“Helen Donaldson,” I said, pressing the gun against her head just in case she decided to be ornery, “by order of the Netherworld Retrievers, I, Piper Shaw, and my partner, Reaper Payne, hereby place you under arrest, and we shall transport you back to the Netherworld and present you before the Tribunal for sentencing.”
She relaxed and groaned heavily.
“Damn it,” was all she said.
Chapter 4
With Mrs. Donaldson heading off to processing, and both Reaper and I getting a full commission on her retrieval, due to her being brought back alive, we were back to our desks and awaiting the next assignment.
“How are the jewels?” I asked my partner without turning my attention from the screen. “Still sore?”
“Jewels?”
“Your balls, Reap.”
“Ah,” he replied. “They are fine, thank you.”
“Good.”
After a moment, he added, “May I ask why you refer to them as jewels?”
“Google it.”
Even though Reaper had been living with supers for a number of years, he still missed out on certain bits of slang and other nuances that one could only get through lots of exposure.
“Piper,” called out the voice of Chief Carter from his office, “I need you and Reaper in here pronto.”
He wasn’t one who used the connector when a solid yell would suffice.
Reaper and I walked into his office and found the older man sitting there, red-faced. This wasn’t unusual since he was more often irritated than not, but he seemed a little more vexed than usual. Plus, the pink bottle sitting on his desk spelled that his stomach was churning.
“Sit down,” he demanded, which sounded funny coming from a man who seriously looked like he could play the part of Santa Claus. “We have a problem.”
“What’s up, Chief?” I asked, taking a seat.
In response, he spun his screen around and pointed at it.
“We’ve got riots going on downtown.”
By that, he meant in the Netherworld city center. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be little fights breaking out down here, seeing that the city center was basically a soup of races who were innately against the existence of each other.
But full-scale riots didn’t happen often.
I couldn’t recall even a single one in my years living here.
The Netherworld was akin to New York City topside. It was a large place that was full of buildings and people. Those people were from all the supernatural races. Most of the time, they worked together just fine, but now and then…not so much. On the outer edges of the city were the deeper faction areas. This is where you had to be careful. If you were a vampire entering the werebear area, for example, you’d better have completed your last will and testament because you weren’t likely to be seen again.
Those who lived in the city center, though, strived to focus on the greater good instead of just worrying about their own kind. Actually, the only way a super could get a permit to go topside was if they’d first spent a number of years working and living in the city center without incident. That’s why the topside wasn’t completely overrun with supers.
“Any idea what happened?” asked Reaper. Then he glanced at us both. “I’m assuming riots are rare, yes?”
“They are,” answered the chief. “Last one I saw of this scale was in the late eighties.”
That brought up a red flag.
The prick known as Keller had last been active in the late eighties and early nineties. Maybe he was back for another round of fun?
“Wait,” I said, furrowing my brow at the chief, “I’m assuming you’re tying Keller to this just like I am, but he’s topside, right?”
The chief shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he’s not still connected down here.”
“Plus,” Reaper mused, “we still don’t know what his full capabilities are. He could be able to travel back and forth, just as we can.”
“True,” I agreed. “He did gain access to the tattoos of a few Retrievers.”
Many of them, in fact. Keller had killed a number of PPD officers, which he’d been able to do because someone on his team had figured out how to hack our tattoos and capabilities. Our resident technician, a goblin who went by the name of Pecker, had changed our ink accordingly, but Keller still had had full access for a short time. That may have been long enough for him to find a way back into the Netherworld.
“Anyway,” the chief said, “that’s why I called back Brazen and Kix. I’ve got two officers going to each of the main factions to see if they can figure out what started everything.”
Even though Brazen and Kix were training to be Retrievers, they didn’t have their stripes yet. They were still full-fledged Netherworld cops, though, which meant it was more important for them to be here than with me and Reaper. The Netherworld was their normal beat. They knew it far better than I did. Hell, if I ever got in my head to leave the Retriever unit and become a beat cop in the Netherworld, I’d probably be apprenticing to those two idiots.
“That’s risky,” I said, recalling that Brazen was a werebear and Kix was a djinn. “They’re not the same race, you know?”
“Of course I know,” he replied as if I were stupid. “But they’ve got the law on their side, and everyone has warrants.”
Factions were tough and ruthless, but they weren’t stupid. Killing a cop or even roughing one up would result in serious repercussions. Hate only took you so far before logic overruled stupidity. At least that’s what I’d learned over my years as a cop. Still, there were times where hate ruled no matter what.
“Have they reported back?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he replied, taking a sip from his pink bottle of stomach soother, “but everyone’s just received their final briefing and their assignments. We should hear back within the hour.”
“Chief,” Reaper said, sounding tentative, “these riots aren’t near the Diamond District, are they?”
“They’re moving that way slowly,” the chief replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Agnes,” I answered for him.
“Yes,” he agreed.
Reaper Payne, the former reaper who, again, was in charge of taking souls—or whatever you want to call them—from dead bodies and ferrying them to the Vortex…had a pet turtle named Agnes.
Supposedly, this was to help him better understand feelings and emotions. It seemed to have had an impact, too, as he did appear to greatly care about that turtle.
“Well,” the chief said, notably not making fun of Reaper for having such a pet, “you may want to check up on her, just in case.”
“Agreed,” stated Reaper while getting to his feet. He looked at me. “Do you want to join me?”
“To check on a turtle?” I scoffed.
“Correct.”
There wasn’t much in the way of sarcastic interpretation when it came to Reaper.
I glanced at the chief hopefully. “Is there anything we can do to help with the riots, Chief?”
“No,” he said flatly. “We only have so many Retrievers left and I can’t afford any of you being injured or killed.” He held up a hand. “I know you’re both immortal, Piper, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be taken and locked away. If anything blows up topside, I’ll need you for that.”
That was a fair statement.
Keller may or may not be pulling the strings down here, but if he suddenly decided to start being a dick again in the Overworld, it’d be all hands on deck.
“All right,” I said, pushing myself to my feet and motioning for Reaper to lead the way. “Let’s go check on Agnes.”
Chapter 5
Reaper’s condo was posh. His eye for decoration had floored me the first time I’d been here. There was white leather furniture, a widescreen TV hanging on the wall, a sound system that could probably piss off the neighbors if Reaper cranked it past two, and artwork that had to have cost him a pretty penny.
In a nutshell, it was no wonder Reaper wa
s doing all he could to condition me not to kill all our perps. He needed full commissions in order to pay for all this shit.
Whenever we brought back a perp alive, we got paid in full. If we brought them back dead, or brought back a piece of whatever was left of them, we only got half pay. I could survive on half pay, but that was because I didn’t live in the Diamond District. There was no point. I spent most of my time working or at the precinct, so why spend cash on splendors like Reaper did?
Another look around told me that if I had a place like this, I’d probably spend less time at the office.
After a few minutes of what sounded like cooing, Reaper emerged from his room, holding Agnes.
She was a red-eared slider. While I had no idea what that meant in the grand scheme of turtledom, the name appropriately described the red lines on the sides of her head.
“Say, ‘hello,’ Agnes,” Reaper said encouragingly.
“Uh…hello,” I mumbled while looking at the turtle.
“I was speaking to Agnes, Piper.”
“Ah, right.”
I’d nearly forgotten that Reaper was able to talk to his turtle. At least that’s what he claimed. Obviously, I couldn’t verify this other than to say Reaper didn’t seem to be bat-shit crazy. Then again, he said he could talk to his turtle.
I lifted an eyebrow at him but said nothing.
“She said that there hasn’t been any noise in the area, aside from the people upstairs.” He looked up at me. “They exercise at odd hours, and they’re very enthusiastic about it. Lot’s of moaning and groaning, and they yell out to various deities a lot.”
It was difficult not to laugh.
“Okay,” I said with a cough. “Well, it looks like all is good here, so we should probably head on back.”
Reaper nodded in agreement and motioned me toward the door.
I glanced down at Agnes.
“What about her?”
“I’m bringing her with me,” he said as though he were a child who wasn’t about to leave his beloved pet behind. “It’s not safe to leave her here, Piper. At least not until the rioting has passed.”
“I see.” I didn’t, but I wasn’t really a pet-person. “Where are you going to put her?”
“I have a special pocket she likes,” he replied, opening his trench coat to show me. “We go on little trips all the time.”
“Right.” I shrugged and headed toward the door and stopped. “A tortoise pocket.”
“She’s a turtle, not a tortoise.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked, suddenly wishing I hadn’t.
“They’re both reptiles,” Reaper explained, “from the order of Testudines, but tortoises dwell on land while turtles are either aquatic or semi-aquatic.” He looked excited to be having this discussion. That made one of us. “I have books that go into much more detail, if you’re interested?”
I blinked at him.
“Uh, not really,” I said, and then pointed at the turtle as a memory struck. “Hey, wait, don’t those things carry salmonella?”
Reaper balked and looked down at Agnes with a shocked face.
“Agnes!” he whispered sternly. “That’s not nice.”
While I was still on the fence regarding whether or not Reaper was actually able to communicate with his turtle, there was something about the way the little creature was eyeing me that said she had said something.
“What did she say?” I asked with a bit of effort.
“Nothing,” Reaper replied. “She merely spoke out of turn.” He then wagged his finger at her. “Yes, you did, Agnes. That was rude.” He stopped wagging his finger. “Well, yes, I know that, but you have to remember that she doesn’t know any better.”
“Am I the ‘she’ in that statement, Reap?” I ventured.
“Yes.”
I crossed my arms and began tapping my foot. Now, I knew Reaper was a reaper, but apparently even he became uncomfortable when a woman crossed her arms and tapped her foot. The next step was hand-on-hip, which I knew he would avoid at all costs.
“What did she say, Reap?”
“Honestly, it’s not really—”
“What did she say?” I pressed, moving my hand to my hip. It was inevitable. “Tell me.”
He sighed, looking back and forth between me and the turtle.
Agnes kept her head tilted slightly while staring at me with a judging eye. It was like she was mocking me. I knew I could easily squash that damn turtle, but there was something about her that gave me pause. Probably the biggest ‘something’ was that she could talk to Reaper.
“She said, ‘Your mom has salmonella’.”
Chapter 6
The streets were relatively quiet as we began moving back to the tubes. We could technically just portal back to the station, but with everything that was going on in the area, we’d been asked to keep the portals to emergency-use only.
“It doesn’t appear to be bad here,” Reaper echoed my thoughts. “Hopefully it stays that way.”
“Agreed,” I said, keeping a roving eye on the area. “You never know when the shit will hit the fan, though.”
“Yet another metaphor that has never made sense to me,” Reaper sighed.
We’d gotten about halfway to the tubes when I sensed something was wrong. There was a stillness in the air.
I stopped and put my head on a swivel.
“Do you feel that, Reap?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Good, so I wasn’t crazy. I had a tendency of knowing when bad things were afoot, but it was nice to have a second opinion to confirm my feelings.
“Agnes feels it too,” he added.
That interrupted my pattern for a moment as I glanced at him while furrowing my brow.
“Swell,” I moaned.
Turning my attention back to scanning, I saw someone who looked out of place.
She was a fae and she was wearing a baseball cap. Fae did not tend to wear anything that would hide their beauty. They were exceedingly vain people, after all.
Now, it could have just been that she was one of those few who touted how beauty didn’t matter.
I’d found that there were only two types of people who said that sort of thing. Really good-looking ones and really not-so-good-looking ones. But the really good-looking ones wouldn’t give up their looks for a million bucks, and the really not-so-good-looking ones would pay a billion bucks to be really good-looking.
In other words, that hat gave me pause.
“There’s something you don’t see every day,” I remarked with a nod toward the fae.
“It is odd that she is wearing a hat,” Reaper acknowledged. “Fae do not tend to cover up.” Then he pursed his lips. “It could be that she is vegan as well.”
I wasn’t sure how wearing a hat and being a vegan connected in Reaper’s head.
“Huh?”
He looked over at me. “I’ve just found that those who are vegans tend to be less focused on outward beauty.”
“They do?”
I was obviously not well-versed in the way of the vegan. It seemed to me that healthy eating and avoidance of devouring animals was just one facet of a person. How that tied into a fae wearing a hat was a mystery to me. Then again, I did have a few acquaintances who were vegan and they did seem to carry a particular scent around with them.
Just as I was about to shrug off the fae-in-the-hat as me being too sensitive to the fact that rioting was nearby, she dropped to a knee for a moment, and then got back up and walked briskly away.
“Did you see that?”
“Maybe she was just tying her shoe?” Reaper replied. Then he opened his coat slightly and glanced in the pocket where he was keeping his turtle. “What was that, Agnes? Get down? Why should we—”
I dived at Reaper, knocking him on his ass just as a wave of energy flew over us.
“Ouch,” he said, looking up at me. “Agnes also says, ‘ouch’.”
All of a sudden, there were screams and yelling i
n the area.
I pushed up from Reaper and turned around to see that people were tearing into each other. I didn’t know what was in the device that the fae had clearly put on the ground, and I had no clue how Agnes could sense something was wrong, but the rioting had begun.
“Why did you tackle me?” Reaper asked as he brushed his coat.
“Ask your fucking turtle,” I answered while shoving him toward the tubes. “We have to get the hell out of here.”
That was going to be easier said than done because we were the only two people in the area who had no support. I didn’t mean PPD officers, either. I meant neither of us fit in down here. I was a normal, mostly, and Reaper was a reaper. We didn’t have vampires to back us up, or werewolves, or pixies, or whatever. We were outliers, and if we didn’t get out of here quickly, we were fucked.
Too late.
We’d been sniffed out.
Damn wolves.
“Run!” I bellowed before taking off at full speed toward the tubes.
Getting in there wouldn’t save our asses, but if we could get on a tram before too many of the beasts were on us, we’d at least have a chance.
“Agnes says that we should use the portal,” Reaper yelled back, hot on my heels.
“It’s only for emergencies, Reap,” I reminded him as we hit the steps that led down to the subway. Then I muttered, “Stupid turtle.”
“Yes, Agnes,” he called out, “I agree that this does feel like an emergency.”
Damn it, the turtle was right.
Wasn’t it bad enough that I had a reaper for a partner? Now I had a reaper and a turtle? And the fact that the turtle appeared to be the smarter of the two didn’t help. Shit, she was possibly the smartest of all three of us.
Bitch.
Great. Now I was referring to a turtle as a bitch.
“Fine,” I said as we hit the bottom landing. “Let’s portal out.”
We were only seconds away from being overrun by an angry mob of rioters, before the world faded away.
Chapter 7
Deathly Temperance: A Piper & Payne Supernatural Thriller (Netherworld Paranormal Police Department Book 3) Page 2