by Renee George
“What charges?”
“Obstruction of law enforcement in the discharge of their duty.” He glowered at the seething mole. “And for being a general pain in the ass.”
“Is that against the law? Because I think Tizzy should be thrown into the clink.”
He flashed a smile, and I felt my stomach flutter. My mate had some nice lip action.
“The natives are restless.” I indicated the crowd. “You think witches are responsible for this?”
“It wasn’t my people.”
I raised a brow. “I thought I was your people.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Is the prank competition really so important?”
Ford stared at me. “Yes.”
I huffed a breath. “Gah! I hate Halloween.” I scanned the crowd for guilty expressions. In my work as a field agent for the FBI, I had found that sometimes criminals like to admire their handiwork, especially if it was something elaborate. Like putting a putrid hole of muck in the middle of a busy intersection. I recognized several people: the Shifters were Johnny Richards, a used car dealer, Matty Deerfield, of course, since it was his truck in the black bog, a few teenagers, Joanna Crandell, Tommy Lowe, and Lincoln Baylor, Ford’s younger brother. Joanna, Tommy, and Lincoln all had parents on the Shifter Witch Council. “I didn’t realize your brother hung out with Joanna and Tommy.”
He looked up at his brother and shrugged. “I guess so.”
For the witches, Becksy Ansel, also a teenager and a waitress at Lolo’s Diner, stood near Lincoln and the other teens. She worried her lower lip between her teeth. Lena Ansel, her mother, looked just as worried. Romy Quinn, who I knew from when I was in high school, a not-friend-but-not-enemy, hugged her totally-my-enemy cat familiar to her chest.
I hated that smart-mouthed foul creature. She made my life hell during my formidable years. Romy was the only reason I hadn’t tried to zap her out of existence. Well, Romy and my lack of any real spell skills. She owned Modesta’s Tea Haus over on Heavenly near the DMV. They made a great turkey, pesto, and cream cheese sandwich on artisan bread that was soft, delicious, and nutty.
Now I was hungry.
I skimmed the crowd again. I didn’t see anyone who looked pleased by what was happening to the street. A prankster would have taken some glee in this kind of giant fiasco, right? “I don’t think this is as simple as an attempt to win a competition.”
“You really have been gone a long time if you think that.”
A big bubble right rose from the black tar and popped, releasing more odious gas in my vicinity. “Yuck! What in the name of the Goddess is this crap?”
Ford looked at me then back at the roiling mess. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“What are the chances this is a natural event?” Maybe disgusting sludge pools spontaneously erupted around here, and I wouldn’t have to chalk this up to the prank wars or to Halloween nonsense.
Ford gave me side-eye. “No chance.”
“Damn it.”
He shrugged. “Maybe your attempt to heat coffee this morning has bigger side effects than burning through the Earth’s core.”
I looked around at all the amazed, irritated, and scared expressions in the crowds forming at each of the crossings. I snapped my gaze up at my very tall and suddenly very amused boyfriend. “You can just keep that theory to yourself, mister. I don’t need all the witch haters turning their furry rage on me.”
But what if he was right? My magic was unpredictable. Baba Yaga had hinted that my powers were stronger than I believed, what if I had inadvertently tampered with the forces of nature in an effort to enjoy my morning beverage?
The clack-clack of heels on the sidewalk behind me made me grit my teeth. I’d spent enough time over the past several months getting to know that strident gate well. I turned around. “Tanya,” I said.
Tanya Gellar, a tall, leggy red-headed witch, placed an elegant hand on her pencil-skirted hip. She thrust her boobs forward—I might be projecting here—and looked at the town’s new tourist attraction. “Chief. How come I had to get this call from a civilian?”
“Who called you?” I wanted to make sure I struck them off my Christmas card list.
“That’s none of your business.” She actually blushed, which made me want to know who the tattletale was even more.
“I just got here myself.”
Tanya, a healer by birth, hence the red hair, and the town medical examiner by trade, looked down her thin, perfect nose at me. She and I had replaced the recently deceased Adele Adams and Dirk Nichols to represent the witches on the Shifter Coalition board, and our relationship could be best described as contentious. In other words, we didn’t like each other. I liked the way she looked at my mate even less.
“Ewww. It stinks,” she said.
“Is that your professional opinion?” I asked, ignoring the fact that it had been my first observation as well. I leaned in for a closer look at the gurgling pool.
Ford put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t get too close.”
“What in nine unholy hells?” The booming voice belonged to my sort of father-in-law, and yet another council member, Bryant Baylor.
My own father, who suddenly appeared, said, “This is definitely rooted in magic.”
My face felt tight. “You think? It doesn’t take Albus Dumbledore to recognize that the gooey lake in the middle of the intersection isn’t a natural occurrence.” The idea that I had somehow caused this made my heart turn over in my chest. Oh, don’t let this be my fault.
Ford cast a questioning glance my way, so I answered with a glare that I hoped would keep his mouth zipped.
Bryant addressed my father. “Pranks using magic are forbidden,” he said. He waved a meaty hand. “No points for the witches.”
I rolled my eyes. The rules had been the big debate at the last coalition meeting. During the prank wars, points were awarded based on three things: finesse, creativity, and awe factor. This tar pit definitely pushed the limits of all three categories. No magic or Shifter abilities could be used to perpetrate a prank. Keeping the pranks mundane put the witches and Shifters on a level playing field.
When the prank competition came up, Ford told me, and with more pride than I thought necessary, that the Shifters had taken home the prank prize, a crystal bear paw holding a wand, for the past twelve years in a row. Something the witches, especially the younger ones, were not too happy about.
A brown and white cat rubbed against Tanya’s leg. She lifted the fluffy animal into her arms. “What do you think, Jup?”
“I’ve never seen its like,” he said, his brow furrowed and his whiskers twitched.
Tanya scratched the cat between his ears. “I was afraid you’d say that.” She gave me a grim look. “Jupiter has the ability to remember all his past incarnations as a familiar. He once belonged to a powerful witch who was killed during the Salem Witch trails.”
Of course, the familiar’s name was Jupiter, the king of Roman gods. Since he’d offered nothing helpful to the situation, I was understandably less impressed by his observation.
It bugged me that Tanya was so high and mighty about her familiar, so, inexplicably, I blurted, “Tizzy was once the familiar of Cleopatra.”
“Cleopatra wasn’t a witch,” Jupiter said.
“So you’re an expert on Egyptian witches too?”
The bratty tabby stuck his tongue out at me. I’d have to catch Tizzy up to speed later. I was sure that familiar gossip got around as quickly as the witch news.
Bryant Baylor crossed his arms over his massive chest. “What are you going to do about this, Chief?”
I glanced at Ford. “Call Mike Crandell.” Mike was the new paullulum mammalia aka tiny critters alpha. His predecessor, Robert Townsend, had been one of the people responsible for my friend Lily’s grief. I was never so glad to see someone dismembered.
Yeah, you heard me right. That bastard got torn limb from limb by my beau. And while having Ford cov
ered in blood had been gross, washing the gunk of our enemies off his super studly body had been very rewarding.
Mike was the natural replacement, and in this situation, the right person to call. He owned Crandell Quarries, and his company had the road maintenance contract for the town streets. “Ask him to bring concrete barriers and some gravel here. We’ll try to fill in the pit, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll block it off. If we can’t resolve this quickly, we may have to call in the big guns.”
Tanya groaned. “Don’t call Baba Yaga. Not yet.”
On this, we both agreed. The last time I’d asked the witch queen for help, I’d ended up owing her a favor. I hated owing anybody anything. “Last resort,” I said.
Two of my patrol officers, John Parker and Mitzy Thomas, used orange and white traffic tape to resurrect a barricade around the hazard. I gave Mitzy, a tall, brunette wolf Shifter a nod of approval. Her partner, a tow-headed warlock, to pretty to be handsome, kept his head down as they diligently worked in tandem to attach the tape to the four stop signs. Their partnership was typical for the Paradise Falls Police Department. Pairing witches and Shifters cut down on discrimination complaints. The whole town, on the surface, appeared to be the epitome of equality.
“Do you think a witch is a responsible for this?” Bryant asked. “Is it a prank gone wrong?”
“Or something worse,” Ford added.
Before I could ponder the “Something worse,” a woman shouted, “Help!” Her voice pierced the crowd’s chatter. “Help me!”
Chapter Three
EVERYONE IN THE area froze for a moment and then turned toward the sound, emanating from one of three businesses. UnBearably Beautiful Salon, owned by Marlene Edwards, a bear shifter. Pierce Roberts, CPA. Pierce was a warlock, and a wizard with numbers. I’d been thinking about hiring him to do my taxes. The third business on that side of Main Street was Blissful Bakery, owned by Milo and Jenny Weaver. Jenny’s desserts were better than a Xanax. I suspected magic was one of her staple ingredients, but since no one ever complained, I didn’t interfere. Hell, I’d sampled her goods once or twice on a bad day.
Jenny came running out from between her bakery building and Robert’s place. She was waving her arms frantically. “Over here! There’s a body.”
My stomach dropped. I glanced at Ford, his mouth set in a tight grimace. The tar pit suddenly seemed less interesting to the crowd as well.
“Parker! Thomas!” I yelled to my officers. “Keep civilians back.”
I didn’t wait for their acknowledgment. I motioned Tanya to join Ford and me as we briskly crossed the street. Jenny Weaver’s neck and cheeks were red. A faint sheen of sweat had broken out on her brow. When we reached her, she heaved a loud sob.
“I…I…I was just…”
“Take a deep breath,” Ford said, his deep voice soothing. “There, there,” he added as she did as he instructed. “Now, tell us about the body.”
“It’s,” she hiccupped, “around back. In the Dumpster. I was,” she hiccupped again, “taking out the trash when I saw it.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“Two legs sticking out from under the lid.” She choked back a sob and hiccupped at the same time, forcing a fart that made the air around her butt sparkle.
Ford’s eyes widened.
“Oh Goddess,” Tanya whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Jenny cried.
“Take us to the body,” I said.
She sniffled and nodded, then led us between the buildings to the back of the bakery. A large blue trash bin was seated just outside Blissful’s backdoor. And just like Jenny said, two legs were sticking out from under the lid. The victim wore close-toed gold and green pumps with three-inch block heels and a pair of dark green slacks.
“I recognize those shoes,” Tanya said. “They belong to Agatha Milan.”
“The creator witch who lives out on the south side of town?
Tanya nodded solemnly. “She owns Milan Fashion just up the street.”
Ford took pictures of the area with his phone. After, he put on a pair of gloves and lifted the bin lid. The legs, now unevenly weighted, flopped out onto the ground.
Tanya yipped. Jenny fainted. I’ll admit, I was stunned. There was no body attached to the appendages.
Ford knelt for a closer look. He lifted up a pant leg. “Rubber.” He looked up at me. “Or silicone.”
“So not real.”
He shook his head. “If I had to guess, I’d say, prank.”
Tanya tended to Jenny, who moaned as she came around.
“Halloween sucks,” I muttered.
“There’s a big S carved in the calf,” Ford said. He smiled. “Points to the Shifters.”
Apparently, I was alone in my dislike of fall festivities.
“Wait,” said Tanya. “The Shifters stole a witch’s shoes and pants for this childish prank?”
“Don’t hate,” said Ford. “It’s not against the rules.”
Tanya opened her mouth, but I help up a hand. “Enough.” I turned to Ford. “Someone had to see something. Let’s get interviews from the businesses around here and start evacuating the area. If the gloopy pond in the street starts growing, it could swallow everything around here.”
Ford’s lips thinned in a dour expression. “I’ll take Marlene Edwards’ beauty shop. She and my mom were friends.”
“Good idea. I’ll take Robert Pierce, the accountant.” Paradise Falls Theater, a historic landmark in town, was across the street from UnBearably Beautiful. The marquee advertised a double feature of Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead. On the opposite side of the road were a few fashion boutiques, a sporting goods shop, and a pawnshop. I gestured toward them. “We can work our way to the other corner stores after.”
****
ROBERT PIERCE, a thin man with sandy blond hair and deep-set green eyes, sat in a high-back leather chair at a large, cherry wood desk, typing away at a computer. His small office was painted a pale blue with forest green accents. Plants lined the front windows, giving his place of business a comfortable warmth.
He looked up at me when I walked in, his mouth skewed in an annoyed pucker. “Can I help you?”
I flashed him my badge. “I’m Special…err…Police Chief Hazel Kinsey.” I’d spent so many years as Special Agent Kinsey, I was still trying to adjust to the new title.
“I know who you are,” Pierce said, turning his attention back to his keyboard. “You’re the one that murdered Adele.”
Adele Adams had been an utterly rotten egg, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t had friends in the community. You don’t live for three hundred years without forming allies. “If that’s how you want to see it.”
He stopped typing and glared at me. “What do you want?”
I was tempted to arrest him for acting like a Class A Asshole. “When did you come into work this morning?”
“Are you interrogating me?”
“If you haven’t noticed, someone or something has turned your street into a big, boiling cauldron of awful.”
For the first time since I’d walked in, I saw something other than irritation in his eyes. He appeared genuinely surprised. “What are you talking about?”
“How far up that computer’s ass has your head been all day?” I pointed out the window and down the street. “At the intersection.”
He stood up and walked, his gait rigid and stiff, to the window. His mouth pursed as he stared, wide-eyed, at the mess. “Like a hellbroth boil and bubble,” he whispered, pretentiously quoting Shakespeare.
“Double, double, toil and trouble,” I said. Two could play the Macbeth game.
He gave me a contemptuous glare. “That wasn’t there when I came in this morning.”
“You sure?”
“I think I would have noticed, Special Police Chief Kinsey.”
If this guy didn’t stop acting like a jerk, I was going to shoot him. “You haven’t seen anything suspicious since your arrival? Anyone stra
nge passing your front windows?”
“People pass by here all the time. It’s a busy street.”
We were both looking right toward the oil pit when a loud bang on the window startled us back. A clown pressed its body against the glass and rubbed a big red kiss on the pristinely clean glass. After, it honked a horn and ran across the street and down an alley.
“Goddessdamn Shifters!” Pierce said.
Oh, more Halloween pranks. Clowns? Really? “You need to evacuate your office, Mr. Pierce. We don’t know if that thing will get bigger.” I smiled at him sweetly. “It would just devastate me if the pond of gooey grossness swallowed you up.”
“I’m sure it would.” He shook his head. “I’m staying. I’ll keep an eye out, if it gets worse, I’ll go.”
Why, oh, why did people always try to weather the storm? “I’m afraid this isn’t a request, sir.”
“Are you going to kill me if I don’t listen to you? Is that what happened with Adele?”
“Adele was murdering Shifters, and she tried to kill me,” I snapped. Ugh. Why was I letting this ass-twat get to me?
“I’ve heard the propaganda.”
Fantastic. A conspiracy nut. “Whatever, Oliver Stone. Just get your shit and get the hell out before I arrest you for your own safety.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “But this is how tyranny starts.”
I wagged my finger at him. “When I come back this way, you best be gone, buddy.” I pushed my way past Pierce and exited his office. Out on the sidewalk, Ford was talking to a very tall woman, well over six feet.
When I reached him, he said, “Haze, this is Marlene Edwards. Marlene, meet Police Chief Haze Kinsey.”
“So you’re the woman who landed our Ford.” She smiled at him fondly. “You come in anytime for a haircut, Haze. First one on the house.”
Marlene gave off a warm and inviting vibe. I bet she was a great mom. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
“Marlene says she hasn’t seen anything unusual this morning. But she did see when the tarry stuff appeared.”
“I was outside getting some air, and all of a sudden there was a groaning noise, and poof, there it was.” She put her hand to her chest. “That poor Matty Deerfield, his business has been struggling this year, and losing his only truck is going to hurt badly.”