by Jayne Faith
I glanced to the left out of the corners of my eyes when a car pulled up next to my truck. I probably looked deranged, sitting there muttering to myself—well, muttering to the reaper, not that it made me seem any less crazy—with my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
I kept focusing on my breath. When the hunger finally subsided to a dull ache deep in my stomach, I nearly went limp with relief.
Back at home, Damien was sitting at the tiny kitchen table drinking coffee and reading something on his phone.
His eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of me. “You look worried,” he said.
I went for the coffee pot with one hand while the other hand rummaged in the cabinet above for a mug. I sloshed brew into the cup, gulped without letting it cool enough, and winced as it burned all the way down.
“I went to a clinic. The healing went well, but the reaper wants to, well, reap,” I said. “But not just souls of the dead. It was eyeing the soul of the healer like she was a Christmas dinner prime rib roast. It’s not as bad now, but I still feel like I want to scarf down every soul on the block. It’s like this awful, insatiable need.” My mouth twisted with revulsion.
He drew back a little, his brow furrowing.
I gave him a withering look. “Relax, I’m not going to snatch your soul and eat it for breakfast. I can control it. I think, anyway.”
“Maybe you just need to . . . reap, every so often,” he said. “Only souls that need reaping, of course.”
I grimaced at the thought. “Maybe you’re right. I’m not crazy about the idea of moonlighting as a reaper, though. I mean, doing the work of an actual angel of death?” I shuddered.
I didn’t know anything about angels of death beyond what I’d personally experienced the past few months. They were mostly the stuff of fables. They couldn’t be trapped and studied like demons. At least, I didn’t think so. I needed to know more about them, and since I’d met Atriul I could.
The time on the stove’s clock caught my eye. Damn. I really was going to be late if I didn’t leave the house in ten.
“You can go ahead to the station if you want,” I said over my shoulder as I headed to my room. “I’m just going to change, and I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay, but no shenanigans. You’d better come straight to work.”
“Promise,” I called to him.
I heard his chair slide back against the linoleum and a moment later the sound of the front door opening and closing.
I quickly put on my Demon Patrol uniform and added a patrol-issue jacket over the getup. I tightened my service belt around my waist, attached my whip at my left hip, and grabbed a hair elastic and tucked my Patrol baseball cap under my arm. In the summer I wore the visor instead, but it was cool enough now for the hat. Another month or so, and I’d trade it for the ski cap.
I let Loki in from the back yard, refilled my mug, and then I was out the door. At a stoplight I pulled my hair back into a long ponytail and fitted my cap on my head.
My shift hadn’t even started yet, and I already felt antsy to turn my attention to other things. I had to find a way to contact Atriul. Another Baelman was coming with the new moon on Halloween, and I recalled what Damien had said about Samhain this year—it would be a crossroads of events that he suspected would give a big boost to dark magic. And if a Baelman wasn’t a thing of dark magic, I’d eat my next paycheck.
So basically, the next Baelman would be born on the most powerful dark magic day in decades, and it would be looking for Deb and her friends.
We’d have to intercept and destroy it, but there was something else that kept poking at the back of my brain. I still didn’t know why the Baelmen wanted to kill the witches.
I pulled into the lot at the station and eased into my parking spot. When I walked through the double doors, I nearly crashed into Sasha Bowen, a fellow officer, coming the other way.
I brightened. “Hey, Sasha, how are you? We should get a drink sometime.”
She grabbed my forearm and pulled me off to the side. “Sergeant Devereux is looking for you, and there are two Supernatural Crimes suits with him.”
My smile folded into a grimace. “Blond lady and a tall guy?” I asked.
“Yep.”
I groaned. “Thanks for the heads up.”
Seriously? Had they really chased me here to my place of work? I knew they wanted to ask me questions about the Baelman. Barnes had all but promised to remove the monitor if I showed up at the SC precinct and succumbed to their grilling. In retrospect, I supposed it was a little petulant of me to refuse to comply with her agenda just on principle.
Part of me wanted to turn around and go right back out to my truck, but I knew I’d have to face whatever was waiting for me. Would have been nice to keep my sergeant from finding out about the ankle monitor, though. I was already on his shit list, and this would just be one more giant mark against me. It wouldn’t matter that I hadn’t actually done anything wrong.
I headed for Devereux’s office. When I stopped in the doorway, he and the two detectives went quiet.
“Hey, it’s three of my very favorite people, all jammed into five square feet. My lucky day!” I knew I shouldn’t have said it, or at least not with quite so much sarcasm, but it slipped out anyway. Actually it was unfair to Lagatuda. He seemed all right. It wasn’t his fault he had to partner with Barnes.
Devereux and Barnes both reacted with similar red-faced irritation. For a split second I wondered if Barnes was single. I was pretty sure Devereux was. Maybe the two of them could get together and exchange pissy glances over a candlelit dinner.
“Officer Grey.” Devereux’s southern accent always made him sound nicer and gentler than he was. At first, anyway. “These detectives have been telling me about how they came to know you and how they expected you at their station this morning. Yet here you are.”
He paused, clearly waiting for me to say something in my own defense.
“Yeah, well, I’m really dedicated to my job,” I said quietly. It was the truth. I detested my boss, but I did think the work was important, and I knew I was good at it. I tilted a look at Barnes. “Maybe you haven’t heard that I received a commendation recently. Not to mention the fact that I did your job, too, by killing that Baelman the other night.”
I wasn’t trying to brag. I was just sick of being treated like a criminal by Barnes and a delinquent by Devereux.
Barnes’s eyes narrowed when I mentioned the Baelman, and uncertainty crossed her face for a split second before she composed her expression back into her usual pinched distaste. I swallowed a groan. Maybe I shouldn’t have called the thing out by name. Barnes didn’t seem to like that.
“You and the detectives can discuss that further at Supernatural Crimes,” Devereux said. “You’ll be on leave until you can resume your duties here.”
My mouth dropped open. Wait, what? They should have been giving me a medal for killing the man-demon. What the hell were they going to accuse me of now?
Chapter 13
THE STARES OF the other Demon Patrol officers tracked me as I walked through the station hallways bookended by Barnes and Lagatuda, but at least Barnes didn’t slap cuffs on me. I almost wished she would have. Then at least they would have had to explain what the hell was going on.
They insisted on driving me to their station, so I had to leave my truck behind. Once there, they shuffled me into the same tiny interrogation room as before.
My anger flared as the two detectives sat across from me. I leaned forward. “You’re costing me wages, and if I get any more grief from my Sergeant over this, I’m going to sue. You have no proof of any wrongdoing on my part, and keeping this monitor on me is harassment.”
I was punctuating my words with hard jabs of my index finger on the surface of the scratched table. They waited until I’d finished and leaned back with my arms crossed.
“You’re not going to be arrested,” Barnes said. “And we’ll remove the monitor.”
My eyes went wide as the gathering storm of my mood paused.
“Oh, really? Why the change of heart?” I asked, making no attempt to hide my bitterness.
They glanced at each other.
“We did some more magic forensics on the crime scene data after we claimed the body of the—the Baelman,” Barnes said, tripping a little over the thing’s name. “We know now that it was the killer, and we believe you played no part in the crimes, in spite of your suspicious behavior and the similarities between your signature and the signature found at the scenes.”
“Well, hallelujah,” I said sarcastically, but tiny wisps of relief began to inch through me.
I didn’t want to get too excited yet, though. They could have just removed my monitor in Devereux’s office and let me go. Instead, they’d brought me here, so I knew there was more.
Barnes looked at Lagatuda, and silent signal seemed to pass between them.
He fidgeted in his seat, adjusting one side of his open slate-gray sport jacket. “We, uh, need your help,” he said.
I quirked a brow at them. Well, this was certainly a turn of events. Not that I was necessarily going to agree to anything.
“We have no record of this Baelman, as you called it,” Barnes said. “We think it could be a newly spawned species.”
“Spawned? Like from the Rip?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Lagatuda said with a small shake of his head. “We were hoping you could tell us something about them.”
I narrowed my eyes and shifted forward, resting my folded arms on the table. “Take my monitor off and get me a guarantee that I won’t lose any pay, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Barnes rose and left, presumably to fetch someone who could remove the damned ankle device.
I had no reason to keep my limited knowledge about the Baelmen from them. After all, they were Supernatural Crimes and much better equipped to deal with a new supernatural threat than I was alone—even if I had single-handedly disposed of one of the creatures. I didn’t actually have much to say about the Baelmen, but they didn’t know that.
“We got permission from your sergeant to borrow you for a period of time,” Lagatuda said, speaking quickly in a clear attempt to reassure me. “When he said ‘leave’ it only referred to the fact that we’ll be paying you while you’re working with us. If you choose to, that is.”
I snorted. “You could’ve told me that at the station.”
“We wanted to keep it quiet.”
“So you marched me through my place of work like a fricking criminal? Gee, thanks for the subtlety and the careful preservation of my dignity.” I huffed out a loud breath and massaged a temple with the fingers of one hand, trying to get my irritation under control.
We had a common goal, I reminded myself. We all wanted to keep the Baelmen from killing anyone else. From killing my best friend.
Lagatuda lifted his hands in a small gesture. “Sorry, Ella. Wasn’t my call,” he said in a low voice.
“That I can believe.” I gave him a wry look.
We both went silent as Barnes returned with an SC officer, a meaty guy with a horseshoe of thin reddish hair around his balding crown. With some effort, he got down on one knee next to my chair. I pulled up my pant leg, and he touched a white fob to my monitor. His little tool looked like it was crusted with crystals—spell salt, I guessed. The flexible ankle monitor glowed with the pale blue of water magic and then opened and fell to the floor.
I pushed my cuff back down, suddenly feeling about twenty pounds lighter.
Barnes took her seat, watched the officer leave, waited until the door was closed, and then turned to me.
“What do you know?” It was barely a question, bordering on a demand.
I pierced her with a hard look for a beat. Her people skills could really use some work. She stretched her lips in what was probably supposed to be a conciliatory expression.
I repeated what Atriul had told me about the Baelmen, including the part about how another one would be making an appearance at the upcoming new moon.
“No one can say for sure that the next one will be going after the same targets, but for the safety of my friends, I’m going to assume that’s the case,” I said. I locked eyes with each of them in turn. “Don’t you think that’s the best approach?”
“How do you know all of this?” Barnes asked, ignoring my question.
My jaw muscles flexed in irritation. Her condescending attitude was getting really fricking old.
“An associate who would prefer not to be identified,” I said, my voice frosty. I gave my head a shake to cut her off before she could ask. “I’m not going to tell you who it is. Don’t push me on this, if you want my help.”
She pursed her lips for a beat. “If your information is correct, then we know approximately when it will appear. But where?”
Oh, now it’s “we,” huh?
“That’s what I aim to find out next,” I said. “But I need assistance from my Patrol partner, Damien Stein. He’s got some working theories about the Baelmen.”
Barnes started to brush me off with a little flick of her hand. “We don’t have authorization for—”
“Damien Stein. Look him up,” I interrupted. “He’s a scholar, one of the brightest minds in the country when it comes to theories about magical shifts as they relate to location, time, and other influences. We need him.”
I was thinking fast, and to some extent making it up as I was talking, but I was pretty sure Damien’s credentials would back up my claims well enough.
“Why would a renowned scholar be on Demon Patrol?” Lagatuda asked. To his credit, he didn’t sound too incredulous.
“Part of his studies,” I said. “He moved here specifically to research the local supernatural phenomena.”
Damien had more or less told me that this was true, but he’d remained mysterious about the details. When we’d first met, I’d been less curious about his vague explanation, but I realized the past several weeks had slowly piqued my interest in his work.
“Look him up,” I said again. “You’ll see it’s all true. If you can afford to cover me, you can afford to take him on, too. We have, what, less than two weeks until the next new moon? You saw the thing that killed Amanda. We need every advantage we can get. It’s not going to hurt anyone to put Damien on the SC payroll for a few days. Better that than more deaths on your hands and living with the knowledge you should have used every resource when you had the chance. Right?”
With her lips pressed into a thin line, Barnes blew a noisy breath out her nose, and I knew I’d won. I held back a triumphant smile. Didn’t want to jinx anything before it was official.
She stood, her chair scraping back loudly as if it, too, were annoyed that she had to give into my request. “Fine. We’ll make the arrangements. In the meantime, we expect you to get to work figuring out where the Baelman is going to appear and learning anything else you can. Detective Lagatuda will be working with you.”
I shook my head. “No, I work alone or with Damien. I don’t need a Supernatural Crimes babysitter.”
She gave me a little narrow-eyed smile. “That’s not your call to make. You’re on our payroll now, Officer Grey.”
Damn.
Well, at least I had Damien, too. And since the monitor had been removed from my leg, it should be a fairly simple task to slip away from Lagatuda when needed.
Barnes left, and Lagatuda took me to an office with a desk and chair where he gave me a tablet with legal paperwork, waivers, and contracts to read and sign. I noted with interest that I was classified as an independent consultant, and the fee they’d be paying me was almost three times what I made on Patrol. It also meant that technically I wasn’t a Supernatural Crimes employee, contrary to Barnes’s jab, but another document I had to sign basically spelled out that I had to agree to whatever logistical terms my SC supervisor dictated. And who was I reporting to? Of course—Barnes.
Next, Lagatuda got me an SC co
nsultant badge. And I didn’t like it, but the contract also said I was obligated to allow him to install an SC app on my phone.
“Keep the badge and your phone with you at all times,” he said. He opened the app and pointed to a red dot the size of a dime. “This is a panic button. If you get in trouble, hold your finger on this dot for three seconds, and we’ll respond immediately.”
I eyed my phone, suddenly feeling like it might betray me since it had a piece of SC installed on it. Keep it with me at all times? Right. Unlike the ankle tracker, the phone wasn’t attached to my body, and just because I was on the SC payroll didn’t mean I was going to let them monitor me 24/7.
Lagatuda gave me a ride back to my truck.
“Change into street clothes, and come back to the station at one for a briefing. Then we’ll go from there,” he said.
“Will you be able to get Damien into the briefing, too?” I asked.
“We’ll try.”
I got into my pickup, and feeling a little unsettled about ditching Demon Patrol, I headed to my apartment. I briefly wondered how Devereux would get coverage for me and Damien on such short notice, but that wasn’t my job, and I couldn’t afford to worry about it. There were plenty of officers trained to do catch minor demons, but only a few people in a position to help give the next Baelman a deadly welcome to our dimension.
At home, I considered the contents of my closet. The other detectives all wore button-down shirts and suits or nice pants with a blazer over a solid t-shirt. I didn’t own any blazers, and I sure as hell didn’t have anything resembling a suit. I pulled out a pair of black stretchy pants that were styled with pockets and details to make them look like regular pants—about as close to slacks as anything in my wardrobe.
A pale green t-shirt and a cropped, lightweight silver down jacket would have to do. A blazer would never work over the bulk of my service belt, anyway. And there was no way I was going anywhere without that—Barnes would have to physically fight me for it if she tried to force the issue.