“Were there any others or was it just the two men that we ended in your kitchen?”
“Just them,” she answered without looking at me. “I assume the rest of the people they’d brought were friends or something. I didn’t know any of them.”
So this was pretty cut and dried, then. Revenge case. I’d seen them pretty often.
They usually happened when someone revealed the whereabouts of a supernatural who was past due on a reintegration cycle. Newbies in the Overworld—the land of the normals—were held on a tight leash of thirty days per cycle. This meant they could live up with the normals for thirty days, but then had to go back to the Netherworld. It only took an hour or two to complete, but some folks considered it stupid or pointless, and so they refused. The result of that decision was a couple of Retrievers—Netherworld PPD officers who retrieved people who didn’t report in—knocking at your door. If you went nicely, they’d slap your wrist and be done with it. If not, you’d end up in prison and have to go through multiple reintegration cycles until they felt you were ready for release. Then, if you wanted to come back to the Overworld, you faced even more cycles. When a person ran from the system, the chances of someone turning them in was high. This was because it’d score that person points with the Netherworld council, and it was always wise to be in favor with the council. More often than not, the name of the squealer was learned and the imprisoned party went out of their way to pay that person back. We sometimes saw Retrievers on our route. Local PPD officers and Retrievers weren’t exactly known for getting along. Jurisdictional debates and all that got in the way. I never really cared about things of that nature. If they had a perp who was on the run, I let them handle it. If I had a perp on the run and they wanted to get involved, great. As long as the job got done, why should I care who did it?
Regardless, this was a different matter altogether. Ms. Davenport was a normal who was acting as a parole officer. This meant that the guys we’d just killed were being imprisoned in the jail system set up for normals. That wasn’t uncommon, and the Netherworld cops allowed it as long as the criminals were kept in cells alone and were allowed back to the Netherworld for proper reintegration. There was no sense in a vampire going nuts in a prison and chomping into a bunch of other inmates, after all.
“So, you had no idea what these men were?” I asked, trying to be delicate.
“If you mean the teeth and…” She paused as a tear ran down her horrified face. “What were they?”
“Vampires,” answered Warren.
“That’s what I thought,” Ms. Davenport whispered. “I’d heard rumors, but…” She trailed off.
I stood up. “Right, well, as long as there are no others that you’re aware of, Ms. Davenport, I’d say you have nothing left to worry about.”
Rachel stood, too.
Warren did not.
“You guys go ahead,” he said. “I’ll stay here with her for a while. You know, just to make sure she’s okay.”
The look on his face was sincere, but I couldn’t help but think that he may have had other thoughts running through his mind.
“He’s not you, Ian,” Rachel said, taking me by the hand and pulling me toward the door. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Warren. Good night, Ms. Davenport.”
When we got out of the house, I shook away from Rachel’s kung-fu grip.
“I can find my own way, thank you very much.”
“You’re acting like a child,” Rachel said, spinning on me. “Just because that woman finds Warren more her speed than you, you turn into a huge dick.”
“But it’s Warren,” I whined as she strode off to her car. “I mean seriously…Warren!”
Chapter 7
Even though the hostage situation was relatively minor in comparison to the ubernaturals event with the Chippendale’s-looking mage Reese and the zombie invasion of Shitfaced Fred, the Directors were keen on being updated on everything these days. It was like they were on edge…more than usual.
Thus, I sat before the panel. It was kind of like being before a senate hearing, except that I couldn’t see the senators. Well, I could now and then, but as soon as I caught a glimpse of them, the memory would fade. This meant I couldn’t tell you what any of them looked like.
There were four Directors overseeing my precinct. Silver was the head of the Vegas Vampire Coalition, Zack was the leader of the Vegas Werewolf Pack, O managed the Vegas chapter of the Crimson Focus Mages, and EQK sat at the top of the Vegas Pixies.
“There’s really not much to report,” I said after pleasantries were exchanged. “An ex-parole-officer-turned-art-dealer pissed off some criminals who had violated parole. They got out of prison and were bent on exacting revenge.”
“Then why didn’t they?” said Silver.
I blinked at the general location of where he sat.
It was actually a very good point. If the bad guys wanted to kill Ms. Davenport, they could have easily done so. There was no need for sentries or…. I frowned. Yeah, what was it with the sentries?
“That’s a really good question, sir.”
“I agree,” said O. “If these men were intent on killing this ex-parole officer, they would have done so.”
“Sounds like what Silver just said,” EQK stated.
“You know what I don’t understand?” asked Zack.
“Basic math?” answered EQK, even though the question was clearly rhetorical.
To Zack’s credit, he pressed on without responding to the pixie’s obvious insult.
“Why the sentries?”
I nodded. “I was just thinking the exact same thing, sir. I honestly hadn’t even thought of this when we were in the middle of the rescue. Saving the normal was paramount. But now I’m just as baffled as the rest of you.”
“I’m not baffled,” said EQK. “It’s obvious what they were planning to do. Just watch some of your own TV shows, you goddamn idiots.”
“Language, EQK,” O said in an admonishing tone.
“Fuck you, spellboy.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused,” EQK snapped back before continuing with, “If you morons used your brains at all, you’d see that those dudes were planning on having a little ‘fun’ with that chick before killing her.”
Silence followed that statement.
Truth was, disturbing or not, the pixie was probably correct. If you think about it, these were a couple of guys who were stuck in prison for a few extra years due to Ms. Davenport turning them in. Female company was not all that available in the prison system, which probably gave them a lot of time to think about all the naughty things they would do to their ex-parole officer before ending her.
“So you think the sentries were put there to make sure nobody interrupted their nefarious plans?” asked Zack.
“If I had a treat, I’d throw you one,” EQK answered.
“That’s it,” said O with a grunt. “EQK, if you can’t treat your fellow Directors with a level of respect that is worthy of their positions, we will vote that you are either removed from this council or force you to undergo sensitivity training.” He paused. “Are we clear?”
“I thought I was treating you guys with a level of respect that is worthy of your positions,” EQK replied. “No reason to be a dick fume, Osshole.”
Zack was growling lightly, Silver sounded to be giggling, and O was dead silent.
Until…
“Did you just call me Osshole?”
“Oh, come on,” EQK replied in exasperation. “Don’t tell me you’re offended by that, too!”
“How could I not be offended by that? How would you like it if I called you PQK instead of EQK?”
“I don’t get it,” replied the pixie. “What’s it mean?”
“Huh?”
“Well, when I called you Osshole, it’s clearly a play on the word asshole. But you changing the E to a P in my name…” He trailed off for a second. “I don’t get it.”
“There’s nothing to get,” O r
eplied a moment later. “It’s just rude and should bother you.”
“Oh, right.” EQK cleared his throat. “Yeah, being called PQK is pretty upsetting, but if you feel that you must call me that in order to embrace your cultural norms, much like my calling you Osshole allows me to embrace mine, then I shall learn to accept your new name for me…Osshole.”
It was becoming more and more obvious that Silver was having as much trouble keeping it together as I was. Zack, ever the diplomat, was not giggling. He was likely more offended at this exchange than O was, but he also knew that if he spoke out, EQK would just give him some name as well.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this, Silver,” said O.
“Quite.”
“Anyway, sirs,” I interrupted before they could go down yet another rabbit hole, “I think that EQK’s assessment is pretty logical. As for the sentries, I can only assume they were there to make sure the ex-cons had time in the event that the cops did arrive.” It didn’t make a ton of sense to me, to be honest, but I couldn’t think of any other reason for them to be there. “I suppose we could always question them to see if they’ll spill the beans.”
“Probably wise,” O stated, though there was still an edge to his voice.
I stood up to leave, but Zack asked me to sit back down for a moment.
“There are a couple of points for your department that we need to discuss before you go,” he said. “First is that you’ve been the chief of this division for about five years now. That means it’s about time for you to start doing reviews.”
I never understood why reviews were done at the five-year mark instead of annually like other places, but I’d guessed it had something to do with how long supernaturals lived.
Honestly, I wasn’t looking forward to doing the reviews at all. They would require that I take each of my officers on as a working partner for a week so I could watch them perform their duties firsthand. Since most of them had been in the force longer than me—some lifetimes longer, I felt silly judging them.
“You’ll have this entire year to manage it,” Zack continued, “so there is no rush.”
I sighed and nodded.
“Secondly, please remember that it’s your duty to make sure your team members adhere to the reintegration rules. We don’t want another incident with the Retrievers.”
I couldn’t argue with him on that point. During my third month as chief, our tech guy, a pixie by the name of Turbo, had forgotten to go back to the Netherworld for reintegration. They sent up an officer to retrieve him, and she gave me quite an earful. Apparently, since I was the chief, I was on the hook as the first line of making my crew go in for reintegration if they were delayed. The thinking was that I could allow that delay if the officer was in the middle of a case, but I had to notify the Retrievers about it so that they’d hold off on their duties. But Turbo hadn’t been doing anything besides his normal day-to-day job, so he should have gone. Apparently the Directors all had to go through additional training because of my slip up, so I couldn’t blame them for wanting me to stay on top of things, but they didn’t have to remind me every three months.
“I got it, sir,” I said evenly. “You may recall that I’ve not had a single officer skip that duty in roughly five years now.”
“Just making sure it stays that way,” replied Zack. “Dismissed.”
Chapter 8
I called everyone to the conference room to discuss reviews and such. This was my first time having to do this, since the previous chief handled the last round, but it was my duty now.
“Listen up, gang,” I said, calming the chatter. “I just got out of a meeting with the Directors and it seems as though five-year reviews are due this year.”
There were “ughs” and grumbles all around, except for Harvey. He just looked confused at why review-time was a bad thing. I remembered feeling that way when I’d first started on the force, too. Fortunately for me, the chief had finished up his reviews a couple of weeks before he’d retired his post.
“I know, I know,” I said, holding up my hands. “You’ve all told me that you don’t like going through these things. Honestly, I’ve never been through one as a chief before. I was only here a couple of years before I inherited the chief’s duties, and the Directors handled mine by simply saying I was doing a fine job.” I rubbed my eyes. “Well, EQK said something a bit more derisive, but it meant about the same thing in his way of speaking.”
Their faces were all blank. Again, except for Harvey.
What I should have done was bring each of them to those meetings during their review week. That would teach them to show me a little more respect. Either that, or they’d “inadvertently” send a stray fireball my way now and then during a battle.
“Right. Well, I’ll probably start things up in a couple of weeks. I need time to get everything straightened out first and do a little research with Lydia so I know what I’m doing. I promise to make things as painless as possible.”
Harvey’s hand went up.
“Yes, Harvey?”
“I’ve only been on the job for a little while, boss,” he said, sounding more excited than he should have, “but I wouldn’t mind going on one of these weeks with you, if that’s okay?” He glanced around the room. “I know I’m not really a cop, but I’d like to learn.”
It was nice to see at least one member of my team showing some enthusiasm.
I gave that enthusiasm about three months.
“We’ll see how things go, Harvey,” I said with a nod. “Just keep doing your job for now, okay?”
He pointed at me and winked. “You got it, boss.”
“Right, well, only other business I’ve got is that Serena is due for a reintegration visit to the Netherworld.”
She moaned.
It wasn’t the kind of moan she used to make back in the day, either. This one was more of the irritated type. Hearing it resulted in a bit of stirring in my lower section, though, because Serena and I used to engage in role playing. She played the part of succubus and I was the lucky bastard serving her.
I shivered slightly.
“It only takes a couple of hours,” I soothed, “and you’ll be clear for another few months.”
“Yes, I know,” she replied in a defeated tone of voice. “I’ll take care of it this weekend.”
“Thank you.” I closed up my notepad. “Well, if there’s nothing else…” Warren’s hand went up. He seemed more chipper and engaged than usual. I could only imagine that Ms. Davenport had something to do with that. “Yes, Warren?”
“I was wondering if you would all be up for joining me and Charlotte tonight for a get-together,” he said.
All faces turned toward him.
“That was fast,” said Rachel, smiling genuinely. “You guys really hit it off, eh?”
“She’s great,” Warren said, beaming. “I showed her my runes—”
“They’re called balls, pal,” I said with a scoff. “Just because you’re a wizard doesn’t mean you should call your junk after wizarding names.”
“I’m talking about my drawings, Chief.”
Rachel shook her head at me, clearly disappointed. At least she didn’t call me an idiot, aloud anyway.
“Just ignore him, Warren,” Felicia said. “He’s just jealous.”
“I am not.”
“What did Ms. Davenport have to say about your drawings, Warren?” asked Griff.
“She wants to do a show for them at her gallery.”
The entire team was full of smiles at this. What the hell? They were just pictures of goofy shapes and such. What was the big deal?
“That’s great, Warren,” Chuck said, slapping the smaller man on the shoulder. “Good for you, man.”
“Thanks. Anyway, if you guys would join us for a drink, that would be great.”
They were all nodding except for me, but Warren looked up at me with his puppy dog eyes, so I said, “Nope. Definitely not. I have a thing with a chick at the place and I—”
“He’ll be there,” Rachel stated while giving me a stern look.
“Great!”
Everyone stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
“That wasn’t very nice, sugar plum,” said Lydia a few moments later. “You know Warren looks up to you.”
If Lydia was giving me crap about this, then I was clearly in the wrong. She sided with me about everything.
“He does?”
“Everyone does, sweet cheeks. That’s all part of being the chief.”
I had the feeling Lydia was getting her information from old novels and TV shows. Still, it was my duty to be supportive of my crew. Usually this meant as far as their jobs went, but even I had to admit that I was being a bit of a tool at the moment.
“Jealousy doesn’t become you, lover,” Lydia added. “You’re better than that.”
“You’re right, Lydia. Thanks, baby.”
“Anytime, honey buns.”
Chapter 9
An hour later we were sitting at Piero’s. I wasn’t very hungry, but I could down a plate of pasta and have a drink or two.
Warren and Charlotte didn’t exactly look like a match made in heaven. She was gorgeous, and he was…well, Warren. But she did appear to genuinely like him, and that softened me a bit. It made me realize that everyone was right: I was being an ass.
And so I lifted my glass and said, “To Warren and Charlotte, may this be the beginning of a long-lasting relationship.”
“Cheers to that!” Warren said and everyone laughed.
Rachel gave me a wan smile.
She leaned over. “Just when I think you’re incorrigible, you do something like that.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I replied, holding up my drink, “I’ll screw it up eventually.”
“I have no doubt,” she replied. “But for now, it’s nice.”
“Gee, thanks.”
The pasta was actually pretty tasty and my appetite was coming back. This probably had a lot to do with the Rusty Nail I was currently downing, but I’m sure that getting over myself, as Rachel put it, was also helpful.
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