by Elicia Hyder
“The state crime lab.”
“You stole it?”
He looked surprised. “You didn’t think I’d let them keep it, did you?”
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Eyebrows are already being raised in my direction. If you start stealing evidence—”
He held up a hand to stop me. “It won’t blow back on you. I only took this. The rest I put in the incinerator.”
“So you destroyed evidence?”
“The cops got what they needed from the reports. Do you want to keep piecing facts together or not?”
I sighed and gestured for him to continue.
“Did anyone else come or go from this room before the explosion?”
“I haven’t heard about it if they did.”
“Then that must have been Kush.” He pointed to the sparkly black ash near the bathroom.
Unexpected sadness crept over me. Whatever happened that night, Kush didn’t deserve to die, especially like this.
“Think he figured out a way to grow it?” Orion asked.
“He named himself after a strain of marijuana, and you think there’s a chance that he’s some ancient-magic specialist?”
Orion chuckled. “Probably not, but I have known some seriously resourceful potheads, so let’s assume he’s in on it. Where could it be?”
“I was at Kush’s home last night. We brought his brother in for questioning. I didn’t see any poppies, but it was dark, and I wasn’t looking.”
“There weren’t any poppies there.”
My head pulled back. “How do you know—” I crossed my arms. “You were following me.”
“You knew I was. You bitched about it last night.”
I huffed and shook my head.
He held up a hand. “Before you get all sidetracked on the injustice of it all, where else does Kush hang out?”
“His grandmother’s. Tawny Fleming. She lives about a mile up the road from Kush and Teek.”
“Anywhere else?”
“Not that I can think of offhand. We weren’t exactly chummy.”
I folded my arms and looked around at the mess. “Is it possible Elias lied about all this? That he was behind the hypnox on purpose?”
“Why would he be?”
“I don’t know. Because he was an awful person?”
Orion smiled. “Maybe, but I’d say he learned his lesson the last time he dealt with hypnox.”
“Were you there?”
“Yes.”
“So he did create the hypnox last time.”
“Was there a question?” Orion seemed surprised.
“Not from me. Our chief back then wasn’t so sure it was an intentional murder.”
“Elias may not have started the fire, but he certainly—”
I held up a hand. “Wait a second. Elias didn’t start the fire?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Orion stared at me. “I did.”
The admission plowed through me like a freight train. Everything I’d believed my whole life, all the anger and resentment that had shaped me, was all a lie.
“He didn’t do it,” I mumbled, staring across the room.
Orion put his hands on my shoulders. “He might not have struck the match, but it was absolutely his fault.”
“I know, but still.”
He leaned closer. “More than just your family was torn apart that night. Even Elias understood his guilt in what he did.” Signaling the end of the discussion, Orion walked away. He paused in the doorway. “You coming?”
My legs felt like they were filled with concrete as I followed him. “Where are we going?”
“To pay a visit to the one party clearly identified in all this who is still alive.” He held up the heroin stamp bag.
The 7 Kings.
Chapter Twenty
Quick Fix Auto Repair, on the eastern edge of Sapphire Lake, offered more than just oil changes and brake pads to its questionable clientele.
Our department was currently working with the DEA in a months-long sting operation, with at least one undercover agent inside the 7 Kings-run establishment. For this reason, I was sure our narcotics division was treading lightly on the business—at least for the time being.
The shop was open when Orion and I appeared on the curb across the street. He gave me an encouraging smile. “I think you’re getting the hang of this.”
“Thanks,” I said, my eyes glued on the repair shop.
From across the street, it was clear the auto shop was sketchy. The brick exterior had been painted white in another lifetime, and half of the pane-glass front window was boarded shut. Above the two open garage-bay doors, its hand-painted plywood sign barely clung to the brick wall at an angle.
Patches of grass sprouted through the cracks in the concrete driveway, and shoddy tires were stacked by the front door. It was a wonder this place had stayed in business as long as it had. Not because the Kings’ clientele cared so much about aesthetics, but because the whole thing hadn’t come crumbling down.
We were about to enter without cause and without a warrant. “This feels wrong,” I said.
“Are you kidding? Your colleagues put their lives on the line to get a fraction of the access you’re about to experience.”
“Maybe, but at least what they find, they have a good explanation for in court.”
“This is a whole lot bigger than admissible-evidence procedures.”
“I know, but I’ve had those procedures beaten into my skull for the past few years.”
“I understand that, but we aren’t taking anyone to jail or killing anybody. No one will even know we’re here, and we’re sure as hell not going to court. The only thing that matters is finding that plant before anyone else dies.”
I nodded nervously.
“Speaking of things beaten into your skull, how’s the head?”
“It’s to the itchy stage now. The doctor said the hardware should be able to come out next week.”
“That’s good news.” He nudged my arm with his elbow. “Hey, I am sorry about the accident. I guess I’ve gotten used to being undetectable in your world.”
“How did that driver see you?”
“Our presence disrupts the energy fields on Earth—not much, but enough that we’re detectable when combined with the right elements, i.e. the mist from the rain and the beams from headlights. I must have refracted the light enough for him to make out a body outline. Again, I am sorry.”
“Well, as you said, I didn’t die.”
He chuckled. “No, you didn’t.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go for it.”
I touched the side of my head where the staples should’ve started. “Why isn’t there so much as a scratch from the accident on Friday, but I can still see the scars on my body that are three years old?” I held out my left arm to show that, even in the spirit world, the tattoos barely covered the scars from the motorcycle wreck.
Orion turned to face me and looked at my scalp. “As bad as it was, this wound was superficial.” He gently held my wrist and ran his finger along my forearm. “This was a lot more than just road rash.”
“Josh.”
He released my arm. “Scars fade some with time, but the truly deep wounds never leave us completely.”
“I never talk about him.” My eyes fell to the pavement between us.
“You really loved him.”
I nodded and took a shaky breath. “When Josh died, I asked the chaplain not to file the marriage license with the court. Because it was never made legal, to this day, no one but you and the chaplain ever knew we were married.”
Silence hung between us for a moment.
“Elias knew,” Orion finally said.
My face shot up. “Really?”
“He was there.”
I looked away, maybe to keep from crying. A week ago, this news would have enraged me. But now, my heart wasn’t so sure.
“As shitty as he was as a person and a father, for what it’s worth, I do think he felt genuinely terrible for being such a loser dad. The older he got, the more clear that became.”
I sniffed and swiped away one lone confused tear that dripped down my cheek. “Time away from my crazy-ass mother helped, I’m sure.”
“She is a piece of work.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Kinda makes me wonder how you came out semi-normal.”
“Semi-normal?”
“Don’t worry. It’s a compliment. Your umbilical cord was clearly filled with crazy juice.”
My laughter eased the pain in my heart.
He jerked his head toward the auto shop. “Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
Orion crossed the street without looking. I followed, stopping once without him to let a motorcycle pass. I jogged to catch up before he could laugh at me.
Without hesitation, he walked through the open bay door on the left. A gray coupe was on a short manual lift, and a heavily tattooed man lay on a rolling workbench beneath it. Metal clanged against the concrete floor when he dropped a tool.
“From what I’ve heard about the place, I’m a little surprised they actually fix cars in here,” I said quietly.
“Most front companies like this usually have at least a few guys who are legit. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to keep the doors open at all for the police busting them down. How long has your department been watching this place?”
“The past couple of months.”
“Los Siete Reyes,” he said with a wisp of nostalgia.
“You know them?”
“Yeah. I’ve been doing this a long time.”
Made sense he’d be interested in any major players in the heroin trade.
“How much do you know about them?” he asked, looking behind an old bookshelf full of tools that was pulled away from the wall.
“I know they originated in Vegas, and they deal mostly in heroin, cocaine, and guns.”
Orion nodded as he knelt beside the car the man was working on. “That’s true.” When I crouched beside him, he pointed to the man’s forearm as he twisted a socket wrench. It was a tattoo of the Kings’ official trademark: a crown with seven points. “Know why they’re called the Seven Kings?”
I shook my head.
“In the late seventies, Los Siete Reyes began in a public-housing neighborhood on the south side of the city. Most of its residents were immigrants from seven countries: Brazil, Colombia, El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, Mexico, and Venezuela.
“The community was plagued by outside gang violence, and seven members of the neighborhood, one representing each nation, joined together to protect its citizens. They even tried to work with local law enforcement to help keep their neighborhood safe.”
“Sounds like a neighborhood watch.”
“It kind of was. Sadly, it didn’t last. As the parents worked long hours to support their families, the kids spent a lot of time alone. And while the violence against the community had lessened, the kids were still targeted at school and on the streets. They finally got sick of it, and started fighting back. Bullies bred more bullies, and over the years, the Seven Kings evolved into what it is today.”
“That’s sad.”
We both stood, and he continued his search around the shop. “It is. Sometimes I wonder what those original Kings think about what their good intentions created.”
“At least one of them was in prison with Elias.”
“I know. A few of them are still involved. A few more are dead. It’s hard to believe that was forty years ago.”
Muffled voices came from a door beyond the other garage bay. We walked toward it. Two men and a woman were talking about their weekends. The woman laughed a lot. One man was hungry.
“This is pointless,” I whispered, like they might be able to hear me.
“We just need to direct the conversation.”
“How do you propose to do that from a different dimension?”
“Easy.” He walked over to the lift, stepped on top of it, and climbed onto the trunk of the car. Nothing in the real world moved under his weight. He stood and pulled on his ergane glove.
Overhead, he reached for the release handle on the garage-door opener. With a solid yank, the heavy door slid down its tracks, landing with a thundering bang! against the concrete floor.
The mechanic screamed.
“That oughtta get their attention,” Orion said, smiling as he watched the door.
It flew open, and two men rushed into the garage, guns drawn. One of them had tattoos on his face and “Jesus” embroidered on the front of his Quick Fix work shirt. “What the fuck was that?” he shouted.
The mechanic slid sideways out from under the car. “Who shut the door?”
Orion got down and rejoined me. “This should get interesting quickly.”
“It closed?” the second man asked, quickly walking to the front of the garage to inspect the door.
The first man jogged to the other open garage door and looked outside, carefully hiding his weapon behind his back. “I don’t see anyone out here.”
“Danny, check all the way around the building.” Jesus waved his gun like it was a pointing device.
With a nod, Danny tucked his gun into his waistband and walked outside.
The mechanic wiped the grease off his hands with a towel that had been tucked into his back pocket.
“It wasn’t you?” Jesus asked him.
“Man, my ass was under the car. Nobody else was in here. It just fell.” The mechanic wasn’t wearing a uniform. Neither was Danny, who’d run outside.
Behind Jesus, a woman with silky long black hair looked out the doorway. “I told you this place was falling apart, Jesus.”
He shoved her back a few steps. “And I told you to shut the fuck up, bitch.”
My metaphorical blood was boiling. Orion must have noticed because his arm shot across the front of my shoulders to hold me back. “Hang on,” he said.
Danny returned. “I didn’t see nothing.”
The three men stood by the car, still looking for anything out of place. “Has that thing ever fallen before?” Jesus asked.
“I’ve never seen it,” the mechanic answered.
“Me neither,” Danny agreed.
Beside me, Orion pulled out the drugs.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Incite an argument.”
He put the stamp bag of heroin into the glove, then tossed it onto the floor between the men. The mechanic and Jesus saw it fall, and the mechanic’s eyes popped with fear.
Jesus picked it up. “Where the fuck did this come from?” He held the baggie between two fingers, toward the mechanic.
The mechanic lifted both hands. “I don’t know, primo. I haven’t seen that shit since Costa left here. Same as you!”
“Nobody else has been in here today,” Danny said, ripping his gun from his waistband. “You skimming Kings’ Gold?”
“I swear I didn’t. Jesus, you and I both saw that shit fall. I ain’t got nothing on me.” The mechanic turned his pockets inside out.
Jesus didn’t look convinced.
“Watch the camera! I didn’t even move.” The mechanic pointed to the corner of the room. A tiny green light glowed on a black camera mounted to the wall.
“Maybe I will.” Jesus did a quick lunge toward the mechanic, making him flinch. “You best believe I’m gonna be watching you.” He snarled as he walked back to the office. Danny followed him. So did we.
Inside the messy office, papers littered the computer desk, a large safe was shoved into the corner, and one whole wall was covered in license tags—some with current registration dates. Wow. The only thing that looked legit about the space was the appointment calendar tacked to the wall, by the door.
The woman sat across from the desk on a folding chair. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and I noticed she was scrolling through a dating app on her p
hone.
I took a closer look at the tags. “Wonder where these came from,” I whispered.
“Or what they’re used for.” Orion pointed to a few empty spaces. “And you don’t have to whisper. They can’t hear us.”
“Ever?”
“Not when they’re awake.”
“But when they’re asleep?”
“Sometimes.”
“Interesting.”
Jesus sat in the rolling office chair behind the desk. “Marla.”
The woman looked up. Her lips were painted a dark plum, she wore fake eyelashes, and had a nose stud. Her gold hoop earrings were so large they could fit around my ankle.
“Get out,” he said, not even bothering to look at her.
Marla stood, pushing her chair back so hard it smacked the wall behind her. Her heels clacked against the concrete floor as she stormed out.
Jesus tossed the drugs onto the desk, swiveling his chair back and forth as he stared at it. “Wonder if Costa knows he’s missing some of the stash.”
Danny sat on the corner of the desk and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Want me to call him?”
“Yes.”
A second later, Danny held his phone to his ear.
“And ask him when I can expect to see my money.”
Danny nodded. Finally, he put the phone down. “No answer.”
Jesus swore.
Danny looked at his phone. “It’s still early for Costa.”
Jesus pointed at him. “Don’t stop trying until you get him.”
“I won’t.”
“And find out when more hypnox will be ready.”
Orion and I exchanged a look.
“Costa said yesterday nobody’s heard from Kush in days,” Danny said.
I grabbed Orion’s arm. “Did you hear that?”
“Shh.”
“Motherfucker’s probably hiding from us,” Jesus said.
Danny nodded. “I knew we shouldn’t have given him that car before he delivered the second batch of hypnox.”
“I’ll bet that dipshit brother of his has seen him. Go beat the shit out of Teek until he either talks or bleeds to death,” Jesus said.
“Oh, hell no.” I started forward. To do what, I wasn’t sure, but Orion held me back.
“You can protect the brother later. For now, we listen.” His grip eased on my arm. “Knowledge is your superpower.”
