by Jackie May
Swallowing the first dozen offensive retorts that jump to mind, I release a calming breath and say, “I see we’ve got plenty of extra security tonight. Trolls and fey enforcers—heavy hitters. Since A) neither of those groups is allowed to work directly for the Agency, and B) we couldn’t afford them even if they were, I assume they’re also here because of Nora Jacobs?”
Nick beams. “You assume right. Word got out that Nora was in trouble, and here they came a-runnin’, no questions asked, out of the pure goodness of their hearts.” Raising a pointer finger, his smile fades and his eyes narrow in thought. Whatever he’s about to preach, it apparently requires his wise mentor face. “That’s what loyalty buys you.”
My claws extend. Heat flashes through my face. The sounds of munching popcorn intensifies. “I am loyal to the underworld. King Paul was practicing illegal necromancy when I busted him.”
“But you didn’t know that until after. You’d already made your choice.”
“To stop a serial killer!”
“Hey, did I fire you? Everything turned out okay in the end. I’m just saying, you’re damn lucky it did.”
“Well, I don’t feel lucky. I feel like the black sheep just for doing my job. Brenner was going—”
“Don’t!” Now Nick raises both pointer fingers. Darla scoots her chair forward, munching loudly. “Don’t you dare say that name. I don’t ever want to hear that name again. I got you in one ear with ‘Brenner found this and Brenner found that.’ I got Oliver Harrington in the other ear with ‘Brenner knows this and Brenner knows that.’ And I got Agent Hillerman with her entire foot”—he makes an uppercut punch to the air—“all the way up my ass with ‘Brenner is this and Brenner is that.’”
“He is what? What the hell did Hillerman say about him?”
He ignores the question. “Do you know what kind of shit hit the fan after Nora found out what Brenner dug up?”
“Don’t give me that. Nora found out from Henry. Brenner had nothing to do with it.”
“I was this close to losing her.”
“Ha! Losing her? Maybe I’m not caught up on the latest tally, Nick, but last I checked, you don’t have, and never will have, any notches on Nora’s bedpost.”
“No, she didn’t!” Darla squeaks through a mouthful.
Yes, I did. And like an idiot, I don’t stop there. “I wonder if you even realize she’s got you under her spell? Talk about a raw deal, Gorgeous—she gets all the control, you get none of that ass.”
Nick seems unfazed, damn him, but his eyes flick to others in the office. I follow his look to see that the fey enforcers are casting annoyed glances at me. The trolls are less subtle. They stare me down with flared nostrils.
Nick speaks in a very patient, nonthreatening tone. “Agent Davies, let me ask you: have you ever actually met Nora Jacobs?”
He knows I haven’t, but I see what he’s doing, and I better play along if I want to continue living. I clear my throat, as if embarrassed, and admit, “No.”
“I see. So, the truth is, you have no clue what the hell you’re talking about.” To the trolls, Nick turns his palms up. The trolls snort dismissively and turn back to their business. The fey enforcers dip their chins in a regal nod, as though justice and dignity have been restored to the office. Nick roasts me with a severe look that says, You’re welcome, but next time, I let them pull your spine out through your mouth.
I lower my voice. “Look, all I meant to ask is, have you made any progress on the revenant case, or not?”
“That’s a big old not. Obviously, things have been a little busy around here.”
“Which is why I should be working the case, and not you.”
“Wrong on both accounts. You can’t work it, because revenants come from sorcerers, and the sorcerer community has banned you for life. And I’m not working it, because Director West wants to oversee this case personally.”
I hang my head. “Director West? Isn’t that a conflict of interest? She won’t go after a sorcerer. The only thing she cares about is protecting their image.”
Nick shoots to his feet, clamps my elbow in a vice grip, and hauls me out of earshot from the others. Leaning in closely, he speaks in a calm but forceful tone that somehow feels more menacing than if he were shouting. “I’m going to do you a favor and spare you from embarrassment—or worse—by letting you in on something that everybody else here already knows. Have you ever wondered why Madison West is so respected by the entire underworld, and especially by the sorcerer community? Think about that for a second. I don’t know if you noticed by now, but sorcerers don’t do law enforcement. It’s blue collar. Beneath them. They’re tycoons, or senators, or dukes and duchesses, all that Old-World bullshit.”
He doesn’t have to tell me. Despite being one of Detroit’s most powerful witches, Elvira Harrington became the most controversial figure of the sorcerer community overnight when she aided me in the case against King Paul. The younger sorcerers think it’s badass—every eligible bachelor wants to court her—but the entirety of the older generation, including her own parents, has banned her from stepping foot on their estates.
“And yet,” Nick continues, “here’s Madison West, Miss High Sorceress, not only working for the Agency, but its director, its champion. And still, she commands total respect from her peers. Why?”
“Because she’s the boss. It’s a position of power.”
“Wrong. It’s because when it came to a choice between the underworld and the only man she ever loved, she chose the underworld. And when I say chose, I mean she had to kill him with her own hands.”
Beyond the gut punch of such a tragic and unthinkable scenario, I feel the sting of failure. As the consummate street roamer and eavesdropper of Detroit, I once considered myself the keeper of all gossip in this city. But I’ve never heard anything about this.
Nick’s shoulders droop, the fire leaving his eyes. Smacking me with that punch line was fun, but he finds no joy in sharing the details. “You should have seen her back then. With him, she was different. Those two…it was the real deal, Shayne, like you could only dream of with Brenner; I don’t care what you think you guys got.
“But it was that same old story—too good to be true. He wanted to be somebody more than he was, and he got in over his head with the wrong people. He hid things from her, and by the time she found out, the Agency was being called in to end it. When he put up a fight, we had no other choice, but Madison sure as hell did. She could have defended him, protected him. Hell, I half expected her to join him. The thing they had, nobody would have blamed her.
“But she didn’t. When it came down to it…she did it herself. I was there. I would have done it, but she wouldn’t let me. This was her thing to do. And she didn’t look away, Shayne. She looked him right in the eyes when she did it.” His gaze pierces mine, as if in demonstration. “Could you make that choice?”
Fear robs me of the bravado to lie. Some things simply cannot be faked. The best I can do is try to sound defiant when I croak, “I’ve already shown that I won’t.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” he says, surprisingly with no hint of gloating.
Encouraged by the apparent moment of truce, I say, “Just one more thing, Gorgeous. Tell me what Agent Hillerman said? Brenner is what?”
“She said…” Nick sighs, reluctant to share. “She said, ‘Brenner’s just the sort of human we need right now.’”
Involuntarily, my hands clasp together. “She said that?”
“Then she asks me, she says, ‘When’s the last time you heard of a human who knew about the underworld, but didn’t absolutely despise it?’”
I lean in, not even caring how obvious it is that I’m desperate for his approval. “I know, right? And? When was the last time?”
Again, he sighs. “There isn’t one, because I’ve never heard of it.” He raises a warning finger. “But the jury’s still out on Brenner, far as I’m concerned. Just because he loves you don’t mean he loves the underw
orld.”
My breath hitches. “You think he loves me?”
He mutters, “Oh, hell no,” as he strides away.
I would have followed after him, but in that moment the door to Madison West’s office opens. She walks out, followed by vampire Parker Reed, her deputy director. When they both step aside, all eyes in the office are drawn to an impressive man in the doorway. He’s tall, lean, and impeccably groomed, not one styled hair out of place, not one imperfect line shaping his smooth beard. His mouth is open just enough to feature the two sharpened points of fangs. For a master vampire, his look is incredibly modern, with a fluffy fur coat over a T-shirt, gold chains, and track pants—all straight out of a hip-hop music video celebrating the billionaire thug life.
All of the dejected vamps in the office suddenly perk up when this guy appears. The loud chaos settles into a low buzz of anticipation. I join Ren and Darla behind their desks, where we can ogle inconspicuously. “Who’s he?”
“Theo Coltrane,” Darla says between heavy breaths. She tongues popcorn out of her hand while raking her eyes up and down his body.
“He’s the master of Cleveland,” Ren adds with a rapturous sigh as he too digs into Darla’s popcorn tub. “Come to take in these strays.”
“What, he just gets to claim all of Henry’s leftovers? Does that mean Detroit’s now his territory? What if he’s as bad as Henry?”
“Would you rather have the Windsor clan up in here?”
I shudder. “Good point. I just wish we didn’t need a Detroit master at all.”
“Theo Coltrane can be the master of the chains, whips, and handcuffs in my bedroom,” Darby says, chomping vigorously.
“I feel a blood donation coming on,” Ren volleys. And back and forth they go, whispering naughty nothings, reaching again and again for more popcorn. But when I try to reach in, Darla slaps my hand away without even looking.
“Dancing in the sheets,” she says, not missing a beat.
“Do the monster mash.”
“Give a dog a bone.”
“Press my upvote button.”
“Shaboink-boink!”
“Rumpy-pumpy!” That last one was a little too excited. Theo Coltrane glances over at us. We duck down behind the computer monitors. Thankfully, the vamp I brought in overtakes his attention. He approaches the Cleveland master with quivering, begging hands, practically on bended knee. “Master,” he whines. “Please.”
I’m surprised to see on Theo’s face an emotion I thought impossible for a vampire: compassion. Raising the vamp to his full height, Theo gently places a hand on his cheek and whispers a few choice words into his ear. Immediately, the vamp is soothed, as though a healing elixir has just coursed through his undead veins. His face relaxes into a blissful smile.
Behind them, Parker Reed makes a discreet check of his wrist watch. The sun will be up in minutes. That gives me an idea.
“You guys are so immature,” I hiss to Ren and Darla. “Imagine how embarrassed you’ll be if your lover boy comes over here and sees this mess.”
With a full mouth, Darla mumbles, “What mess?”
I swat the popcorn tub out of her hands and run away.
Thanks to the truck’s fussy starter, I barely beat Deputy Director Reed to his home under the Ambassador Bridge. I’ve pulled off to the side of the road, just shy of the magical ward that looks like a gate to human eyes, when Reed’s shiny black Mercedes rolls up beside me. I’d love to talk at him through our open windows, but that feels too casual for a distinguished gentleman like Reed. He’s the formal, classy type I would delight in mocking, if not for one thing: he treats me as an equal, even though there is nothing equal about a powerful vampire and a fox shifter. I like him.
So I return that respect by braving the ass-whipping cold to stand outside his window.
“Agent Davies, good morning,” he says, his voice polite but quiet. “You’ll catch your death out here. Won’t you come in?”
Shocked, I glance at the thick concrete walls beneath the Ambassador Bridge. Nora Jacobs lives down there with all her men. Terrance Balfrey, my old boss from club Underworld, owns the place, but he let Nora and her harem move in so they could all be together. It’s the most elite of inner sanctums in Detroit. It’s like the Bat Cave.
Noticing my glance, Reed gives a thin smile. “Into my car, I mean.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, no, that’s okay. This’ll be quick.”
“The seats are warmed.”
“I bet they are. And your heater probably doesn’t smell like butt crack, either. Must be nice.”
His eyes widen ever so slightly. “Hmm, yes.”
Dammit, screw the pleasantries. Jamming fists into my coat pockets, I cut straight to the chase. “I’m looking for a vampire with a black chin.”
“Black?”
“Right, like a tattoo. A thick black stripe that goes from the bottom lip down the chin, and all the way down the throat. You’re a billion years old, right? You know all the vamps around here.”
“I am, and I do.” His brow furrows. “But I’ve never seen such a marking. A black chin.” He shakes his head.
“Not one of Henry’s, then?”
“Definitely not.”
“A rogue, maybe?”
“I couldn’t say.” He shoots me a wary look. “Agent Davies, this wouldn’t happen to concern the case with—”
I cut him off, too freezing to bother with bullshitting. “Yes, it does, Deputy Director, and I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to touch that case, but this is something new, and Madison West is stretched thin right now. She can’t make this a priority.”
“Need it be a priority?”
“Yes,” I urge.
“For Detective Brenner, you mean.”
“For…” I let my voice trail off, embarrassed.
“For the two of you,” he says.
“Yes. For us, it’s a priority. Did Oliver tell you these might be the same vamps that killed…” Again, I don’t finish my thought.
Reed’s eyes harden. “Nora’s mother? Yes, I’m aware.”
“Does Nora know?”
“Absolutely not.” His voice takes on a lethal edge. “With all she’s been through, I’d be supremely disappointed should such conjectures be made known to her.”
“No, hey, I ain’t saying shit, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“In any case, those would no longer be the vampires who attacked Nora and her mother. Detective Brenner describes them as having white eyes.”
“That’s right. Revenants. They were dead, until some necromancer reanimated them.”
“In body only, an important distinction. Their minds are gone, leaving empty shells. Necromancy is a hybrid of dark sorcery and demonic ritual. Their bodies are now hosts for demon spirits.”
“I get that, but will Nora see it that way?”
“The vampires who killed Nora’s mother are dead.” He puts a solid period—full stop—at the end of that sentence.
“Yes, sir.”
Having laid down the law, Reed then blinks, and his face softens. “The revenants who killed Detective Brenner’s sister, however, are still out there. And you have reason to believe that one of them is marked with a black chin?”
“Last night,” I explain, “Me and Brenner were…well, that’s…it doesn’t matter what we were doing, but all of a sudden he remembered something about the attack that he’d never remembered before. And the memory came back to him at the same time that—”
“—Henry died,” Parker finishes, intrigued. “A compulsion was released.”
“We thought that Henry had already released Brenner’s compulsion, but apparently he kept this one detail hidden.”
He frowns. “A detail which, as I said, means nothing to me. There is no vampire with a black chin that I’ve ever seen.”
“And you’ve seen a lot.”
“More than you could imagine.”
“Vampires from all over this region. You guys get a
round. You know each other.”
“Correct.”
I bite my lip, desperate to get a better answer out of him. “A black chin, that’s not something you forget. You would have noticed.”
He gives me a concerned look. “Are you sure you won’t sit with me?”
“No, that’s nice of you. Really. But I should go. And you probably want to get in there, see Nora.”
“I do,” he admits. “Tonight was…a close call.”
I back away. “Yeah, no, I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
He doesn’t move a muscle. Still contemplating me with solemn eyes. “It won’t go away, you know. In fact, it only gets worse. No matter how strong or how fast or how clever, we are none of us impervious. If Henry Stadther can fall, then how much easier a siren, or, easier still, a human? How foolish, then, to attach ourselves to such fleeting beings? Fools, all of us.” His eyes twinkle, and one side of his lips curves up in a sad smile. “But what a beautiful risk.”
His words pierce me with more bite than the cold. I can hardly form words. “Isn’t it?” What a surreal shock, to be standing here in the cold dawn, bonding with my vampire boss over a feeling of romantic existential dread. It occurs to me that the haunted yet hopeful look in Reed’s eyes reminds me so much of Brenner. Of all Nora’s men, I think I’ve found a favorite.
A loud car horn makes me jump. In the intense discussion with Reed, I hadn’t noticed the Cadillac leaving the compound, driving straight through the imaginary gate. Rook Winters—Nora’s wolf—is behind the wheel. I haven’t seen him since he made an appearance with the Huron River pack at my birthday party. Stopping the car, rolling his window down, he speaks to Reed without acknowledging me. “I’m making a food run for everybody. Add something to the order for you?”
“Not necessary. Thank you.”
“I told them you’d say that.” Rook shifts in his seat and clears his throat. After stealing a self-conscious glance at me, he says to Reed, “She’ll be glad you’re home, Parker.”
Reed plays with the slightest hint of a smile. “I won’t delay another second.” He gives me a parting nod. “Agent Davies.”