The Hex Files: Wicked State of Mind

by Gina LaManna

  “I’m working a high-profile case at the moment, Grey,” I told him. “I don’t have a ton of extra time. I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”

  “You have connections.”

  “Mostly Homicide and Narcotics,” I said. “Those tend to be the biggies that call me in to help.”

  “Then come with me to the casino,” Grey said. “One night. One round of play. If you don’t smell anything wrong—fine. I won’t bother you about it again.”

  “Can it wait?”

  “Look, I just thought you’d like to know if something was up,” Grey said, leaning back in his seat with a dry smile on his face. “My guy, he’s a trusted source. If he says something’s up, it is. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. You know that.”

  I sighed. I did know that. And what’s more, I knew Grey wouldn’t come asking for help if he didn’t absolutely need it. “Remind me why you need me?”

  Grey gave a disgruntled cough. “Well, you have certain assets that I don’t.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re a female. I’m a male, and I need a date.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “We’re not going there, Grey.”

  “A fake date,” he clarified. “Look, tomorrow night I already have the table. Just show up with me. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “It’s not a date?”

  “It’s not a date. Think of it this way: You might be occupied with a big case, but you have to eat dinner. I’ll feed you dinner while we play. You can watch the dealers, and if you sense something’s off, let me know.”

  “You want me to see if there are Residuals anywhere that spell foul play.”

  He gave a tense smile. “If there aren’t any, you’re free to go back to your vampire.”

  “Stop it. We’re not going to play those games.”

  “I’m not playing any games,” he said. “You have to let me in to actually play a game with you.”

  I studied Grey for a long moment. “What do you know about the elves?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The elves,” I said. “I’m working on a case in the Golden District, and there’s something they’re all keeping from me.”

  “The elves are secretive people. They’ve always valued privacy and tradition.”

  “Yeah, I see that,” I said. “I spent the morning in Gilded Row.”

  “Fancy.”

  “Yeah,” I said, shortly. “I didn’t fit in.”

  “Speaking of Gilded Row,” Grey said, “you’ll need a dress to wear tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, no I don’t. I’m just popping over to the casino on my dinner break.”

  “Not in this room, you’re not. We’re playing at the high stakes table.”

  “High stakes, my ass,” I said. “I’m not wearing a dress.”

  “Well, you just might have to, sweetheart, or else you’re not getting in.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Absolutely no cops within a mile of this room,” he said, scanning me from head to toe—or as much of me as he could see. “You wear those leather pants, your gun’s visible, honey. They won’t let you within ten miles of the door. You’ll be wearing a gown and no gun.”

  “I don’t like it. Too much like a date.”

  “Don’t kid anyone, sweetheart. You bring your gun to dates.”

  “Yeah, because I get people like you asking me out.”

  Grey laughed. We shared a moment of lightness together, smiling over his mangled pizza and leftover soda. It was almost friendly.

  “So, how well do you know this friend?” I asked. “You must be pretty close to be helping him out. You don’t help just anyone.”

  Immediately a cloud passed over his face, and I regretted asking too much.

  “We go way back,” he said. “We’re not close, but I trust him.”

  Interesting, I thought. Grey had always seemed like a loner. And the fact that he cared enough about someone to ask for help was telling.

  “So, what’s the case about?” Grey asked. “You’re in the Golden District. Someone steal a diamond?”

  “I guess you could say that. We’ve got a missing girl. High profile.”

  Grey gave a slow nod. “Linsey Luca. She’s been gone since last night—word travels.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t talk to anyone,” I said. “How do you hear the word if you don’t have friends?”

  That got a wry smile out of him.

  “Did this word you’ve been hearing give you any insights into what might have happened?” I asked. It was a fine line to talk too much about the case to Grey, especially now that I was officially a member of the Sixth Precinct again. But I had to push. The clock was running out, and we wouldn’t get Linsey back if we didn’t take some risks.

  “I don’t know what happened. I just know it’s a big deal,” Grey said. “Are you operating under the assumption that it’s related to the two dead elves found this week?”

  “I sure as hell hope not. But with every hour that passes, it seems more and more likely.”

  “Yeah, but those girls were gone—and kept alive—for three months. That should be a good sign. If the kidnapper follows the same trajectory, you’ve got a little time.”

  “They didn’t have Leonard Luca looking for them,” I said. “I don’t think the kidnapper will be so patient when he’s got all of the Sixth Precinct breathing down his neck.”

  Grey considered this. He leaned his elbows on the table, the upper half of his body big and sprawling. He was the only person I’d ever met who gave Matthew a run for his money when it came to sheer body mass.

  “It’s strange,” I said, resting back in my seat. The table felt crowded with Grey leaning forward. “Luca is pulling out all the stops to find his daughter—except one. He’s hiding something from us.”

  “Well, you know the elfin legend.”

  “Legend?”

  “Myth, whatever you want to call it.” Grey glanced down at his pizza, sizing up the pepperoni with great interest. “They say the elves have a secret magic so great they’d sacrifice their own daughters to keep it hidden. I guess, in this case, it could be true.”

  “But how are people okay with that? Her parents? I think Leonard’s hiding his wife away, claiming she’s taken ill, so she’s not tempted to break their vow of silence.”

  “Probably so. Mothers are usually the weakest. The strongest, I mean,” he corrected quickly. “But that makes them weak. They care. They love. When it’s their children in jeopardy, they’ll do anything to get them back.”

  “And Leonard is her father. Shouldn’t he do the same?”

  “Yes, but he’s likely going to make a play to become a member on the council of elders. He must set an example. And if that means letting his daughter go, that’s what he’ll do.”

  While I pondered Grey’s far-out myth, wondering if there was any truth to it, I stared forlornly into Grey’s Coke. He pushed it toward me, so I took a deep drag, thirsty from tramping around Wicked all day.

  “Eating,” Grey said knowingly. “Something you and I have in common. Unlike your vamp.”

  “Shut up.”

  “So, tomorrow night?” he asked, shifting his weight toward the edge of the booth. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “I don’t have a stupid dress,” I told him. “And I’m not buying one.”

  “I’ll have one delivered,” he said. “I know someone.”

  “Someone in Gilded Row?” I asked. “Ask if they know anything about Linsey’s disappearance—”

  “Detective,” Grey drawled with a wan smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And with that he stood and made his way towards the exit. I watched him go, noticing he left behind a slice of pizza and half of his salad.

  What the hell, I thought, and I dug into the food.

  A few minutes later Willa slid into the booth and scooted right up next to me. Our shoulders touched, and she inclined her head conspiratorially toward
me. Her blond hair was wispy from the humidity and a few wayward strands tickled my neck as she leaned close.

  “What’s his deal?” she murmured. “That seemed quite tense.”

  “Just business.”

  “I know you have Matthew all in love with you,” Willa said with a sigh. “But if you don’t want him, Grey’s looking pretty good.”

  “Grey’s an idiot.”

  “Sure,” Willa said. “Whatever you say. Anyway, did I hear you two setting up a date for tomorrow?”

  “I’m not dating anyone, and especially not Grey.”

  “What about Matthew?” Willa asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.

  “He’s my boss,” I reminded her. “Not happening.”

  “Right. And dating coworkers is never a good thing anyway.” Willa cast a dirty glance toward Jack, who was nestled even closer to his latest squeeze. “Speaking of idiots.”

  “I’m sorry.” I leaned closer to Willa, our heads resting against one another and forming a sort of teepee. “Do you want me to talk to Jack? He’s acting like a jerk. I hired you, and I got you into this mess. I feel responsible.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I’m the one who told him to move on.”

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “No.” That was the end of the conversation. “Anyway, sorry I rushed you over here. It sounds like you have your hands full on a case.”

  “A big one,” I said with a sigh. “It’ll be a busy few days. Thanks for your help covering the pizzeria.”

  She waved me off. “Are you kidding me? This is the best job I’ve ever had. I should be kissing your feet.”

  “No need for feet kissing, but I could go for a Diet Coke,” I said. “I’m famished. Working with Matthew all day doesn’t do much for my appetite.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Willa stood with a smirk. “I bet he makes you ravenous.”

  I scowled at Willa, then climbed out of the booth and followed her to the kitchen where I got my own soda and glared at my friend the whole time. “Keep talking like that,” I said, “And you won’t have this job much longer.”

  She just laughed. “Yeah, right. You can’t survive without me.”

  “True, but I don’t have to like it,” I agreed with a faux-pout. “I’m going to head upstairs and review some files. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Bright and early,” she chirped with a wave. “Sweet dreams!”

  I headed toward the rear of the kitchen and pushed through the swinging doors into a small, employees-only coatroom. At the rear of that was a door that lead upstairs to the second level living quarters.

  I elbowed that door open, soda still in hand, and climbed the skinny spiral staircase. To one side of the long, narrow corridor stood yet another door, this one locked by magic after a series of recent break-ins. My brothers had insisted.

  I touched my hand to the knob, and it opened easily. I braced myself for an onslaught of commentary from my furniture—an enchanted bunch who rarely shut up. Sure enough, as I stepped into the room, the first sound I heard was a creak from my coat rack. Marla is a 1920’s soul trapped in a piece of furniture. She purred a greeting to me.

  “Howdy, Detective. Where’s the vampire?” she asked innocently. “Any interoffice relationship we should know about yet?”

  “Quiet, Marla,” I snapped. “Fred, what do you have for me?”

  My fridge barked a curse word back in return, and I took that to mean that I’d forgotten to fill him again. Only my toaster, Tammy, was happy to see me. But when I told her I wasn’t hungry—not even for toast a little bit burnt, exactly the way I liked it—she got a little steamed and shut off.

  I made my way to the couch. Carl is the laziest sofa on the face of the earth. He merely grunted as I sat on him.

  “Hex Dog,” I said as an explanation. “I was hungry.”

  I reached under one of Carl’s cushions, despite his complaints, and scrounged around until I found the notebook I’d tucked there for safe keeping. Matthew had given me a copy of The Hex Files after working a tough case for him a few months back, and while he had explicitly told me not to memorize the contents of the files, it was hard not think about what I’d read.

  Or rather, it was too easy to memorize. Partly because there wasn’t all that much to remember. I suspected a good majority of the files were actually missing—either lost somewhere or stolen.

  When I couldn’t shake the memories of the files, I had caved and jotted down the five lines from the heavily guarded sheet of paper. I figured I might as well mull over the mystery behind them—and why I felt the pull to keep revisiting those same five lines over and over again. I’d been reading them on repeat every night since I studied the files, but still nothing clicked with me.

  Five people were referenced in the files. Who were these people? Was I supposed to find them? And if I did, what would that mean? I rested my hand on the scribbles and studied the text once more. As my finger brushed over it, the writing warmed beneath my skin. If I closed my eyes, I could trace the outlines of the words by the heat alone.

  “Strange,” I whispered. It was the first time that had happened.

  “What?” Carl grunted.

  “Never mind,” I muttered and quickly closed the files.

  I suspected that something was coming to fruition with The Hex Files. Something I needed to unravel before it was too late. However, Matthew was correct on one front—I needed to rest tonight. No doubt I’d be summoned first thing in the morning for the Luca case, and I had to be sharp for my first week back on the job. Matthew would be ready to work at the crack of dawn, and I planned to be right there with him.

  If we didn’t find Linsey soon, there was no doubt she’d end up dead like the others... or worse.

  Chapter 7

  I woke to something poking me in the back.

  “Gr-off,” Carl said. “You have a visitor.”

  “A visitor?” I groaned, stretched, and glanced around my apartment, curious to find that I’d slept all night on the couch. “What happened to me?”

  “You passed out muttering to yourself,” Carl mumbled. “Someone just knocked on the door. I’m guessing it’s the vamp.”

  I glanced down and found myself wearing boy shorts and a white tank top. My red bra was visible through the shirt, but at least I’d showered before falling asleep. My hair wasn’t comb-able, but that was the least of my problems.

  I stomped toward the door. “Hector, what time is it?”

  “Oh-six-thirty,” my clock shouted like a drill sergeant. “On the dot.”

  I yanked the door open, rubbing a hand over my eyes. “Captain, you really should...”

  I stopped speaking and stared dumbly at the person before me.

  “Grey?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

  I leapt toward Marla and nabbed a long peacoat off her arm. I heard her titter as I did so, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she wriggled herself around for a better look at my visitor.

  I couldn’t blame her. Grey was a vision, to put it mildly. He had on a V-neck sweater that matched his name. It looked fluffy to the touch and a small part of me wanted to run my cheek over his arm to verify my theory.

  His hair curled lightly over his forehead, mussed in a way that told me he’d sprinted through the forests this morning to get here—which explained the reason he looked so good in his jeans. He had the lean, muscled build of a runner, and the tapered waist to go along with it. I was sure Marla would have a comment about his backside the second he left.

  I curled my coat tighter around my body. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were expecting someone else,” Grey said in a slow as molasses drawl. “That’s a nice shirt you’ve got on.”

  “Shut up, Grey.”

  “Does the vamp often visit you before sunrise?”

  I squinted at him. “I’m not fully human before my coffee. In fact, some would call me downright witchy.”

  “Ah. I see,
” Grey said, shifting, hiding one arm behind his back. He held something out of sight, and when I strained to see what it was, he moved it further away. “I’ll just remind you; I’m not the one who asked you to open the door naked.”

  “I’m not naked!”

  “I’m sure the vampire wouldn’t be pleased with what you’re wearing.”

  “He’s my boss, not my vampire. You know what? I don’t have to put up with this—it’s early. Why did you come here, anyway?”

  “Besides the view,” he said, “I came with information.”

  “Spill.”

  “The elves that were found dead were from Silver Street.” He hesitated, weighing his words. “They were seen at a club there the night before they were taken. They left in a rush, I guess. Like they were trying to get away from someone.”

  “Which club?” I asked. “And why is that relevant?”

  “I don’t know that any of this is relevant,” Grey said, “nor do I know the name of the club, just that they were seen hanging around Silver Street early in the morning.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “My sources are confidential,” he said. “I wish I could help you more.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “The elves weren’t snatched until the next day.”

  “No, but Silver Street isn’t exactly a nice area of town,” Grey said. “I’m just saying, someone could have scoped them out the night before. Maybe even made contact and spooked them.”

  “And then what? Let’s say the girls smelled something fishy and turned this mystery man down. Are you suggesting that he came after them the next day, held them hostage for three months, then killed them and dumped the bodies? It’s a stretch, Grey.”

  “I’m just saying, maybe you should ask the girl who survived what happened to them.”

  “The girl who survived?” I blinked. “The third girl was with them at the club?”

  He gave a dry smile. “I gave you my end of the bargain. Here’s yours.”

  From behind his back, he pulled a hanger with an expensive covering draped over it. I’d never bought any sort of clothing that required such exquisite care. Mostly, mine came in crumpled up balls with clearance tags dangling from them.