by Erin Johnson
Edna reached down and ruffled Daisy’s fur while the dog leaned against her side, tail wagging. She flashed her eyes at Peter as she continued to pet the dog. “You seeing this bullarney?” She jerked her head toward the thick throng of people in front of us.
Peter lifted his chin, looking in the direction she’d indicated, then frowned and shook his head. Lights flashed and pops sounded—a photo op. I rose on my toes to get a better look.
In the center of the circle, an older officer in dress uniform, his chest decorated with medals and patches, posed for pictures. His thick straight brows drew together in the center of his lined forehead as he shook hands with a younger officer, about my age I guessed, one of his arms in a white sling. I raised my brows as I recognized Dylan Davies from the smarmy banner.
I sank back down on my stilettos and turned to Edna. “Did that Davies guy lose an arm-wrestling contest or something?”
“Ha!” Edna slugged Peter’s arm. “I like this one.” She thumbed at me, then grew serious. “Nah. He got injured when a witness attacked him. Act of bravery that won him the admiration of his peers.” She rolled her eyes behind her cat glasses, and I made a face. She seemed about as convinced this guy deserved Officer of the Year as Peter did.
I rose on my toes to get another look. Inspector Bon shuffled forward and stood between the older officer and Davies, a good head shorter than both of them.
The older officer scowled at Bon, said something, and Bon’s face fell before he slunk off. I chuckled. I was a fan of anyone who could tell Bon off. Peter’s boss seemed unconvinced of my abilities (which, to be fair, was pretty good instincts on his part) and didn’t miss an opportunity to let me know how he felt.
I nudged Peter. “Who’s the older guy?”
He glanced down at me, brow creased. “That’s Chief Jack Taylor.” He flashed his eyes. “He’s head of the police in the Water Kingdom—kind of a big deal.”
“Hm.” I shot Edna a wide-eyed look. I’d say so. The smell of something buttery and seafood-y caught my attention, and I sniffed the air. Oh yum. I followed my nose and turned until I caught sight of the long buffet table piled high with crab legs, salmon, calamari, and what seemed like a hundred more dishes with delicious treasures just waiting for me to smash my face with them.
I tapped Peter’s arm. “Ooh, let’s go get some foo—” I stopped midsentence as a wave of pure, icy panic flooded over me and turned my stomach.
Zale, my ex-boyfriend (and very briefly fiancé) moved down the line of the buffet, two golden plates magically hovering beside him. An enchanted spoon scooped a pile of crab salad onto one of them. He grinned and joked with the older man beside him.
A flood of memories rushed to me. That charming smile had been what first drew me to Zale when he’d just been a handsome coworker. My mouth grew desert dry.
The older man, Emerson Watts, had been one of the partners at the firm we’d worked at together. My chest heaved. The very same man who’d both informed me of my promotion to partner and then turned around and fired me the moment I’d revealed myself to be a shifter.
“Uh—Jolene.”
I blinked and forced myself to peel my gaze from Zale and Emerson to look up at Peter.
His eyes held concern behind his mask. “You okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” I plastered on a manic smile.
“It’s just—” He glanced down, and I followed his gaze to where I held his arm in a death grip.
“Oh.” I unclenched my hand, then shoved it to my side to hide its trembling. “Ha! I just—got a little dizzy.” I held up my cocktail.
Daisy, still being petted by Edna, growled. Liar. But what’s new?
Peter grinned. “I know how you feel.” His eyes locked on mine. “Would you care to dance?”
I tried for a smile, but it came out a faltering grimace. “Can I get a rain check on that? I’ve, uh—” I took a few steps back, away from Peter and away from the buffet table and my former colleagues. “I’ve got to go drain the eel.” Oh my goddess. I made a face at myself. Of all the phrases to choose—guess I’d heard Will say it too many times.
Peter’s smile faltered. “Oh, uh—sure.”
Edna pointed to my left. “Ladies’ room is that way, doll—past the end of the bar.”
I nodded my thanks and spun away before I could say something more heinous. I touched a finger to my feathered mask, just to double check it was in place. Some of my panic subsided as I remembered that, hopefully, no one, not Zale or Emerson or any of my other former colleagues, would recognize me in this costume. Still, I needed a moment alone to collect myself.
I gathered up my skirt and hustled to the back of the room, frantically sucking up my cocktail as I went. A little liquid courage couldn’t hurt.
LADIES’ ROOM
I pushed through the swinging door into the lobby of the ladies’ room. You knew you were in a swanky joint when the bathroom had a lobby. My home didn’t even have a lobby.
Women in gowns perched on velvet poofs scattered about, preening in front of a wall-sized mirror. A line for the toilets snaked toward me, at least two dozen deep. A few women turned my way as I stumbled forward, chest heaving, and looked me up and down. I shot them a tight-lipped smile and then, because I didn’t actually have to go, tripped toward the sinks.
I rounded the corner, found an open one, and planted my hands on the marble countertop. I bent forward, gazing down at the golden shell-shaped vessel sink, and willed my breathing to slow down. This stupidly tight bodice wasn’t helping.
I gulped and clutched at the fabric with one hand, trying to pull it away from my ribs to give myself a little breathing room. A woman slid up beside me and turned the taps, washing her hands. I kept my gaze straight down and ahead of me. Breathe, Jolene. Vital life function here. Inhale—exhale. My ribs strained against the tight velvet. Stupid lungs—so uncooperative.
I blew out a heavy breath, rocked on my heels, and then lifted my eyes. A wide mirror spanned the wall above the row of sinks, lit by bubble-shaped lights with the shadows of tiny swimming fish swirling through them. I saw myself in the mirror, the feathered mask, my dark hair shining for once (instead of greasy) and swept up into an elaborate updo. Despite my panic attack, I took a moment to appreciate Heidi’s good work.
The woman beside me applied a conservative shade of pale pink lipstick, her pin-straight bob grazing the shoulders of her long-sleeved emerald gown. I watched her lips absentmindedly for a moment, weirdly annoyed at how precise she was being. Each sweep of the lipstick careful, slow… I rolled my eyes. Just get it over with already.
She must have felt me watching her, because she paused, midstroke, and glanced at me. Our eyes met in the mirror and I froze—icy horror flooding through me for the second time tonight. Eve. The coworker who’d cursed me and ruined my life and called the cops on me when I tried to confront her about it. Eve was standing right next to me.
Her eyes tightened with the hint of recognition, and I held perfectly still. Maybe if I didn’t move, I’d disappear? She cocked her head, lips pinched, and a wave of annoyance flushed over me.
Urg. She had so many little tics that’d annoyed me—the lip purse one of them. She’d always been so prim and proper and such a stickler for the rules. No wonder the way she’d been applying her lipstick had irked me.
Her narrowed eyes searched my reflection as if she knew she knew me from somewhere. My chest heaved—did she recognize me? Thank the sands this was a masked ball. She cocked her head, and her lips parted to speak. Snakes! If I had to answer her, I knew she’d recognize my voice. And that was a chest of trouble I did not want to open tonight.
“Eve!”
We both startled, and she glanced to her right. An older woman in lavender, her mask bedecked with amethysts, swept up to Eve’s other side. My former coworker shook herself and turned to the other lady. They exchanged cheek kisses, and I saw my opportunity to book it. I pushed back from the sink and turned toward the exit but stopped midst
ep when the older woman spoke again.
“I heard the good news.” Her voice held a wink.
I frowned. What good news? A burn of indignation rose up my throat. Of course Eve, despite being a no-good conniving witch, would have all the luck.
“Let’s see the ring... oh my. It’s beautiful.”
Ring? Despite my mind screaming at me to get out of there before I was recognized, I couldn’t help myself. I turned as Eve pulled back her left hand from the woman’s grasp, a glittering engagement ring on her fourth finger. I rolled my eyes. Of course the woman ruined my life, but she’d found love and hers was just peachy.
The older woman’s face split into a huge grin. “You and Zale make such a great couple. Congratulations.”
Zale? I blinked as my vision went all splotchy and a wave of white-hot rage flooded me. Zale?! My former fiancé?
I shot an arm out and gripped the wall to keep from toppling over. A woman passing me on her way out shot me a concerned look, but I waved her on, gasping out, “Tight corset.”
She gave me a nod, her eyes uncertain, then pushed through the exit to the ballroom, voices, string bass music, and the clink of cutlery briefly flooding the ladies’ room. Which seemed oddly topsy turvy—and it wasn’t just the sway of the ship.
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Great. Just great. Eve cursed me, something she’d be in jail for if I wasn’t a shifter, then stole my ex and got to live a happy little life, going to balls and being a fancy lawyer, while I struggled to eat in the slums. Oh. This was just…. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached. Just so great.
The door swung open again, and a woman in a tight, glittering white dress that glowed against her dark skin pushed through. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, and her red eyes shone with tears. I frowned, surprised, as I recognized the singer from the jazz band. Wow. Seemed like everyone was having a great night.
She sniffled and stumbled forward, pushing past the long line of ladies waiting for a toilet. She cut ahead of the woman in front and nabbed an open stall.
“Hey!”
“Get in line!”
Women clicked their tongues and exchanged “can you believe her” looks. But I knew how the singer felt—sometimes you just needed to go cry your eyes out in a public restroom. I sighed, gathered myself up, and downed the rest of my drink in one go. I tossed the glass in the waste bin, wiped my mouth roughly with the back of my hand, and gathered up my skirt.
There was only one way I was going to make it through this night, and it involved many more potions—strong ones.
AND THE AWARD GOES TO
I sat, hunched over my plate, and pushed the mashed potatoes around it with a fork. My stomach had turned into one big clenched knot after seeing Zale, Emerson, and, as the coup d’etat, Eve. I stabbed a piece of steak with vehemence.
Peter cleared his throat, and I looked up to find the other officers at the table and their dates all staring at me wide-eyed. Oops. I sat straighter and adjusted the cloth napkin in my lap. The golden fork stood upright in the meat.
I forced a watery smile. “All done.”
The others gradually returned to their conversations, but Peter leaned over and lowered his voice. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, lips tight. “Mm-hmm.”
Daisy, sitting in a chair, on Peter’s other side growled. Liar. She glanced my way, and I could barely keep myself from rolling my eyes. The dog, sitting at the table in a chair like she was a person, was just too much. But hey, this whole night was too much, so why not? I reached for my wine glass to take another swig and found it empty. Frowny face.
I plucked it up and held it in the air, trying to get the attention of no one in particular. “Refill at table eight!”
Peter lightly put a hand on my arm and guided the glass back down to the table. “I’m happy to get you another drink but—erm—”
I raised a brow at him. Was he about to suggest I didn’t need another? If he knew the extent of the night I was having, I was sure he’d approve. I squinted. If only his face would stop being so blurry and shifty.
He scooted closer. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
I glanced down at my full plate. Yeah. That was pretty unlike me. Guess I could understand where his concern was coming from, since he’d literally seen me raid a dead woman’s pantry, and here was a veritable feast in front of me and I couldn’t stomach it.
Daisy snorted, and the woman next to her scooted her chair further away. What’s wrong, shifter? Usually you’d be stuffing your face full.
I glared at her. Oh, Daisy. Tonight is not the night to mess with me.
Peter squeezed my arm. “The ceremony is starting.” He lifted his chin, and I followed his gaze to the podium on the raised stage at the back of the room. Chief Jack Taylor, who I’d seen taking photographs earlier with the Officer of the Year, stood behind it and cleared his throat. A bright spotlight found him, and he winced, his thick brows lowering over his dark, intelligent eyes.
“My fellow officers, ladies, and gentlemen.”
The murmur of the crowd died off quickly and men and women turned in their chairs to face him. The magically moving banner of Officer Davies doing his best to look heroic hung behind the chief.
“We come together tonight, not only to enjoy the crab legs…”
A titter of laughter rose up from the crowd, and I snorted. Oh, great joke. I bet even Daisy could kill with this crowd. Peter shot me a concerned look.
The chief continued, his small, glittering eyes scanning the crowd. “…but to also honor our Officer of the Year, Dylan Davies.”
Applause rose up from the audience, and I even joined in with a few lazy claps. I glanced to my left and found Peter stony faced. Oh, right. Maybe he was also not having the best of nights.
“Officer Davies, as I’m sure you all know, was attacked in the line of duty by a witness in custody. If it hadn’t been for Davies’s quick-thinking, dedication to protecting and serving, and his inner and outer strength, the man might have overpowered him and gone on a rampage through the station.”
Peter sniffed, and I raised a brow. Was he not convinced?
“For that reason, and because of his daily commitment to the people of Bijou Mer, his peers chose him to receive this prestigious award, along with the gold prize and promotion that accompanies it. I hope you’ll join me in welcoming Officer of the Year Dylan Davies to the stage.” The chief clapped his hands and the rest of us joined him.
We clapped… and clapped. I raised my brows. Where is the guy? Stuck in the can?
The chief’s forehead lines deepened, and he tried again. “Officer Davies, please come on up and say a few words.”
The spotlight swung through the crowd and landed on a table near the stage. A blond woman in an off-shoulder red gown winced as the light hit her, the seat beside her empty.
A murmur rose up from the crowd. A few of the officers at our table muttered to each other.
“Where is he?”
“Left his date alone.”
“I wouldn’t be leaving a piece like that unattended, if you know what I’m saying.”
That last comment earned the guy a sharp elbow from his date, and he abruptly shut his mouth.
The blond in the spotlight let out an exasperated sigh and scowled. “Don’t look at me! He ditched me—I have no idea where he is.”
A commotion on the other side of the room drew stares and exclamations. I half rose from my seat as others did the same and followed the looks and pointing fingers.
The rookie who’d been picked on, Russo I thought Peter had called him, stood in the back of the room looking like he’d just been washed up with the tide. His glasses sat askew, one of the lenses cracked, and wrinkles marred his uniform jacket. A trickle of blood ran from his hairline down his cheek.
“Russo!” Peter was on his feet in an instant.
The younger officer’s chest heaved, and his voice came out shaky, though it carried over the murmuring crowd.
“There—there’s been a murder!”
Daisy’s ears pricked and she whined. Truth.
GHOST PIRATE
I gripped Peter’s shoulder as I followed him down the narrow, steep stairwell below deck. Even sober it would have been difficult, with the swaying of the ship and the dark space, but in my current condition it was downright tricky. He handed me down and I adjusted my skirt. Another officer tromped over to me and motioned with his lit wand to head back up the stairs.
“Sorry, ma’am. Officers and police personnel only.”
“She’s with me.” Flint stepped up beside me. “She’s a consultant.”
The other guy gave Peter a nod and ducked under a coil of rope that hung from the rafters.
“Yeah.” I sniffed. “I’m with him.”
Daisy huffed. Who are you even talking to?
I blinked my bleary eyes. She had a point—the guy had already wandered off further below deck, past stacks of barrels and wooden crates.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Peter leaned close and spoke nearly against my ear. “You’ve seemed a little—like you’re maybe not feeling great, all evening?” He raised his brows at me, his bright eyes searching my face.
I grinned and swayed on my feet—and I couldn’t blame it on sea legs, it was all the potion. “Oh. I’m feeling just pinchy.” I made the OK symbol with my hand, then frowned. Thaaaat was not quite right. I chuckled. “Peachy. Just peachy.”
Daisy, who sniffed the base of one of the many wooden pillars that spanned the below deck space, glanced my way and huffed. You reek of booze and desperation.
I glanced at Peter, who’d been called over by another officer, and then barked at Daisy. Oh, you’ve heard of the perfume I use?
She gave me a flat look as I giggled at my own joke, then hiccupped. She flattened her ears and whined. I have no idea what Peter sees in you.
I winked at her—though it may have come out as a blink. Me neither, toots.
“Over here!”
I glanced up. The rookie, Russo, stood far down the space in a pool of orange lantern light. He pointed to a spot on the ground and I followed the swarm of police officers who moved toward him. We all jostled together in the cramped space and formed a tight semicircle around Russo and the police chief, Jack Taylor.