by Jayne Faith
I couldn’t help smiling back. No heterosexual female could resist the attention of Rafael St. James.
“What kind of shifter is he? I don’t remember ever seeing mention of it.”
My head swiveled to Stein so fast everything blurred for a split second. “What?”
“He’s not a wolf.” Stein’s brow creased, his eyes still on Rafael. “I don’t know the signature, but then I’ve only ever been exposed to wolf shifters.”
“Rafael St. James isn’t a shifter.”
Stein finally looked at me. He barked a little laugh. “Yes, he is. There’s a hefty veil of impressive magic concealing it, though. An extremely powerful mage did that.”
I squinted at Rafael, but of course I didn’t have enough magical juice to even sense a mage-level obfuscation spell, let alone see what it was hiding.
“I just . . . that’s extremely hard to believe,” I sputtered, shaking my head. “You’re really seeing shifter?”
“Yep. One hundred percent positive.”
“It can’t be. There’s no way something like that would stay secret. He doesn’t run in a pack or—or spend any time in the wilderness. Not with his schedule and high profile. And if you can see through the spell, then others could, too. If he had to shift at least once a month, it wouldn’t stay secret,” I repeated. “There’s just no way.”
“Mages are bound to secrecy about their work if the subject requests it, so they wouldn’t tell. And I’m probably the only non-mage in the world who’d be able to pick up on it.” He gave me a wry look. “You don’t grow up in a family of mages without learning a few advanced tricks.”
There had to be some other explanation for whatever Stein was sensing from Rafael, but given that I’d already gotten Stein in trouble, I didn’t feel like I had the right to launch a heated argument. Besides, how could I prove I was right? Magically speaking, Stein was about a bazillion times more powerful than me.
“We’re going to get started in just a few, folks,” Rafael’s voice projected through the megaphone. “There’s a big group coming over. We don’t want them to miss out on the fun.”
Stein had pulled his phone from its mount and had been busily tapping away on it for the past several minutes. “I’m trying to figure out what they’re rallying for. Or against.”
I spotted a vamp guy with a stack of papers near Rafael. I gestured. “Let’s go find out.”
I threaded through the loose crowd and approached a vamp guy who was handing out flyers.
“Hello, officers.” His poreless vampire skin looked like golden-tan porcelain in the sunlight. Both wrists were tattooed with a thin band of proprietary neon blue ink—another Gregori Industries product—that indicated he had an implant.
“Hi there.” I pointed to the stack in his hands. “Is that literature on your cause?”
“Sure is. Here, let me fold one for you.” His honey-smooth voice gave me an involuntary shiver. Even the dociles, stripped of the ability to glamour, had magnetic appeal. He quickly tri-folded the piece of paper into a pamphlet and then handed it to Stein with a little wink.
“Nice of you to pay us a visit, officers,” came a rich, deep voice from off to the side.
Rafael.
“Are you here for work or as concerned citizens?” he asked.
I tried to scrutinize his handsome face without being too obvious about it. I detected nothing that indicated he was a shifter. If anything, he emitted charm worthy of a vampire, not the rough-edged wildness of a shifter. He definitely wasn’t a vamp—he wouldn’t be able to conceal that. “No demon activity reported. We’re just patrolling our beat.”
Rafael planted his hands loosely on his hips, somehow making it a gesture of relaxed attentiveness.
Remembering Stein’s interest in Rafael, I gestured to my partner. “This is Officer Stein. It’s his first day on the job.”
Rafael nodded at Stein but didn’t offer a hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” Stein said.
“It’s been a while, Ella,” Rafael said mildly, but his eyes were unblinking and intent.
I knew better than to allow myself to get drawn in—Rafael looked at everyone with that steady intensity—but in spite of my brain knowing better, my body temperature climbed slightly under his gaze.
“It has.” I imitated his mild tone. “How was DC?”
“Productive. But I’m glad to be home for a while.” A couple of his people were hovering a few feet away, clearly waiting to get his attention.
I half turned away. “Well, we should get back to work. It’s good to see you, Raf.”
The corners of his generous mouth turned up. “You too. We should get a drink.”
I gave him a nod and a little wave of my hand, which he could take as agreement to his not-quite-ask if he so chose.
As we walked away, Stein laughed, a soft noise low in his throat. “So the two of you have a thing, huh?”
“No.” I tipped my phone on its shoulder mount so I could see the time. “We should try to grab lunch before another call comes in.”
I aimed us toward Eighth Street, which ran parallel to Capitol Boulevard, intending to head to the deli that was within our beat.
“What do you mean no? There’s clearly something between the two of you,” Stein ribbed.
I gave him a cynical look. “Trust me, I’m not special. Rafael St. James gives that smoky look to a lot of women.”
“He was surrounded by women, and he wasn’t looking at any of them like that.”
“Yeah, he did. You just missed it.” I heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Let’s just get lunch, okay?”
“Fine. But I’m calling in part of your debt. Over lunch, I want to know why you joined Demon Patrol.”
I rolled my eyes. “Part of my debt? How long do you get to string this out?”
“Depends on how much trouble we’re in with Devereux.”
That shut me up.
We grabbed sandwiches at Blossom’s Deli and sat down on a bench outside.
“You may begin.” Stein made a rolling motion with his index finger.
Shooting him a withering look, I took a giant bite of turkey on sourdough, which allowed me to stall for a minute while I chewed.
“I joined Demon Patrol because I wanted a job where I wouldn’t be pinned to a desk or stuck inside all day. I wanted something with a little bit of excitement,” I said. “And seeing as how I’m barely Level I on the Scale, and not some kind of Level III wizard prodigy like you, I didn’t have the option to go for Strike or Special Forces.”
“Do you come from a police family?”
I shook my head and took a long pull of iced tea through the straw.
“I didn’t think so. But there are lots of jobs where you could work outside. Judging by what I saw of the dynamic between you and Devereux, I’d guess our diversion today isn’t the first time you’ve gotten in trouble with him. I’m also guessing you’re not interested in advancing to a higher position. The old-school hierarchy of the Force seems counter to your nature, and I think it grates on you. So . . . there’s a deeper reason for you choosing this job.”
I took another bite and looked off down the street. He was right, of course. I didn’t really want to talk about it, but I owed him. Plus, he was my partner, and some amount of confiding between partners was good for the working relationship.
I swallowed, took a breath and held it for a moment, and then let it out.
“My younger brother, Evan, disappeared about five years ago. Originally when I joined the Force, I thought it would give me a chance to search for him. I had no money, so I didn’t have the luxury of traipsing all over to try to find him, especially when I had no idea where to begin. I figured on Patrol I’d be out all day, and I could show his picture around and try to figure out what happened to him. And I think I expected to have more access to, I don’t know, police tools. Something that would help me search for him.”
Stein set his sandwich down on
its butcher paper wrapper and went still, intent on what I was saying.
“Looking back now, it seems pretty naïve. I quickly learned that there’s not actually a whole lot of freedom on the job, and we don’t get access to much of anything except the gear we have on our belts,” I continued. “I did what I could. I picked up a bit of information here and there, and of course kept searching on my off days, but all the leads went cold.”
“What were the circumstances of his disappearance?”
I moistened my lips, hesitating. “An arch-demon grabbed him and took off.”
Stein’s dark blond brows pulled together. “Grabbed him?”
“I know it sounds weird, but multiple eye witnesses swore to it.”
“I’ve never heard of a demon behaving that way. The arch-demons go straight for possession. They don’t play around. And they don’t haul off their victims.”
“It’s the only instance I know about,” I agreed.
“I’m so sorry, Ella. Carrying this around for so many years . . . it’s got to be really hard.”
I stared down at the sidewalk, but in my mind I saw the older Evan from my vision. “Yeah, it is.”
Whether the vision was real or not, it was the only thing I had to cling to, and the other had given it to me. I wanted more, something, anything. I’d take the headaches and the death dreams and the dancing shadows. I’d gladly sublet part of my brain to the other if it led me to Evan.
Suddenly, I knew what I needed to do. If I could induce a deep sleep, maybe the thing in my head would show me more. I needed to get back to Crystal Ball Lane for a sleep charm.
But first, I’d have to face the music back at the station at the end of shift and then figure out how to rescue Roxanne’s brother.
Chapter 7
“SO YOU’D BETTER count yourself lucky that with your commendation today you happen to be the golden girl of the Force. Enjoy the fifteen minutes’ reprieve it’s getting you, Officer Grey,” Sergeant Devereux said. After five straight minutes of lecturing and threatening me, his face had reddened to a hue that was somewhere between a strawberry and a red delicious apple. For some reason the fruit comparison made me want to burst out laughing. But I did my damnedest to look deeply repentant. Like a girl who’d learned her lesson, by darn, and moreover sincerely appreciated the lambasting her righteous boss was bestowing upon her.
Inside, I was just relieved that Devereux wasn’t going to bring down the hammer. Toward the end of his tirade he’d told us he was adding a note to my file and letting my partner off with only a verbal warning.
I knew I’d likely used up my get-out-of-jail-free cards.
Devereux turned his face away like he could no longer stand the sight of us, flapped his hand back and forth through the air as if waving away something smelly. “Go home, both off you. And stay off my radar, Grey.”
All too happy to comply, I scooted out of the Sergeant’s cramped office, practically stepping on Stein’s heels in my haste to escape.
“Again, I’m so sorry,” I mumbled to him in a low voice once we were well down the hallway.
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Eh, that was kind of exciting. I’ve never been screamed at by a boss like that. Makes me feel like a real renegade.”
He was doing his best to be lighthearted, which I appreciated, but I could tell the reprimand had rattled him a little. Stein didn’t seem like the type to break the rules and he wasn’t used to getting in trouble.
He looked down at his service belt as we headed toward the exit for the parking lot. “What do I do with this? Do I have to turn in the stun gun?”
“Nah. If it were a more powerful weapon, like the ones Strike Team carries, you’d have to lock it up before you leave. But on Demon Patrol we keep our belts and all our toys. Wear it into work. It’s considered amateur to show up in uniform but without the service belt on.”
“Got it.” He pushed open one of the double doors and held it so I could walk out ahead of him. “If you’re going back to Roxanne’s now, I’ll come with.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I can handle it.”
“Ella, I just got sprayed with my Sergeant’s spit for the sake of the girl. I’m invested now. I think I have a right. Plus, I’d like to know more about how a human could have ended up inside a gargoyle.”
I held in a withering sigh. How had I come to owe all these debts? Stein, Roxanne, Johnny . . . twenty-four hours ago, I was footloose and fancy free, just me and the creepy shadows and the nightmares. I didn’t owe anyone anything, and I could do as I pleased. I should have appreciated it more.
“Okay,” I said, trying not to sound grudging about it. “We need to make a stop at my house first, though.”
The poor dog had been cooped up inside all day, and I just realized I’d received no calls from the Humane Society on behalf of a worried owner.
“Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to your truck,” Stein said, jangling the set of keys he’d pulled from his backpack’s pocket.
The Lexus I’d spotted earlier was indeed his ride. I almost felt guilty sliding onto the pristine storm-gray leather seat, afraid I’d scratch it or leave a smudge. The vehicle’s motor made a quiet, smooth hum, nothing like the throaty rumble of my truck. The fresh-off-the-lot scent still clung to the car’s interior.
Stein dropped me at the green, and I gave him my address so he could meet me at home. Rafael’s gathering was long gone. It seemed an odd time of year to stage such an event, as the local legislature was on break for the summer, but I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to politics.
The Lexus was parked in front of the four-plex by the time I got there. I pulled up to the curb on the side street, and Stein followed me up to my porch. Suddenly a little nervous about the state of my place, I unlocked and opened the door. I wasn’t messy by nature, but I wasn’t used to having people I barely knew in my home.
“Where are you, big guy?” I called the dog.
I heard paws drop to the wood floor in the bedroom, and he emerged, bounding toward me with a happy loll of his tongue. I caught his paws as he jumped up to greet me, and he swiped my chin with his tongue. I couldn’t help returning his doggy smile.
“Come on, I’m sure you need to go out.” He followed into the kitchen and then trotted through the doorway that led to the back yard.
“Interesting dog,” Stein remarked from the kitchen doorway. “What’s his name?”
“I’m not sure. He followed me home last night.”
“Followed your truck?”
“Hitched a ride in the bed, actually. I didn’t see him until I was nearly home. He didn’t have a collar on.”
The buzzer sounded, and my head whipped to the front of the apartment. I hardly ever had visitors.
I passed Stein to go see who it was.
Johnny. I opened the door.
“Hey,” I said, beckoning him inside after a moment’s hesitation. In the two years I’d lived in this apartment, I couldn’t recall having two people in my home at the same time.
“I was going to stop by Roxanne’s, but when I saw your truck, I thought I’d see if you were home,” Johnny said.
I didn’t recall ever giving him my address, but I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised he knew where I lived. After all, he was a private investigator.
“Hi, Johnny Beemer,” Johnny said to Stein.
“This is my new partner, Stein,” I said by way of introduction. “Stein, meet Johnny Beemer, supernatural PI.”
“Stein? Interesting name.” Johnny said.
“Last name, actually. It’s Damien.” Stein crossed the small living room to shake Johnny’s hand.
Suddenly unsure about my obligations, I briefly wondered if I should offer the guys something to drink. I didn’t really want to do anything hostess-y. I preferred to get down to the business of helping Roxanne.
The dog bounded in, saving me from my silly dilemma.
“Whoa, who’s this?” Johnny asked. The dog went over and
bumped Johnny’s hand, asking for some petting.
“He hitched a ride in the back of my truck. I called the pound and the Humane Society and gave his description, but no one seems to be looking for him.”
Johnny dropped to one knee and took the dog’s face in his hands. The dog didn’t seem to mind. He tried to lick Johnny’s nose.
“What?” I asked, moving closer. Johnny had that focused look in his eyes, the one he got when he was concentrating on one of his gadgets.
“Any idea what kind of dog this is?”
“None at all,” I said. “Why?”
Johnny rose, stepped back, and crossed his arms. He tilted his head to the side, peering at the dog. “Definitely a mixed breed. But there’s something odd . . . If I had to guess, I’d say labradoodle hellhound.”
I burst out laughing, but a thin line of apprehension threaded through me. This dog didn’t seem malicious at all, but “What? The only living hellhounds are owned by Gregori Industries.”
Hellhounds had come through the original Rip along with demons, but all except a few had been killed. Jacob Gregori had somehow managed to pick up some, and the authorities couldn’t do a thing about it because the hell-spawned beasts were on the Gregori Industries campus.
“Maybe one escaped and mated with a local dog,” Stein suggested.
“That seems unlikely. Hellhounds aren’t exactly friendly,” I said. That was an understatement. Before the situation was brought under control in Manhattan, packs of hellhounds worked in concert with demons, herding people into the open where the demons could swoop in for easy possession.
“Hang on, I’m going to get my scanner,” Johnny said.
He went out to his car and returned a moment later with the tablet he’d used at Roxanne’s. He powered it on and aimed the camera at the dog, who’d jumped up onto the sofa to sit next to Stein. Both Stein and the dog were captured in the image on the tablet’s screen.
Johnny glanced up. “Damn, Stein. You’re leaking magic all over the place.” Looking back down at the image, he gave a low whistle.