by Gina LaManna
I stood, my knees creaking with the effort, as I surveyed my brother and the necromancer. My thoughts were whirring a hundred miles an hour through my head, but it was the feelings of frustration that I was struggling to keep hidden.
“If you knew all of this,” I said, “then why the hell am I here?”
Nash looked queasy at my questions, but Sienna held my gaze firmly. “We had to make sure.”
“Make sure what?” I asked. “That I was telling the truth?”
At once, I knew that was it. My own friends, my family, didn’t trust me to be honest when Matthew’s life was at stake.
“You thought I would doctor the results of the Residuals to spare Matthew’s reputation?” My fists clenched, and I could barely speak for fear of my voice shaking. “Don’t you two know me at all?”
“We do,” Sienna said, “but this is a sensitive matter. There’s one vampire in the borough, and you’re madly in love with him.”
“When you fell into trouble, Nash,” I said, ignoring Sienna and rounding on my brother, “who believed you? Who stuck up for you?”
“It was my decision,” Sienna said firmly. “I had to know.”
I glared at her.
“If you’ll remember,” she said smoothly, “it wasn’t all that long ago you suspected me of a crime I didn’t—and would never—commit. Fair’s fair, Detective.”
“I’m—” I blanched. “What is this, a game?”
“We both know it’s not.” Sienna stepped close, a few inches shorter and thirty pounds skinnier than me, but she didn’t appear the least bit intimidated. “Love can cloud one’s judgment. The chief didn’t want you to step foot at this crime scene, but I fought him on it. I got you ten minutes here that you’d never have had otherwise.”
“Didn’t want me here?” I gave a shake of my head. “That’s ridiculous. In fact, Matthew should be here, too. If anyone knows about vampires, it’s him.”
“Where the hell’s the vampire that killed her?” Sienna raised her hands, gestured around. “You and I know Matthew wouldn’t do any such thing, Detective, but the borough is sensitive. The mayoral elections are coming up, and the chief has a lot of pressure to keep things running smoothly. He’s just doing his best.”
“Then Matthew should be here,” I said. “I’m going to find him.”
“Good,” Sienna said. “Go find him. Then ask him how the hell one of his kind got into the borough without our knowing it.”
“It could be a disguise,” I said. “A charm, a hex, a curse. Something to imitate a vampire. Sorcerers or spellslingers—even a witch. We can’t rule out the fact that it might not be a vamp.”
“Exactly,” Sienna said, waving her arm at the crime scene. “Be my guest. Rule it out. Do you see any evidence of a Cloaker? Some sort of curse that can mimic vampire poison? Anything? Give me something, Detective, I’m begging you.”
“It hasn’t gone unnoticed by the chief that the vic was a new werewolf,” Nash said. “As you know, there is bad blood that goes back centuries between the two warring sides.”
“So, Detective,” Sienna said, her voice softer, kinder, than usual. “What’ll it be?”
I gave one last look at the vic, studied her for any trace of a spell that would set Matthew free. Then I turned on a heel and stormed from the crime scene, leaving Sienna and Nash without a word.
The dead girl had been killed by a vampire.
An impossible task, seeing as Matthew had been the only vampire to step foot in the borough for centuries. We had protection against them, warnings. Their kind could be lethal and unpredictable.
But not Matthew. He’d overcome his nature a long time ago. However, even as I stormed toward the precinct ready to battle the chief, I knew how it would look for Matthew... and it wasn’t good.
I clomped up the stairs to the precinct—noting some recent cracks in their veneer—and blew past the annoying goblin at the front desk without a backward glance. I made it to the chief’s office in record time.
“How dare you!” I burst through his door without a knock. “How dare you, sir! You can’t pull Matthew off the case. It’s—”
“Ah, Detective.” The chief gave me a thin smile. “Do sit down. I’ve been expecting you.”
Chapter 5
After Matthew was rather abruptly ejected from the crime scene, he stepped back and watched Danielle work from a distance. She had stared after him, a mix of shock and dismay on her face, as she watched him retreat into the distance.
From a few blocks away, Matthew’s rather exceptional eyesight roved the crime scene, seeing almost as well as if he were standing right next to Dani. But it wasn’t the same. Not this time. He wasn’t supposed to be looking, sensing, helping—he wasn’t allowed to step foot beyond the roped off barriers.
Dani’s shoulders were tight as she spoke with Sienna. Moments later, they were joined by Nash, and the three of them conversed in low tones. From a half mile away, Matthew could tell the three were uncomfortable, and even when one of them attempted a smile, it was strained and tense. Their jokes fell flat, their chatter was relegated to business-only exchanges of information.
Matthew stuck around, watching as Danielle began to examine the Residuals. He watched her stare at things that couldn’t be seen, her face scrunched in complete and utter concentration. Usually, it was a beautiful thing. To see Dani so wrapped up in something else, so focused, so enthralled by her work was a joy to Matthew, despite the fact that her job was surrounded by death.
This time, however, his rock-solid muscles were knotted with concern and frustration. Not as much for himself, but for Dani—for the fact that she’d been put in this position. She would be thinking that her testimony had the ability to free or condemn Matthew—because the only reason Matthew would be kept out of his own crime scene was if there was suspicion he might be involved.
Matthew suspected that things weren’t looking good, based on the stiff way Dani was yanking up the victim’s sleeve and examining her for evidence in the Residuals. When she stood, her face passively fighting back frustration, Matthew knew he had to move.
His feet carried him across the borough. He chose to walk, though he didn’t keep to human speeds. Brushing down the street, he noted the crime had occurred in a dim, dingy neighborhood. Small houses with peeling paint in startling shades of yellow and pink were flanked by boarded up windows and rundown lawns.
Matthew spotted the remnants of stolen and recycled broomsticks, spray-painted cauldrons, and magazines featuring well-endowed witches face down in the gutters. Why would a woman as pretty and as clearly well off as the victim be walking through here? Matthew mused.
The vic had been dressed very nicely—too nicely for this neighborhood. Had she been lured here? Dumped here? Led away willingly by a boyfriend or colleague?
It was with hearty frustration that Matthew climbed the stairs to the precinct. His footsteps left tiny indentations in the stone steps out front, but nobody said a word as he stormed through the front door. The power-tripping goblin at the front desk didn’t bother to squeak for identification as Matthew made his way upward to the chief’s office.
“Hello, King,” the chief said, even before Matthew turned the door handle. “I trust you’ll be footing the bill to re-pour the concrete on the front steps?”
Matthew came face to face with Chief Newton and didn’t bother with a smile. His fangs would show anyway, and that would defeat the purpose of trying to be polite.
“I might not have a salary to pay up if I keep getting kicked off crime scenes.” Matthew stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Clearly the chief had been expecting his rage-filled stomp through the borough with a finish line at his desk. “What’s happening out there, Chief?”
“Captain, you know I like you.” The chief began to speak, looked uncomfortable. “But I, ah... have to speak with you about the case. Candidly.”
Matthew thought things must be bad if the chief was trying to be positiv
e. “I’m listening.”
“We got wind of a dead woman nearly an hour ago. Sent over the techs, waited for Sienna—almost gave you the call,” the chief admitted. “But before I could Comm you, we got an executive order handed down from the NYPD.”
“You’re the chief,” Matthew said. “Doesn’t go much higher than you.”
“NYPD,” Chief Newton repeated. “The New York branch.”
Matthew managed to raise his eyebrows. “How’d they catch wind of a case in Wicked?”
“They have a dispatcher who filters through our calls, keep tabs on things,” he said. “Standard procedure. We keep in close contact with our mother agency on cases where we think the outcome might affect the greater New York area.”
“You mean, a case where the results might affect humans.”
The chief confirmed with a nod. “Seems the dispatcher elevated the call to the head of the agency, and Chief Lemont got on the Comm. He made sure, in no uncertain terms, that you were to be reassigned to other cases.”
“Arthur Lemont Commed you?” Matthew couldn’t help the wisp of surprise curling through his words. “Why does the head of the NYPD care what happens in our department?”
“Vampire attacks have been...mostly eliminated in major cities,” Chief Newton explained. “They know what happens if they attack in daylight, in public spaces, in a way that raises questions. It’s not pretty.”
“I’m well aware,” Matthew said dryly. “As I happen to be one of them.”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying,” the chief growled. “I’m saying them—the ones who haven’t evolved, who live like they did when they were first changed, who base all of their decisions off primal instincts.”
“I assume there’s a compliment to me in there somewhere,” Matthew said dryly. “That you think I have more control than a dog?”
“Shut up, King,” the chief said briskly, his fingers fumbling with a stray napkin on his desk. “I have my orders, and I’m following them. Same as when you give orders to your lieutenants—they’re expected to follow them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well?” The chief waved a hand as if that solved everything. “I’m going to need you to sit this one out. I’m sorry.”
“As a captain, it’s also my duty to watch out for my detectives, my lieutenants,” Matthew said. “And when I believe one of them has been wronged, I go to bat for them.”
Chief Newton’s mottled face turned intriguing shades of purple and red. “I am looking out for your best interests.”
“I think the borough’s best interests would be to have me on this case.” Matthew gave a stiff shrug. “If I’m not mistaken, it appears you believe I’m innocent.”
“Of course you are. I’ve never doubted that.”
“So, what’s the trouble?” Matthew asked. “It’s my unit. I know this borough better than anyone. I know murder better than most. And I don’t need to know about vampires because I am one. I deserve to be on this case.”
“It’s not about innocence or guilt.” The chief raised one hand in apology. “It’s an election year. I have pressure from Councilman Blott and the other candidates. I’m getting pounded from the NYPD’s main branch. We’re just an offshoot, you know; we report in. There are ranks above me, and when they hand down orders, they’re orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hell, I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to you.” The chief babbled, clearly disgruntled, but Matthew didn’t take pity on the orc as he continued to flounder. “It’s an order, Captain. You’re off the case.”
Matthew stood perfectly still. He found it set others at unease when he did so; it showed the true extent of his paranormal tendencies. He didn’t need to breathe, blink, eat, shift. He was as good as a gargoyle.
“Say something, King.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Matthew said slowly. “I think this is a horrible idea.”
The two men stood in silence for a long moment—one quieter than the other. Where Matthew was immaculately motionless, the chief’s breath came in ugly huffs, his nostrils flaring as he surveyed his direct report.
“I know how you feel, King,” Chief Newton said when the silence seemed to stretch uncomfortably long for him. “I understand it’s unfair to you.”
Matthew waited. They both knew the chief was flailing in deep water.
“I had to choose my battle.” Chief Newton looked suddenly tired, resigned. “I’m sorry you lost on this one.”
“Which battle would that be?” Matthew couldn’t quite keep the acidity out of his tone. “A political one?”
“Can it, King. I got your girlfriend onto the crime scene, didn’t I?”
Matthew straightened his posture, tilted his head to the side in a kneejerk response. “Dani’s a Reserve. Of course she’s allowed on the scene of the crime.” Even as Matthew finished, he understood. “You have executive orders to boot both of us off the case.”
The chief nodded. “Bureaucratic bullshit. I’m sorry you’re caught up in this, King. None of the Sixth Precinct thinks you had anything to do with it. We didn’t bat an eye when we heard Sienna’s report about a vamp bite—there’s got to be some other explanation.”
“New York didn’t see it like that.”
“No, they did not,” the chief confirmed, slamming his palm down and sending a wave of air fluttering the napkin away from him. “Got some HR crap about how the wolves in the department are feeling uneasy.”
“Why would the wolves be uneasy?” Matthew felt the urge to curl his fingers into fists, but he refrained. “I’ve done nothing but respect them.”
“It’s a sensitive subject. The vic was a newly minted member of the Sixth Pack. An attack against the pack—especially a brand-new female...”
The chief trailed off. It was common knowledge that the Sixth Pack—the family of werewolves prevalent in the borough, living almost exclusively in The Depth during times of transformation—was the equivalent of one living, breathing entity. Cut off one finger, one wolf, and the rest of the pack recoiled and attacked. A death for one of their new members—especially a rare, beautiful female wolf—could call for an all-out war. Or at the very least, retaliation.
“The orders from the top specified that neither you nor Detective DeMarco could work the case,” the chief said. “I had to make something happen, make a move, so I made a big splash about pulling you off.” He paused for the slightest hint of a smile. “I figured your ego needed a hit, anyway. It’s getting too big these days.”
Matthew gave a thin smile, but it lacked humor. “You snuck Dani onto the crime scene.”
“Let’s not be so crude. I forgot to pass the orders through to the officer letting folks on the scene,” the chief said. “Though I might have let it slip to Sienna. She has orders to keep things moving, get the detective in and out of there as quickly as possible.”
“If I know Dani,” Matthew said, “she’ll be here any moment.”
“I’m counting on it,” the chief said. “In fact—”
“How dare you!” The door to the chief’s office flew open, and Dani burst through, her blond hair flying behind and her eyes burning with a vibrant slash of violet. “How dare you, sir! You can’t pull Matthew off the case, it’s—”
“Ah, Detective.” The chief gave Dani a thin smile. “Do sit down. I’ve been expecting you.”
Dani stopped, startled, then looked over at Matthew. She took a moment to catch her bearings, looking confused by the ease at which her outburst had been tolerated.
“Take a seat, both of you,” the chief said. “I’d like to explain.”
“I’ll stay standing,” Dani retorted, “until you tell me what’s happening. You can’t kick the captain off the case—he’s the best person in the borough suited to solve this one.”
“I know.”
Dani choked a bit. “Then what the hell are you doing out there? The vic’s a newly minted werewolf. They’re going to want to retaliate
.”
“I’m trying to keep King safe,” the chief said, “and uninvolved.”
“You pull him off the case, and it looks like an admission of guilt,” Dani said. “Better if you leave him on it so we can get this thing wrapped up quickly and put the guilty party behind bars.”
“We all know the guilty party won’t make it out of this alive,” the chief said. “I’m going to do my best to make that happen, but no place is safe from the pack. They’ve been attacked, and that calls for blood.”
“But—”
“Sit,” the chief ordered. “And if you’re not going to sit, at least shut up.”
Dani clamped her lips together, which almost drew a smile from Matthew. But not quite.
“I’ve got orders from the top,” the chief said, then quickly explained to Dani about Arthur Lemont’s orders, as well as the pressure he was receiving from the mayoral candidates. “I need things to run smoothly. I need you two off the case. But I had to know, I had to get one of you onto the scene, and it had to be you, DeMarco. Do you understand?”
Dani went stone cold silent. She nodded.
“What’d you see?”
Dani looked at the chief, and Matthew was struck by how pale she looked. The fury in her eyes had faded from a bright violet to a murkier shade that slipped back toward her normal color. “The Residuals were, ah, clear sir.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means there was nothing out of the ordinary,” Dani said. “There was the regular Street Sweep array of daily spells, and that’s about it. There was a very strong burst of binding power, but I believe that can be attributed to the fact that our vic was a new werewolf. We’re working to confirm that; we’ll need to find another member of the pack who’ll talk to us without biting the interviewer’s head off in rage. It will take a little time.”
“But you’re certain that’s the only spell on her? No additional curses, nothing?”
Dani looked pained. “I’ve seen moon-bound Residuals before, sir. I’m certain it was a form of wolf magic. Beyond that, no. There was nothing more.”