“This is a mistake,” I said under my breath. “I’m sorry this is hard for you. I’m sorry you can’t treat this as a normal case. You can’t arrest the bad guys and lock them up. But that’s the way it is. And if you can’t accept that, you will drive yourself mad.”
Andy turned to face me so he could speak without being overheard, but he didn’t turn his back on the bodies. “You’re right—this isn’t a normal case. And I can’t just do what I usually do. But that doesn’t mean I let the people responsible for killing an innocent woman go free.”
The accusation in his voice rubbed me the wrong way. I knew he was having a bad day—thanks to me—but, blood and bone, I was having a bad day too. “I’m not saying you need to let them go free.”
“No? Then what are you saying? Who’s going to punish them?”
I snapped my mouth shut. We did have a justice system, and an organization that enforced it—the Vanguard.
But my contract with Anton had specified that I would turn over the name of the culprit to him.
Fresh tears welled up. Something passed through Andy’s eyes. Anger. No, not anger. Fury. I took a step back, startled by the intensity of the emotion.
“Why are you so angry?”
At first, I thought he wouldn’t answer. His jaw was too tight to allow speech, his breathing so controlled that it sounded painful. He fixed his gaze on me, and it was hard not to look away.
“You used magic on me.”
I winced. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to—”
“I just found out there’s a whole other world,” he continued, his voice hot despite how quiet he was, how careful not to be overheard. “A world full of dangerous people and creatures capable of crimes straight from a cop's worst nightmare.”
I groped for my witchy calm, my empathy. “And I know that’s disorienting and—”
“Disorienting isn’t the word,” he growled. “It’s terrifying. But you know what? I thought I could handle it. I thought I could handle it because a man I trusted brought me you. He brought you to my office and told me I could trust you. I could trust you to guide me in this new world, to answer my questions, to help me protect people from these threats I’m just now learning about.”
Guilt bit me, hard. I opened my mouth, but he cut me off again.
“You used me,” he said, his voice deadly quiet. “You used me, and then when I was no longer convenient for your plan, you used your magic to drug me, and you left me behind.”
“Andy—”
“Agent Bradford.”
My throat tightened. “Agent Bradford—”
“How the hell am I supposed to trust you now?” he asked. “How am I supposed to believe anything you tell me?”
My neck ached with the need to look away, but I forced myself to keep meeting his eyes. “You would have been killed. Do you understand that? You would have died.”
“I risk dying every day I do my job.” His voice was tired now, but still angry. “But I do it anyway. I protect myself as best I can against the threats I know are out there, and I do my job.”
“You can’t protect yourself against what’s out there in my world. You’re human.”
“You’re telling me you can’t help me. You can’t prepare me for what I’ll face if I go after these…people?” He took a step closer, forcing me to look up at him. “Tell me, Mother Renard, how did you see this partnership going?”
“Partnership?”
He met my eyes and held them. “Bryan tells me you’re a private investigator. And today you asked for my help. I assume you told me about this other world because you anticipate asking for my help in the future?”
I blinked. He was right. “I—”
“I thought so. And how did you see that working? You come to me when you need me to use my resources to get you information, then I sit with my arms folded while you solve the case?”
“I—”
“And when you find out who the bad guy is, maybe you’ll tell me or maybe you won’t? I’ll just have to trust they’re being punished?” He stepped closer until a hard breath would have made us touch. “Did you expect me to make excuses for why the cases are never officially closed? Or did you want me to lie or arrest a human to use as a patsy?”
“No!”
My anger stirred, but it had nowhere to go. Andy wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t thought this out. I’d kept him safe, yes. But I wouldn’t have needed to do that if I hadn’t used him, put him in danger in the first place.
He seemed to read my thoughts as easily as if they were tattooed on my face. “It’s a complicated situation. I know. But complicated doesn’t mean you give up, it means you find a way to make it work.” He shook his head. “But not without trust.”
“You can trust me,” I insisted, but the words were weak even to my own ears. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I’ll trust you when you earn it back. Fool me once, and so on.” He straightened as agents appeared at the door, two women and a man, all dressed in dark suits and button-down shirts. Cool, analytical gazes swept the room, then they went to work with silent efficiency. It was like watching an army of ants disassemble a picnic.
“I have to speak to them. Stay here,” he said quietly. “You’re coming in too. We’re not done talking.”
I nodded. We did have more talking to do. And Goddess help me, I didn't know what to say.
As he turned away from me, I stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked back at me, and I reached into my hair and felt for the smooth green gem. I dug it out and slipped it into his breast pocket. He tensed and grabbed my wrist.
His mistrust hurt. “It will help protect you from mind tricks,” I whispered. “If Flint regains consciousness, you’ll need it. It won’t stop him, but you should be able to keep your senses enough to notice when he’s trying to manipulate you. It will give you a chance to get out.” I straightened my spine. “If you can interview him over the phone instead of in person, that’s even better. His influence will be stronger in person. A voice manipulator that changes the voice you hear will help too.”
He didn’t say anything, but let me slip the gem into his pocket.
“If you talk to Dabria, make her keep her hands flat on the table. If she moves her fingers, make her stop. Tape them together if you have to.”
“She can’t use magic if she can’t move her fingers?” He kept his voice low, so he wouldn’t be overheard.
“No, she still has magic. But she’s not very strong, so she’ll be limited. She relies more on magic objects. Search her, and put anything you find in a circle of salt.”
He took out his notebook and scribbled notes. “Anything else?”
“Putting a circle of salt around her when you talk to her would be smart.”
“What does it do?”
My teacher voice made it easier to speak. Reciting facts, that was all. Educating. “Salt is a natural barrier against magic. It’s not foolproof, but it will slow her down.”
He nodded.
“You can’t hold them in a prison,” I said quietly. “I’m not lying about that.”
“You’d better not be lying about any of it.”
I closed my hands into fists, frustrated and angry, but helpless to do anything right now.
He took a deep breath, then nodded. “Thank you.”
The words were sincere, but cold. The thank you of a professional, not a friend. I waited while he spoke to the other agents and watched him give them orders. I thought of the unconscious sidhe and sorceress in the ambulance. What would happen when they woke up?
I retrieved my phone and stared down at the screen. I’d signed the contract. Given my word. I closed my eyes and swallowed past the lump in my throat.
Very slowly, I dialed the vampire’s number.
CHAPTER 20
“If you ask me, the interview went rather well, all things considered.”
I pulled the pillow down harder over my head, trying to block out both the morning sunlig
ht and the voice of the well-meaning pixie. My circadian clock told me it was past nine o’clock, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so late. My to-do list loomed before me, full of duties I should have crossed off by now. But, somehow, I couldn’t get out of bed yet.
Andy had kept me at his office for hours last night. He’d questioned me, quizzed me, demanded to learn as much as I could tell him about not just the theft, the murder, but about the suspects. What is a wizard? What is a fey? What is a sorceress? What are their strengths, their weaknesses? He’d been a voracious student, and by the time I’d dragged myself into bed, my brain ached from the constant picking and prodding.
“Isai killed Helen Miller, and now he’s dead,” Peasblossom continued. “Dabria stole the book and she’s in jail. Flint was naughty and he’s in jail.” She walked over the pillow on top of me and sat with a barely perceptible press of down. “You solved the case! Your first case. Solved!” She crawled over the pillow and wedged herself underneath it, toward my face. “Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“Five pots of honey says they’re already out.”
Peasblossom burrowed farther beneath the pillow, invading the shadowy space that was getting too stuffy. “What do you mean?”
“The vampire’s lawyers will have gotten them released by now, probably late last night.”
I threw off the pillow and hauled myself into a sitting position, wincing as daylight stabbed me in the eyes as punishment for avoiding it this long. I ran a hand through my hair, then groaned as I found it a tangled mess. I hadn’t taken the time to undo what Betsy had done, and now it was a mess of knots. Great.
“Really?” Peasblossom asked.
My phone rang as if in answer to her question. I noted the caller ID and the time. Andy. Nine thirty. He’d have discovered his prisoners’ absence by now.
“Agent Bradford,” I said, not bothering to hide the tiredness from my voice. “Good—”
“They’re gone.” His voice was hard, clipped. Angry.
I closed my eyes. “I know.”
“You know?”
“I guessed.”
I could imagine him seething on the other end, shoving a hand through his hair, pulling at his tie. The random thought came to me that Andy had seemed very put together when I’d met him. Calm, cool, and rational. I remembered how he’d taken learning of the Otherworld, seeing his first pixie—an encounter that even Otherworlders didn’t always take in stride. A sharp contrast to the nerves and agitation I sensed now. I wondered how much of that was my fault.
Probably all of it.
“Word is the order came from very high up—I’m talking one step down from a goddamn presidential pardon.”
“You shouldn’t say that,” I said.
“What?”
“Goddamn. You shouldn’t say it.”
“A murderer, a thief, and a kidnapper just got sprung from prison and you’re lecturing me on religious sensitivity?”
“It’s not religious sensitivity, just caution. Some of them have a sense of humor and they’ll hear that as an invitation.”
Andy made a sound of frustration. “Some of who?”
“Gods.”
He drew a deep breath and rustled some papers. “All right,” he said. “Let’s start over. My prisoners are gone. Not escaped, but released. Released because someone with a lot of political clout, and a lot of money, made calls to get them out.”
I nodded, realized he couldn’t see me, and said, “Okay.”
“All right. Now, that means that someone from the…Otherworld…has political ties. Influence. In my world.”
I let the “my world” go. Eventually I’d tell Andy about the Blood Realm and its creation, but not right now.
“I need to know who it is,” he said. “I need you to tell me who it is.”
For a second, just a second, he sounded like he had when he’d first met me. Open, questioning. Trusting me to tell him the truth. Part of my brain must have considered it, considered telling him everything, just for a moment.
At least, the spell on Anton’s contract assumed I was considering it.
My throat itched, and that was the only warning I had. A second later, I had the sensation of razor-fine wire wrapping around my voice box, tightening just enough hold my full attention, to get my imagination working on what would happen if it kept getting tighter. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable. And because I knew what it was, it was terrifying.
When the vampire made a contract, he made a contract.
“I can’t tell you,” I said, my voice strained.
“Won’t,” Andy snarled.
“Can’t,” I insisted. I closed my eyes. “The contract I signed wasn’t mundane, Agent Bradford. It was magic. I can’t tell you what you want to know. At best, I would lose my voice, be unable to tell you.”
“And if you wrote it down?”
The wire hummed, constricting just a little. “My best guess is I would die. In a most unpleasant way.”
There was silence for several minutes. It dragged on so long that I wondered if he’d hung up, walked away. I stayed on the phone anyway, unable to hang up. I needed to hear his reaction.
“I don’t know if I can believe you or not,” Andy said. “I don’t know if I can believe anything you say.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “I’ve been honest with you—”
“Except for that one spell?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, hard. “I was trying to keep you safe.”
“But you weren’t so interested in my safety that you didn’t ask me to be there in the first place.”
I wouldn’t win this argument. I’d done what I’d done to keep him safe, and I still wasn’t convinced I’d been wrong about that. But he was right. I shouldn’t have risked his life to begin with.
We’ll call it a draw.
“Unless you have information you aren’t magically prevented from sharing, then I’ll say goodbye now,” Andy said coolly. “I’ll have to find the answer the old-fashioned way.”
My heart skipped a beat, a sudden image of Anton’s reaction to a persistent and too-observant FBI agent front and center in my brain. “Andy—Agent Bradford, let it go, please. You don’t understand who you’re dealing with.”
“No, I don’t, because you won’t tell me. But I have an idea. Did you know they had to drag Dabria out of the jail kicking and screaming?”
Yes, I could imagine Dabria’s reaction. Considering she had to have figured out who’d posted her bail. And why. My stomach turned and I closed my eyes. That only made the mental image worse, so I opened them again.
“She was terrified. Begged to stay in jail. Then this lawyer looks at her and she just shut up, completely silent. Magic, right?”
“Probably,” I said quietly.
“So that’s your idea of justice? What happened to her?”
Anger burned inside me then, hot and bright. This was not what I’d wanted. This wasn’t what I’d expected, dammit. I was not the bad guy here, and I would not be talked to as if I were.
I gripped my phone harder. “No, Agent Bradford,” I said, my voice hard. “No, it isn’t my idea of justice. But I learned a long time ago that the world doesn’t care what my idea of justice is. Sometimes all you can ask for is closure, and that’s it. Sometimes you only get half the answers you want.”
“Only if you stop trying, stop asking questions,” he said.
“Sometimes if you keep asking, you get more answers,” I agreed. “And sometimes, you get dead. Or turned to stone. Or transmutated into something small and furry. Or dead.”
“Goodbye, Shade.”
I squeezed my phone as if I could force Andy to stay on the line. “Wait.”
He paused. “What?”
I took a deep breath, trying to fight back the emotions warring in my chest enough to speak in a calm, clear voice. This had not gone as I’d planned, true. But I wasn’t giving up. I could make a difference, and I co
uld do it following the path I wanted. To do that, I would need help.
“You have a chance to bring closure to people who never would have gotten it otherwise. To solve cases you wouldn’t even have begun to understand four days ago. You may not get all the answers you want, but you have a chance to get a whole lot more than you used to.” I swallowed hard. “But you have to decide if those answers, that closure, is worth it if it doesn’t come with the justice you want. The justice you’re used to. You must decide if being able to tell Mr. Miller his wife is dead, and her killer is dead, is worth not being able to point to the murderer and say, ‘He did it, and this is how he died.’ I think Mr. Miller would rather have those limited answers than none at all.”
He fell silent for a long time again, and I dared to hope that he understood, that we were all right. I hoped we would be all right.
“Stay away from Mr. Miller,” he said, though his voice was tired more than angry. “I’ll make the notification myself. It’s my job.”
I didn’t bother telling him I’d already been to see Mr. Miller. I’d gone to make sure Helen had moved on, could rest in peace. She had, and though there was a long road of grieving ahead of him, Mr. Miller would be all right.
There was a hesitation, like Andy wanted to say more, and I held my breath, waiting. But then he hung up, and I was sitting there listening to a dead phone.
I slumped back against my pillows, letting the phone fall from my hand. “Well, that’s one thing off my to-do list,” I said lightly.
Peasblossom harrumphed as she climbed up my arm. “He’s being a grouch. Give a little, get a little, that’s my motto.”
“Since when?”
“Since now. It works better for humans. And witches. I want some honey.” She hauled herself up the rest of the way to sit on my shoulder and patted my neck. “He’ll come around.”
Deadline (Blood Trails Book 1) Page 29