Catnip & Curses (The Faerie Files Book 2)

by Emigh Cannaday

  “Hi. I’m Agent Elena Rivera,” I said, reaching over the table to shake her hand. She took it roughly and squeezed it like a tube of toothpaste. “And this is my partner, Senior Special Agent Logan Hawthorne.”

  The moment Agent Kozlov’s gaze fell on Logan, all traces of hostility melted away. I swear I could see her pupils dilate with lust as she looked him up and down.

  “Right,” smiled Harris, slamming the binder closed. “I'm glad we're all here.”

  But he didn't look glad. If anything, he looked the complete opposite of glad. As he took a seat across from us, he shot us both an apologetic look before turning back to Johnson and Kozlov.

  Assholes, I thought. Who do they think they are?

  I could tell Logan felt uncomfortable in their presence too, but not for the same reasons. Agent Kozlov was still eyeing up every part of him like she was deciding which parts she wanted to devour first.

  Just when I thought she couldn't look any creepier, she smiled to reveal a mouthful of crooked yellow lined up like a road of condemned houses. She didn't so much as smile, but bare her teeth in hunger, and we both recoiled back in our seats. Beside her, Johnson continued to sneer in our direction. I didn't know who I wanted to smack first, him with his haughty air of pumped-up self-importance or her and her amorous gazes towards Logan.

  “Alright, team,” began Harris. “This is a big day for the Occult Crimes Division. This department has been a very small, very close group for a long time now, so to have two more agents on board is . . . ” He trailed off as he struggled to find the right words.

  “A fucking waste of time?” I suggested.

  Logan let out an involuntary laugh while the other two agents gasped in horror.

  “What?” I said. “I'm not gonna sit here and pretend like everything's cool. We all know the only reason you’re here is to write off our entire department and reabsorb the OCD’s budget.”

  “I assure you,” said Agent Johnson in his distinctly froggy voice. “We're here to examine how your department utilizes its finances and nothing else. If the end result is that the Occult Crimes Division has to close up shop, then so be it.”

  He waved a pen dramatically in our direction while Agent Kozlov completely ignored him. She was still staring at Logan like it was the first time she'd seen a man.

  “We’re just as legitimate as every other department,” I insisted, jutting out my jaw in defiance.

  “And yet you insist on only using a custom gold-plated Glock,” Johnson said, dipping his head and eyeing my gun. “Do you have any idea how much those cost every time you need a replacement? Because I do, and you’ve cost the American taxpayers tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “I have a metal allergy!” I hissed.

  “That doesn’t explain why you keep losing your sidearm. If anything, it makes you look less deserving of carrying such an expensive weapon.”

  “Have you ever tried bartering with a coblynau?” I asked. “They like shiny things!”

  “A coblynau?” he turned to Kozlov, who appeared equally concerned.

  “You know, the little Welsh fae that haunt mines. Sometimes they’re called knockers.”

  “It’s embarrassing, how delusional you sound right now.”

  I felt a growl rise up in my chest.

  “Look, asshole—occult crimes are real. Werewolves and demons and ghosts are real. It’s not like we’re sitting around with our heads up our asses!”

  “Hey now. Bring it down a notch,” said Harris, raising a hand towards me in an attempt to calm me. “I understand your frustration, Rivera, but I'm going to ask you to keep your cool.”

  “That's a pretty big ask,” chimed in Logan. Agent Kozlov gazed into his face as if she’d just heard a personal message from the divine.

  “Please tell me you’ve got a werewolf case lined up for us,” I said, turning to Harris. “Maybe a nice werewolf biker gang.”

  “A werewolf biker gang? Is that what you just said?” Johnson scoffed, shaking his head. “And you wonder why your department’s under review.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said—a werewolf biker gang. You do not wanna mess with those guys. They’ll rip you to shreds,” I said, grinning as I relished the thought. Leaning forward across the desk and turning to look right into Johnson's eyes, I pointed right at him. “But I don’t want you to miss out on any of the fun, so I’ll let you go into their den with a search warrant. Once you realize what the OCD is all about, you're gonna shit your pants.”

  Seeing that Harris wasn’t contradicting anything I was saying, they both bristled in silence. Johnson's smug smile had fallen from his lips and Kozlov started to pay attention to me instead of my partner.

  “You’ve made your point, Rivera,” warned Chief Harris. “There'll be no shitting of pants. Now let's continue.” He picked up a file from his desk and began shuffling through the papers. “I actually do have a new case for you,” he said, looking at me and Logan. “I was waiting for Johnson and Kozlov to get on board before handing out your next assignment.”

  There was a case waiting for us, and Chief Harris hadn’t bothered to send us immediately? The thought made my blood boil. I didn't need my style cramped by another two agents, especially not these two.

  “What's the case?” asked Logan. I hoped it was something awful, something truly heinous that would make Johnson and Kozlov run for their lives . . . after shitting their pants. If not a werewolf biker gang, maybe a bodysnatcher with an ear fetish or a demon that turned livestock inside out for fun?

  “It's a poltergeist case,” Harris announced, handing us all a small folder with the details.

  “A poltergeist? As in slamming doors and flickering lights?” Johnson said as a skeptical smile returning to his wide, rubbery toad lips. “This’ll be a cinch to solve.”

  “Fuck you, buddy,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t think toads had ears, but Johnson’s head tilted in my direction.

  “What was that?”

  “I said—”

  “What she means is that a poltergeist case is kind of easy,” interrupted Logan. “This is more of a beginner's case.”

  “It might sound that way, but this one’s different,” said Harris. “This poltergeist has been terrorizing a police station in Mariposa, Arizona. The officers are all close to walking out. The place is in chaos.”

  “A police station poltergeist?” I asked, genuinely perplexed. “That’s a weird location. They usually act out because they want their privacy.”

  “Is that so?” asked Agent Johnson. “Or maybe it’s just a couple of bored teenagers banging on walls and throwing things through open windows.” He snickered to himself like he'd already solved the case. He shared a look with Agent Kozlov before turning back to Chief Harris.

  “Sir, we'll have a rational explanation for whatever’s going on in Mariposa within forty-eight hours. You can count on it.”

  “More like twenty-four hours,” Kozlov added with a nod. Her husky voice took me aback. I wasn’t expecting something so smooth out of someone so prickly.

  “Twenty-four hours?” I laughed. “You guys won't even last half that long.”

  “Don’t worry, Chief Harris,” said Johnson, looking prim and proper. “It’s obvious where the weakest link is here. We'll have these two exposed as frauds in no time.”

  “Frauds?” I raged. “How fucking dare you!”

  “Apparently truth hurts,” insisted Johnson.

  Enraged, I pushed back my chair and leapt to my feet, flinging my folder onto the floor.

  “With all due respect, sir, I am not putting up with this bullshit. We agreed to have a couple of accountants follow us around and take notes, not be accused of being fucking frauds!”

  “Sit down, Rivera!” Harris ordered.

  Logan’s jaw was clenched, although he kept quiet. I wondered if he was about to join me and stand in solidarity when Johnson rose and pointed a finger right up in my face. Not much taller than me, he looked like a weed
of a man. The sight of him squaring up to me made me want to laugh. I thought about drop kicking him like a soccer ball.

  “I'm going to out you,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “Your days in this department are numbered.”

  “Get your fucking hand out of my face,” I said through gritted teeth as I slapped his hand away.

  “Both of you, sit down!” ordered Harris. I refused to budge until Johnson sank into his chair. Logan was scowling in his seat. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed off at me, at Johnson, or at the overall situation.

  “Hawthorne, Rivera, let the Resource Planning Office do their goddamn jobs. And Kozlov and Johnson, let the Occult Crimes Division do theirs.” He paused to glower at each one of us, letting his giant grizzly bear demeanor shine through. “This is an audit, nothing more, nothing less, so cut the bullshit. I have absolutely no problem recommending all four of you for disciplinary action. Have I made myself clear?”

  There was a muttering of agreement throughout Harris’s office.

  “Good. Now get your shit together. You should be in Mariposa by dinnertime.”

  “Make sure you pack some Depends,” I said to Johnson. “You’re gonna need them.”

  “Knock it off, Rivera! You’re at the top of my list.”

  The four of us filed out of Harris’s office, but not before he gave me and Logan a secret wink and a grin. The spring it put in my step was woefully short-lived.

  Outside, our newfound nemeses were already at the water cooler, with Kozlov holding a dainty paper cup inside her giant bear claw and Johnson leaning against the wall looking overly pleased with himself. For such a small guy he sure was full of piss and vinegar. He grinned at us triumphantly as Logan and I walked by.

  “Fuck him,” I said to Logan, loud enough that the toad and the bear could both hear me. “That asshole thinks he's already flushed our jobs down the toilet.”

  When Logan didn’t respond right away, I looked up at him. All he did was shake his head and give the exasperated look I’d come to adore. He only made that face when he knew he was screwed.

  “You’re not exactly helping, Elena. Actually, you’re making it easier for him.”

  “Ugh, I can’t help it. There’s something about that guy that makes me wanna fucking strangle him.”

  “Me too. But let's see how things play out in Mariposa. I don’t think he’ll look so smug when he's got a poltergeist flinging chairs at his head.”

  4

  Logan

  “The one time we get a really fancy hotel, and we’ve gotta stay here with a bear and a toad,” Elena complained as we checked into our hotel.

  Really fancy was an understatement. This hotel was the kind of place that had a full-time bellhop, a turndown service, and its own spa.

  Most importantly, they had caffè Americanos on demand.

  I was in heaven.

  The fact that we were here on a case while being audited didn’t bother me as much as I was expecting it to. I think I was just glad to be staying somewhere that felt more like a vacation instead of a punishment. Elena and I had been sent to all sorts of locations, staying in anything from a treehouse in a serial-kidnapper sheriff’s backyard to a bedbug-infested roadside motel with a broken shower and a window that didn’t shut all the way.

  In Wyoming.

  In November.

  So yeah, I was going to make the most of our stay in Arizona.

  Bridget had always wanted to take a trip to Mariposa with me, but somehow the timing never worked out between our schedules. I’d look up fun things to do and then find out afterwards that it was supposed to be a girls getaway. The fact that we’d never visited was a blessing in disguise. There wasn’t anything here tainted by the memory of my ex-fiance. It was mine to discover.

  Mariposa was a fast-growing metropolis, a desert oasis tucked in the Arizona mountains. People came from all over the world to stay at the high-end resorts and spas, play at the designer golf courses, dine at Michelin star restaurants, and visit the numerous art galleries. Everything about the city screamed money, from the upscale shops and boutiques lining the immaculate streets to the glamorous night clubs I spotted downtown.

  “At least we don’t have to share a car with our new partners,” I said to Elena. While she grabbed our room keys, I hoisted her massive army surplus duffel bag over my shoulder before grabbing Lafayette’s carrier in one hand and my carry-on in the other.

  “You don’t have to carry my bag,” Elena said as we headed for the elevators.

  “I don’t mind. I’m kind of amazed that this thing still functions,” I said, noticing multiple threadbare spots that threatened to rip open at any moment. The worn-out canvas was covered in stains and iron-on patches that were peeling around the edges. “Where did you find this piece of shit? The bottom of a dumpster?”

  “One of my old social workers gave it to me,” she replied as we stepped into an empty elevator. Two retired couples joined us, all dressed up in brightly colored golf gear. “Foster kids move around so much that a lot of times we just put our stuff in trash bags.”

  “Geez, Rivera. I had no idea.”

  “Most people don’t.”

  Awkward silence filled the elevator as I mentally kicked myself for saying such a dumb thing. I knew she’d grown up in foster care. She’d told me during our first case together, how she’d escaped her parents’ killer and fled the faerie realm. After arriving here on Earth, she’d lived in the woods until a hunter had found her and turned her in to the local Child Protective Services. I knew her story.

  Aside from her ferocious attitude and excellent street smarts, I’d never given much thought about how else she’d been impacted . . . especially with something as mundane as her choice of luggage.

  “I still can’t believe you brought Lafayette,” she said, glancing down at the cat carrier in my hand. I shrugged a sigh of relief that she’d changed the subject.

  “I couldn’t find a cat-sitter in time.”

  “I blackmailed him into bringing me,” said Lafayette.

  Elena’s bright green eyes darted up to mine, and we stifled a laugh. The golfers either hadn’t heard my talking cat or they didn’t believe that they’d heard him.

  We arrived at our floor and I dropped off Elena’s bag at her door in exchange for my key.

  “I'll just be on the other side of the hall,” I said, touching my key card above the door handle. “Knock if you need anything.”

  “I’ll probably need a drink at some point.”

  “Sure. We can do that,” I smiled. “Although we’ll probably have to avoid the hotel bar as long as Johnson and Kozlov are around. I’m sure as shit they’d use it against us.”

  “Of course they would,” she sighed as we parted ways. “See you in a bit.”

  Checking the time, I saw we had less than an hour before we were expected to meet the chief of police, Daniel Alvarez. I’d read my file a few times over during the flight and knew he’d been a boy in blue for over thirty years. If a man like that was willing to put his reputation on the line for a supposed poltergeist, then I knew it had to be serious.

  I was looking forward to meeting him and find out more about what was going on. There was only so much you could gather from a report. That’s why the bureau wanted boots on the ground. Gone were the days when I completely dismissed the things that went bump in the night. Now I couldn't wait to get into the thick of it.

  Are you a nice poltergeist, or a shitty one? I wondered as I unpacked my things and took a quick shower. Lafayette inspected every square inch of the hotel room before hopping onto the windowsill and squeezing his eyes shut in contentment.

  “Make sure you leave the toilet seat up,” he said as I adjusted my tie in the mirror.

  “Make sure you flush,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. He rolled his green eyes and resumed looking out the window.

  “It was one time. You should be grateful I don’t make you scoop up my crap from a box.”

  “You’r
e right.” I walked over to him and gave him a gentle scratch under his fluffy black chin. “I am grateful. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

  Two velvety soft ears flattened.

  “What about my dinner?”

  “It’s on the desk,” I said, pointing to a small raised platform containing two shatterproof bowls. I’d spent way too much on it, but I justified it by all the time and money I was saving by having a cat who knew how to use the toilet.

  “If you’re a good kitty I’ll bring you back a fish sandwich.”

  “This time without ketchup,” he yowled back. “I have standards, you know!”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be joining us so soon,” I said to Agent Johnson. We’d taken our separate cars and Elena and I made a point to be extra early in an effort to throw him and Kozlov off their game. On top of that, the Mariposa Police Department was situated in Old Mariposa, with narrow, meandering streets that changed names at every bend in the road.

  The adobe facade of the police station had been restored to its original charm, making it easy for me to imagine what it must’ve been like back in the 1800’s. Old Mariposa probably had a couple of saloons, a blacksmith, a trading post, and a general store, and the only thing in the streets would’ve been tumbleweeds and horses. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time to when playing cops and robbers wasn’t so complicated.

  Then again, poltergeists weren’t anything new. They were new to me, but they’d been around as long as humanity.

  “We don't want to keep the Mariposa chief of police waiting now, do we?" Johnson replied with an irritable frown.

  “Definitely not,” I agreed with a grin. This guy was wound so tight. All it might take to make him snap and send him packing was a few slamming doors and the sensation of a cold hand on his neck. This poltergeist might not be such a bad thing after all.

  I joined Elena on the front steps of the police station and we hustled for the door with Johnson and Kozlov trailing behind us. A young officer sat alone behind the reception desk. A mild look of fear crept over her eyes when she saw us come in.