“Mike, we met the parents already and neither one of them was a shifter. I can see a shifter a mile away and the kid’s father was one hundred percent human, without a doubt. Shifters have a way of moving, a predatory grace. Patrick Blackmore didn’t have that.”
Mike ran his fingers through his hair giving his head a slight shake. “According to the guy on the phone, the kid’s mom remarried when Daniel was four-years-old and he’s had no contact with his biological father since the split. The Mom wanted him out of the picture so he stayed away.”
Well if that were the case, why did he care now? He basically hadn’t seen his kid in what, three years and all of a sudden he cared about him? Just as I was about to voice the question Mike raised his hand to stop me.
“Before those gears in your head start turning, you should know that you won’t be working this one alone.”
I stared at him for half a beat. Did he seriously think he was up for this? I mean, he was great and all but he’d been playing desk duty ever since the day he hired me. And in those two years, Mike had visibly grown soft in the most literal way. A good twenty pounds of softness if you asked me. He was nowhere near the shape he needed to be in to hunt down vampire murderers. At best he’d slow me down, at worst, he’d get both of us killed. Having Mike along was a liability and he knew it.
“Mike, there is no way. You can’t do it and I won’t let you be stupid and try. What would Marian think?” I asked, knowing bringing up his wife should help to knock some sense into him.
Mike glared at me. “Well thanks for the vote of confidence, brat. I wasn’t talking about me. You’re going to have a pack partner. This is an official pack problem so play nice and don’t bring my wife into this. If I wanted on this case I damn well would be on it.” He puffed out his chest. He reminded me of a peacock, fluffing his feathers to make himself appear larger.
I smiled to myself as Mike lumbered back to his desk, his feathers officially ruffled. He grumbled under his breath about smart-ass women and something about no damn sense. Pretty sure that I’d gotten under his skin by bringing up Marian but she and I were on the same page when it came to Mike in the field.
Marian kept nagging him to retire, said the job was too dangerous and was better suited for people my age and frankly, I agreed. The fact that Mike was no longer active in the field did little to dissuade her concerns when he insisted on tagging along, claiming he was only going for observational purposes. We all know he missed the thrill of the chase, but despite the fact that Mike tagged along on our safer cases, there was always some level of risk. I knew retirement was around the corner for him, but the day Mike hung his hat would be a sad day. Even though he’d only been in my life for a little over two years, he’d become my rock. A fatherly figure in a way and I leaned on him more than I cared to admit.
With the need to rush out and bring vicious justice abated, I went back to my desk to organize all of our files on Daniel’s case.
I wasn’t thrilled about working with a partner. I wasn’t all that friendly and didn’t exactly play well with others. How Mike managed to tolerate me was a mystery but hey, I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Mike found me slumming it on the streets a couple of years back just trying to survive. After the death of my parents I was alone. No family or friends to lean on and at the time I was only seventeen years old. I spent four years on my own, most of which were on the streets. The Awakening happened three months after my parent’s death. Talk about timing. Those four years on my own I barely scraped by and looking back, I’m surprised I managed to stay alive.
I was too young in the beginning for anyone to consider hiring me for a job. There weren’t many options for a girl my age so I did the only thing I could do aside from prostitution, which was the one thing I’d never stooped low enough to consider. I took on mercenary gigs. I got in touch with some shady people who didn’t care if I lived or died so long as they got paid and I did the jobs no one else was willing to do. They were near suicide missions, yet here I am. Alive and whole with just a few scars for my trouble.
Being on my own changed me. I was tough before, compared to your average seventeen-year-old girl. But being a pyrokinetic meant I had to be that much stronger, faster, and more capable.
As soon as my abilities were discovered, my father began teaching me to fight. To take down an opponent twice my size if necessary. My physical training was a second education and without it I would have died within the first week of the Awakening.
My father was surprised when my powers manifested but he took it in stride and helped me as best he could to understand an ability neither of us knew how to manage and to prepare me for the battles I’d face moving forward.
My mother was a different matter. She was antsy when I was near. I knew she tried to hide her discomfort and I knew she loved me, but finding out your kid was a pyrokinetic was a lot to take in.
Back then, paranormals weren’t public knowledge. Dad knew about Psykers like myself, human beings born with psychokinetic powers. His grandfather had been one, though according to Dad, he’d been an aerokinetic. His abilities centering on the manipulation of air and its currents. I’d been lucky that he’d had some knowledge on the matter. He knew enough to teach me some basic meditation techniques, help me work on control, and teach me who I needed to avoid. Case in point, other psykers.
As it was, even with my training I still struggled on my own and when my abilities grew stronger, well, let’s just say I may have lost it a bit. I burnt down my entire apartment building once. By accident of course. It wasn’t my fault that my whack job of a neighbor refused to turn her stereo down or that she ignored every single noise complaint I made to the apartment manager.
I worked long hours and she made my life difficult. I was stressed out, over worked, and barely getting by. I’ll admit my fuse may have been a bit short back then but she had it coming and watching her scream and yell over her ruined knock off Prada bag is a memory I cherish to this day.
That slip up had exposed me though. Less than two hours later a man arrived at my door with an offer he thought I couldn't refuse. I’d asked for a day to consider it, knowing there was no way in heck I’d accept, and he’d promised to come back in the morning. As soon as he left, I’d packed my bags and hit the road.
There were perks to slumming it on the streets. I had knowledge and contacts that otherwise I’d never have and they were worth their weight in silver. See, the glass was always half full.
Setting my past memories aside, I turned back to the present.
“So when is my partner supposed to arrive?” I asked, rifling through my desk in search of my Pack directory. It was highly illegal to have a list of pack members and their roles, at least, it went against Pack Law but then I didn’t really care. In my line of work, you needed an advantage and I certainly needed to know what the heck I would be getting myself into.
“No idea. But, Ari, I’ve got a bad feeling about this one. You wanted the kid to get justice and he’ll get it. You know how shifters can be, they won’t stop until they find the culprit so why don’t you let them handle this, okay?”
There was no way I was going to stand on the sidelines while the Pack took over. Not happening. This was my case. I’d already poured blood and sweat into it and was not stepping aside. I allowed my displeasure wash over my face.
“Aria don’t give me that look. You know I’m only looking out for you. What would happen if the Pack found out about you, about what you can do?” he said.
When I first began working with Sanborn Place, he let me do my own thing, solve my own problems, take on the jobs I wanted to tackle. But recently his protective streak had begun to chafe.
“Mike you and I both know that isn’t going to happen. I’ll be careful. Why don’t you just tell me what fur ball they’re going to saddle me with.” I smiled when I found the directory buried in my desk’s bottom drawn.
“Finally,” I said pulling the docum
ent out and leaning over it as I scanned the page for likely candidates. It was doubtful the Pack would send an Alpha. There were six clans within the Pacific Northwest Pack I knew off. Clan Wolf, Clan Cat, Clan Feloidea which included Hyena’s Mongooses, and Civets, Clan Muridea housed the rodent members of the pack, Clan Canidae was the fox, coyote, and jackals, and Clan Big. The last had an unusual name but I supposed all of its members were just, well, big. It encompassed the bears a handful of others like water buffalos and rhinoceros though from what research I’d been able to conclude, water buffalos, and rhinoceros were rare. It was rare to have any form of shifter that wasn’t known for being a predator and carnivore.
Mike noisily cleared his throat, “Uh hey, Ari…”
“God I hope whoever it is he isn’t a complete moron. If I’m going to be stuck with a pack partner, the least they can do is send me someone competent,” I said.
Mike noisily cleared his throat again.
“What?” I looked up from my desk.
I was greeted by a tall man standing just inside the office, casually leaning against the doorframe. He had tousled brown hair and steely grey colored eyes. High cheekbones and a strong jaw formed his masculine face and a hint of stubble dusted his jaw line, not enough to appear unkempt but just enough to give a roguish impression. Dressed in black jeans, a black T, and a black leather jacket, he oozed tall, dark and handsome with deadly intent. I shoved my directory into the top drawer of my desk. Crap.
“That would be this fur ball right here,” he said, an arrogant grin lifting the corner of his mouth.
I let my head fall to the surface of my desk, then for good measure, I none too gently knocked my forehead on its smooth surface, one, two, three times. Dammit I couldn’t believe I’d just called him a freaking fur ball! My cheeks grew warm with embarrassment and I did my best to hide it.
“You all done with the show?” he asked as I lifted my head from the desk. I glared at him for good measure and then allowed my head to connect with the desk once more before sitting up, rubbing the slight sting away.
“Yea, I’m done.” Well, at least this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d thought. James was the only shifter I knew personally and was one of the few individuals I considered a friend. I met James about six months ago at a shifter bar downtown, though at the time I didn’t actually know it was a shifter bar. Things got a bit out of hand when a group of coyotes started harassing me but…well, that story was for another day.
“So, you’re my partner?”
James nodded. “Yea, I’m your partner.” He sauntered further into the room. The word coming to mind, swagger. He had some serious swag. If he weren’t the closest thing I had to a best friend I’d be drooling like the rest of society when he walked into a room.
“Ready to do something reckless?”
I smiled, he knew me all too well.
“Absolutely.”
Grabbing my messenger bag I followed James out of the office, aware of Mike’s unapproving gaze on my every step.
†
James and I piled into his 1970 BOSS 302 Mustang and made our way out of the small parking garage attached to Sanborn Place. The car roared to life as we pulled onto the street and I relished the feel of the sleek leather under my hands. James’ car was a work of art. Every man’s wet dream come true, and woman’s if I was being honest. It was his pride and joy. A relic passed down from his father that he meticulously rebuilt and customized. The Mustang sported a custom black on black paint job with black rims, blacked out taillights, and black leather interior. It had bad ass written all over it.
It fit him perfectly and was a showstopper, sure to attract attention. I had a feeling James wanted to be seen and remembered.
“So, when are you going to let me take her for a spin?”
He laughed. “Never Ari, never.”
I pout, a small furrow between my brows.
“You’re no fun,” I told him.
“We’ve spent enough time together and I’ve seen how you drive. This car is my baby, I’d like her to stay in one piece.”
“I’m a perfectly safe driver. All I’m asking for is a few runs around the block. She’d come back to you safe and sound.”
James shook his head. “There is nothing you could say to convince me to let you have a turn at the wheel.”
“This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” he said with a smile.
As we made our way down the street I fiddled with the knobs on the stereo before asking for information.
“So who’s the father?”
“His name is Eric Delaney, he’s a wolf out on the South Hill.” The South Hill was on the nicer side of Spokane, Washington. Houses were nestled fairly close but the views of the city were stunning and the cramped houses were a fair trade off for a lower crime rate and cleaner neighborhoods.
“So I take it then that the kid took his mom’s last name since they don’t match? What’s up with the MIA dad all of a sudden wanting some justice? Not that I’m complaining.”
James shrugged. “Not really sure. He called the pack yesterday morning and asked for us to look into the matter. He’d been off the grid for a few years and said he wasn’t satisfied with the efforts that had been taken for his son. He seemed pretty worked up over it on the phone.”
“And you guys agreed, just like that?”
James gave me a sideways look, his piercing gaze asking me if I was stupid.
“What?” I asked.
“Aria you know how things work. We’re a pack, someone needs help, we help. Someone wants answers, we find them. It’s what we do.”
I rolled my eyes. “You just said he’d been off the grid. How does that even work?”
“He requested leave and Declan gave it to him.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know. My Alpha didn’t mention it and I didn’t ask.”
I drummed my fingers along the window’s edge. I knew more about the inner workings of the pack than most outsiders but I still didn’t fully comprehend every detail. It didn’t make sense in my mind that the pack would extend aid to a member that had turned his back on them and his son.
“Why is the pack helping him?”
I got the same sideways look.
“I’m not part of the pack. I don’t know how you work.”
He heaved an exasperated sigh. “You know enough.”
Fine, yea whatever, I knew enough.
“Do you know the situation between him and the mom?”
“Not much, only that they separated over three years ago and Eric hadn’t seen Daniel since.”
I mulled that over in my mind as we made our way up Freya Street. It just didn’t make sense. I wasn’t judging the guy but from the way I saw it, he walked out on his kid’s life over three years ago and was trying to come back too late in the game. Daniel was gone and he wasn’t coming back. I wanted to bring the bastard who killed him down, I really did. But from Delaney’s perspective, I just didn’t get the why. Eyeing James suspiciously I bit my cheek to hold back my retort. There was something he wasn’t telling me.
Pulling up to a single story home, James killed the engine and we both stepped out of the car. The house was a wreck. It matched the same modern style of the rest of the neighborhood houses but where the surrounding homes were pristine with manicured lawns, the Delaney residence was run down with peeling paint, overgrown shrubbery, and random debris piled on the side of the house.
Making sure my blades weren’t hidden by my leather jacket, I left my bag behind and made my way up the short pathway leading from the street to the front door with James stalking behind me. He was giving the impression that he was the muscle in this situation. Which basically, he was. James and I had worked on a few cases together in the past. Nothing concerning Pack business but every now and again he’d pop in and freelance a gig to kill some time. He didn’t need the money, what with the gym and his work with the Pack but he always happened to jump on board cases
involving vamps. I was pretty sure he did it for information, an in of sorts, since things were so hostile between the pack and the coven and my cases typically provided insider information, but I didn’t mind.
We had a routine already and he typically hung back and let me do the talking. Most were intimidated enough by his presence. He didn’t have to work all that hard at it.
Climbing the few steps to the door I rapped three times and waited for a response.
No one answered. I knocked three more times and again waited, doing my best not to fidget. Patience was not a virtue of mine.
After several long moments there was the distinct sound of a lock being retracted and the door opened just a crack.
“What do you want?” the man behind the door asked. I could make out his olive skin tone and fall of chestnut hair, just like Daniel’s.
“I’m Aria Naveed, a mercenary with Sanborn Place. I’d like to speak with you about your son’s death.”
“He didn’t just die.” He growled, “He was murdered.”
“I know,” I said in what I hoped was a calm and soothing voice. “I’d like a few moments of your time to interview you and see if you might be able to present any leads. I’m trying to bring your son’s killer down and I need your help to do that.”
For some reason, Eric Delaney looked a bit crazed. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a mess. I faintly wondered if maybe he was having trouble sleeping. Then mentally slapped myself as soon as the thought crossed my mind. Of course he was having trouble sleeping, his kid was just murdered.
He peered over my shoulder and eyed James up and down before his eyes strayed to the car parked just a few yards away. I watched as his nostrils flared and saw the moment he realized James was a shifter flash across his face, all color draining from his expression. Taking a step back, Delaney opened the door wider and motioned for us to come in.
I moved to take a step into the house but before I could pass the threshold, James slid in past me, blocking my way. He stood still as stone for a tense moment before making his way further into the house. Stupid shifter habits, always thinking women needed to be protected. James knew better than most, I was capable of looking out for myself. He was the only person alive actually, who knew just how capable.
blood and magic 02 - kissed by fire Page 16