“No. It doesn’t.” Alice agreed with a raised brow. “But if anyone in this goddessforsaken realm would know, it would be him. Now, if you have nothing better to do, I would ask you to leave. And don’t return unless you’ve decided to stop wasting my time. Good day to you both.”
Standing, she gave Hatter a look full of hidden meaning.
Hatter didn’t even flinch. Jaw clenching mightily, he inclined his head in a gesture of farewell, then stood and gestured to the door.
“After you, Detective.”
CHAPTER 6
DETECTIVE ELLE
I RUSHED OUT THE DOOR, heading to goddess only knew where. All I knew was I needed to get out of the place ASAP.
Hatter was close on my heels. The second we were on the streets, he latched onto my elbow. “Wait,” he said.
“What?” I snapped, knowing I was acting like the hothead I was always accused of being, but that place had been pure torture for me.
If he only knew…
“What is your problem?” he asked in a rush. “You wish my help, I help, and then you run from the place like the hounds of hells are at your feet. Do you want my help or not, Detective Elle?”
When calm, Hatter was an attractive man. But full of fire and brimstone and with those dual-colored eyes practically glowing from fury at my brusque behavior, I had to admit that my visceral reaction to him in there had stemmed from more than just the drugs pumping through the walls.
Deciding just to be blunt because that was my personality, I stepped into him so closely that we practically shared breath. I fisted his immaculately pressed jacket in my hands, jerked his face to mine, and said in a heated whisper, “Do you know who I am, Constable? What I really am?”
Startled, he glanced down at my hands. But he didn’t look terrified by me, as any sane male should. I’d killed hundreds, if not thousands in my time.
“You’re a siren.”
“I’m not just any siren, male. I am the siren. The one who sunk countless vessels, the one who lived in a garden of bones fashioned from my many victims. The one cast from my home and my people because my lust was too great a power to contain.”
He brushed my hands off his jacket, but continued to share my space, looking deep into my eyes as he said, “Yes. You’re also the siren who reformed her ways, who fought to show the world you’ve changed, who’s responsible for taking down some of Grimm’s most ruthless criminals. Your power doesn’t terrify me, Detective. Your power is your greatest asset. So use it, but not against me. I am not your enemy.”
Shocked, I felt as though I’d just been smacked in the face, because with just a few simple, honest words, he’d shredded the protective shell I’d fashioned for myself through the years. It was easy to snap and bite first when that was what people expected of me. But when someone could see past the rumors, past the legend, to the real and insecure woman beneath, well… that made me vulnerable. And being vulnerable made me uneasy.
Taking a step away from him, I wrapped my arms around myself. I hadn’t just changed out of the blue. There’d been a reason for it.
A person.
A man.
Hook.
My lover. My everything. He’d taught me I could be more than the monster within. And now he was gone, and I was finding it harder and harder to hang on to that good woman. My work for Grimm PD was the only thing holding my sanity together, the only place I could find any solace from the constant and crippling pain. I could not have my safe place tarnished.
I shook my head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know more than you think.”
My spine went taut. “Did you see it? Have a vision of what happened?” I growled, angry all over again.
Working the wrinkles out of his jacket, he shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t need to see anything to see it. You may think you and I have nothing in common, but we are more alike than you’d imagine. Now, if you’re ready to work, let’s work.”
There was literally nothing more to say to that. Grinding my molars, I debated on what I should do next as we resumed walking.
Alice hadn’t exactly been helpful. Following up with Cheshire seemed like the logical next step. I doubted he’d be much more helpful than Alice had been, but leads were scarce.
“I don’t trust Alice,” I said simply, letting Hatter decide where to take my olive branch.
I was tired of apologizing for feeling like hells. But Hatter was right, I needed to grow up already. From now on, I was going to think with my head and not my heart. Hearts were messy, stupid organs that got one into trouble more often than they were worth.
He glanced down at me. “Neither do I. She knows something.”
Glad that he wasn’t going to make a big deal about what’d happened, I blew out a tiny breath of relief. “You sensed that too. When she looked at the ribbon, that’s when my gut said— ”
“She knows much more than she’s letting on. Yes, I know. Though I honestly don’t believe she knows how her ribbon ended up on the Charming estate.”
I frowned, grabbed his elbow, and turned him around so that he could look at me. “Really? And you’re not just saying this because you’re personally involved with— ”
“What you think you know about us, you don’t, Detective. Trust me. I know which side of the game I’m on.”
I raised a brow. “And that is?”
“Truth. Facts. It’s what I work for day in and day out. Is she hiding something? Absolutely. No doubt about that.” He shrugged.
I was more inclined to agree with him than not, but I couldn’t forget that he and Alice had a history. A tawdry one, at that. It could make having him in on this investigation complicated, especially if he didn’t come clean about just what that history entailed.
As though he’d read my mind, he took a deep breath. “Look, I’ll tell you everything so you can include it in your investigation report. Just not now. We have to find Cheshire and make him talk, not to mention I still have stacks of paperwork to file from yesterday.”
He growled the last bit and rolled his eyes.
I almost felt sympathy for him then. “Some days, it feels like it never ends, doesn’t it?”
“You could say that. I guess it’s time to use your key,” he said brusquely, switching subjects so quickly that it almost gave me whiplash.
“Okay. Where to? Or you know what?” I dug the gold key card out of my back pocket. “This should work for you, too, and would likely be a hells of a lot easier. Just think about where you want us to go, and we’ll get there.”
Nodding his thanks, he took the key from me. With his jaw clenched tight, he swiped the key through the air.
When we stepped out of the tunnel, the land had shifted all over again. Gone were the garbage-lined streets and smog-choked air of the city. We stood in front of a wooden structure that looked held together by a few rusted nails and a few thousand termites holding hands.
There were holes everywhere—in the steps, on the porch, even in the walls themselves. But judging by the volume of chatter and twangy music that flowed from the open windows, there were plenty of people inside.
The sign hanging on the roof read Cat On A Hot Tin Roof. Blue neon lights next to it glowed in the shapes of a martini glass with an olive in it and a pool cue.
“The cat’s here?” I asked dubiously before glancing at Hatter, wondering whether he’d only brought me here to get a drink.
“Mmm.” He gave a monosyllabic grunt. “Not only is he here, but a word of caution to you, Detective. There’s only one way to get that cat to talk, and it’s to answer a riddle.”
“He didn’t require that before.”
Hatter shrugged. “He was working off a deal with the Knight. But riddles are the cat’s everyday currency.”
I sighed. “Fine.”
Hatter held up a cautionary finger. “If you don’t know the answer, for goddess’s sake, don’t answer. Say nothing.”
I narrowed m
y eyes. “Isn’t that sort of defeating the purpose? How are we to get him to talk if I don’t say something?”
“The cat’s got a superiority complex. If he believes you stupid, he’ll never talk with you again.”
I laughed. “Stupid. Because I can’t figure out a riddle? I’m the law— ”
“Forgetting what I told you back at Potts would do you ill, Detective. Just trust me on this. Answer only if you’re sure.” He dusted at his sleeves.
The constable was constantly dusting at himself. I’d never seen someone so immaculately groomed, to be honest, so I was beginning to suspect he did it when he was nervous. But why was he nervous now?
Pursing my lips, I gave him an irritated glare. “And why can’t you answer, then?”
He shrugged. “Not my case. I’m merely assisting you. The cat has eyes and ears all over Wonderland.”
I snorted. “You don’t say. I liked him better when I met him previously, and that’s not saying much since I pretty much despised him before.”
He chuckled. “You weren’t on his turf then. You are now. His rules. His way. Always has been. Always will be. Tell me, Detective Elle.” Hatter’s voice dropped to a deep husky, drawl as he took a step in toward me. “How is a raven like a writing desk?” His electric blue eye practically glowed as his smile teased and taunted me.
My heart slammed against my throat at his nearness. The dregs of Alice’s sex magick still pumped through my veins. Hatter played with fire, and a part of me thought maybe he knew it too.
Nibbling the corner of my lip, I was about to answer when a throaty voice rumbled, “Mmm, yes. Do tell.”
Gasping, caught off guard by the voice, I turned. My hand automatically went to the hilt of my weapon as I did. But I stayed my hand when I saw who it was.
Cheshire wasn’t always a cat. He was a shifter, and his cat form was hardly domestic. It was more like a big, loping, predatory feline with the most amazing black silky fur that practically gleamed like squid ink in the moonlight.
He’d shifted to man form and was just as arresting in that silhouette too, all long and shapely limbs that weren’t too muscular, but neither were they spindly little arms and legs. He was well put together, with ebony skin and hypnotic blue eyes. As always, he was wearing his perpetual sickle-shaped grin. He smelled of night and madness, and though I had hated traveling with the beast before, I had to admit to feeling darkly drawn to him too. There was just something irreverent and fascinating about him.
He raised a thick, dark brow. “Well, Detective Arielle,” he said with a smirk, knowing the use of that name always set my teeth on edge. “Long time, no see.”
Walking like the graceful, sloping predator that he was in every form, he circled me, running his hands through the tips of my bright blue hair as he lifted it to his nose and took a gentle whiff of it before letting it slide back through his fingers.
I flared with siren magick, blasting it at him.
It only caused him to jerk and then chuckle thunderously. “The angelfish has got teeth.” He wet his own lips. “And you know just how much I do love my fish, De-tec-tive .”
He all but purred. Then he glanced over at Hatter, giving him a negligible once-over before resuming his study of me.
“Well, my beauty? How is a raven like a writing desk? Tick. Tock. Tick. Answer quick, or I shall leave.”
I’d heard this riddle told before, and there’d been many answers given. Problem was which answer would he want most?
I glanced at Hatter. He was clenching and unclenching his jaw, looking at me with hard intensity, as though mentally chanting that I remain silent and say nothing if I didn’t know.
But I knew.
Sometimes it came in handy having a partner like Ichabod.
“Well, I suppose you’d expect me to say because Poe wrote on both, but that answer is too simple. Perhaps, then, it’s because there is a “b” in both, and an “n” in neither, but really, that’s hardly satisfying.”
My lips widened as his did.
Cheshire obviously hadn’t expected me to play along. But I was so much more than a pretty face.
“At the end of the day, I suppose the only answer I can give is because they can both produce a few notes, though they are very flat, and they are never— ”
Cheshire’s head whipped up the moment I said it, with a look of mischievous delight sparkling in his glowing eyes, and I knew I’d answered correctly.
“Put with the wrong end in front.” A little smug and very satisfied with myself, I crossed my arms and gave Hatter a haughty smile.
His answering nod and expression clearly said, “touché,” and it was all I could do not to buff my nails on my chest and gloat. Really, who knew the sexy siren had it in her? Ich would have been so proud.
Cheshire held out his hand, and when I took it, his grip was strong, warm, and very, very inviting. His thumb brushed delicately along the padding of my thumb, making my already-sensitized flesh break out in a heady rush. I knew men of any species, and his meaning was clear enough. Gorgeous as he was, I was still on duty. Also, trusting Cheshire would be to anyone’s detriment. He was a lot like the fae—to trust them could very well be the last foolish thing one ever did in life.
Winking, I gave him a no-nonsense handshake, and he shrugged.
“If that’s what you wish.” He held up his hands. “Then that’s what you wish. Come inside, won’t you? Share a drink, and we’ll talk.”
I glanced up at Hatter as I passed. His jaw couldn’t have been set any tighter. Clearly, my hidden conversation with Cheshire hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Cheshire’s tight arse flexed as he bounded up the steps two at a time and disappeared behind the door. He really was pretty, and I knew later tonight I’d regret not taking him up on the offer. I sighed theatrically. Hatter was still at the bottom of the steps.
“What’s the matter, Constable?” I couldn’t help but tease him over my shoulder. “Uncomfortable working with a siren?”
Licking his front teeth, he caught up as I jogged up the steps.
“Who said anything about being uncomfortable?” His answering grin made my pulse race. My lips curled into a slow grin as I realized he’d been eyeing my arse much the same way I’d been eyeing Cheshire’s.
I couldn’t help it. I smiled.
The constable was just full of surprises, wasn’t he?
CHESHIRE MOVED behind the bar top as he expertly and efficiently withdrew three glass tumblers and filled them full of a glowing, greenish liquid that smoked at the top. Witches brew, no doubt. Very illegal.
I rolled my eyes, knowing what wouldn’t end up in my log tonight. Taking a quick study of my surroundings, I was impressed by just how different the inside was than the outside. Seemed to be standard in Wonderland.
The bar itself had a space-opera-meets-steampunk look to it. The brew stand was crank and steam powered, filling the room with a ghostly white fog that seemed to glitter and glow thanks to the golden fairy lights hanging everywhere.
The stools and the bar top were made of a rich hammered-bronze material. Black wrought-iron chandeliers and wall sconces cast prisms of light everywhere. A few yards in front was a stage and a band sweating and powering out some fast-paced music that had everyone in the place ready to dance and drink throughout the night.
The most unusual part of the bar was the floating head that’d been sealed inside a glass jar. The jar was at the end of the bar top, surrounded by patrons who laughed and tapped at it, causing the eyes to open and the mouth to smile.
Hatter leaned in to whisper in my ear. I couldn’t help but inhale his cologne as he did it.
“It’s the head of an old gypsy woman. She made a trade with the cat a few decades ago.”
Turning into him so that my breasts brushed his chest, I asked, “Why?”
Hatter’s eyes were hot and hard as he said, “Because it’s what he does—trade in deals. He got what he wanted.”
“And her? What did she
get?”
“She got to play fortune teller for the rest of her life,” Cheshire drawled. Clearly, his hearing was remarkable, even in a loud place.
Moving the glasses toward us, Cheshire lifted his, dipped his head, and said, “To murder.”
“Macabre, even for you, shifter.” Hatter raised a brow as he lifted the brew to his lips and downed it in one deep gulp.
When in Wonderland…
“Bottoms up,” I whispered before tipping the glass toward them then swallowing the brew in one go.
The stuff burned like lightning going down my throat, causing my eyes to swim and my lungs to swell like they’d been too quickly shocked from land to water breathing.
Hatter’s deep rumble caused my lips to purse with a smirk. It might not have looked pretty, but at least I’d kept it down.
Cheshire made to pour brew into our empty glasses again, but I covered mine.
“I’m good.”
Hatter, however, took his and slammed it back. His strong neck muscles rolled as he drank. But the look he turned on me after setting his cup down made my insides scramble.
Cheshire refilled for himself and Maddox one last time, and again, Constable Hatter slammed it back.
I raised a brow once it seemed they’d finally finished.
“Drinking on the job? Seems unlike you, Constable.”
“Maddox,” he grinned. “And it seems I’m forced to school you again, Detective Elle. When in Wonderland— ”
I held up my hands. “Do as the Wonderlandians do. I’m pretty sure I’ve got it now. But don’t expect me to carry your sorry arse out of here if the devil’s brew starts biting back.”
His devilish grin and laughing dark eyes had my toes curling.
“I’ll remember that, Detective. And just so you know”—he leaned in close, whispering hotly into the shell of my ear, causing my skin to break out in a wash of goose pimples—“one should never judge a book by its cover. First impressions are often wrong.”
I felt the press of strong fingertips against the small of my back. A dark thrill skated up my spine like black ice, and my heart pounded in my chest.
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