a dog fucker?”
His face paled. “We are an organization that promotes basic human rights and equality. Safety and sane lawmaking.”
“I know hate when I see it.”
He shook his head. “You’re mistaking exclusivity for hate. It’s not the same thing. All we’re doing is trying to make sure humans have the same rights they’ve always had. I don’t think that’s wrong. Do you?”
I was so mad by then that I couldn’t see straight. I slammed my hand down on the counter. A lightning flash of pain traveled through my palm and up my arm, and I hissed at the pain. “Now, you listen to me,” I started but never got the chance to finish.
The door chime jingled again and a heavyset beat cop I recognized as one of Sheriff Maude’s crew stepped through. He hooked his thumbs on his belt and said, “Is there a problem in here?”
“No problem,” I spat and turned away from the counter, headed for the door. “You boys all keep your noses clean.”
“You don’t have any jurisdiction here,” the man in the shop yelled after me as I went out.
He was right. Without opening a formal case, I couldn’t make any arrests, and I didn’t want to open a case. BSI would send someone down again to complicate my life further. Even if I did open a case, I didn’t have any evidence. Maude was still the lame duck sheriff for another two months until Tindall got sworn in, and his boy had gotten there awful fast to back up the Vanguard. The next two months were going to be a living hell if I tried to move against the Vanguard or Maude. It was best to just leave things as they were. After all, it was only an isolated incident.
Chapter Ten
I drove back to Paint Rock unable to get Sal’s little girl out of my mind.
Mia. A werewolf. Not just any child werewolf. One immune to silver. That was huge and scary at the same time. The minute BSI figured out what she was, they’d want to pick her apart cell by cell to see how she worked. Han might do the same if given the chance. I didn’t get the feeling the doctor was concerned about her as a person, but rather, as a viable specimen for whatever it was he had planned. The doctor creeped me the hell out.
But her unique abilities weren’t the only reason for my concern. Mia deserved a chance at as normal a life as possible, something she wouldn’t get if she stayed with her mother. Sal deserved the chance to be with his daughter. There was no way I could do that and not hurt Sal. I’d eventually have to tell him I knew about her. Not just that, but I’d lost her and let her spend the first part of her life among monsters. I’d been lying to Sal by omission for over a year. The realization of that weighed heavily on my heart as I pulled into Patsy’s driveway.
The curtain on her front window moved aside, and she pulled open the door, a hand pressed flat to her brow to block out the sun. Despite the heat, she wore a floral print blouse and a dark blue cardigan. “Oh, thank my lucky stars. I thought I’d scared you off earlier.”
I wasn’t eager to take up our earlier conversation again, so I redirected it as I approached her trailer. “Do you have the time?”
Patsy rested her wrist against her hip. “Don’t you have a clock in your car?”
“Not in my car. Display’s busted.”
She gave a huff and stepped back. I took the opportunity to slide in and shut the door behind me. “It’s after four,” Patsy informed me. “If you want to look halfway decent, we’re going to have to take a few shortcuts.”
“I hate dressing up,” I growled at her as she went to retrieve the sparkly red dress from where she’d left it on the chair. “Maybe I’ll just stick to my t-shirt and jeans.”
Patsy pressed her pale lips together and shook her head emphatically. “It wouldn’t please Master Kelley, and you don’t want to displease the master.” She held the dress out to me.
I took it and frowned at it. “Why does everyone call him that?”
“Because he is lord and master over all vampires in the area.” Patsy shrugged. “And because he prefers it. Titles like that have been used for centuries, since before we were civilized.” She put an arm behind me and gestured down the hall. “You can change in my room, dear. I’ll see if I have some makeup for you.”
Patsy’s bedroom was small, decorated in eclectic Americana. A giant, white star hung over a headboard of unfinished wood. A striped yellow cat with white mittens looked up at me from his spot on the bed and watched with disinterest as I peeled the day-old clothes off my body and frowned at myself in Patsy’s full length mirror.
I try not to be too vain or care too much about my looks. I’m a thirty-something single mom, and I spend my days chasing supernatural criminals. With a life that busy, who has time for hairdressers and manicures? But I looked even worse than normal. Since coming to Paint Rock, I’d put on five pounds thanks to sitting behind the desk too much and Sal’s cooking and it showed. If only I was one of those girls who carried all her weight in the chest instead of the ass. I wasn’t sure the dress would fit if it was small in the hips.
Patsy knocked on the door. “Is everything all right, dear?”
“Fine,” I shouted back and grabbed the dress to shimmy in.
Inside, I secretly prayed it would be too tight, and I’d have to tell Patsy I couldn’t wear it. Marcus had told me to dress nice. Maybe a rumpled t-shirt and jeans wasn’t nice, but she probably had a set of dress slacks somewhere that I could borrow instead, or at least a long skirt. No dice. The dress fit like a charm, even if it left my bra straps showing. Luckily, I don’t have the mixed blessing of being a well-endowed woman, so taking off the bra cleared up the problem.
I wadded my clothes into a ball along with my tennis shoes and opened the door to find Patsy waiting. Her eyes traveled down, scrutinizing, before she held out a pair of matching red sling back high heels.
“I don’t think—”
Patsy broke in and shoved the shoes at me. “Nonsense, dear. You could use the height.”
I was ready to protest further when someone knocked on the door. Patsy jumped and grabbed me by the arm. “Oh, dear. We’ve been too long. Hurry, go back in and do something with your hair. There’s a ruby necklace in my jewelry box. Take it. You need something to br,eak up all that pale skin.”
“Pale?” I said in protest but Patsy shoved me back into the bedroom and shut the door. I stood behind the closed door and thought to myself, You know you don’t get enough sun if a vampire calls you pale.
An unfamiliar male voice spoke in hushed tones as soon as Patsy opened the door and she responded loudly, welcoming him inside. Not Marcus, then. I would have recognized his voice. Probably his driver.
One of the reasons I don’t worry about doing up my hair is because it never listens to me. Even though I’d combed it out earlier, it had worked itself back into a giant rat’s nest on the back of my head. I pulled the brush out of my pocket and ripped through it, pulling more out than I straightened. Once I deemed it good enough, I put a quick braid in and wound it into a tight bun. Patsy’s jewelry box also had some bobby pins, which helped. I didn’t see the ruby necklace and thought about not bothering. This was a business meeting, not a date, and I couldn’t care less about impressing Marcus. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted anything around my neck to draw his attention. I closed the box without searching for any more je
welry and slid into the shoes. They were a little big for me, which made walking more difficult. I practiced walking from one end of the room to the other, crossing twice before I was sure I wouldn’t fall on my face.
Patsy knocked on the door again. This time, she didn’t wait for me to answer before she opened it and poked her head inside.
“I’m ready,” I announced.
She opened the door and stepped in, frowning at me as I passed.
I was in the hallway before I realized I’d been completely wrong about the driver. Marcus stood in the living room wearing a suit of charcoal grey, hands in his pockets. He seemed to be examining something on the wall before I came out but quickly abandoned it to look at me. A smug but slight smile touched the corners of his mouth, and he narrowed his eyes. “Ah, so there is a fine-looking woman under all of that. I thought she might be in there somewhere.”
My face flushed, and I wished I’d never agreed to go to dinner with Marcus. I almost turned around and went back to hide in the bedroom, but Patsy touched her fingers lightly to my forearm and said, “Yes, she does clean up nicely, doesn’t she?”
I saw that she was beaming ear to ear, and realized that there was a reason she’d insisted on the dress, the shoes, and the jewelry and it had nothing to do with me. This was Patsy’s opportunity to win favor with Marcus, to do something to impress him. I was a prize dog in a dog show that she’d groomed and polished to make the judges sit up and take notice. I closed my hand over hers and clasped. It wasn’t meant to be a friendly gesture. I squeezed tight enough that I felt her try to pull away, but I didn’t let go until Marcus held his hand out to me.
“Well done, Patsy,” he said.
He might as well have asked her to marry him for as excited as she got. Her eyes widened as did her smile—which, up until that moment, I believed was impossible. “Yes, Master,” Patsy answered with a husky tremble in her voice.