Nite Fire: Flash Point

by C. L. Schneider

  Evans blinked. My bluntness seemed to sober him. His eyes wandered around my apartment for a minute or two, and gradually, his solemnness vanished. He laughed again, though with noticeably less gusto than before. “You’ve got pillows on the couch, a coat rack, a TV, and… coffee.” His grin had grown with each description. “Dragons drink coffee. What the hell is that about?”

  I grinned, seeing a little boy sitting on my couch and not a man. “I know this is strange.”

  Evans ran a hand back over his hair. “You have scales and wings—and horns. Fucking horns,” he said again, as if needing to convince himself. “You got naked and put pieces of them inside me. I don’t know what this is, but we blew past strange a hell of a long time ago.”

  “What I put inside you is more potent if I’m fully shifted. Your skin is already growing back under your bandages. You’ll have discomfort for a few days instead of months. Past strange or not, you’re alive.”

  “Okay, but,” his gaze tightened, “how exactly did your horn do any of that?”

  “Our cell structure is different from yours. Our brains work differently. Our bodies are… more efficient,” I said, trying to keep it simple. Evans was smart, but he’d been through a lot, and I was too tired for a detailed explanation of our physiological differences. “Certain parts of a dragon, even a half dragon, have what some species would consider magical properties.”

  “But not yours?”

  “The elders never labeled their abilities until humans did. On Drimera it’s just what we are. How we work. Much of it does defy explanation, even by human science. Does that make it magic?” I shrugged. “What I did for you was a shortcut. It could have killed you as easily as it healed you. If I were a Guild mage I could have worked a proper potion for you. Since I’m not…” Giving Evans back his coffee, I pulled the towel off my head and shook out my hair. “You need to be careful for a couple of days. If you’re injured again, there’s a danger of your body reverting to how it was.”

  “You mean dying?” Releasing a nervous breath, he nodded. “Good to know.”

  “Your metabolism will slow down in a few days, but right now it’s on overdrive. You’ll be hungry and full of energy, but you need to sleep if you can. And you’ll have my scent until all traces of me have left your system, so no more talking to strangers.”

  “Your scent?” He cleared his throat. “And what exactly does that mean?”

  I could see the wheels turning. “Don’t go all ‘fifteen’ on me, Evans. It means other lyrriken might mistake you for one of us. At the least, they’ll think you’re under my protection. Which might work in your favor…or it could get you killed.”

  “There’s no middle ground with you, is there?”

  “Not often.”

  “So….” Evans wiped a slow hand across his face, trying (unsuccessfully) to stifle his amusement. “How exactly does the human on dragon thing work? Not your kind of dragon,” he clarified, “the big-ass kind. And don’t even think about saying ‘very carefully’, Nite, or I swear…”

  “Damn. You really are fifteen.”

  “I’m serious. You said they fathered your kind. But I’m having trouble seeing it with the obvious size difference.”

  “You’re right,” I said patiently, “dragons are large. But at certain times, male elders can take human form. The older, more powerful elders can hold the shape longer and more often.”

  “And they’ve been coming here to—”

  “Yes,” I said, cutting off whatever lewd comment was on the tip of his tongue.

  “For how long?”

  “A long time.” I blanched at the reproach in his eyes and changed the subject. “I called Creed and told him you got hurt last night while we were searching the house. I said you slipped on the basement stairs and you’re pretty banged up. Nothing that required the ER, just a lot of aspirin and some couch time.”

  “Damn. Work,” he groaned, like he’d forgotten it existed. “What time is it? Feels like I’ve been in a coma for days.”

  “Nope, just hours. It’s a quarter to eight.”

  “Shit, my car…” Evans moved to stand.

  Gently, I pushed him back down. “It’s out front. I went back for it last night. I also left a message for Captain Barnes asking if you could assist me full time on the case. Now that Reech knows about you, I’d like to keep you close.”

  “So when do we go back to Drimera?”

  “Never.”

  “Why not? If the killers are in your world, then—”

  “It’s not safe for you there. Humans have no rights. They have settlements. They’re tolerated. But one step out of line and that tolerance dries up fast. I can’t risk you getting caught.” Or me. I got up. “I put an extra toothbrush, a pair of sweatpants, and an old t-shirt in the bathroom. We’re about the same height so it should do until you get home. I would have gone to your place to pick up some clothes, but after the tenth text from your sister, Marnie, I figured out you two share a place. I didn’t think it would go over well if she walked in on me rifling through your drawers.”

  He grabbed his phone off the ottoman. “Is she all right?”

  “She was worried when you didn’t come home. I wrote her back like I was you. Told her you got lucky with a hot red head, a real red head. She says you’re sick.”

  Evans smiled as he scanned the messages. “Who’s fifteen now?”

  “A lie works best—”

  “When it’s close to the truth?”

  I didn’t reply.

  He looked up from his phone. “You do that a lot, don’t you? Lie?”

  “I have to.”

  His nod was more confirmation than agreement. “How many people have you told the truth about what you are?”

  “Not many.”

  “Are they here, in the city?”

  “They’re dead.”

  “Because of you? Because of your secret?”

  “Some of them. But that was a long time ago. I didn’t know what I was doing when I first got here. I involved people I shouldn’t have. It was a mistake I’ve tried not to make again, until now.” I stood. “I need to get dressed. There’s cereal in the cabinet by the fridge. Don’t eat the whole box.” I moved toward my bedroom, and the stairs outside my apartment creaked. A knock followed.

  Evans looked at me.

  I put a finger to my lips and whispered, “Bathroom.”

  Evans got up. He disappeared into the bathroom, and I waited for the quiet click of the latch before I went to the front door. I peered through the peephole. Creed?

  Dammit. What’s he doing here?

  He knocked again.

  Checking the mirror above the coat rack, I ran a quick hand through my crumpled nest of hair. Giving up, I unlocked the door and threw it open. “Morning, Detective.”

  Wrestling with one of the two paper cups wedged in the cardboard holder in his hand, he didn’t even look up. “We’ve got another one.”

  I sighed. “Same as the others?”

  “If you mean burned in a manner impossible to explain, then yeah, same as the others. Crime scene isn’t far. Thought I’d swing by and pick you up.” He glanced at me. Noticing I was wearing significantly less than his dark gray suit and white button up, his eyes darted briefly down past my robe and over my bare legs. When they came back up, he was frowning. He pushed his black-rimmed glasses into place. “I should have called.”

  I eyed the coffee, still stuck in the holder. “You want help with that?”

  “No. Sorry.” Creed yanked the cup out. “I wasn’t sure how you liked it. Figured you could add…whatever.” He handed me a cup. Fishing in his pants pocket, he pulled out a pile of sugar and creamer packets and pressed them into my empty hand. He backed up a step. “I’ll wait in the car.”

  I almost said no. I barely knew the man. He clearly didn’t trust me. I wasn’t sure he even liked me. But there was something about him.

  Before I’d made up my mind, he turned and headed down the
stairs.

  I called after him. “Give me ten minutes.”

  I closed the door and Evans came out of the bathroom, dressed in the clothes I’d left out for him. I checked his steps. I still hadn’t seen any new trauma emerge from his ordeal on Drimera. He’s resilient, I thought. Maybe he can handle knowing.

  Evans read the news on my face. “They killed again?”

  I nodded and crossed the living room. I walked by him, into my bedroom, and kicked the door closed. Pulling clothes randomly out of the closet, I threw them on the bed. I was angry, and I didn’t know why. Because Drimera’s dirty laundry was carrying over into this world? Because I still didn’t have a viable lie to cover up the murders?

  Because I should have let Evans die instead of telling him the truth?

  He spoke from the other side of the door. “What happens now?”

  “You go home.”

  “And last night?”

  I pulled a t-shirt on over my head. “We went to the house, searched, and got nothing.” Zipping up my jeans, I took my boots out of the closet and my sidearm out of the nightstand. “After you got hurt, I drove you home and you went to bed.” I opened the top drawer of my dresser. Grabbing the knife that matched the one I lost on Drimera, I tucked it into the belt holster at the small of my back. As I tied the laces on my boots, I reiterated my warning. “You can’t tell anyone. None of this happened. Understand?”

  “No dragons. No sleepover. Got it.”

  Throwing my hair up on top of my head, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My previous bruises were gone, but I had a couple of new ones now to take their place. Enough to fool Creed into thinking they were same ones. Hopefully.

  I yanked open the bedroom door. Evans was right outside, looking a little lost. I ducked past him and hurried across the hall to my spare room. Grabbing my duffel bag, I did a quick check of the contents, making sure I had everything I needed for a by-the-book assessment of the crime scene. As much trouble as I’d caused Creed so far, I owed him that much.

  Evans stood in the doorway, watching me. “One more thing. Your world and mine…are they the only ones?”

  “No.” Before he could push me for details I didn’t have time to give, I zipped up the bag and brought it with me to the living room. As I pulled my leather jacket off the coat rack and slipped it on, a thought hit me. “Did Reech say anything to you before I got there?”

  “He tried convincing me he was human, that he was there by accident, like I was. I knew he was lying, but I wasn’t sure he was our suspect. You never gave us a description of the man who attacked you at the hospital.”

  A pang of guilt tightened my stomach. “I should have done that yesterday. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I figured it out pretty fast. He did mention a name. Aidric. He said the Queen was trying to compensate for Aidric’s actions, but that it wasn’t enough.”

  Frustrated, I grunted. “That’s not in any way helpful.”

  “He’s a villain. They usually aren’t.”

  “What were you two looking at in the woods when I found you?”

  “I’m not sure. It was dark and far away. I think it was a camp or settlement of some kind, but everything was destroyed. There were bodies on the ground.”

  “Lyrriken?”

  “I couldn’t tell. Do you think it has something to do with the case?”

  “Probably not. You need to stick close,” I reminded him, “but you can’t be seen at my door all the time. There’s an alternate way in and out of the building. Here.” Grabbing both sets of keys off the console, I handed him one. “You’ll need these.”

  “Holy shit,” he beamed, jangling the ring. “You have a secret exit.”

  “It’s not—” His juvenile grin cut me off. “Fine. It’s a secret exit. Now move.”

  Pushing him out the door, I led Evans downstairs and into the basement. It was a typical dingy underground room, filled with supplies and tools. Nothing stood out. Not even the plain, metal door on the back wall that connected to the neighboring building. Though it hadn’t been constructed as a secret exit, Evans’s description wasn’t far off.

  The two adjacent structures, and the neighboring three, were built over sixty years ago by one man. Intending to maintain ownership of all five buildings, he’d linked the maintenance rooms in each with a series of tunnels and doors, to make his job of caring for the properties easier. Going bankrupt and shooting himself in the head hadn’t been part of the plan. After his death, the buildings were sold to different owners. None were happy with their neighbors having access to their property and promptly walled up their sides of the internal doors. No one bothered to fill in the tunnels.

  A padlocked metal door protected the entrance in my building. Another secured the outside door at the end of the block. Having access to an alternative way in and out was the sole reason Oren chose this particular apartment for me. I hadn’t expected to use it so soon.

  I watched Evans open the door. “Lock it behind you,” I said.

  “Sure.”

  There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in his voice. “What’s wrong? Not as much fun when it’s real?”

  “Oh, it’s fun. I just wish I was going with you.”

  “Don’t worry, Evans. I’m sure your life will be in danger again in no time.”

  “Thanks,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I know.” I threw him a mischievous glance and jogged up the stairs.

  Twenty-Two

  Everywhere was motion.

  Cameras flashed. Hands moved; opening cabinets, dusting for fingerprints, rifling through papers and drawers. SCPD officers walked back and forth in the apartment. Two stood in the open doorway, keeping the victim’s neighbors at bay as trails of black trauma oozed over the hardwood floor.

  The constant movement made Creed’s lack of it even more obvious as he crouched in the kitchen, gloved hands clasped and face expressionless. It had been at least five minutes. Based on the aim of his eyes, though, he wasn’t examining the victim. He was thinking.

  I had a good idea about what. The position of the body was unlike the others. Undoubtedly, it was unlike anyone in the room had seen before.

  As with the last two victims, there were no signs of torture or restraint. Or residue, I thought with a private frown. It was as if the woman had been walking across her kitchen, and the lower half of her body simply burned away in mid-stride. With nothing to hold it up, her torso had dropped to the floor, intact and upright. There was little to no visible damage to the remaining part of her body. Around it was a thin line of ash, but little blood. The high heat had cauterized the point of severance instantly, charring the edges of her white blouse and her abdomen where it touched the floor.

  Before my inaction became as obvious as Creed’s, I joined him. It was becoming a familiar position; both of us squatting on opposite sides of half a body. This one was no more than twenty-two. Her soft brown eyes were open. Her pale, freckled face, framed by shoulder-length russet hair, was frozen in an unbecoming grimace.

  I gestured at one of the uniformed men in the doorway. “I spoke to Officer Clemmons. He said the woman across the hall was leaving early for work and smelled something burning. When the victim didn’t answer her door, she woke the building manager. He unlocked the door and they found her like this.”

  Creed’s eyes lifted; bloodshot and distracted. “Did they see anything?”

  “If you mean our suspects, no. But they both claim water was dribbling from her mouth.”

  “No surprise there.” Creed gestured at the faint water stain on the front of the victim’s shirt. “We’ll have to convince the manager and the neighbor to keep quiet. Barnes is issuing a statement later this morning. He’s calling it a serial arsonist, but he’s leaving out the drowning and the mutilations. We need to keep a lid on that as long as we can. Or at least until we can explain it.”

  “I’ll talk to the witnesses. Tell them it’s an ongoi
ng investigation. Throw some science words around. I’m pretty good at that.”

  “I bet you are.”

  His tone wasn’t exactly kind, but I let it go.

  Creed reached out a gloved hand and brushed a lock of hair back over the victim’s shoulder. With one finger he raised the nametag pinned to her shirt and read it aloud. “Liza Ray. Looks like she worked in a coffee shop.” Gently, he laid the pin back down.

  I leaned closer and peered at the logo. “I know that place. I was there yesterday.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “No. I’d never been there before. And I won’t go back. Their coffee sucked. Do we have a point of entry?”

  “Fire escape. The lock on the window was melted, like at the house.”

  And my apartment.

  Dammit, Ronan. I looked down at Liza. This couldn’t have been you.

  My attention shifted to Creed. “Don’t suppose there were any prints on the window?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Any dragons spotted above the roof?”

  Grudgingly, he grinned. “Not this time. I’ve got officers across the street checking with the residents, but it was early. Anyone up was getting ready for work, not gazing out their window. We might have better luck with the traffic cams.” Creed stared at the woman a moment longer before standing. Then he stared at me. His dark eyes were harsh and resolute.

  Rising, I braced myself.

  “How?” he said.

  “If you mean the combustion, I’m close to isolating a chemical component in the residue at the first crime scene. I just need more time.”

  “We don’t have more time. We don’t have anything.” Running a hand over his face, Creed took a frustrated step back from the body. “How do we not have a single suspect, a print, anything?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well if you don’t, Miss Nite, then who does?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, and he cut me off.

  “You’re supposed to be the expert. You’ve run tests at every crime scene and on every body. You’ve chased them, fought with them. You’ve had contact with our suspects. Yet you can’t give me a goddamn thing except some bullshit report that has Barnes so far up my ass I can’t even walk straight!”