by K.N. Lee
Grinding her teeth together, she fought to quash the firestorm inside.
Livia stood watching, her eyes pools of tears, her forehead furrowed into a knot.
The doctor nodded, a ridiculous expression of satisfaction plastered across his face.
“Wonderful,” he said.
His hand reached out to touch Egan, shivering, like he was in the throes of rapture.
Adult Egan bolted awake.
“Goddamn dreams,” she muttered. Searching for her phone, she found it on the floor. She reached her fingers to turn it toward her so she could read the time display. “Three a.m. What’s new? Same damn nightmares, every night.”
No amount of drink or drug could dull them. Night after night, the children of Psi-3891 paraded past her vision. Many of the kids had died from the experiments conducted on their small bodies, or from the heartbreak of knowing what freaks they all were. Kids with psychic abilities of every kind, including telekinesis, bilocation, astral projection, precognition, extreme empathy, divination, death-warning, scrying, and her special powers of dark fire manipulation, all found their way into the underground clinic.
She wouldn’t get back to sleep tonight, so she rolled out of bed and grabbed her pink silk robe from the floor. Slipping her feet into soft, furry slippers, she wiggled her toes. Then, she padded across the marble floors of her penthouse bedroom suite, staring at the glowing streets of New York far below.
She moved as quietly as she could, so as not to wake Livia. She made her way into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of bourbon, and headed into her home office.
Neither of them ever believed they’d live like majestic birds, high above the grungy, grimy streets of the Upper East Side. Up here they could get away from everything, restore, and live to see another day, doing what they did best—solve New York’s grittiest crimes involving freaks like them.
Powering up her computer, she opened a browser and typed in the address for Facebook. After logging in, she reached for the glass sitting across from her on the desk. After filling it with a finger of the amber liquid, she scanned the news feed, stopping when a picture of someone caught her eye.
Medical Examiner Rion Hunter stared back at her, smiling broadly.
Her breath hitched. She kind of had a crush on him. More like had the flaming hots.
She touched the screen and spread her fingers apart, enlarging the photo. He’s a Fae. He’s bound to be trouble.
She lifted her glass to her lips and took a swallow. Like her and Livia, Rion kept his Fae abilities on the down low. Few of the people he worked with knew him as a fairy, just as few people knew about her Umbria-pyrokinesis skills or Livia’s telepathic skills. She and Rion had discussed it once, while waiting for some lab results in his office. While it was known people like them existed, it wasn’t freely talked about. It made most humans uncomfortable—or, envious. Sure, the media might feature a supernatural on the news, but it would be some sort of mutant-fest over-exaggeration. Maybe it would be good to date a supernatural…a freak like me. She’d always shied away from it, preferring to blend in, not make waves. Besides the fact childhood torture kind of makes me not trust anyone.
“Why are you still up?”
Egan lifted her head. Livia stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, sheathed in a purple satin robe that matched her long hair. She smiled at Egan.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Egan slammed the lid shut before Livia could see the screen. Lifting her glass, she said, “Cheers,” before tossing back the fire-water.
“Keep your wits about you, Egan,” Livia said, hints of disapproval revealed through her furrowed brow. “We’ve got to get dressed.”
“Why’s that?” The scotch burned as it rolled down her throat.
“Danvers called. A body’s been found. We’ve got to suit up and head back to the station.”
At least it beat dealing with nightmares. Egan would take a dead body any day over reliving her and Livia’s childhood, trapped at Psi-3891. But something told her this next case might make her change her mind.
Livia
Livia raked her hand through her nearly-dried hair as she and Egan parked their car. They stepped out into the cool night air and hurried down the dark road toward the dead body. Overhead, the dim glow of a sliver of moon struggled through the clouds, casting an eerie glow over E. 72nd street on the Upper Eastside. The street lights in this part of the city weren’t working, making it hard to see.
Livia spent most of her evening in her bathtub, soaking until it cooled and she had to let it out and run more steaming water. It was what she did to calm her nerves…and her mind.
She didn’t think she’d be up in the middle of the night, dealing with another murder.
Peaceful sleep was a rare luxury. She could scarcely remember a time when she wasn’t plagued by nightmares, haunted by her memories of growing up—and being experimented on—at Psi-3891. Both she and Egan had trouble sleeping.
A cold breeze snapped her from her dark thoughts.
The body had been dumped at a group of abandoned warehouses, overlooking the East River. The only business ever conducted out here consisted of drug deals, or…murders. Livia shivered. She wondered if she’d ever get used to the sight of a corpse. Her humanity would be in question if she ever did.
“You know what’s near here, right?” Egan’s voice dispersed her dark memories.
Livia pulled her jacket tight. “What?”
“That Satanic cult. They live in an innocuous looking house on this very street.”
Livia shivered. “How do you know?”
“I read about it down at the 12th precinct.”
“Do you think it’s connected?” The last thing Livia wanted to deal with was Satanism.
“I don’t know. I’m just saying, is all.” Egan gave her a somber look.
As she scurried toward the gruesome scene, marked by yellow crime tape and flashing lights, Livia turned to say something to Egan. Where’d she go? She glanced over her shoulder to see her, dragging her feet, staring at the ground. She turned to look ahead. Then, she smiled. She pivoted and kept walking backward as she spoke to Egan.
“Why are you applying the brakes suddenly, hmm?” she teased.
“I’m not applying brakes,” Egan snapped. She trained her scowling gaze on the fresh-faced medical examiner, lit by police lights, crouched over a sheet-covered corpse.
“What? It’s only Rion. You might enjoy an older man.”
“What is he? Twelve?” Egan’s voice sounded sharp. “I like men in their thirties. Besides, we’re working.”
“He does appear young. But, he’s probably at least three hundred,” Livia said, lifting a brow. “You know how fairies age.”
“And you know I don’t date the Fae. They’re too much trouble,” Egan said. “Besides the fact, I don’t shit where I eat.”
“Who said anything about dating?” Livia said. She side-eyed Egan and sighed. Despite Egan’s hard exterior, she was just as attracted to Rion as he was to her. Maybe another nudge might push Egan in the right direction.
Egan’s fiery gaze snapped to hers.
“I…you…never mind,” she huffed, hurrying ahead.
Livia burst out laughing. She hurried to catch up with Egan.
She and Egan stopped just at the edge of the cloth covering the body. They both crouched next to it.
“What I’d give to never smell another dead body,” Livia said, grimacing as she covered her nose.
The precinct provided them with Scent Stoppers—small vials of some scientific formula they were supposed to dab on the end of their noses—but nothing prevented the sharp tang of blood from winding its way into her olfactory senses. Maybe the horror of seeing someone’s life essence oozing out stirred her imagination. Or maybe the iron-tanged essence of blood couldn’t be stopped by some stupid “scientific formula.”
“Evening, ladies,” Rion said with a grin. He barely glanced at Livia, his eyes fixed on Egan’s serious face
as she bent toward the cloth covered body.
Livia rolled her eyes.
“Hey, Rion. What do we have here?” Egan asked.
Livia kept one hand over her nose as she folded her other arm under her bosom. Then, her face bunched as she watched Egan start to lift the covering to reveal a man’s broken frame.
“Let me get that, little lady,” Rion said, hustling to position himself closer to Egan. He snatched the sheet from her, preventing them from viewing the body.
“Is there a problem?” Livia frowned.
Rion swallowed. “This one is different.”
Egan eyed him warily as he peeled back the sheet.
“Damn,” Egan said, peering closer at the man.
He lay face down, his head to the side.
“He looks ancient. His hair is completely white.”
“Nope. Don’t think so.” Livia pointed to his smooth, unblemished skin. “He must be all of twenty something.”
“I must be off my game,” Egan said. She scowled. “I thought he was an old man at first glance.”
“No,” Livia said, softly. She studied the dark circles ringing Egan’s eyes. “You’re just tired. We both are.”
Rion’s eyebrows pulled together, directing his gaze at Egan. “Not sleeping? You two need to take a few days off. I have a—”
“Vacation place?” Livia finished his sentence, feeling every bit the matchmaker. “I’m pretty busy. Booked solid for weeks. Egan’s the one who needs a break.”
She eyed Egan with amusement. Egan scowled so hard, she looked like her head might explode.
“Tell us what happened,” Egan said, abruptly. She held her hand over the dead man’s hair as her eyes widened. “Something isn’t adding up. The station said the guy was shot in a drug deal gone wrong.”
“That’s right,” Rion said, pointing his gloved fingers to the gunshot wounds coming from the guy’s back. “He took two shots to the chest and—though it will most likely take a few days for a toxicology report—this shows all of the signs of a bad drug deal. The poor kid didn’t know what was coming.”
“Hmm,” Egan said, her eyes scanning the body. “What are these strange lines on the back of his neck?”
“What do you mean?” Rion asked.
Livia followed Egan’s gaze. “These…” She pointed to the spidery lines covering the corpse’s neck. She may as well have been talking to the street lamp.
Rion’s gaze focused on Egan, not the body.
Egan folded her arms over her chest. She seemed lost in thought.
She’s probably thinking about Rion, not the dead body. Livia’s mood began to sour. “Looks to be the work of fairies. They mark their victims with strange colorizations to their flesh all of the time.”
Rion kept his gaze on Egan.
Egan stayed silent.
“The Fae,” Livia said. “They like to disfigure their victims.”
Rion glanced at her, his eyebrows stitched together in puzzlement. “No, they don’t…”
“Well,” Egan said, coming out of her silent reverie. “Look here. His color is a bit off, and these lines didn’t come from a gunshot wound.”
“Definitely the work of the supernatural,” Livia said.
“I concur,” Egan said.
“I’m telling you, it’s the mark of Fae.” Livia scowled at Rion.
He kept his gaze fixed on Egan.
“Or maybe it’s what happens when you’re ignored repeatedly.”
Egan’s gaze whipped toward Livia. Understanding seemed to form in her eyes.
“Right, Rion. There are two of us out here, not just one.”
Rion shook his head. “Oh. My apologies.”
She moved around Rion, coming to rest beside Livia.
“But I’m telling you, it’s not the mark of a fairy. I should know.” His brow lowered over his eyes.
Livia smirked, feeling seen once more. She leaned into Egan, peering at the lifeless body.
“Those are definitely gunshot wounds, Egan,” she said.
“But, it’s as if he’s been drained. There isn’t even much blood. Turn him over,” Egan said. “I want a better look.”
Something stirred in Livia’s belly.
A warning.
Her skin grew tight as Rion turned the body over.
Egan was right. Not all was what it seemed. The man before her was the same one she’d seen at the club earlier.
Livia hunched closer, ignoring the awful smell. “Holy hell. It’s Jason Chambers.”
“The State Congressman’s son?” Rion asked.
“Did I hear you correctly?” Lt. Danvers asked.
She jumped. She pivoted her head, stumbled, and nearly fell over onto the body.
She straightened her clothes as she stood.
“What all did you hear?” she asked, licking her lips as their eyes locked.
Act naturally.
Danvers pointed to the body. “Is that really the Congressman’s son? This guy looks old.”
Sighing, Livia nodded. “It is.”
Egan stuffed her hands in her pockets. Her face was stone serious. “Yeah. Me, too. It’s the guy from the club earlier tonight. Isn’t he supposed to get married to some New York socialite soon? It’s all over the news feeds. Social event of the season.”
“Not anymore,” Livia said, pulling her coat tight. “He may have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but somebody took it from him.”
Egan’s gaze met hers. “And we’re going to find out why.”
Egan
Standing next to Jason’s corpse, illuminated by the flashing red and blue lights, Lt. Danvers began questioning Egan, positioning himself between her and Livia, as if shielding Livia. “What do you mean you saw him at the club?”
Egan peered around Danvers, trying to catch Livia’s eye, before answering.
Livia stared at the ground.
Egan glared at Danvers. Why are you protecting Livia? And, Livia, why are you acting so weird? “Like I said. We were at the club earlier, catching a perp, remember?”
A breeze kicked up a pile of garbage and debris around her ankles, luring out a nearby rat. It skittered toward her feet, as if chasing his next meal. She kicked at the trash, sending a burger wrapper in the rat’s direction.
Rion busied himself with preparing the corpse for transport. After he and another fellow lifted the body onto a stainless-steel gurney, he secured a strap around it, giving it a firm tug. As he pushed the gurney past her, he glanced at her.
She gave him a slight smile and a nod.
He visibly brightened, standing taller.
She afforded him another glance.
He was tall, well-built, and boyishly charming. His wavy brown hair brushed the top of his collar. He had dimples when he smiled, and his eyes were the color of soft moss lining the forest floor.
“Of course I remember,” Danvers said, interrupting her musing. “But nothing came up when you came into my office, Livia.”
He turned to look at Livia, his gaze growing limpid.
“I guess I got distracted,” Livia said, wrapping her arms around her tummy. She stepped from behind his protective stance. “What with everything else we talked about.”
Her gaze swept the ground before landing on Egan.
Egan glanced at Danvers and then Livia, questioning her friend with her eyes. “What all did you talk about?”
Livia gave a small shake of her head, as if telling her to move on.
Egan jerked her hands, palm up, glaring at her.
“The real question is—what did you see?” Lt. Danvers stood stiffly, his hand poised over his NYC TechNote, the device used by the police to take notes.
“He sat in the corner of the club macking on some woman. It wasn’t his fiancée.”
Danvers’ thumbs flew over the keyboard.
“And you knew this how?” he asked, his attention directed at his screen.
“What do you mean how do I know this? I’ve got eyes, y
ou know. The woman sticking her tongue down his throat wasn’t his fiancée. She’s a brunette. This woman was a…” She paused, frowning, trying to recall what the woman looked like. In her mind, she saw nothing but a big, blank, hole. How odd. It’s like it’s been wiped from my mind.
“I remember what you said,” Livia interjected, coming to her rescue.
“I didn’t say…” Egan began, until she noticed Livia’s frantic head shake.
“Remember? You said she was blonde. I definitely remember you telling me she had blonde hair.”
Danvers looked suspiciously between them.
I didn’t mention anything to you.
Egan’s eyebrows drew together, until she noticed Livia’s wide-eyed gaze, inviting her to play along.
Of course. You read my mind at the club.
You were thinking of the kissing couple when I was seducing Renner. The only way I could let that scumbag kiss me was by accessing you and your mind.
Egan shook her head. Livia and her super-powers.
The girl could pick secrets out of the corners of people’s minds. Thankfully, she respected their friendship enough to seldom pry.
“Right, Liv. That’s what I said. And I think we should follow up at the club. Look at the owner’s footage.” Egan inclined her head. Please, Liv, let’s wrap this up and get out of here.
Livia’s eyebrows shot up. She nodded. “I completely agree, Egan.” She stepped next to Lt. Danvers, letting her hand rest on his forearm. “Let us do our job, okay?”
A winsome look settled on her pretty face.
“Sure thing,” he said, his gaze growing puppy dog soft.
They seem awfully friendly. Egan wanted to vomit. She projected thoughts toward Livia. What’s going on? She was met with a brick wall of silence.
Egan headed toward her Corvette, Livia right behind her. As soon as they were out of ear shot of Danvers, Egan took her arm.
“What’s with all the strange behavior between you and the lieutenant?” she asked in a low voice.
Livia tugged her arm away. “Nothing. I don’t know what you mean. It’s business as usual.”
“Right. We’re closer than most, Livia,” she said, tapping her temple.