Something’s off, Travis thought, reaching inside his pocket. Maybe the earpiece’s working again, but if Peters can analyze his dossier…
“And how can I assist Mye if you’re hiding secrets, Q?”
“I’ll give you and the human a chance. The item is for the human. He sounds like the science-trumps-magic sort of fellow.”
Cold metal bit into Travis’s hand when he retrieved the device. After staring at the box, a needle ticked back and forth. The agent blinked after understanding the device’s function and he pocketed it once more.
“An electromagnetic device? They’re pricey.”
“I upgraded. Standard issue for us, since we’re not magicians. Your techie will receive field work soon, so best if he learns about these devices now.” Q moved two steps past Travis before stopping in place. “There’s two things in there. Mye will recognize the book when you show her.”
At the mention of a second item, Travis pulled out a tablet-sized leather notebook. Several pages threatened to fall from the binding. “Anything significant?”
“Not to you, but she forgets her roots sometimes. It’s the best place to return to when you’ve got a reoccurring problem.”
Travis watched Q’s wide strides as he followed his short Latina partner and flipped through the booklet, hoping the broken pages would remain unharmed. When he finished flipping through it, a picture remained at the end, stapled inside the back jacket.
He expected a photograph, but Travis blinked when scarlet Sharpie covered most of the glossy surface. A complex equation and a message stood out among the picture instead of the individuals portrayed.
The other detail Travis noticed was one figure completely crossed out in Black Sharpie marker before the bright color overlapped.
“Travis, stop conversing with those bloody shifters and head to the nightclub,” Peters ordered in his ear. “If I beat you there, we got issues. Stay on your A-game.”
Travis pried the staples from the glossy photograph and thick leather jacket. “On my way.”
Once Travis secured the photograph in his pocket, he imagined the fancy nightclub before phasing away from the Renegades Compound. Once his body shimmered, relief surged through the mage. However, despite leaving a stressful environment, Travis wondered about Q’s motive and the picture he’d swiped.
Then he wondered why Aviere never criticized their conversation, but presumed she extracted the earpiece and returned to work.
Even with his logical explanation, it didn’t settle Travis’s apprehension or his gurgling stomach from demanding more food.
When Travis entered the parking lot to the Puckered Lips nightclub, his migraine had been reduced to a manageable, dull throb.
He straightened his hat, whistled at the flashing police lights, and abandoned cop cars. Travis brushed off his trench coat before propping his hand on the Desert Eagle and heading over. Dark blue and red auras popped in his sight, but Travis stopped when wispy, dark energy lingered around him. He dropped his head and studied the energy, shuffling his feet.
Hurry, Peters. I’m not keen on fighting shadow mages, especially in Charm City. That will be messy to cover up, even for Sanderson.
The shadowy aura trailed down the street, but Travis stayed in place, observing its movements. Once the energy dissipated, Travis scurried to the parked cars, ignoring his churning stomach and cold, clammy fingers.
Mye’s right. I hate it when the bitch is right, Lyssa. He looked behind his shoulder, shivering at the dark energy around him. If the mage attacks inside the city, I’ll hear it from Roland and Sanderson. However, if the Red Coat Society attacks me, I’ll just add another dead mage to my growing body count.
“Travis!”
His eyes gleamed when Travis spotted one of Baltimore City’s homicide detectives and she waved him over. He nodded when he reached the undercover detective, sporting simple blue jeans and a cotton blue t-shirt.
“God gave me pleasant company, Carmella. It’s been tense all morning.”
“We just finished processing the scene. Took a bit, though.”
Wispy energy brushed his forearm and Travis shuddered. “Brief me, and don’t remind me about the weird energy around the nightclub.”
“Captain Fraser assigned us a drug bust gone wrong,” Carmella moaned. “Sure doesn’t look—”
“Facts, not speculation,” Travis ordered, stomach tensing as he inhaled the humid air. “You know about me, remember?”
“All the captain said was to bring Chelsea Nichols into custody, so my partner and I trailed her to the Puckered Lips. Instead, we discovered five dead bodies scattered around a pentagram on the nightclub floor. The owner booked it after calling 911. We’re still trying to locate him.”
Travis straightened with a gleam in his eye. Lyssa, you hear that? The pentacle and the bodies are the Red Coat Society. Maybe I’ll get to take out another mage and find out who murdered you today, sweetheart.
“Don’t look so excited, Travis. You’re lucky I convinced the captain to let you handle it. I remember our last assignment before you transferred… or got captured, whichever you prefer.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a finger over his gold wedding ring, recalling the last case he worked on with Carmella Azan. “You can’t find the owner?”
Carmella shook her head and passed a hand through the honey-brown and platinum-colored weaved hair parting from her messy bun. “We’ve searched for the last hour. The dispatcher claimed the owner shrieked and babbled about floating ghosts before the call suddenly disconnected.”
“He’s probably dead. I swear, our cases together always start with this particular line.”
“It’s why Captain Fraser agreed to let you handle this. Sounds like that incident years ago. You know… the one we worked on together.”
Travis glanced down the avenue when tires screeched, then groaned as he identified the dented front end of Peters’s silver Ford Focus parking behind Carmella’s patrol car. “Yeah. Maybe today, I’ll get lucky and solve another cold case.”
Carmella rolled her emerald eyes and gagged at the Focus. “God, Captain Fraser was right. They stuck you with Shawn Peters.” She nudged him aside and opened her door to fetch her gray-cased iPad. “I guess I won the bet at the precinct. Miller and the captain said you’d murder him in a month when you transferred to the FBI. I think Fraser is trying to ruin your career, though. Peters went through as many partners as you.”
“I have two partners,” Travis told her, sneering at Peters’s hateful glare. “You’d like Mye. She refers to Peters as Agent Neuro every time he rubs her the wrong way.”
Travis’s earpiece snickered, reminding him of the feisty shifter listening in real time. Then he wondered how long Aviere had been wearing the earpiece since she’d been quiet just minutes before.
Carmella grinned before leaning closer to him. “I approve. But do they know about—”
Peters slammed the door to the Focus and flashed his badge as he strode toward them. “Detective Azan, I assume you’ve finished inside?”
“I hope this Mye woman’s more personable than Peters, Agent Travis.”
“If you call threatening to kill Peters, and speeding cars personable, then yes. Her methods are unorthodox, but I can converse with Mye without worrying about screwing up work.”
A hum of approval came through Travis’s ear before glasses clanked in the background.
“Interesting.” Carmella flicked through the iPad, pulling up various images of the crime scene. “She’s a loose cannon like you. No wonder you get along. Nothing like having a partner after your first assignment.”
Travis winced at the blood on the ground surrounding the victims as he recognized various symbols. “Please stop reminding me about my tally, Carmella.”
“Hey, I’m alive,” Carmella said, voice chipper. “But we’ll discuss your female partner later.” Carmella turned her head to Peters before delivering a theatrical sigh. “We did the preliminaries, Agent Peters. E
ven got pristine placement pictures for you. Just sign these chain of custody forms before I transfer the pictures. Agent Travis can check things out inside the Puckered Lips.”
“I love how Travis gets the field work when I’m supposed to be training.”
“Travis handles himself better under pressure. He doesn’t need fancy technological gadgets to solve crimes.” She shifted on her tiptoes to whisper in Travis’s ear. “There’s something creepy in there. It might be Soulstealer, so be careful, okay?”
Travis nodded, hoping his face remained impassive. “Thanks, Carmella.”
“I’m sorry, Travis,” she murmured. “I forgot about Alyssa…”
Peters pocketed his badge and banged against the hood of Carmella’s scarlet Camry. “Jesus Christ, no one gets her damn name right! There is no A… it’s just Lyssa. Five years later, and everyone—”
“Shawn, enough.” Travis’s voice choked at the clipped reminder before clenching a fist. He fought against tears as he faced Carmella and clasped her shoulder. “Carmella, it’s a simple mistake. Don’t let Peters intimidate you.”
Carmella’s clammy hand grasped Travis’s before she raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe you’re working with Peters after the—”
“Travis and I don’t have a choice,” Peters said, growling the last word. “Hurry up, Detective Azan. We’re in the middle of our own investigation.”
“God, you’re so edgy, Peters.” Carmella searched in her front seat for a few seconds, gasping as she retrieved a gray stylus. Then she wrinkled her nose before handing the stylus to the vexed human. “If you weren’t working the Zodiac Cartel case, you’d be shit out of luck.”
“No, I’d order Captain Fraser to transfer jurisdiction after submitting the proper paperwork, Detective.”
Travis leaned against the patrol car and studied the intense blue aura Peters displayed, followed by the dark gray of the shifter next to him. At each breath, Peters’s aura peaked, then ebbed as he exhaled. After several breaths, Travis noticed Peters’s tense movements as Carmella transferred the documents from the iPad with a few swift keystrokes.
Maybe Carmella made a harmless mistake, but Peters won’t acknowledge it.
“Files should arrive any moment, Agent,” Carmella reported. “Let me know if—”
“Detective, I never forgot the last investigation you botched. If you didn’t—”
“Stop being a prick and channel some of your passionate enthusiasm into your job, Agent Peckerhead. You can’t blame all shifters for your sister’s mutilation.” Carmella tossed the tablet on the passenger seat before she trembled. “I’m sorry about Lyssa’s death, but I called your boss for a reason. I thought you’d want to capture the woman responsible, considering she’s working the same M.O… at least, from what the 911 operator said.”
“Detective Azan… while I appreciate your apology and your eagerness to solve a cold case, Captain Fraser will receive a formal complaint. I’ll recommend sensitivity training for your bitchy attitude.”
Jesus, Peters… you already have enough enemies. Enough is enough.
As Peters’s aura spiked again, Travis pulled Peters away by his tie. The agent issued a remorseful look toward Carmella, hoping she’d forgive Travis for Peters’s outburst. After Carmella nodded, Travis caught a heavy sigh inside his left ear.
“It’s nice to see Neuro’s recognized as a neurotic prick everywhere. I’m sure the boys-in-blue love dealing with him.”
“Mye, not now,” Travis said. “Sensitive material and I don’t need fighting.”
“I’m not Peters’s friend, but I’d reward whoever helped me. I hope Carmella files a grievance against him, considering she thought about your deceased relative.”
“Azan harbored a fugitive!” Peters yelled. “Travis was wanted for manslaughter when—”
“Neuro, recall that discussion inside my hospital room… the one about allowing Travis to execute you for your betrayal.”
The mage stole a side-glance to Peters, who paled next to him.
“My sentiment still stands, so think about my response before filing your formal complaint. I have Carmella’s number on speed dial since we raced together before she became a law-abiding citizen. Either she can explain what happened, or I can learn from you. Either way, you decide.”
“She’s bluffing,” Travis said. “Azan said she doesn’t know you.”
“No one used my other name in high school. She has three other sisters, and you work with one of her older ones.”
Jesus… Mye knows everyone in Charm City, it seems. However, she’s asserting herself as an Alpha… must be some sort of animal thing.
“Now, the blood samples should be identified in about twenty-four hours. The machines are complex, but I can’t rush forensics. Head inside the club without any more incidents, gentlemen. The don of West Baltimore’s pissed that the cartel compromised his territory and destroyed a nightclub lining his pockets.”
“Mye, where did you learn that?” Peters demanded, upper lip raised as a snarl followed. “You haven’t left the compound and my gadgets were blocked when I went inside the briefing.”
“Technology is a remarkable thing. I guess you haven’t mastered voicemail and text messages, or determined which phone carriers and brands work with underground machinery. Funny, considering you hurried and bugged my things with Sanderson’s equipment.”
“The cell phones are on my to-do list, bitch.”
“Should’ve covered it while I was on medical leave. Head inside. We won’t know Chelsea’s next move if we bicker like cats and dogs. Mye out.”
Travis tipped his hat upward before watching Peters’s lips press to a narrow line. “We’ll discuss your attire later. Now go before I use civilians for target practice.”
“Shawn…” Before he forgot, Travis slipped his hand into his large pocket and handed Peters the black electromagnetic device reader. “Here. It’s an—”
“An electromagnetic sensor,” Peters interrupted, inspecting the machine. “Spiffy. See, science trumps magic, Travis. However, no matter her intentions, Mye is not running our unit. She’s not qualified.”
“Mye’s a donna and a professional cleaner. She ran covert operations for the previous don of Central Baltimore and eluded the FBI, CIA, NSA, and local law enforcement for about ten years before being arrested. In addition, her men are loyal while her family’s overprotective.” Travis shuddered as reminders of Aviere’s gang surfaced. “Mye’s resume is impressive.”
“I suppose.”
“She’s qualified enough.”
“No.”
“It’s either Mye or Sanderson, Shawn. At least you know your stance with Mye.”
“Thank god Lyssa’s dead. She’d divorce you for this.”
Travis gave Peters a single finger salute and used the Desert Eagle to raise the yellow crime scene tape, wishing he could follow Peters’s suggestion as he entered the Puckered Lips.
However, the sense of foreboding grew within the first step and Travis paused, reeling at the paralyzing aura threatening to envelop his energy. Before the agent changed his mind, Travis swallowed, rubbed his throat, and applied his weapon to the wooden door.
Nothing prepared him for the mass murder awaiting him inside or the involuntarily gasp that escaped his mouth.
Then a sadistic grin spread across Travis’s lips as he thanked Carmella for blessing him with an opportunity to find Lyssa’s killer.
Chapter Seven
Three steps inside the nightclub, Travis broke into a clammy sweat and covered his mouth as heinous, murky clouds of dark energy flowed around the room.
Both feet tingled the longer Travis waited by the door, and his chest contracted as a pervasive smell drifted through the air. The agent was acquainted with death, but he still covered his face with his worn cowboy hat to cut off the putrid stench. From a side-glance, Travis spotted another taped-off crime scene, accompanied by a severed leg.
I suspect that is the owner.
We’re getting closer, Lyssa. It’s the same stench as that day… but I shouldn’t know the difference between a decaying body and a soulless one.
He lowered his hat and stopped retching as death embraced Travis like a distant friend. Vomit lingered as he breathed in the stale air. Travis gazed at the discarded drinks on unscathed tables, speculating how many scents Aviere would recognize by smell alone.
Broken tables and dried beer… never realized clubs used so many plastic cups or offered crappy-smelling liquor. However, that’s not why I’m here. Stop thinking like Mye and concentrate, Keith.
Slowly, he crept to the restricted area before stopping, noticing two male police officers pointing guns around the room. One of them met Travis’s gaze before scoffing to his partner.
The other sighed, waved Travis through with his revolver, and then suddenly pointed the gun at Travis’s back. Before Travis identified him through facial features, the man spoke, voice almost demonic when he addressed the agent.
“So help me, asshole… if anybody dies because of you, Captain Fraser—”
“Then file the complaint or shoot me, Truman,” Travis declared. “But someone’s dying today. You’re stepping into an unsolved case from five years ago without prior knowledge.”
The revolver dropped from Travis’s back, and the agent winced as it dragged down his trench coat. “The one where your—”
“Yeah, that one.”
Silence lingered as Travis brushed past the officers, shaking his head while they whispered behind his back. Their prejudiced thoughts passed through Travis’s mind, but he disregarded their concern to survey the location.
As Travis noticed the dilapidated furniture and stereo equipment littering the floor, the officers’ mental perceptions changed from disdain to skepticism.
“I can’t believe you made agent,” Truman said, digging the revolver once again into Travis’s spine. The pressure added to the strobe lights illuminating the dance floor as they waved back and forth in tandem with Travis’s nausea. “You should be in a holding cell with the general population. Would serve you right, sicko.”
Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two Page 11