"Don't call me Sarah, Deryk. I never did like that name very much—which is why I went ahead and took Athena's nickname. Either call me Nemesis or Breed. Or don't call me at all.
"You know very well why Athena's so adamant about this. Whoever killed that guy is a mage. She's been scared shitless for years that some rogue mage would come along and screw things up for the rest of them. I realize the notion doesn't scare you much—you're as immune to magic as you are everything else that might hurt you—but it scares the crap out of the rest of us."
"The guy was a child molester,” Shea grunted. “It isn't as though this ‘rogue’ mage went out and killed a pillar of the community. My advice is to sweep it under the rug and forget about it. As long as this rogue doesn't pick on upstanding citizens, let her—or him—do what he/she needs to do."
Breed's eyes narrowed and her gaze turned hard. “You have an idea who it is, don't you?"
He tried on an innocent expression that didn't fit very well at all. “Who, moi? Absolutely not."
"You're lying."
He gave her a lazy smile. “Now that's not a nice thing to say. Especially without any proof."
"I've spent enough time around you to know when you're trying to bullshit me, Deryk. You'd think you'd do a better poker face after twenty-five thousand years of practice."
He lifted a brow. “You cut me to the quick,” he replied dryly. “You're assuming facts not in evidence, Breed. Bad habit for a Chief of Detectives."
"Ha-ha. Who do you think it is?"
"Even if I had an idea, what makes you think I'd tell you?"
"You do smug very well, you know that?"
"It's a talent."
"I've got a talent, too. It tells me you're lying. You're deliberately obstructing justice here."
"So arrest me."
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
He smirked. “I can think of worse people to be handcuffed by.” As soon as the words left his mouth he flinched visibly. Now why in the hell had he said that? Sure, he was attracted to her, but he'd had plenty of practice dealing with that over the course of his life. What was it about this woman that got under his skin?
"Is that a come on, Shea?"
"What if it is?” What the hell was he doing? Deliberately baiting her? It was as though he couldn't control his own tongue. The first thing that popped into his head came out his mouth. He was just glad the café was empty this time of day. At least there were no witnesses to his stupidity.
Except the waitress, who seemed to be ignoring them and leafing through a textbook or something behind the counter, the café was empty. He picked up his coffee and drained it in one huge swallow, not even noticing how hot it still was. A distraction was called for, he decided. “Miss—could I get a refill please?"
She gave a decidedly disgusted sigh and snatched the pot from the burner and damn near stomped over to refill his cup. “Any more cream?” she grunted, not as if she actually cared.
He glanced up at her, noted absently that she'd be pretty if not for the perpetual crease between her eyebrows, and shook his head. “No. I'm fine."
She stormed away, leaving them alone again. “No tip for her,” Breed chuckled.
"I'll give her a tip—rudeness costs you customers. That's a good tip."
"I take it you don't like this place?"
He shrugged. “We've been here what—ten minutes? Do you smell any food cooking?"
She thought about it, then shook her head. “Uh-uh."
"There you have it. With this place as empty as it is, our breakfasts should've been here by now. I'm not even sure the cook's put anything on the grill yet."
"Fine. Add this to my list of places I won't be coming back to."
"Is it a long list?"
"Getting longer by the day.” She sighed. “Can I ask you a blunt question, Deryk?"
He grimaced, hiding the face behind his coffee cup as he took a sip. “Go ahead."
"What is it about me you don't like?"
That took him by surprise, though, in retrospect, he should've expected it sooner or later. “Nothing,” he answered earnestly, after a long moment of silence. “Frankly you're the most interesting woman I've met in a long time."
She actually blushed. He found that rather endearing and did his best to stifle his own reaction. “I thought you didn't like me. You never seemed to pick up on my cues."
"Oh, I picked up on them. It's just—” He glanced up toward the huge window fronting the shop and froze mid-sentence.
"Holy shit."
"What?"
"What is right."
A large robot trundled past, traveling on two rotating tracks like a tank, but its upper portion that of an articulated android with a humanoid torso, arms, and head. What looked like an RPG launcher was cradled in its long silver arms.
"What the hell is that?"
"Robot. AthenaCorp model XJ557. Mobile infantry product manufactured for the United States military.” He rattled off the designation absently as he pushed his chair back and headed for the front door.
"Hey!” The waitress glanced up from her textbook. “You gotta pay for your coffee!"
"I'll take care of it,” Breed said, walking to the cash register. She pulled out a five and laid it on the counter. “By the way—your service sucks."
"Fuck you, lady."
"Yeah, well, fuck you, too.” She turned on a heel and raced out. The robot was all the way at the end of the street, making a turn toward the Shea Industries building, Shea in hot pursuit. “Ah, shit. It's always something in this goddam city."
* * * *
Jaz walked down the street, hands in the pockets of her leather motorcycle jacket, breath pounding soft white clouds into the chill air. Vibrations coming up through her feet stopped her short and she glanced around, wondering where they were coming from. She turned the next corner and found herself looking at a steel monstrosity. What the—?"
She ducked back around the corner as the robo-tank trundled past her. Then, a few yard behind it, came Shea. The robot seemed unaware of his approach as he sprinted up along its left flank and hurled himself atop its deck. He hammered a knotted fist into the middle of the ‘droid's back and reared back for a round house kick to its head.
The tank stopped abruptly and the ‘droid swiveled in its socket, swinging the grenade launcher like a baseball bat. Shea stepped into the swing, driving the other direction with his forearm, and jammed the stroke before the ‘droid could gain any velocity. He rammed the edge of his hand into the robotic creature's articulated neck.
He swore under his breath as the ‘droid came back at him from the other direction, pivoting on its base and trying to ram the end of the RPG launcher into his midsection. He twisted aside, firing a straight punch into the visor-like sensor array on what passed for the ‘droid's face. It crumbled under his fist, showering them both with red plastic.
His right foot snapped out and ripped the weapon from the droid's grasp, sending it whipping across the sidewalk and through the front window of a dry cleaning shop. The thing's two silver hands shot out and caught him beneath the ribs, lifting him and hurling him into the windshield of a parked ‘14 Sonikk sedan.
He lay amidst the shattered plaz for a moment, not so much hurt as momentarily stunned. “Well, I'll be damned,” he grunted, crawling back through the broken windshield. He smashed a large section of plaz out of his way and pulled himself onto the hood. “Come back here, you metal-headed chicken-shit!” he called after it as it trundled up the street. Now primarily blind, it had resorted to bouncing off the cars on each side of the road to steer towards its destination.
Imagine explaining that to your insurance company, he thought with a wry chuckle.
* * * *
"Hey, Deryk. You can't beat the shit out of a robot. They're shitless!” Jaz called out laughingly. He stood on the hood of the Sonikk and glared back at her.
"Well, Ginny Genius—you come up with something!"
Jaz shrugged, grabbed a passing thread, and lassoed the thing. She embedded the near end into the street and commanded it to contract. A screech of protest rose from the machine, but it was slowly, inexorably, being pulled back toward them. “Ding, Ding, Deryk! Round two!"
"Nice trick,” Shea muttered to himself, hopping off the hood and sprinting down the street. For the first time in a long time, he wished he had a real weapon on hand. His fists were obviously not doing the job.
He skidded to a halt next to a street sign, cocked his head and gazed over at the sign with a narrowing gaze. He lashed out with a ridge-hand and tore through the wooden signpost as if it had been hewn from balsa wood.
He caught it mid-fall and spun toward the robot, rushing toward it as it was, in turn, drawn inexorably backward by Jaz's contracting mana strand. He launched himself into the air, intersecting the approaching robo-tank with the broken off piece of wood extended like a knight's lance.
He landed on the base and skidded a foot or so before digging his feet into the decking and his fingers into the wooden shaft, which he drove forward with all the considerable strength in his thickly muscled arms.
Rather than striking at the upper body he stabbed the makeshift lance into the intersection of the humanoid body and the tank chassis, putting his back, shoulders, and arms into the blow. It struck deeply into the plastic seal, shattering it and plunging through into the tangle of gears and wires beneath.
He gave a powerful twist, feeling something give. He leaped back in a shower of sparks and hit the ground hard, tumbling a few yards before scrambling to his feet. The robo-tank trundled a little farther, then ground to a halt with a sort of shrill, wheezing noise. Sparks fountained from the hole in the base like a roman candle spewing fire up into the sky, framing the droid body in a nimbus of red and orange.
The wooden signpost ignited, throwing up a column of smoke to go along with the fire.
"Nice work,” Jaz murmured, trotting up beside him. “What took you so long?"
"Like you said—you can't hurt a robot with your fists,” he replied with a wry grin. “I don't know what I was thinking."
Her answering smile was only slightly mocking. “You were thinking of the body you were supposed to be guarding,” she said smartly.
"Oh, crap!” He swiveled in place, then sprinted back the way he'd come.
* * * *
"Who are the best necromancers we got?” Athena asked Amanda, back at her office.
The tiny blonde shrugged. “Probably Feral Dusk, though Bonedance seems to have some talent in that area. Why?"
"I have an idea. What if we can summon the dead guy's soul back and question it?"
Amanda blinked. “Now that's not a bad idea. Forensic Necromancy. Huh. A new science?"
Athena winced. “Okay, I have to admit I have a problem with any form of magic being defined as a science."
Amanda grinned, lifting one feathered brow. “But it is a science ... well, kinda."
"Only in that it stays within a specific set of rules ... but it's also an art. You're a better mage than I am because you have a better imagination."
"What does that say about Dusk or Bonedance?"
Athena snorted. “That they have a more macabre imagination than we do?"
"You might have a point,” Amanda chuckled. “So do you want me to send Feral or Bonedance to the scene?"
"Send both of them."
"Will do. Say—speaking of imagination and magical ability—what about Jaz?"
Athena's jaw tightened. “Tell you the truth ... that girl scares me a little. She doesn't limit herself at all. She's willing to try anything and one of these days she's going to unleash something none of us can deal with."
"Like she almost did with the imps?"
"Exactly. That damn Quickfingers is a rogue element if I've ever seen one."
"Hey, I resemble that comment,” came the high, piping voice of the creature in question. He materialized atop Athena's desk, his trademark grin very much in evidence.
Athena gave him the stink eye. “Anyone ever tell you that eavesdropping is rude?"
The imp shrugged in response. “Sure. But ask me if I care."
"Do I look that stupid?” she replied. “I know you don't care."
"Smart woman."
She let out a much aggrieved sigh. “What do you want, Q?"
"Q?” His grin got wider, if that were actually possible. “Hey, I like that. Oh, I just dropped in to tell you I tracked down that chemist you were interested in."
"Really?” She brightened visibly. “Great. Where is he?"
"He's a she,” Quickfingers told her. “And she's around somewhere."
"That's helpful."
"I aim to please."
"Since when?"
"Since ever. I just don't aim to please you."
"No kidding.” Athena grimaced. “So what can you tell me about this chemist woman?"
"She's a smart cookie. She's also now under your jurisdiction ... technically."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Well ... she was a normal human. Now she's not. No applause necessary. Just throw money."
"Like you use money,” Amanda snickered.
"Hey! I've been known to use cash on occasion."
"Like when? Quickfingers—you're a thief. And an unrepentant one at that."
"So—what's your point?"
"That it's damned unlikely you actually use cash for anything."
"Oh. Well, I do."
"And what's that?"
"I give it to the Boss."
"Bruce Springsteen?” Athena glanced over at Amanda with a smirk.
Quickfingers frowned. “Who?"
Athena rolled her eyes. “Never mind. I know who you mean. Amanda—get on the horn to Feral and Bonedance, have them meet us at the crime scene. We don't have time for any more of this happy horseshit."
The petite blonde mage nodded and dashed out of Athena's office.
"You don't want to know who the chemist is?"
"We already went through this,” Athena hissed. “You don't want to tell me, so you won't."
"Maybe I will."
"Doubtful,” she drawled. “Get out of here, Q. I'm really not in the mood for this crap. Your ‘Boss’ has left me in the lurch and I'm in a rush to catch up."
"She quit on you, didn't she?” The creature's grin was back, and more obnoxious than ever.
"You already know the answer to that one, imp."
"What? I'm hardly omniscient."
"I'm surprised you know what that word means,” Athena growled in reply. “So are you going to give me the information or not?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?” the Amazon growled irritably. “Oh, bloody hell! Get out of my office, you little freak of magic!"
He tittered and disappeared with a bang.
"Freakin’ pain in the ass."
Amanda stuck her head in the door. “I sent them to the scene. Might be a problem, though."
Athena groaned. “What now?"
"The bodies have already been moved to the morgue. They say they won't be able to draw their spirits back into their bodies if they're not in the same location."
"Their spirits don't follow the bodies, then?” Athena asked, obviously confused.
Amanda shrugged. “Heck if I know. I'd guess not, though. Otherwise hauntings would be restricted to graveyards."
"Good point. Well, they're going to have to figure out something—we're not dragging the bodies back to the scene."
"Huh.” Amanda shrugged. “Okay. I'll let them know."
"Forget it. Let's head to the scene ourselves. Maybe we can figure something out together."
* * * *
The apartment was downright crowded when they got there. The TPD Crime Scene Unit had just finished up and were packing up their equipment, all the while eying the two non-humans with a palpable air of dread. Both Feral Dusk—the bat-winged Abyssian Queen—and the huge arachnid Bonedance seemed to be
paying the humans little mind, both discomfited more by their relative size in comparison to the apartment ceiling than their reception by the mere mortals scurrying about in their midst.
Feral had dealt with the relatively low ceiling by perching on the back of the large burgundy velveteen-covered sofa with her booted feet planted firmly on the cushions in front of her. The giant spider settled into a semi-crouch just inside the entry behind her.
The Abyssian's huge black wings rustled restlessly as the CSU officers milled around, gathering up the last of their things. They edged past the two non-humans and nearly ran into Athena and Amanda as they came up the single flight of stairs to the apartment's front door.
With a polite nod each, they filed quickly past, trotting down the stairs to the SUV parked in the lot below. They popped the hatch and began loading their things in the back. Amanda glanced at her boss and shrugged. “Get the feeling they didn't like hanging around with our two necromancers,” she remarked dryly.
Athena snorted in response. “They'd better get used to it. They're going to be sharing duties with people—and I use the term in the loosest possible sense—like Feral and Bonedance for a long time to come if I have my way. If they're going to have problems, I'll put together a forensic team of my own and leave them in the lurch. I don't care. More and more of the crime in this city is paranormal in nature. We're going to need both the scientific and magical angles if we're going to get a handle on it."
Amanda held up her hands. “Hey ... I'm not arguing."
Athena shook her head and slipped through the open door. “Sorry,” she shot over her shoulder. “I'm just tired of the prejudice."
Amanda gave her an incredulous stare and followed her in. “You're kidding, right? Twenty-five thousand years and you haven't figured out how bigoted humans can be? Haven't you been paying attention? We get squirrelly about such stupid things as skin color and gender—it's not hard to imagine them getting all worked up about literal monsters."
Athena turned in the entry and gave her an icy glare, lips twisting into a sneer. “You don't have to tell me about gender bias. If you remember your mythology, it was me who introduced Athens to the notion of democracy. How'd they repay me? By not including women as voting citizens."
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