Hexed Hit: An Urban Fantasy Mystery (The Lyon Fox Mysteries Book 4)

by Ann Denton

  “You don’t—”

  “I promise, Bennett,” I fasten my eyes on his and don’t let him let me off the hook. “You know what a promise means to a fae.”

  Bennett pulls away and wipes his eyes with the collar of his t-shirt. Then he shakes his head and says, “Ly, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Bennett French!” I scoop up my bag and whack him with it. Because, heartbroken or not, he needs to hear me and get this through his thick dragon skull. “You are clan to me. We were friends first. Things might be weird now. But we’ll be friends again. And if you need me, I expect a darn phone call. No more avoiding my texts either, young man.”

  Bennett gives me a weak grin. “Are you channeling Sarah Snow right now?”

  “Maybe?” I shrug and give a snorty little laugh. “They’re clan, too.”

  Bennett sniffs. “What you’re doing is nice. But it’s not the same.”

  “I know it’s not. I’m not a dragon. I’m apparently, probably, maybe, part demon. So, it’s the best I’ve got. You. Me. Tabby. Sarah. Jacob. JR. Got it?”

  Bennett nods. “Are you sure they’re gonna want—”

  “Shut your flaming trap,” I tell him. “Tabby’s loved you since the moment she saw you half shift on my balcony. I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t spy on you regularly with her crystal—”

  “WHAT?”

  Ah crap. I almost outed Tabby’s illegal crystal ball spying practice. Crud. “I mean … I’m pretty sure she’s got some pictures of you taped to her crystal mirror.”

  Bennett narrows his eyes.

  “Think of her as the dirty old step-aunt you never wanted.”

  Bennett puts a hand over his face and groans. “Ly, why?”

  “See? That face! That right there! That’s true family annoyance going on already! Admit it. We’re clan to you, too. You can even vent about me to JR. She’s always wanted someone to vent to. I mean, when you’re best friends with this,” I gesture up and down at myself as cockily as I can, “it can get a little rough.”

  Bennett gives me the grin I was looking for. He swipes at his face one last time. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Too late. Done is done. If you reject us, I’ll tell Blue Snow Matchmaking to make you their next victim.”

  “That’s blackmail!”

  I shrug. “Not when it’s between family.”

  Bennett shakes his head and stands. “I’m leaving, before you start spouting off some other craziness.”

  “It’s called wisdom, Bennett French.”

  “That’s wisdom?” he scoffs.

  “Yup. You probably have forgotten what it looks like since you’ve been spending so much time with Flowers—”

  “What was that?” a voice behind me asks.

  I half turn and cringe. There, in all his muscled, perfectly combed and groomed early evening glory, is Flowers. And he’s glaring down at me like I’m the nose hair that didn’t get trimmed but was discovered in the office bathroom mirror—right before the big presentation. Snarling tiger cubs! Why’d he have to walk up right then? Huh? Why?

  But then—the world flips on its end. Day becomes night. Night becomes day.

  Flowers. Goes. Nuts.

  He leans into me and suddenly rubs his nose along my spine. He takes a big inhale. And then he scoops me up and drops me face first on the practice mat, pouncing on me and rubbing his cheek into my back.

  I screech, “Ahh! What the—”

  Thank goodness Bennett’s there to witness the madness and save me. He yanks Flowers off me. “What the hell, man?”

  But Flowers is jumpy, hyper. He wiggles in Bennett’s grasp as I sit up, batting at the dragon-shifter’s hands. “Lemme go. Lemme go. Just another smell.”

  I stand and exchange a concerned look with Bennett. “What’s his problem?”

  Bennett struggles with Flowers, who’s kicking like a crazy man. I jump forward to try to help Bennett pin him down and Flowers just starts grinning. And purring. Right at me. Whiskers sprout from his cheeks. His ears start to turn orange and furry.

  “Crud! He’s shifting, Bennett!” I yell. This isn’t Flowers. Whatever’s going on, this is not the shifter I’ve come to know and hate. This is weird ass, what-the-hell kinda shit going down. I think Flowers might be … high.

  Flowers eyes flicker back and forth between human and cat.

  “If he fully shifts, get out—” Bennett doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Flowers wriggles out of his grasp and grabs me again.

  Flowers pulls me to the floor mats and climbs on top of me. Then he flips me over and starts deliberately rubbing his forehead into my shirt. “Smells soo good.” I’m being assaulted by an oversized cat shifter who’s high.

  That thought triggers something. Darrell was assaulted by cats, too. Cat shifters get high … on catnip.

  WTF? Why do I smell like catnip? I don’t have cats. Can’t keep a plant alive … but then my mind goes to Luke’s green hand. The minty one. We slept snuggled up together. Fuck!

  I suck in a breath and yank off my shirt. (Good thing I wore my good sports bra today and not the one with the hole in it.) I toss the shirt across the room. “Let him go!”

  Bennett looks at me like I’m crazy. But Flowers immediately redirects his flailing from me to the shirt. Bennett lets him go. Flowers bounds after the shirt and wraps it around his face. He nuzzles the shirt, chews on it. He bounces around the room on his hands and feet with my shirt between his teeth.

  I chuckle and reach into my bag. I pull out my phone instead of the replacement shirt I was initially gonna grab because … well, isn’t it obvious? Some things take priority. Recording this event is one of them.

  I’ve hardly hit record before Bennett’s hand stops me. “Don’t. Get dressed.”

  “But—”

  Bennett shakes his head. He doesn’t look amused. He looks sad. “Flowers’ mom was addicted to nip. It’s why he’s so …”

  My stomach sinks as every uptight piece of Flowers’ personality gets put into perspective. And now I feel like a jerk. I grab my other shirt out of the duffel and toss it on. “Oh.”

  “Why does your shirt smell like catnip?”

  Crap! That makes me do a double take. Luke! He’s at my place. And Tabby had invited a bunch of her cat shifter friends … I grab my phone and run outside without answering Bennett. I Faceshrine Luke.

  “Hey, I think your hand isn’t mint. It’s catnip!” I tell him as soon as he answers.

  Luke raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, kinda already figured it out.” He pulls the phone away from himself and I see four cats crawling all over his lap as he sits on the exterior steps of my apartment building. The light from my porch outlines him and the cats in the darkness. Tabby’s notched ear and orange fur stand out from the crowd. She nuzzles his armpit.

  “That’s a whole lotta ancient puss—” I can’t say it.

  “Ha ha,” Luke responds. He sneezes. “Of course, it had to be catnip. Did you know, I’m allergic to cats?”

  “Bad allergic?”

  “Nah. Just sneezy. Watery eyes.”

  I give him a tight grin. “Well then, I’ll leave you to your clowder of cats.”

  I move my hand to the red button just as Luke says, “Wait—how did you figure out that my hand smells like catnip?”

  I chicken out and press the red button instead of answering. I do not feel like telling my new boyfriend I found out about catnip because I was tackled by a tiger-shifter.

  Chapter 17

  Flowers shakes off his high after about ten minutes. My shirt is completely shredded before then. Of course, he comes barreling at me as soon as he’s in his right mind.

  “What the -uck? What the hell was that?”

  I sigh. Of course, he thinks I did this on purpose.

  Bennett intervenes. I explained everything to him while we waited for Flowers’ tail to recede. (BTW, watching a guy partially shift and a tiger tail shoot down out of the bottom of his shorts
is both shocking and oddly satisfying.)

  Once Bennett gets Flowers’ immediate urge to blame and rage at me under control, talk turns back to the case at hand.

  Seena comes in early and we all end up discussing Louise Grant. Even though Bennett’s technically not overseeing the case, he says, “Well, have you guys talked to that Francis Dogle—Hopper—whatever his name is?”

  “On tonight’s list,” Flowers glowers. I can’t tell if he’s back to his regular grumpy self or annoyed that Bennett is trying to nudge him about the case.

  Bennett nods. “Well, if you want me to take over the training, you could take these two with you …”

  Flowers sighs but nods. I’m sure he’d rather poke a stick in his eye than take me, but you don’t argue with the boss. We all trudge out of the gym as the other Academy recruits come piling in.

  Seena whispers to me, “Why’s he so grumpy?”

  I just shrug. No way I’m letting rumors get around about the catnip thing.

  We get to the address we got from Frank the hippo. It’s a decent townhouse with a lot of tall trees and a savannah style park with a zebra mom and her kid wandering through it.

  The townhouse we park in front of is a bit dingier than the rest. It has several trees stripped of leaves and the windows are streaky with dirt or something. We go up to the front door and knock. Then we ring the bell. There’s no answer, though we can hear the TV on inside. Flowers sighs and grabs his cell. He walks down the steps to call a judge so we can try to get a warrant. But then Seena tries the doorknob. It’s unlocked. He pushes open the door and calls into the front hall, “Hello?”

  The inside of the townhouse is nicer than I expect. It has super tall ceilings and plush carpet. A giraffe head pops around the corner. Its eyes widen and the long purple tongue snakes out of its mouth when it spots us.

  “Can we come in?” I ask the giraffe. “Just looking for Hopper.” Then I second guess myself. I assumed this was a shifter. But what if it’s not? What if it’s just a giraffe.

  I’m about to face palm when the giraffe’s mouth opens. It looks like the giraffe is trying to speak, but I can’t hear anything. I turn to Seena. “Does the handbook say we need verbal confirmation in order to enter?”

  He nods. “Verbal or visual.” He lets his ears shift to horse ears and he flicks them back and forth on the side of his head.

  “Is, is the giraffe talking?” I ask.

  Seena holds up a hand to tell me to shut it. I do. He asks again if we can come in and says, “I need a head nod.”

  The giraffe gives a slow nod.

  Seena grins and then lets his ears shift to human again before he calls out to Flowers, “Permission to enter granted, sir!”

  Flowers comes up the stairs muttering about judges and incompetence and stomps right past us toward the giraffe in the living room. He doesn’t offer so much as a ‘hello.’

  But he stops short when we turn the corner and see the giraffe isn’t just a giraffe. She’s got giant, electric blue butterfly wings. The pattern from her wings extends onto the spots on her torso, which are also dazzling blue. Her legs wobble and draw my eye downward. That’s when I realize … she’s chained to the wall at the ankle.

  “Cat whiskers!” I whisper.

  Flowers immediately gets to work freeing her. He’s got a handy little metal-eating potion in a vial on his tactical belt that he rubs onto the chain. A couple seconds later, the butterfly giraffe walks free as Seena and I take video and photos with our phone—the one downside of the potion is that it will eat the chains until there’s nothing left.

  The butterfly giraffe stumbles into a nearby bedroom. A few seconds later, a woman in her early twenties, with bright red hair and a neck full of tattoos emerges, cinching a short silk robe with short sleeves around her waist.

  My jaw drops. I fumble for my purse. I pull out those missing person fliers I picked up. I hold up the black and white photocopy and stare. “Are you … Rachel?”

  The woman blinks at me. “Yeah. Do I know you?”

  I shake my head. “People are looking for you.” I show her the flier.

  Flowers grabs it out of my hand and scans it. Then he looks up at Rachel. “Why were you chained up?”

  “Hopper’s an asshole,” she shrugs, as if getting chained up is no big deal.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Seena says.

  Rachel just grins and uses a hair tie on her arm to toss her hair into a messy bun. “He’s an asshole and an idiot. I dunno what you’re after him for, but if you catch that dimwit trying to sell shifter pee … just know it wasn’t given willingly and mine’s not gonna do jack shit.”

  Everything this woman just said is confusing me. There’s only one thing in the world that makes sense right now. She’s a redhead. And she has the initials EWNM tattooed on her neck.

  After I point out the tattoo, Flowers escorts Rachel downtown for questioning. We learn the following:

  1. She’s been dating Hopper aka Francis Dogle aka Grasshorse for a couple months.

  2. He’s killer in the sack but sucks at life in general.

  3. She has an amazing tattoo artist named Grendel, who she swears can make birds fly up and down your skin. (I write his name down.)

  3. Hopper overheard her talking to some friends she refuses to name, about the chemical properties of mixed shifter urine.

  Apparently, it was this last item that prompted Hopper to chain her up and make her pee in a jar. Then he left the house a few nights ago, no explanation.

  “Next time I see that bastard, I’m gonna snap his—”

  “Might not want to finish that sentence in here,” Seena warns her, gesturing to the cops outside the meeting room. Flowers decided to give Rachel the kid glove treatment, since he thinks she’s more of a witness than a suspect, even though she was seen arguing with Louise the night of her death.

  I’ve been sitting in the corner, drinking coffee and letting Seena and Flowers play good cop/bad cop and just trying to put the pieces together.

  Seena finally builds up to asking, “How did you know Louise Grant?”

  “Bitch used to be our supplier.”

  I do a double take. Is Rachel dumb enough to admit to selling Nappies? She doesn’t seem like it but… “Your dealer?” I ask.

  “No! Supplier for work. Until someone let it slip that mixed shifter urine is like one of the best erasers on the planet.”

  “Wait, what?” Seena holds up a hand. “Can you explain that?”

  “I don’t get all the alchemical math—that’s Mar—” she cuts herself off and redirects the conversation. “Look, the point is, if you have two completely opposite shifters, a pred and a prey mixed, like a zebra lion or something—they cancel each other out. Erase one another’s power. Somehow that gets into their pee.”

  Flowers sits back in his seat. For some reason, he looks over at me. I’m not a frickin’ mixed shifter. I’m definitely not an expert on power, or alchemical equations. Luke’s green catnip hand can testify to that. All I know is that mixed magic kinda sucks.

  I kinda feel like Flowers is waiting for me to talk, because he doesn’t stop looking. The pressure builds the longer he stares. I clear my throat and ask, “Just out of curiosity, what’s the tattoo on your neck stand for?”

  Rachel touches the letters on her neck. “Oh, there’s a group of us that got them when we turned eighteen. Evil, Wicked, Nasty, Mean.” She touches the tattoo on her neck nostalgically.

  “Any reason for it?”

  She shrugs, “That’s the real world isn’t it? The second you forget that, it gut punches you.”

  I nod and decide she’s warmed up enough that I can switch topics. (See … that Academy training is learning me good.) “Why pee? Why not blood or hair or something else?”

  “Didn’t I just say I’m not a, like, alchemical equation guru? I don’t know!” Rachel sits back, crossing her arms and glaring at me.

  “Why were you arguing with Louise Grant the other night?�
�� I already know they were arguing about money. But I want to see what Rachel says.

  “Because I know that bitch knows where Bill is,” Rachel bursts out before snapping her lips together and glaring hard at me.

  Interesting. She didn’t mean to say that. She didn’t want to say that. Why? Who’s Bill?

  “Bill? I thought you were arguing about unpaid bills. You said she was your supplier, right?” I go for stupid and casual. Obviously, Lilypunt, who overheard the fight, thought that.

  “Bill was our delivery guy. Ran urine from Louise’s to our building. And he never came back.” My gut starts to tingle.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Seena asks.

  But I’m zoned out of the conversation. I’m scooping up my purse from the floor, burrowing into it, and pulling out that second flier. The boy-next-door who was missing. Bill. I hold up the flier. “Is this your Bill?” I ask, handing the flier over so Rachel can see it.

  “Yeah.” Rachel says, staring down at the flier. “So, nobody’s found him? Even while I was chained up?”

  Flowers takes the flier casually from her and glances at it. Then he clears his throat and says, “Lyon, can we step into the hall -or a minute?”

  I nod and follow him out as Seena asks for timeline details from Rachel for the day of Louise Grant’s murder.

  Once the door is shut, I lean against it. “Yes?”

  Flowers holds up the flier. “Where’d you get this?”

  I shrug. “Local cleaner near my house. I guess one of their friends must have put them up at shops, looking for Rachel and Bill. Why?”

  Flowers holds up the flier. “Because this is William Henson. The dragon who was dead at Louise’s place.”

  I swallow hard and my stomach drops. Rachel the redhead was friends with Bill. Bill was the delivery boy for Louise’s. Bill is dead. Rachel was arguing with Louise about Bill the night Louise died. Crap. I glance inside the meeting room. I stare hard at Rachel. Could she be the killer?