“Two problems, first tomorrow is Sunday. And more importantly, you hate people.” I took a little too much pleasure in ruining his delight.
“But I’m not going to deal with her, you are. I’ll tell her to let you pick everything out. Pick something sophisticated, something completely unlike that trashy box,” he replied with a lopsided grin.
The flea market didn’t hold much more appeal for me. Jakob managed to pick out some produce in the farmer’s section, and we headed home. Mark went out somewhere to feed. He was old enough that he didn’t need to eat each night, but his hatred of werewolves drove him to hunt them whenever he got the chance. After my experiences last summer, I didn’t object. Jakob put the top down on his convertible and took the back roads to his house. We glided along over the rural roadways as silent as any ghost I could call.
“What did Mark mean about the chest? When he said I didn’t even know what it was?” I let my hand drift on the cool breeze outside my window. Outside of the city, the night was alive with sounds, bugs, frogs, and a dozen other things I couldn’t name added to the pleasant background noise.
“It was a dowry chest.”
I leaned back in my seat and thought about it for a minute. “Nope, still not getting it. I’d much rather talk about something I can have.” I let my fingers walk up the side of his knee.
“And what would that be?” he asked, his voice light.
“A night with the most religious vampire in the city.”
He laughed as we pulled into the driveway. “I think that can be arranged.”
****
He led me into the bedroom with patience I loved so much, then undressed me slowly. Jakob was a thoughtful lover, careful, always thinking of my pleasure first. Knowing what would happen, the way he could make me feel, meant I wanted to rush. His kisses started at my mouth, then trailed down to my neck. I got lost in the pleasure of them, the feeling of his mouth on my skin, and before I realized it I was naked in front of him.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, pushing me gently back on to the bed. I sat down awkwardly, my legs hanging over the edge. He knelt between them and kissed a trail from the inside of my thigh to the center of me. I squirmed as those light butterfly kisses landed on my skin. Before I had a chance to really enjoy them, he’d moved on to the other thigh. He started back again, and this time when he reached the hot core of my body I pushed myself forward, filling his mouth.
He kissed me tenderly, teasing the sensitive flesh, then smiled up at me and asked, “Is that a request?”
“Please?” I asked, fluttering my eyelashes. He didn’t make me ask twice; a second later, his tongue lashed at the tender spot between my legs, and I threw my head back and screamed. Pleasure began to break over my body in waves, my muscles rippling in perfect delight as his tongue worked the spot. The sensation changed, as his fingers entered me, teasing me there. I screamed his name and begged for more. He gave it to me; his mouth and hand working in tandem until my body exploded around him.
I leaned back on the bed trying to catch my breath. It was almost too much for me; it was always almost too much for me. He was that good. He rested for a minute, his head on my thigh then kissed a gentle line up my belly. With my eyes closed, I couldn’t tell where he was, but the bed sank beneath his weight. I opened my eyes to find him above me, his arms wrapped around me, our bodies close.
The look in his eyes was serious, and I realized there was another part of this passion for us to share. He held me tightly and eased his body into me until we were one. The fire inside me ignited again as he stroked in and out of me. I kissed him, covering his mouth with my own, wrapping my fingers into his, wanting him closer to me even though there was no way he could be. As always in our most intimate moments Jakob lapsed back into his first language, an old German I could barely understand. I moved my mouth to whisper in his ear softly.
“I love you,” I said. A second later, his body stiffened with release, and he collapsed beside me. We slept wrapped in each other, unwilling to give up the closeness we’d shared.
****
I woke up later than usual and got stuck having to go through the intricate steps required to open the vampire-safe doors. When the sun was up, you were forced to step out of the first door and shut the door completely behind you before you could open the second door and walk outside. It seemed like a lot of work to get the paper. I wanted brunch, a big buffet with all the not-quite-good-for-you foods that brunch entailed. I tried to distract my stomach with Sunday football, but my team wasn’t playing until the afternoon, so I gave up and called Phoebe. An hour later, we were piling up our first plates and heading outside to where a nice waiter had delivered our mimosas.
Phoebe was a spirit witch and my best friend in the city. She opened her artistically folded napkin with grace that concealed her usual playfulness. I’d seen Phoebe serious a few times in life, but mostly she was as light and free as her long blonde hair.
“How was church?” she asked, taking a bite of Danish.
“It was amazing. You should have seen him Pheebs; he was like transcended or something. The flea market wasn’t so great.”
“No?”
“I ran into a racist.”
“Which kind?” Phoebe tilted her head, looking curious.
“Witch. What kind do you usually get?” I teased.
“The ones who hate Latinas, the ones who hate Hispanics, the ones who don’t know the difference. Someone called me Mexican the other day.” She shook her head, making me wonder how bad of an insult it was to call a Puerto Rican a Mexican.
“Guess there’s plenty of hate to go around.” I needed a new topic; brunch was supposed to be fun. “It wasn’t all bad though. Jakob offered to buy me a car, and there was the most spectacular chest. They were using it to carry breakables. It was amazing, handmade out of solid wood. I was crazy for it, but the ass selling it was the racist. Why are people like that?”
“Lots of reasons—ignorance, fear, devotion to a rigid faith. Can we go back to the part where he offered you a car, and you wanted used furniture?”
“It wasn’t used; it was an antique.”
“No-o-o-o,” she said, drawing the word out. “Antiques live in antique stores and are well taken care of. This was at a flea market being used as packing material, definitely not an antique.”
“But it was pretty enough to be an antique and—” I searched for something “—and it called out to me.”
“Think it was used as a coffin once?”
I threw my napkin at her in disgust. “No. I think it was handcrafted with love. Jakob says it’s a dowry chest or something, not a coffin.”
“You don’t know that maybe the pigs or goats in it died.”
“Pigs and goats?”
“Like in someone’s dowry.” She rolled her eyes at my obvious lack of knowledge.
“And what do you know about dowries?” I asked.
“Nothing, thank all the Gods and Goddesses, which is exactly what you know.” She threw my napkin back at me. “New subject, I feel I should warn you Isaura’s coven is doing a raffle. She’s going to hit you up to buy tickets.”
“A raffle? For what?”
“All of the local covens are working together to raise money for a Pagan Community Center. Everyone is doing something different. Anna and the fire witches are doing a huge carnival next weekend. I brought you a flier. Isaura’s group got the boring option, if you ask me. A raffle is so—” she thought it over for a minute “—middle America, 1950s boring.”
“Right; and what’s your church doing?”
“A race, want to hear about it?”
I groaned but listened anyway.
Chapter Two
Phoebe dropped me off at my place after lunch, and I spent the rest of my Sunday rethinking the question of whether I needed a car. I’d been married to an auto mechanic once. It was his death and return as a zombie that brought me to the city. I’d shed our family car like a snake shed it
s skin, never looking back. The dependable four door reminded me of Greg and the years of dishwater-gray life we’d shared. Constantly getting rides from friends got annoying, but buying a car seemed like a serious commitment. By Monday morning the only thing I was ready to commit to was a Bavarian crème donut.
Jakob was a stickler for healthy food. He’d never told me why, but the sweets, processed food, and fast food I’d grown up eating bothered him beyond words. He had a habit of filling my fridge with healthy choices. Once I’d caught him replacing Twinkies with yellow sponge cake filled with cream as if the two were the same thing. He never needed to know about my Monday morning box-of-donuts tradition at the office. Fortunately, the coffee area was empty, so there was no one to notice my sinful indulgence.
“The lieutenant wants us all in the briefing room for five minutes; bring me a glazed,” Danny ordered without stopping. I grabbed his donut in one hand and my own in the other and then realized I couldn’t carry my notepad. I juggled things for a few minutes then finally took the whole box with me. I passed it around to the usual suspects. Detective Ben Auster, who looked like a linebacker but worked out more, waved the box away.
“It’s dinner time for half of us.” He shook his head. Ben had a permanent tan thanks to his Hawaiian background, but he still looked tired. I sympathized, if I’d been awake since seven last night I would look even worse. As the donuts made their way around, the lieutenant walked behind the podium.
“All right, I know half of you are asleep from the night shift and the other half haven’t woken up yet. I’ll keep this as quick as I can.” He shifted a bit. Lieutenant French started his career in law enforcement as a Marine; he was tall and thin with a wry strength that didn’t show in the muscles underneath his black skin. It was completely unlike him to call us all together unless something major was going on. Lately we’d all been enjoying some peacefulness. I suspected it was about to end.
“In light of the way we handled the werewolf killings, there have been some questions about our relationship with the supernatural community.” The room broke into a chorus of moans and groans. Half of the SIU had ties to the community we served, there were the witches, like me, and people who were something else, like Danny who never mentioned his background. The lieutenant himself had an uncanny knack for charms.
“I know, I know, but the reality is we need to reach out to the people we work for. If any of you have any ideas on a grand gesture we can make to the community, I’d love to hear it.” Silence reigned. “That’s what I thought. Until the higher ups come up with something, I’d like everyone to be on their best behavior. And if something occurs to you, no matter how stupid, come see me. We need all the good press we can get.” He dismissed us and half of the room went to talk about it at our desks while the other half talked about it on the elevator going down.
The werewolf killings had been bad. Nearly forty citizens had been turned into a werewolf or eaten by one. The terror came to a head one bloody full moon at the end of July. It was almost two months ago, but people still had nightmares. At least I did. At the worst moment, a bad officer made prejudicial comments no one was willing to forget it, especially since none of the werewolves lived to go to trial.
Of course, the public didn’t know a vengeful goddess had destroyed them all in retribution for kidnapping someone she was interested in. I was the someone, and the instrument the goddess used was a friend of mine, so I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I’d spent long hours being tortured by the worst of the pack. If people thought I had a prejudice against werewolves, they might be right.
The fax machine beeped as I walked by it. My fingers were sticky with donut residue, but I swiped the page anyway. It had my name at the top. I was reading intently when Danny called out.
“Stop. You’re an inch away from the desk. What’s so fascinating?”
“The fire on Saturday was arson, and they’re pretty positive something supernatural started it. Read for yourself.” I let the page drift down on his desk. Thanks to years of experience in our job, Danny read quicker than I did, picking out the important parts.
“Looks like we have a case.” He grinned; the detective in him couldn’t resist a good mystery.
The arson investigators had uncovered no accelerant but also no reason for the fire to start. That alone didn’t mean anything, but when you added the fact that the flames had started simultaneously in each of the four exam rooms, there was no way it was a natural fire. The reports were brief—the fire had burned out of control until they called in a fire witch to take control of it.
She used her supernatural gifts to call back the flame from the clinic’s dangerous oxygen tanks before there was a larger explosion. She was the hero of the hour even though she hadn’t been able to save a clinic employee. I read about the dead woman with detachment. I expected the guilt would come later, when I interviewed her family and friends.
“You willing to take a walk?” Danny asked. I nodded. Police headquarters was a box of a building designed by the lowest bidder. Our terrazzo floors and square windows didn’t do much to help the place feel homey. People tried to fix that. There was an earth witch in records who had house plants growing into a jungle, but in the end it didn’t work. I was always up for a walk.
“Where are we going?”
“County services, I want the rest of the details.” Eleven floors down we were surrounded by the city traffic, the train rushed by, and cars stood still in yet another traffic delay. Two blocks took us from gridlock to manicured lawns. Living in the state capital meant there was a wide green park around the county services building with a fountain to drive out the sounds of city life. The scene was marred by a bum trying desperately to get to sleep on a bench. I felt sorry for him, and sorrier still that my first thought was how he ruined the way it looked.
The county services building held the courthouse, the arson squad, and a bunch of city employees who didn’t know how good they had it. We walked on marble floors to a gleaming brass elevator; upstairs was thick carpet and pricey, modern furniture. It was hard not to be jealous when a delightfully happy receptionist directed us to our man. Investigator Davis’ desk wouldn’t last a day in the SIU. There were papers on top of papers piled on top of more papers. The room was insane with clutter. Tacked to the door was the third page of a triplicate document advising the room was a fire hazard. It was dated a month ago.
“Don’t worry about that. It’s the guys down the hall being wise,” he said gesturing for us to sit down. There was only one chair, and it was piled with papers. I decided against dumping them on the floor and left it for Danny, who promptly sat down on top of the stack.
“We need the details on the Giving Tree Clinic fire,” Danny said. I looked for someplace to lean but gave up. It was better to stand than push over a stack of something.
“Right, Giving Tree…” He tapped his fingers on a thinner pile of papers.
“The clinic down at the college, student run, serves the northeast population,” Danny supplied. Davis still looked lost. “Burned down Saturday night, they called in the fire witch.”
“Oh! Her. Yeah, you should have said so.” His eyes lit up. “Right here.” He pulled a thin manila folder from the top of a pile. “Not much to go on really, some symbols, a little of this, more of that. To be honest, I’m trusting the new girl on this one.”
The fire witch and I might have had words, but I hated him calling her girl. I glared at him as hard as I could. He didn’t notice.
“You didn’t do any actual investigative work, just took her word?” I asked.
“I know you SIU folks have a problem with the community, but I trust her, even if she is a witch.” I’d meant to point out how little work he’d done; it didn’t work. Danny thanked him for the paperwork and hustled me out of the office. He waited until we were out of earshot to bring it up.
“You shouldn’t have baited him.”
“I know.”
“You establish a rapport,
you listen to what they say, you ask things to get them talking. You don’t point out that they sat on their ass.”
“I know.” I walked in silence for a few steps keeping my rage in check and then gave up. “I know. I’ve read the manuals. I’ve spent hours in training, but it sucks. I hate the part of my job where I have to put up with ignorant people,” I fumed.
“We all do. But you get used to it; you move on.”
“I’ve been a detective for six months; how much longer until I get used to it?”
“Give it another year, two. It’ll happen.” He opened the door to our building. “Or we’ll stick you in the morgue, where no one you interview can complain.” He was the only one who laughed at his joke.
We spent some time with the file. There wasn’t much to read, but I tried to give Davis the benefit of the doubt. The fire had been Saturday; it was early Monday. Still, someone had taken the time to photograph the scene. In their pictures there was a pattern of characters burned into the cement of the clinic floor. It repeated in each room but was burned heaviest in the break room, where they found the fire’s only victim.
“Any ideas what these mean?” Danny asked pushing the photos to me. I glanced at them long enough to be polite.
“No idea, you?”
“No, but I’m not a witch.”
“Huh.” I took a longer look, trying to focus my magic on the flimsy print out. It didn’t work. “Sorry, I guess we need a fire witch.”
“Think Davis will spare us the number of his new best friend?” Danny said with a twinkle in his eye. I thought back to the woman with short black hair and the way we’d last spoken to each other.
“I’ve got a better idea. Let me call Anna, see if we can meet her at Sunshine’s.”
“Sunshine’s? By all means, make the call. I’ll see if the clinic director can fit us in afterwards.”
He stopped to look up the number while I picked up the phone. I knew Anna’s number by heart, but I hadn’t dialed it in a long time. We were close once, girlfriends who went shopping together and hung out at bars ’til the break of dawn. I’d thought we were good friends. Anna had hoped we’d become lovers. She’d kept her feelings for me as hidden as she kept her sexuality—no one in our circle had any idea.
Fire in Her Blood Page 2