by Ann Denton
Flowers hops off a Broomer hovering mid-air.
“What the hell, Fox! Ruining my investigation already?” He crosses his arms. “I could hear you yelling from half a block away. And why are you still wearing my pants?”
I’m distracted by the outburst.
Bennett uses this to his advantage. He jerks his chin toward Luke. “Let’s go down to the station. Flores, can you meet us there in ten?”
“Yeah. I just need to deliver a lesson on leaking intelligence,” Flowers grabs me by the arm and drags me up to my apartment.
I turn and give Luke one last glare over my shoulder before I’m shoved through the door.
“Go change! I can’t even believe you’d tell a suspect what’s going on before I got to question him!” Flowers roars. “I’d like to throttle—”
Screech.
A hellish noise fills the room. And Flowers is suddenly on his knees, hands clenched. I ignore the noise long enough to take a second to appreciate the sight of him bowed down on my floor. He’s such a dick. I wait until he raises his eyes to mine. I raise a brow and say, “Harm charm, release.”
Flower’s body goes from stiff to standing in zero point eight seconds. “Go change.”
I make sure he sees my eye roll before I walk to my bedroom. I shut the door, close my eyes, and mutter, “I lost Flowers pants to a bog monster’s cesspit and then to his office.” (I’ve never tried a two-parter before. No idea if it’ll work.)
The pants disappear.
My right leg suddenly feels like it’s on fire. It’s magma hot.
My eyes pop open. And a scream fills the air.
It’s only when Flower’s head pops around the side of my bedroom door that I realize the scream was even mine.
My hands are clenched at the bottom of his shirt, which falls around my thighs. All of my muscles are taut. My heart’s beating wildly. WTF?
Flower’s eyes scan my body. But he’s not checking me out. He’s staring in horror at what caused my scream in the first place.
I glance down.
My right thigh is covered in white feathers. My calf is covered in orange scales. My foot has shifted and twisted and broken through the hospital sock. It’s now a claw.
My right leg is a chicken leg.
Chapter 4
“What the fuck is that?” Flowers stares at my leg.
“I dunno. I dunno.” I’m scared. Like hanging mid-air, just jumped off a cliff scared. I feel the need to pace. But I just tumble onto the bed. My right knee isn’t where my knee should be. It’s way higher. What is this? Is it permanent? My mother will be here at the end of the night. Is this reversible? Holy bejeezus, it better be. I’ll die. I’ll quit my job and die. “I can’t be a chicken. How can I be a chicken? Is this a side-effect of the cookies? OMG! Am I poisoned? Am I dying?”
Flowers grabs my hands. “Stop. Deep breath. Explain. Step by step. What just happened?”
He guides my breaths for a minute. Until I’m slightly under control.
“I … tried to lose your pants to a cesspit, then to your office.”
Flowers shuts his eyes. He tosses away my hands and stands, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Fox. Sometimes your immaturity is astounding. So, you lost my pants and then …”
“Then this!” I gesture at the leg, accidentally brushing a feather. It sends a shiver up my spine.
“Well, I guess you’ve learned your lesson about being a jerk with your powers, huh?”
I glance at my leg, “Is that what this is? Magic karma?”
He shrugs. “Honestly, no clue. But I really don’t care.”
“Help me.”
“Buy me new pants.”
“Fine.”
“First. Buy me new pants first.”
“This is a magical emergency.”
“Your incompetence is not my emergency.”
“We’re reduced to bumper sticker sayings now?” I grumble as I reach for my cell. I open the Elf and Tailor shopping app. “There. Order your pants. Put in your info. My card’s already attached.”
Stupid freaking Flowers orders new pants while I stare down at my hideous leg. I officially hate my life.
What am I going to do about this?
My stomach swirls and dips and anxiety makes my limbs tremble.
Is this what it’s like for some shifters? To wake up one morning and find their body all out of whack? Partially shifted?
“Does shifting hurt?”
“What?” Flowers looks up from my phone.
“It felt like lava in my leg. Does shifting hurt?”
“No. It feels more like … stretching. Like stretching a sore muscle.”
I run a hand gently over my feathers. “Do you think I’m somehow part chicken shifter?”
Flowers sighs. “I dunno, Fox. If you are, it’s a small part. Because I have very little desire to eat you.”
My head jerks up. “You’d eat me?” I scramble back on the bed.
He rolls his eyes. “Always with the drama.” He dials a number on my phone and holds it up to his ear.
“Boss, I’m not gonna be able to get over there right away to question Mr. Hawkins. Fox had a little medical emergency. Gotta take her to the hospital. No. Of course, not serious— it’s Fox—what do you expect? Uh-huh. What? Another? Yeah. On it.”
Flowers tosses the phone at me. “Get dressed.”
“Hello. Can’t walk.”
He shakes his head and grumbles. He walks to my dresser and pulls out some pants.
“Yeah, um, I think we need a dress.”
“Frickin’ hell,” he wanders into my closet. He comes back and tosses a poofy pink tea dress at me. “Put that on.”
He’s out of the bedroom before I can argue.
I struggle into the dress and as soon as I’m done, Flowers appears. In his boxers. In another lifetime, those hulked out muscles might be a yummy sight. But this is Flowers. He ruins his sexiness with all the glaring and told-you-so’s.
He grabs the shirt I’d borrowed and stuffs it into a bag filled with his other clothes. He tosses the bag at me and hands me one of the saddles I keep for riding Jacob (my coyote shifter adoptive father).
He goes around the corner and shifts.
Thirty seconds later, I’m riding a tiger to the hospital.
The nurses freeze in place when I ride into the ER lobby.
A flying squirrel in scrubs, who was mid-leap with a syringe, biffs it. The syringe clatters across the floor. The squirrel scrambles under a desk.
Patients turn in their chairs. An elf with eyes as swollen as bubbles stares. Then one of his eyes pops. Just like a bubble. The goo splatters his face. His eye starts to swell again.
Gag! That shit better not be contagious. I cover my mouth and look away.
No way we look as crazy as that shit. Though I do kinda wonder what we look like. I haven’t brushed my hair or teeth since JR woke me up. I’m wearing a fluffy bubblegum pink nightmare of a dress I bought on a drunken dare from JR. (Don’t judge me. Drunk shopping is fun.) I have a chicken leg. And of course, there’s Flowers, looking all cuddly with his orange stripes and big fangs. I’m guessing we look unusual, even for the ER in Tres Lunas. I mean, how many magical towns in So. Cal even have tiger shifters?
Only after a “Code Glitter” comes over the intercom do people start to move.
“Your boyfriend needs to shift back,” the welcome desk dude tells me. “No full animal forms allowed. Too many … territorial issues.”
“Boss, not boyfriend,” I shudder at the error.
Flowers uses his teeth to carry his bag of clothes to the nearest men’s shifting room while I sign in.
“Species?”
“Part-fae.”
“Issue?”
I glance down. “Um, chicken leg?” Is it not obvious?
The guy doesn’t raise a brow. Is that good? I hope it’s good. Hopefully chicken legs are super common. Like no big deal. Like a zit in the hospital world.
&nb
sp; “Chicken leg? Not sugar shock? Hmm … first for tonight.”
The check-in guy glances at me for the first time. “Have you been vaccinated for the chicken pox?”
“What? Um … I dunno? No?”
The check in guy sighs. “Great. How long have you shown symptoms?”
“Is this chicken pox? I thought that was a virus with little red spots.”
“The chicken pox, not chicken pox. It’s a fae affliction.”
I almost throw up in relief. “Is that what this is?” I glance at my leg. “Is that easy to fix? Cured in a night?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. Not a doctor. Just have to ask the questions that pop up on the screen.” He turns the screen to face me so I can see a flow chart of check-in questions.
“Ah. Gotcha. You wouldn’t happen to know if the chicken pox is contagious, would you?” I cross my fingers. This could be the answer to my prayers. Mom cannot possibly visit if I could give her this.
Unfortunately, desk guy is no help at all. “Just answer the questions, please. A doctor will have to diagnose you.”
I answer sixty point two million questions. Including very embarrassing menstrual questions which Flowers walks away for. (Thank frickin’ goodness.)
Then we have to go to the waiting room.
I balance on Flower’s arm and shuffle over to a seat. He drops me in.
“So, I’ll see you later.”
“You’re leaving?”
He scrunches his eyebrows. “Fox. I have a poisoning to investigate. And now we’ve got two murder scenes to process.”
“Whoa. Back up. Two murders?”
He leans down, “Lower your voice.”
“Here?”
“Yup. New one before we left your place.”
“Patients?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re leaving me alone, unable to walk, at the hospital where two patients have just been murdered?”
His nostrils flare. A tendon in his square jaw twitches. He runs a hand over his black hair. “Fine. Give the desk your cell number so they can call you. Not like you’re gonna see someone for hours anyway.” He goes over to a nurse and yanks a wheelchair out of her hands. “Police investigation. I’m confiscating this.”
He pushes it over to me but refuses to help me in. I stumble—of course—and my stupid cotton-pickin’ claw gets stuck in the wheels.
I squawk and yank my leg back, but my claw rips as I get free. Motherfucker! That stings. And I start to bleed.
A werewolf with a human body but wolf head howls.
A vampire with a single fang turns toward me and licks his lips.
“Dammit. Blood issues are floor two.” The check-in guy gestures frantically. “This is a no blood zone. Didn’t you see the sign?”
Check-in dude dials a phone. “I need a security golem on ER lobby one. Stat.”
The werewolf stands and takes a step toward me. Flowers whips me up over his shoulders and growls at the guy.
My face is hanging near Flower’s ass. I feel like a sack of potatoes. Then I realize, this position places my right leg by Flower’s face. My chicken leg.
I hear Flowers take a deep breath. I tense. This is it. He’s gonna eat me.
Suddenly we’re flying straight up. One of Flower’s legs kicks forward, out of my line of sight. I feel it connect. Bam. It reverberates through me. And then we fall. Or—correction—I fall. Flowers lands on his feet. My gut slams back into his shoulder. All the breath is knocked out of me. I wheeze. But at least I’m still conscious. Which is more than I can say for werewolf-face. He’s passed out on the floor to my right.
A big marshmallow-padded golem barrels down the hall toward us. Too late, buddy.
The check-in guy checks the werewolf’s pulse and sighs. “He’s alive. Great. Thanks. That means four extra forms for me.”
Flowers doesn’t respond. He just hefts me higher on his shoulder, steps over the body, and strolls down the hall.
I fucking wish I was a tiger.
Chapter 5
To my shock, Flowers sets me down outside room 470.
“What the eff?”
This is Danny's room.
I feel light-headed. I grip the door frame and drag myself into the room.
"No. No no no no no."
The beds are all empty. Fear seizes me.
I turn to Flowers, "Where’s Danny?"
Flowers rolls his eyes as he checks his phone. "Calm down, Fox. My notes say the vic was a fae. Both vics were fae."
My bones melt in relief. Literally. My stupid chicken knee gives out. I sink toward floor.
Flowers catches me under the armpits.
"What the hell? This is a crime scene. Don't go putting your finger and butt prints all over the place."
I cringe. I know better than this. I should know better than this. "Sorry. I think I’m just a little too stressed out right now."
Flowers sighs. "I really want to lay into you more. But if the Crypts were after me, I can't honestly say I wouldn't be shitting myself."
At that moment, Darrell walks in with Seena, Becca, and another cadet named Petey.
When they see me, they all stop and do a double take.
Seena pushes his glasses up and wolf-whistles. “What happened to you, Fox? Get into the hen-house?”
Petey high-fives him. The pale vamp runs a hand over his auburn hair sideburns. “Bet she was trying to cross the road.”
“Scrambling from one side to the other?” Seena punts the football back.
“Probably. She’s gotta lotta pluck! Bam!” Petey does a victory lap down the hall and back. He’s so fast that if you blinked, you’d miss him. Stinkin’ vampire. His powers never make him turn into a chicken.
Becca smacks them both in the shoulders, which is quite a reach, considering she’s only five feet tall. “Shut up, morons.”
At last. Someone defending me.
But then she says, “Can’t you see, she’s not eggs-actly up for jokes right now? You’re laying it on a little thick.”
“You’re clucking funny. All of you,” I retort. As if I hadn’t been planning that one the entire tiger-ride here. What? If I’ve learned anything at the Academy, it’s that cops razz each other. Always be prepared.
Seena fist bumps me. He’s a miniature horse-shifter, and by far my favorite classmate. “Way to take one for the team. What happened, really?”
I shrug. “Waiting for a doctor to tell me. Came with Flores to check out the scene.”
I wait for Flowers to out my shitty magic. But he doesn’t. His silence plus the comment about the Crypts makes me wonder if there’s actually a heart buried under all those muscles. I eye him speculatively for a sec. Maybe …
Darrell claps his hands together, though the sound is somewhat muffled by his bandages. He’s a recent transfer from the Cairo division, but he’s got a lot of experience, so looks like Bennett’s letting him lead this one. "All right kiddos. If you’re done with all the fowl language, let's get to it.”
That earns him a cheer.
Darrell just smirks and continues, “Evidence collection 101. Becca, you set the spell to collect any bodily fluids or hair left behind. Petey, you get photos and dusting for prints. Seena, you set up the scanner to check the room for spell remnants. Check with me if you have any, and I mean any, questions."
You might not think a muffled mummy without any real facial expressions would be commanding, but Darrell pulls it off. Seena and Petey set to work.
Darrell pulls a strip of bandage off his arm and grabs a pen. He draws a bird, a cat, a couple other hieroglyphics. Then he tapes the bandage across the top of the door. He sees me watching, “Keeps everyone else out. Easier than a salt line here.”
I nod.
Becca pushes past us, holding a canister of what looks like hairspray. She steps into the hall. “Excuse me one second.” She sprays a nasty yellow aerosol all over herself. It settles on her skin and makes her look kind of cartoony. Or ill.
&nb
sp; “What’s that?” I can’t help asking.
Becca shivers as the spray sinks into her face.
“Spell repellent. After what happened at Town Hall, I’m not taking any chances.”
I nod. Seems smart. She was nearly poisoned to death. I’d be super-cautious if it’d been me. Heck, I might have quit. But the little sprite’s got guts.
Once Becca steps back into the room and gets to work, I start to feel awkward. “Anything I can do?”
Flowers shoves me into a wheelchair. “Come with me. We’re gonna find out where they put the other patients. You can watch me question and learn a thing or two about asking questions without tipping off suspects.”
He pushes me to the nearest nurse’s station and leans against the counter. He smiles.
The NQN—Not Quite a Nurse—behind the desk smiles back at him. She looks a little stunned. I am too, but not for the same reason. Flowers never smiles.
“Hey … Melanie,” he reads her name tag.
“Hi,” she bats her eyes and sets down her files.
He flashes his badge at her. When she realizes he’s here on business, she deflates a little. Poor dwarf.
“I know you keep track of everything that goes on around here, so I was wondering … did you see anything odd tonight?”
Melanie shrugs.
“Other than Nurse Nasty going on about some pervert, I don’t think so.”
“Nurse Nasty?”
“Oops,” she covers her mouth. “I meant Nancy.”
“Nurse Nasty’s a mean one, huh?” he leans closer in sympathy.
The stars are back in Melanie’s eyes as she tucks a dreadlock behind her shoulder. “The worst.”
“She here tonight?”
Melanie rolls her eyes. “Of course. She’s always on schedule on the weekend. And we can never find her during emergencies. I swear she hides in the bathroom or something.”
“Notice anything unusual about the fae in room 470?”
“Nancy wouldn’t let anyone else in there. He was some bigwig, I guess. Is it a privacy violation to tell you what he was in for?”
“Nope. Police investigation.”
“Well, his online file said he was just in for sugar shock. But, I mean, nobody else saw him. So, who knows?”