Hypnos

by R. J. Blain

  When someone in law enforcement was targeted, it was usually personal. Cops involved with an arrest might be targeted, and so might their chiefs—or people like my father.

  Dad had been targeted a few times, but nobody tended to figure out Charles Abrams was my father—or that I spent more time visiting my parents than I did at home.

  I enjoyed tenderizing anyone who went after my father. The last time, I’d taken down three wanted men, death zone survivors who thought they could get away with murder.

  Dad had yelled at me for a full hour for shredding my clothes and giving his cops a show in the aftermath. Frankly, he should’ve been happy I could transform water into blades sharp enough to slice through guns, people determined to kill him, and just about anything I wanted when necessary.

  I’d gotten some vindication; my mother had torn into my father for forgetting to thank me properly before she’d taken a turn with me for failing to maintain my modesty.

  Then I remembered that when someone did decide to target a member of the FBI management, they tended to draw attention with the biggest bang possible. And hundreds of comatose victims certainly counted as a big bang.

  Someone knocked on the door, and I sighed. “What is it?”

  “The pizza is here along with Detective Davis,” Luke announced.

  The bubbles would protect the little modesty I cared about. “Send him in with my pizza,” I ordered. “Two slices, and if there’s a pepperoni, I want the slices with extra grease and all the best pepperonis.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “About the pepperonis and extra grease? You better believe I’m serious.”

  “I meant about Ray.”

  I smiled. “If he wants to talk to me, he can bring me two slices of pizza. That’s my price of admission into my domain.”

  “That’s harsh, Olivia.”

  “My house, my rules. If Detective Davis wants to talk to me, he’ll bring my pizza to me. If you can handle it, he can handle it.”

  “Have I ever told you that you’re pure evil?”

  “But I’m pure evil who doesn’t skimp on your hazard pay. Either send him in or send him home until tomorrow. Right now is bath time, Luke. I’ve earned this bath, and I’m not leaving it early unless one of my quads direly needs me.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  I wondered if Detective Raymond Davis would enter my sanctum. If I wanted to shine a little light on my day, I’d tease him with my magic. Him in a wet shirt would be worth the awkward—for him—meeting in my bathroom.

  Whatever had sent him chasing after me to Berkeley was important enough he knocked once, mumbled something through the door, and entered at my invitation, bringing a plate with two gloriously greasy slices of pepperoni with him. “Special Agent Abrams.”

  “Guardian Angel of Pizza,” I replied, reaching for my dinner and wagging my fingers so he’d hurry up and feed me. “What can I do for you?”

  “Did you call headquarters?” He brought the plate closer, keeping his eyes averted so he wouldn’t catch even a peek of me, holding it out so I could receive his offering.

  Luke may have ordered the pizza, but he who brought the pizza won my favor.

  Once I took possession of my dinner, I set the plate on the tub’s ledge and secured a slice, stuffing as much as I could in my mouth to ease my stomach’s demand for immediate sustenance. I chewed enough so I wouldn’t choke before gulping it down. “Got bumped to the terrorism case?”

  “Someone forged a connection with the stolen koi statuette. As a result, I’m now the investigative co-lead.” He turned his back to me, and he even avoided the mirror, which gave me a good view of his face.

  Luke was right; I had an evil streak a mile wide. I lifted my leg out of the water, bracing my foot against the faucet, taking another bite of my dinner. “Well, well, well, Detective Davis. Congratulations. Leading a high-profile investigation will move you up in the world.”

  “I investigate high-profile robberies!”

  “This is as high-profile as it gets. You don’t need to be an experienced homicide investigator. If anything, you’ll do a better job than a homicide detective. Thieves think in a different way from most killers. If this guy wanted to kill people, there’d be a lot more fatalities. What he’s up to, however? That I can’t tell you. Do your job, call in people with the skills you need when you lack them, and do what you do best. Find out who stole the statuette and why.”

  The cop whirled, and his eyes locked onto my bubble-covered calf.

  I smiled. “The co-lead part isn’t a bad deal for you, either. Means you might get a chance to sleep some nights.”

  “You’re the co-lead.”

  Surprise, surprise, surprise. I arched a brow, gave my pizza some more tender, loving care, and counted the seconds while waiting for him to escape the lure of my sudsy leg. A minute later, I worried I’d broken him. If my leg derailed him so badly, I’d have to take steps to make certain he didn’t get a view of my chest.

  He might die.

  “I expected them to delay until tomorrow to have someone tell me,” I admitted.

  Detective Hunk, as shy as accused, averted his gaze, accidentally stared into the mirror, and his face turned red. “Why?”

  “I’m a workaholic who avoids sleep.”

  “Is that why you have a quad here?”

  “They’re worrywarts. As soon as you’re finished with me, I’m going to bed. Have Luke or Eddy give you my contact info and schedule. I’ll need yours as well. The next few days will be hell, but you’ll find it becomes a game of hurry up and wait. Delegation will be your best friend until this case is a wrap.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

  “I’d hope not. Anyone who wants to run these operations are lunatics. We’ll make a game plan in the morning.”

  “How is it you, one of the possible suspects, became a lead investigator of this case?”

  I laughed. “It’s simple. I didn’t steal the statuette, I’m one of the hardest hitters California has to offer, and despite appearances, I only screw with the cops a little. Get some sleep, Detective Davis. You’ll need it more than I do. I’m used to this. You’re not.”

  He fled, and I held in my laughter until I heard the front door slam.

  “You’re a bad person, boss,” Luke announced through the door. “What did he ever do to you?”

  “He accused me of theft.”

  “The poor man was blushing, Olivia.”

  “It’s not my fault he likes my legs. They’re good legs, though. I appreciate his admiration.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “I just needed to stretch my leg. I’m relaxing, Luke. Relaxing. Can’t a woman stretch her leg in her own tub without judgment?”

  “You’re an evil woman. Please tell me you were otherwise covered.”

  “With bubbles.”

  “Did you have to?”

  “Yes. Eddy isn’t the only one who has wardrobe accidents, and if I need to use my magic, he might get a show. I don’t want him to suffer a seizure should that happen in a public place. Nor do I feel like I should wear pants to preserve his peace of mind. He needs to get used to the fact I have legs and he likes them.”

  “You haven’t torn your clothes off in two years. Don’t feed me that. You wanted him to see your legs.”

  Yes, I had. “I’m overdue.”

  “Take it easy on the poor guy, please. He’s sensitive.”

  “He’s also hot when he blushes, Luke. Give him a week with me around. He’ll be fine.”

  “Or numbed due to overexposure to his living hell.”

  “Fine, he can be numb then—whatever it takes to make it so he can converse with me without fleeing. I’ll accept a basic tolerance of my existence, too.”

  “Just take it easy on him, okay?”

  “At the very minimum, he can’t run away from me when we’re working, even if I’m wearing a short skirt.”

  Luke sighed. “Fair
enough. Try not to relax in the tub all night. You do need actual sleep.”

  “As I told Detective Davis, you’re a worrywart.”

  “But I’m a right worrywart, so hurry it up.”

  I laughed, and because I had no doubt Luke would go to extremes until I did what he wanted, I did as told without complaint.

  I never made it to my couch. Luke redirected me to my bedroom, shut the door, and swore he’d have Isaac sedate me if I didn’t cooperate. Generally quiet Isaac could—and would. A blood sucker like him could drop me to the floor in less than a minute, controlling my blood to accomplish his dirty work. Of all the members of Luke’s quad, Isaac frightened people the most.

  His ability did one thing well: it killed.

  Isaac hated killing people, but he needed blood to survive. Thanks to his magic, he couldn’t produce his own blood. Every three days, if he didn’t receive a transfusion, he ran a high risk of death.

  I should’ve known I’d end up donating first thing in the morning. Stress and use of his magic shorted his clock, requiring a larger transfusion sooner to ensure his ongoing survival. Donating was a surefire way of ensuring I’d spend the rest of the day staggering about in a daze. Unfortunately, as Isaac’s boss, it was my job to top him up when his tank got low so he wouldn’t fall prey to desperation and terror of death.

  Isaac was still latched onto my wrist when someone knocked at my door. He growled, the predator in him unwilling to give up his meal.

  I’d grown used to his predatory possessiveness; exposure helped. I stroked my hand over his hair to reassure him. “Relax, Sucky McSuckyface. Nobody is going to steal your breakfast.”

  I wished it didn’t take him an agonizing hour to feed, but I had forgotten to replace my field transfusion kit and hadn’t been willing to wait for Luke to go get one, not with Isaac hissing and eyeing Ethan hungrily. Jamie, the low-ranked earth elementalist with a knack for seeing things people wished he wouldn’t and a minor talent for healing, had gone out to get a couple of kits for the future—and so he wouldn’t have to watch Isaac treat me like a chew toy.

  In good news, Isaac monitored my vitals and controlled how much blood I lost to him, able to draw out enough blood to satisfy him until I could call in extra donors. As I liked living, I never questioned Isaac when he claimed it would take an hour to an hour and a half to do his work without putting me at risk.

  Luke got to his feet and went to the door, cracking it open. “You’re early. You can come in, but Isaac’s feeding, so if you get nervous or approach without his okay, he might try to take a few sips.”

  “Who is the donor?” Detective Davis asked.

  “Special Agent Abrams. It’s part of her job as our quad manager. I thought he’d be good for another day, but he burned a lot of energy yesterday. Come on in. She’s going to be out of it for a while, but we can talk while waiting for him to finish.”

  I patted Isaac’s shoulder, ignoring his low growls. “See? It’s just a cop, Isaac. Cops are pushovers, so he’s not going to steal your breakfast.”

  Detective Davis strolled into my living room, and he stared at where Isaac drank from my wrist. “That has got to hurt like hell.”

  “Yep. It’s definitely not a walk in the park. Once he’s done, Jamie will patch me up. I’ll be as good as new within a few hours. We usually plan better. Jamie’s out getting field kits so I have them at home for future use. That way, he’s basically sipping from a straw, which is no biggie in the pain department. Take a load off. What brings you to Berkeley so early this fine morning?”

  “There’s been another incident.”

  “When and where?”

  “Sometime last night, a small apartment building in Oakland near the Berkeley line was hit. It looks like the culprit walked around the exterior of the structure. All victims were within five feet of the exterior wall. They’re being taken to the hospital now. Forensics is going over the scene. Unfortunately, there aren’t any witnesses—or any evidence.”

  My morning had started bad, and I’d be contemplating quitting by noon. “We’ll need to chart viable paths from the city center to the apartment building. We might find something—or other victims—along the way. Luke, call Douggie and get his quad on the move. I also want an update on Adrianna and her quad.”

  Luke grabbed his phone and headed for my bathroom. “Roger.”

  I kept an eye on Isaac while giving Detective Davis the majority of my attention. “Douggie has a decent memento mori photographer in his quad. If a haunter or other incorporeal entity is involved, she might pick it up on her camera. She has a particularly good capture rate. Her resting rate isn’t great, but I send in other photographers to lay the incorporeals to rest when needed. I send her in when I need an identification.”

  He frowned, his gaze settling on my wrist where Isaac drank. “Are you going to be able to head onto the streets today?”

  Eddy bounced through my front door without knocking and beelined for my kitchen. “I heard that question from outside, for the record. She’s feeding a drainer, she’s not deaf. After lunch, she should be good to go out on a shift, but only if she doesn’t faint after standing up.” With admirable speed, she filled a glass with orange juice and brought it to me. “Bottoms up, Olivia. Try not to faint on us today. I’m far too weak and delicate to catch you.”

  “You’re so full of shit, Eddy. Detective Davis, please don’t listen to her nonsense. Afternoon is a good estimate on when I’ll be able to hit the streets with you, but I need to get some other balls rolling before I can leave.”

  “Like what?” he challenged.

  He was probably siding with Eddy to vex me. “I need to coordinate active quads with the right skills for this job, go over the roster for today’s events and the teams handling them, request temporary quads if needed when I pull people off our main job to find out who is behind this, and so on. I’ll have to go over your evidence and see where it fits with what I’ve already put together, too.”

  Luke returned from my bathroom and pointed his phone at me. “Eddy isn’t spouting nonsense, and Ray’s right to listen to her. You called Isaac Sucky McSuckyface. You’re not going anywhere before noon, and that’s only if Jamie pulls out all the stops and patches you up and taps himself out. He can get away with it, as we’re going to be driving around babysitting you, but still.”

  Detective Davis smirked. “Her addressing him as Sucky McSuckyface does seem like a general impairment due to blood loss to me.”

  Luke snickered and sat beside Isaac, ignoring the drainer’s warning growl. “Relax, Sucky McSuckyface. I certainly have no interest in drinking Olivia’s blood. Top your tank already so she can drink her juice and take a nap while we do all those pesky little chores she needs to do before we can get on the road.”

  “Honestly, I’m probably going to have too much desk work to hit the road for a while even with your help,” I admitted. “But if we do get out of here and can do the street work before nightfall, Isaac should be plenty energetic. It’ll give Jamie a chance to rest, too. Detective, you may as well sit down unless you have somewhere to be. This is going to take a while.”

  Like Luke, he picked the floor, close enough I could stretch my leg and kick him if I really wanted. Luckily—or unluckily—for him, I was still wearing my pajamas, which included a pair of silk pants. “We have a lot of groundwork to do before we can realistically hit the streets. I’m still getting some push back from the chief about the scanner results, and our suspect list is essentially non-existent.”

  I understood; he must’ve already exhausted his general suspect list in the statuette theft to have come knocking at my door in the first place. “Eddy, as I’d rather not have any more slowdowns, make sure your brother does his job for a change. I’m supposed to be an emergency donor, not Sucky McSuckyface’s mainline. I want a daily donor for him until this case is done. We need him in top form. Suggest a community service hours exchange for donation; everyone wins. We’ve done it before, and there ar
e loads of supernaturals who’d appreciate a chance to finish their service hours early.”

  Eddy grinned at me and fetched me a second glass of orange juice. “But you’re delicious. Isaac is always so happy when you donate.”

  Donating hurt like hell, my entire arm throbbed, and I wanted to go back to bed. “Cute, Eddy.”

  “I’ll make sure my brother knows you’ve been Isaac’s chew toy today. Sorry, Detective Davis. I know this interrupts the general game plan, but she noticed him getting growly this morning, so she cut herself with her nail. He latched on, and well, here we are.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “It’s part of my job. He’s on a three-day cycle, and I don’t risk the lives of my quad members. Bags don’t work well for him. Eddy can explain.”

  While Detective Davis wouldn’t clue in on the reality of my situation, the others would; when I wasn’t up to explaining something about someone I was responsible for, I was either dead, dying, or wishing I could put myself out of my misery—or on the verge of unconsciousness. By the time Isaac finished drinking, I’d be in the last category.

  It wouldn’t be the first time Eddy, Luke, or even Isaac had dragged me to bed following a donation.

  “He needs the blood and the active magic in her blood. An hour with Olivia can hold him right to the end of his three-day cycle before he must drink again.”

  Detective Davis frowned, and he stared into my eyes. “How often do you donate?”

  While I disliked his scrutiny about how I handled my quads, I ignored my flare of irritation and gave him the benefit of the doubt; I could get sensitive about Isaac—and any drainer I was responsible for, although I typically donated to Isaac exclusively. “Every few weeks. He’s got a good general donor stable. I think it’s just a case of too much worry and excitement yesterday. He shouldn’t have needed a donor until tomorrow. It happens sometimes.” To reassure Isaac I wasn’t upset with him, I ruffled his hair. “And I get paid a nice bonus.”