The Hex Files Box Set

by Gina LaManna

  I rolled my eyes. “You think Verity’s little King Club had me turning green? Think again. While you’re signing autographs, I’ll be doing my job: locking up killers and bringing justice to the world, one homicide at a time.”

  “Sure.” He leaned in, gave me a little elbow that was hard as stone against my ribs. It was a struggle not to wince in pain. “If you want an autograph, I can spare one for you.”

  “With all due respect, Captain,” I said, “shove it.”

  He laughed again, and we continued toward the center of Sorcerer’s Square, stopping along the way when I spotted a nearby food truck.

  “We have two options,” Matthew said as we hopped in line. “We need to visit Blott, and we have to check out the Hollow Haven.”

  I ordered a Hex Dog with extra ketchup. Matthew wrinkled his nose in distaste. After I received my food, we made our way to a nearby bench and sat next to one another.

  “Best case scenario, we have six hours left on the Residuals,” I said, checking the time and noting the late afternoon hour. “Worst case, we’ll have under two at the real crime scene. If we want any chance of finding it, we have to split up.”

  “I don’t like that plan.”

  “Because I’m a special consultant?” I raised an eyebrow and polished off the Hex Dog. “You’re going to have to trust me. Let me tackle Blott—I want to check out his hands for any lingering Residuals of Moving Magic.”

  “But the Hollow Haven—”

  “It’s a bar in the middle of the marketplace,” I told him with an eyeroll. “Any Residuals will be so swamped and diluted by the flow of people in and out that I won’t do any good there. You can work your pretty little voice magic and get some poor, unsuspecting lady bartender to spill her guts to you. Then we’ll meet up.”

  “You wax poetry, Detective.”

  I stood. “Time’s ticking. I’ll meet you at the bar after?”

  Matthew stood. “Don’t push Blott too far, DeMarco. He’s likely the next mayor of the borough now that Lapel’s out of the way. If you screw this up, and he makes my job hell...”

  “Understood,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Though I appreciate the confidence.”

  “Good luck, Detective.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Chapter 16

  Councilman Blott had set up shop on the cusp of the Golden District and the Goblin Grid—close enough to the glitzy high-end shopping to appear successful, just far enough across the border into the goblin territory to be affordable.

  I knocked on the front door of a sweeping Victorian mansion that had been repurposed from an old wedding dress shop into campaign headquarters for Homer Blott. The shop had closed a few years back due to the fact that no bride in her right mind ventured into the Goblin Grid for such purchases. Since then, the building had gone on and off the market as office space, a hair salon, and a shipping facility in no particular order. For the last year, it’d been back in business as campaign headquarters for the new mayoral candidate.

  I greeted the front desk goblin with a smile and asked for Blott.

  “Yeah,” she said, frowning. “He won’t want to talk to a cop. He’s busy with his campaign.”

  “Yeah,” I drawled right back. “He doesn’t have much of a choice.”

  “Maybe a different time?”

  I flashed my badge. “I’m not a cop, and I’m not here to chit chat. If Blott doesn’t want to talk to me, he might not have much of a campaign left.”

  The goblin stared at me with a dead expression in her eyes. Unlike so many goblins, there wasn’t the craftiness there, or the cleverness to try and fool me. She mostly just looked bored.

  “Yeah,” she finally said again. “I’ll get him and see what he says, but he won’t be happy.”

  “Well, I’m not happy either, so that makes two of us,” I said, taking a small step back from the desk. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait right here.”

  The goblin rolled her eyes and stood, muttering under her breath. I pretended not to hear.

  She returned a second later, joined by an eye roll that might’ve put a crick in her neck. “You can head upstairs to his office.”

  I wrinkled my nose in an attempt at fake cuteness. “Thought you might say that.”

  There were a few comments that had nothing to do with my being a cop and much to do with my being a witch—plus a few substitute letters thrown in for good measure—as I proceeded up the stairs.

  It was common in most areas of Wicked to see old houses transformed into office spaces. As the borough had grown, it’d gone up in height instead of outward. The most in-demand properties were condos above Floor 375, which left the ground houses reserved for those large families who needed more space. Or, of course, for groups of young paranormals living in packs of five or six to a house because they couldn’t afford loftier spaces.

  However, most houses were on some sort of historical registry, making it so the city couldn’t tear them down to build more high-rises. That left us with abandoned buildings scattered throughout Wicked, and it only made sense to fill them with businesses.

  The smell of dust and paper greeted me as I climbed, my hand lightly skimming the wooden old railings along the staircase. Plastered between photos of the last family that’d lived here were banners proclaiming BLOTT FOR MAYOR! I skimmed past a variety of awards the candidate had won for charity and other fine acts of service, and I wondered if the man waiting upstairs had wanted this position enough to kill for it. Power was a strong motive. Add on prestige, wealth, and seven years of living in the mayoral mansion—I could just about see it.

  “Councilman Blott will be right with you.” A perky woman, probably a spellslinger, greeted me from behind a rickety old desk. As she leaned forward on her chair, the uneven legs wobbled, and she looked down to balance herself. “You’re the detective, right?”

  “Uh, yes,” I said, watching as she cursed a blue streak at the chair. “That’s me.”

  The woman squinted her eyes closed, then pointed her finger at the wooden seat beneath the desk: “Rotten wood, I hate you so. Never ever let me go. Steady, steady, on your legs, or I’ll turn you into stupid pegs!”

  My face must have betrayed my concern for her spell—or lack thereof—because Little Miss Shirley Temple’s wide eyes met mine for one quick second before the magic took hold.

  “Oh, crap,” she said, and then at once, the chair vanished and she went down with a clatter. To her credit, she bounced right back up, giving a hard kick to the splintered pile of tinder on the floor. “My stupid cousin!”

  I couldn’t decide if laughing or offering sympathy would be the best option, so I remained silent. The spellslinger’s curly hair bounced around her pink cheeks, her strawberry-colored lips curving into an ‘O’ as she looked toward me.

  “That wasn’t a real spell, was it?” she asked, cringing. “I’m so gullible.”

  “No, it wasn’t. But it sounded good,” I said, surprised to find myself so taken by the girl at first glance. If I had a younger sister, I imagined she’d be like her—except, if she were part of my family, she’d have dark hair, a loud voice, and half the charm. “You have an older male cousin, I take it?”

  She nodded sullenly. “He’s only older by a day.”

  “I have a twin, so I know the feeling,” I said, grinning. “Along with three other brothers. It was a mess growing up with them.”

  She gave a shy smile. “Yeah, but I bet for someone like you, it’s not so bad.”

  “Someone like me?”

  “You know...” She stuck her hand out and did a sassy sort of wave. “You’re all badass and smart.”

  “Oh, boy, you can’t be more wrong.”

  “I’m just...” She pouted. “I’m peppy. That’s about all my mother can say for me. I’m not even truly magical. Any hint of a spell is one I’ve saved up for and got off the shelves! Stupid peg leg bullshit.”

  I couldn’t help it. I cracked up, doubling over in laughter at her ho
nesty. There was something so innately likeable about this woman, regardless of the fact I didn’t even know her name. As soon as I calmed enough to speak, I asked for it.

  “I’m Willa. Willa Bloomer,” she said in a faint British accent, wincing as she glanced my way. “I know, I could never be as badass as you with a name like that.”

  “Out of curiosity, what is it that makes you think I’m badass?” I gave her a skeptical glance. “My brothers would, uh, heartily disagree with you.”

  “Yeah, because they’re boys,” she said, a cute wrinkle appearing on her nose. “They speak a different language than us. Anyway, you are totally cool. You have that sweet leather jacket and those boots...plus, I bet you have a gun and a badge. And I heard you talking to Greta downstairs. She’s a real, well...”

  “Greta the goblin?”

  Willa grinned. “Yeah. Anyway, I got distracted. Sorry about the, ah, mess.”

  “Oh, it’s no problem. In fact, if you want me to show you how to—”

  My offer of assistance to Willa was interrupted by the opening of a creaky door and the appearance of Homer Blott behind it. He was a tall man who wore a suit, and though he was quite wide all around, he wore the extra weight well. If anything, it added to his intimidation factor, which was already high with the scowl on his face.

  “Dammit, Willa!” Blott took one look at the crumbled chair. “What’d I tell you about slinging spells in here? You want to work for me, throw the grocery store garbage away.”

  “Sorry,” she cringed, “it was just—”

  “Maybe,” I interrupted smoothly, “if you supplied your employees with better chairs, she might not have to worry about using magic on the job in the first place.”

  Willa gave me a grateful look, though there was an air of fear on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Blott. I just—”

  “Councilman Blott,” he said, frowning at his assistant. “Pick up the chair. I want it gone by the time our meeting is over—and trust me, this won’t take long.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said tersely. “Where would you like to chat?”

  “Come into my office,” he said. “Don’t bother taking your coat off.”

  As Blott walked into the room, I hung back. I gave Willa a quick apologetic glance, and then muttered a Chair Repair spell—one that had come in useful many times when I had a crappy office at the precinct—and restored the wooden shambles to a sparkling new mahogany seat.

  Willa gushed silently, blowing kisses in my direction as she slumped into it with relief. It lifted my mood, something I desperately needed as I brought myself into the dimly lit office of the probable future mayor of Wicked.

  “Councilman Blott,” I said, extending a hand in hopes for a chance at a civil conversation. When he didn’t return the gesture, I sighed. “I see how this is going to go.”

  “What’re you here for, Detective?” Blott pressed a pipe to his lips and lit it. He neither opened a window nor asked if it bothered me. “Is this about Lapel?”

  “More specifically, it’s about Mayor Lapel’s murder.” I stood up, moved to the window, and threw it open. My patience waned. “Where were you on the night he died?”

  He didn’t seem surprised by my question. “None of your business.”

  I faced him, leaning against the windowsill as I inhaled a breath of mostly fresh air. “What do you mean, it’s none of my business? You must’ve known that we were going to come around asking questions. With Mayor Lapel out of the way, you’re almost a shoe-in for the spot.”

  “Eh,” he said. “Things happen. Doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it.”

  “Did you have something to do with it? You’re not exactly convincing me of your innocence.”

  “Why do I have to? You don’t have any evidence on me. I don’t have to talk to you.”

  “It’ll go a long way in helping your case if you do,” I said. “Lawyering up looks guilty.”

  “I don’t care what it looks like,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve got a campaign to run, and I’m not going to let the death of my opponent stop me now. Rest in peace, Lapel.”

  I frowned. “Mister Blott—Homer, may I?”

  “Councilman Blott, I prefer.”

  “Thanks, Homer. I appreciate that.” Two could play his little games. “Did you kill him?”

  “Look, lady—”

  “Detective DeMarco.”

  “Sure.” He leaned forward. “You obviously aren’t seriously considering me as a suspect.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “They didn’t send the vamp.” Blott sat back, satisfied, in his seat. “They pulled you in—some special consultant or whatever—to take my statement as a formality. We all know they send the vampire when shit really hits the fan.”

  I leaned forward. “Did you do it?”

  “No.” He heaved his big shoulders forward, leaned on the desk. “I don’t have the time for murder, nor the interest in it. I would’ve won the election fair and square. Now get out of my office. I want a lawyer next time, or else send the vampire.”

  “The vampire’s name is Captain King,” I said, “and he sent me here today.”

  “Because I wasn’t important enough for him to come himself.”

  “That’s not—”

  Blott raised an arm, silencing me. He was a sorcerer through and through, albeit a dark one, an anomaly to those who were fair in spirit and absorbed in the craft of magic. He muttered a spell that sent the door flying open so hard it cracked.

  I stormed through. There was another slam as it shut behind me.

  Closing my eyes, I willed my frustration under control. Matthew would kill me if I opened my mouth and ruined things between him and the possible-future-mayor before he’d even stepped through the door.

  “Deep breathing works really well when he’s upset,” Willa said in her sweet, musical voice. “So does picturing the councilman in your grandma’s panties. Can you imagine?”

  She giggled at the image, and while it didn’t do much for me, I opened my eyes and smiled with her. It was impossible not to feel just a breath lighter around her.

  “How do you work for that sexist, masochistic—” I stopped and bit back the worst of it. “How do you work for him?”

  “I needed a job. He hired me,” she said. “I don’t have all that many talents, so I can’t be picky about where I work.”

  “Well, Willa, I happen to disagree.” I reached into my pocket and slipped out one of the new DeMarco’s Pizza cards I’d had printed that listed the store’s location. “I’m hiring for my pizzeria. Swing by sometime if you’re interested. Even if you’re not, maybe I can show you how to properly cast a spell.”

  “You mean it?” She grabbed the card and held it to her chest like a life raft. “You’re not just saying that because you think I’m pathetic?”

  I found myself smiling when I answered. “No, I swear.”

  “Pizza,” she said in a dreamy voice. “I’m going to take you up on this, Detective. Thank you.”

  Blott opened the door, his eyes livid. “Did you just steal my employee, Detective?”

  I turned to him, my anger so fierce at the sight of him that I didn’t bother to lie. “No, of course not,” I said. “I just offered to show her some spells.”

  “Well, then have her. I don’t share.” Blott looked at Willa. “You’re fired.”

  “But—” Willa’s mouth opened and closed. “Oh, no. I can’t be fired. I have—no, please—Councilman Blott, I need this job. I have bills to pay. My mother’s sick, and my cousin lives with us sometimes—oh, please no.”

  “She didn’t do anything!” I argued, though I already knew it was hopeless. “That’s against the law, Blott—you can’t just fire her for no reason.”

  “She’s showed up late to work three days this week and busted my chair. She filed two reports wrong yesterday,” he said, “and do you want me to start on the amount of personal Comms she takes on the job?”

 
Judging by Willa’s bitten lip, the councilman wasn’t entirely wrong.

  “F-fine,” she said, gathering her piteously few things from the desk drawers. “Although, I will have you know, Mr. Blott, that your cologne does not smell nice, as I told you. It makes me want to vomit in my mouth.”

  Then Willa turned and stomped out of the room, and I had no real choice but to follow along after her. We moved quickly past Greta the goblin, and by the time we hit the street, Willa had completely lost her cool.

  Tears streamed down her pink cheeks, and her lips curled into a pout. “What am I going to do?!” she wailed. “I can’t believe I got fired again!”

  “Again?”

  “I really am horrible at my job,” Willa admitted, toning down the wails as a group of goblins looked over at us. “It’s not that I don’t try, it’s just...my lack of skills.”

  “I’m sure you don’t have a lack of skills.” I glanced at the business card she still clasped to her chest. “Come on, for now you can work at the pizzeria! It’s not a glamorous job, but it pays okay. Better yet, I don’t wear cologne, and nobody’s going to yell at you.”

  Willa blinked dewy eyelashes at me. “Do you mean that? It sounds like a dream come true!”

  I debated if that were actually true, but she seemed to mean it. And, I’d gotten the poor thing fired, so really, it was the least I could do. I smiled and nodded. “If you don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, you can swing by.”

  “I’m free now,” she said. “I’ll walk with you. Wherever you’re headed. Doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Oh, um,” I said, hesitating as I struggled to find a way to tell her I preferred to work alone. Then her eyes watered again, and my resolve crashed. “Sure, that’d be nice.”

  “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate it,” she said as we strolled toward the marketplace. “I can’t wait to tell my mum about you. She’ll be so happy for me.”

  “I’m sure my family will be excited to meet you,” I said, only slightly worried about Jack falling instantly in love with her. He tended to do that with women. “And for the record, I thought you were pretty badass back there.”