by Quirah Casey
“Can you guys stop?” Marie asks tentatively. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”
I look away from Mel, turning to Marie, whose eyes widen as she looks back and forth between us.
“You need to toughen up if you want to move up and become one of my tabes,” I scold her.
“I don’t want to be a tabe, you know that. You already have enough.”
“You could challenge one of them,” Mel encourages. “It wouldn’t be too hard for you to take down Cherilyn.”
Marie folds her arms over her chest, pursing her lips. “Stop changing the subject. What are we going to do without any leads?”
Mel’s eyes turn to me as well, silently asking my next step.
“We’re going to have to wait for Zyut to figure out the cause of death. Or—”
“We’ll have to wait for them to make another move,” Mel finishes my thought.
My phone rings, the sound echoing through the room, and I let out a curse. My earpiece is back on, so anyone calling my phone now won’t be a den member.
“Please don’t let that be their next move,” Marie pleads as she watches me answer the phone. I put it on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Blue.” Mel raises a brow at the deep voice that comes across the line.
“Agent Levitsky.” I grit my teeth. “How can I help you today?”
“I’m afraid that I’m going to need you to come down to the station. We’ve found another body. And your initials are carved into it.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Getting a little sloppy with your work, aren’t you?” Alenin asks as he sinks down into the chair across from me, a satisfied grin on his face.
Agent Levitsky sits down beside him, his expression grim. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying this as visibly as his partner, but I’m positive he is on the inside. He slides a cup of coffee to me as he sips from his own Whoof-branded mug.
“You won’t get any DNA back,” I say, taking a sip. The coffee is black with a little faerie sugar, just how I like it. I raise a brow. “Stalking me, Agent?”
“No, I asked the wolf working the counter how you liked your coffee, and she told me.”
“An invasion of privacy.”
He lets out a sigh, his dark eyes serious. “There are bodies turning up all over the place, and signs point to you being affiliated.”
“Agent, do you really think I’m pulling bodies out of my ass and abandoning them around town in the hopes that you guys will arrest me?” I can’t help rolling my eyes.
“I’m very aware that you’ve killed people before. You probably would’ve received the death penalty by now if you’d been taken down on any of these cold cases—”
“But you keep weaseling your way out of the investigations,” Alenin cuts him off. “Your slutty ass is probably fucking one of the higher-ups.”
I smirk at that, placing my coffee cup on the table. “Probably, but you’ll never know. Plus, slut-shaming is so outdated. Wouldn’t you agree, Agent Levitsky?” I turn to Levitsky, who looks like he wants to strangle someone. I’m not sure if that someone is me or his partner.
Are they trying to play good cop-bad cop to convince me that Levitsky’s on my side?
“This is a serious matter,” Levitsky attempts, “so if we could all act like adults that would be great.”
“How’d you get stuck with a partner so far below your rank and skills, Agent?” I ask, leaning forward and placing my chin on my palms. “I mean, you’re ranked at level one. You’ve been with the agency since they assembled, been offered a higher position a million times, and yet they put you with a bottom feeder like Alenin.” I shake my head. “It really is such a waste, a great talent being pulled down by such a lowlife. Because he is one, you know. From what my sources tell me, he’s been leaving a line of bodies in his—”
“Shut your mouth, you bitch!” Alenin snaps, slamming his fists down on the table.
Agent Levitsky’s eyes widen the slightest fraction. My grin widens. I’ve caught his interest. “Humans, actually. Prostitutes and addicts, mostly. Surely you’ve heard that the human police force has had trouble finding the killer.”
“I have nothing to do with that!” Alenin yells, veins bulging in his neck.
“The gentleman doth protest too much.”
Agent Levitsky clears his throat. “That is not what we are here to discuss today.” By the look in his eyes, I can tell he’s trying to figure out how I turned the whole interrogation around before it began.
“Of course, begin.” I smirk, gesturing to the file sitting on the table between us. Alenin’s face is flushed, his jaw clenched, and the loud thump of his racing heart brings me satisfaction. It looks like he’s about to explode.
If only I could be so lucky. Maybe if I set him on fire, everyone would think he finally combusted. Not many would question or mourn the sudden death of the vile agent.
Levitsky opens the file, bringing my attention back to him. He moves awkwardly, his shoulders tense, and I know that I’ve gotten into his head. Whatever trust he had in his new partner is wavering. That’s going to work to my advantage.
“We found the body in the alley between Charisma and Sparkle.”
“Both faerie shops. And yet you’re investigating a dragon instead. Feels like discrimination to me.”
“You are not being discriminated against. We have called you in today because your initials were carved into the body.” He places a picture in front of me. A man, whose head has been bashed in to the point of being unrecognizable. One of his arms has been detached from his body, and carved into the middle of his chest are three big letters: TBD.
“Hmm. ‘To be determined.’ Makes sense, huh. Since I’m sure you guys haven’t been able to determine who he is. Poor bastard’s face is totally unidentifiable.”
There’s silence in the room, and I look up to find Agent Levitsky giving me a familiar look, one I’ve seen a million times; he thinks I’m evil, insensitive, crazy. He’ll never know how right he is.
“You’re realizing where the name comes from, aren’t you? She is a devil,” Alenin sneers at his partner.
Agent Levitsky rubs at his jaw, then reaches back into the file and pulls out another picture, sliding it wordlessly across the table. I’ve seen this picture before, but I don’t let that show on my face. This photo is much older, grainier than the new one, but it also features a male body, a wolf. His eyes have been gouged out, his throat ripped, and the initials in his chest closely resemble those on display in the new photo. But those are the work of a copycat. This is the real, much more accurate version.
“So…the to-be-determined murderer has struck before?” I ask, managing to sound clueless, cavalier.
“We know those are your initials,” Agent Levitsky says cautiously, his eyes on me.
“My initial is a B.”
“TBD. The Blue Devil. The initials were your calling card back in the early 1900s, and now you’re using them again.”
“You know that I was never charged with anything, so I’m not sure why you’re trying to implicate me in a cold case. The CDA failed to find the killer back then. I don’t think you’re going to have more success decades later.”
“We did find the killer,” Alenin snaps. “You just got strings pulled, like you always do, and we had to let you go.” He glares at me. “The dead man’s pack came after you to get justice, and you slaughtered them all. We thought we had you. There was no way you could get out of a full-on massacre. You were finally going to be locked up. But once again, we were told to look the other way and ask no questions.”
That wolf wasn’t innocent in the slightest. If he were, he would still be alive today.
His death was well deserved.
“You really do make me out to be such a schemer. I was just as innocent then as I am now.” A lie, but one I will take to the grave. Maybe back then they were right, but now they aren’t—I have nothing to do with these murders. And I’ll be damned if I g
o down for them. Luckily, the CDA only knows about three of the bodies, not all four.
“All these conspiracy theories,” I sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the CDA was a little corrupt.”
“So you’re telling me that you don’t recognize this signature?” Levitsky asks.
“To be determined.”
“You bitch, this isn’t a game!” Alenin stands up, knocking over his chair. He lurches over the table, his face inches from mine, and his horrid breath hits my face.
I raise a brow, and a second later a gust of wind blows through the room, sending the agent slamming into the wall behind him.
“Shit.” Agent Levitsky gets to his feet, going to check on his partner. A line of blood streams down the side of Alenin’s face where his head collided with the wall.
“I will not sit here and let the agency wrongfully harass me,” I say, standing up. “Now, since I’m not being charged with anything, I will be leaving.” I run my hands over my clothes, straightening them out.
Alenin screams at me over Levitsky’s shoulder, but his partner holds him back. He can’t do anything about me throwing him against the wall, and he knows it. Even if he could prove that I caused the indoor gale, I could always claim self-defense. He did come at me first.
“You’re going down this time!” Alenin shrieks. “You won’t get away again! I hope you have a good lawyer!”
“Actually, I do. She’s on my speed dial.”
I turn on my heel and stride out of the room, a smile on my face.
I wait until I’m out of the CDA headquarters to call Mel.
“Does it really look like your signature?” she asks, a note of panic in her tone.
“Maybe if you tilt your head a little to the right.” I don’t bother hiding the sarcasm in my voice.
There’s a brief silence on Mel’s end.
“Surely you don’t think this is funny,” she reprimands.
“Only a little.”
“Blue!”
“I’m joking! I’m taking this whole thing seriously.” Sort of. “I need you to double check London’s and Levitsky’s moves, and I also need you to gather a couple members of London’s den for questioning.”
“You want me to kidnap them, you mean.”
“Phrase it however you want. You know what I need you to do.”
CHAPTER TEN
“I come in peace.” I’m not surprised when London’s English accent comes from the barstool next to mine. I felt him the second he stepped into the club a few minutes ago. I knew it was only a matter of time before he would find me.
“Peace, you say. That’s funny.” I’m still convinced that he had some hand in the series of murders. I’ll know for sure once I crack his den members, who I have in my custody.
“What do you mean by that?” he asks.
I turn, examining him as I let a shot glass dangle from my fingers. He’s wearing a dark shirt that clings to him like a second skin and even darker jeans, his golden hair a ruffled mess. His eyes are tense, though; he’s not as relaxed as he’s trying to appear. “You know what I mean.”
His face wrinkles in confusion, but I see through the facade. I chuckle, placing my glass on the counter.
“Could we talk in your office? I’m sure it's more private there.”
“My office?”
“Yes, I’m sure you have one here.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I watch as his muscles flex beneath his shirt.
“Sure.” I stand, looking around the club. “No Paris tonight?” I ask as he follows me at a safe distance.
“No.”
As my eyes meet Mel’s, I nod, signaling for her to keep an eye on the club. Technically, tonight's her night off, and she’s here with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Juint, but I won’t be with London long.
I lead him to my office, then press my hand against the access panel and listen as the lock clicks. I gesture for him to go ahead, closing the door behind us.
I recline at my desk, propping my feet up and lighting a yada. London sits opposite me. “What can I do for you, Stendahl?”
“You can start by calling me London.”
“I’ll call you what I want.” I take a drag of the yada, reclining in my seat.
London still looks confused. “You seem a bit…”
“Yes?”
“A bit relaxed tonight.”
“Good dick and alcohol occasionally do that for me.”
The corner of his lip curls up as he leans his elbows on my desk, arrogance in his every movement. “I see.”
“We didn’t come up here to talk about my sex life, though. What do you want?”
“I want my people back.”
“What people?” I feign cluelessness.
“My people. My wyryns. Three of them were taken, and you’re the only person around here with enough power to make that happen. I’m willing to call a truce for them.”
“What you’re saying is that you’ll give Olyvia Hynt back in return for the wyryns you think I have?”
“That’s not what I said. And stop pretending like you don’t have them.”
“Why are you leaving a trail of bodies around my town?”
His face scrunches up. “What? You can’t just switch topics like that in the middle of a conversation.”
“Bodies are appearing all over Lobrooke, and that didn’t start until you appeared.”
“Are you talking about the ones they found here the other night? I had nothing to do with that.”
“Lie as much as you want, but you’ve only caused problems since you came here. First you stole from me, then you and your sister tried to kill me, and now you’re trying to frame me for murders that I have nothing to do with.”
I take another drag to calm my steadily rising nerves.
“I have nothing to do with the bodies, and we weren’t trying to kill you.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay, maybe Paris was, but I was just playing. You know, a friendly fight between two leaders.” His shit-eating grin returns.
“Wow, you must really be a good bullshitter. You seem to believe your own lies.”
His golden eyes meet mine directly. “I wasn’t trying to kill you.” His voice is level, his face serious.
For a second, I start to believe him.
You’re just letting the yada cloud your mind.
“I see. But that still doesn’t explain the bodies.”
“My god, your head is thick.” London stands, placing his palms flat against my desk as he leans toward me, much like Alenin did before I threw him into the wall. “I’m going to say this one last time, and I hope you listen, because I won’t repeat it: I had nothing to do with the bodies.”
There’s not a hint of amusement in his face or posture. He seems to be telling the truth.
My shoulders relax. “Now, back to my people. They’re innocent, like myself, so you’ll give them back.”
“One, I’m going to need you to sit back down before I take your hovering as a threat.” I raise a brow and London takes a seat. “And two, they helped you take Olyvia Hynt from me.” Kicking my feet off the desk, I scoot closer. “So tell me, what do you have to bargain?”
“What?”
“You want something from me, so I assume you have something to trade. As I see it, you already owe me for allowing your sister to live. Hell, for letting you all live after you blatantly disrespected me by showing up here without warning.”
He leans forward, frustration on his face. “You didn’t let us live out of the kindness of your heart. You just wanted to get Olyvia back before you killed us.”
The truth of that statement isn’t lost on me. “I let you live, all the same. It doesn’t matter why. So I’ll ask again: what do you have to offer me?” We stare each other down, his golden eyes narrowing with irritation. Just as he opens his mouth to reply, an alarm starts buzzing in my office.
I look down at the flashing screen on my desk. The blinking red light indicates that the rear do
or closest to the private rooms has been opened without an access code.
“Palha,” Dina says in my ear.
I press the button at my wrist. “On it.”
I turn to London. “Out.” He steps through the office door, and I follow, a step behind him. I make my way to the back of the club with London on my heels. At least I don’t have to worry about him walking around unsupervised.
I push the door open, catching sight of a hooded figure at the end of the hallway, moving toward the dance floor. I can’t pick up a scent to identify the person’s species, so they must be using some kind of blocker. The figure speeds up and slips into the mass of dancers, but I never lose sight of the dark silhouette as it pushes past clueless club-goers. I don’t yell for the intruder to stop—I don’t need yet another scene in my club.
The trespasser pushes through the front door, right past the security guards, who move to grab the fleeing figure but miss. “Stay,” I direct the guards. I can handle this myself.
The mysterious person turns the corner to the side of the building, and then I hear a woman screaming like a maniac. London swears behind me.
I come around the corner to find Paris fighting off the dark figure, a body lying on the ground next to her. The man is dead; I can smell it from here.
Someone crashes into me from the side, and for a second I think it’s London, but then I catch a glimpse of him fighting off another attacker. I use the momentum of the push to roll out of the way. I turn sharply, ripping out the attacker’s throat without a second of hesitation just as shots ring out through the night.
I’m so fucking sick of guns.
I watch London grab one of the attackers and pull them in front of him, their body taking the bullets meant for him. He lets go, moving too quickly for the shooter to keep up as he tries to get to his sister. I take cover behind a trash can, trying to spot the shooter. They’re using what sounds like a machine gun, the bullets rattling off in quick succession. It only takes a second for me to locate the source of the shots: the roof of an abandoned building next to the club.
Another second passes, and I make out the shooter. More men pile into the alley, but I concentrate, blocking out the chaos as I manipulate the air around the shooter, pushing him off the building. His scream is cut short when he meets the concrete with a smush.
