by Gina LaManna
“I’m honorary Detective Dani DeMarco,” she said, wasting no time putting her new title to use. “I’m going to ask you some questions. Don’t lie to me, Donny, alright? I want us to understand one another.”
Donny gave a sneering smile. “Sure thing, honey-bear. Say, if you ever need a room around here, I can hook you up with a discount and a special offer.”
Matthew prepared to launch himself across the room at Donny. The urge had nothing to do with professionalism and everything to do with protecting what was his. Matthew was able to restrain himself for only one simple reason: Dani was no longer his.
Matthew’s fangs pressed through, sharpening in a primal reaction, but he kept his mouth shut. Dani would hate if anyone stepped on her battle. Since the day she’d joined the force, she’d taken pride in standing up for herself. Matthew had always wondered if that was a quality groomed from growing up with a household of brothers.
“Listen here, scumbag,” Dani said. “I have a special offer with your name on it. I’ll rearrange whatever joke you’ve got down here for free.” She gestured to his lap. “If you come onto me again, take one look at my chest, or lie to my face, you’ll need a surgeon to pull the stick out of your ass. Understood?”
Donny’s face paled even further. “Yes, uh, lady. Ma’am. Detective, Your Honor.”
Dani gave a thin, but not satisfied smile. She didn’t delight in taking others down a notch; it was simply a hazard of the job. And as a woman on the force, unfortunately, she’d had to toughen up early in her career.
“Great. Glad we can be friends. So,” she said, easing back and adopting a lighter tone. “Who rented room 309 tonight? Start from the beginning and give me everything you’ve got. We have all the time you need.”
“Well, uh,” Donny said, shifting his eyes toward Matthew, who offered only a bland stare in return. “I don’t really, uh, know ma’am.”
“Isn’t it your job to know who rents the rooms here?”
“I just work the desk.”
“I imagine you keep logs.” Dani glanced around her for evidence of some sort of bookkeeping system. Technology of the human variety was rarely found in Wicked—all the magic zipping through the air made the products essentially useless. “Who signed in?”
Donny shifted with discomfort. “Charlie Bone.”
Dani’s eyes narrowed. “And you believed that was his real name?”
“Look—lady, your honorary whatever. This is the Motel Sixth. We don’t exactly have prime real estate in Wicked, so we do what we can to stay afloat.” Donny gestured behind him. “The casino’s two blocks away. We’ve got Goblin Girls coming back here two, three different times a night, each time with a different guy. You understand what I’m saying? Nobody around these parts puts their real name on the paper, and we don’t require identification. That’s the way these parts roll, in case you’re not familiar.”
“I didn’t grow up in the Golden District,” she said lightly. “I know exactly how these parts work, Donny. Tell me—did this Charlie Bone come here often?”
“Never seen him before.”
“How about a little more. You know what I’m looking for, so don’t make this difficult. Distinguishing characteristics?”
“The dude was about as tall as you.” Donny’s gaze roved over Dani for a second, a split second’s hesitation on her breasts before he jerked back to attention and averted his eyes. “Kind of reddish hair, but not that real vibrant shade of ginger, you read me?”
“I read you. What else?”
“That’s it. He checked in. A little weird because usually dudes don’t come in here without a Goblin Girl at that hour of the night.”
“What hour is that?”
“He walked in here around eight p.m. It ain’t that late, but after a long day at the casino, sometimes a guy needs something for dinner that ain’t food, if you read me.”
“Donny, I read you loud and clear. We all get it. But if he didn’t have a woman with him, what does that mean?”
He shifted uncomfortably once again. “Well, sometimes people use this place as a meeting spot.”
“There was a pretty big SpellHash deal that went down last night in Room 309. I don’t suppose you were on duty when that happened, were you?” Dani treaded lightly, but her threat was clear. “Got anything you want to share?”
“Fine. If a dude comes in the motel alone, he’s probably got some darker business to attend to—but it’s not serious. At the Motel Sixth, we don’t get the big stuff—you know, the moneymakers. The Void—none of that.”
“The Void?” Dani’s voice hitched. “What made you think of that?”
The Void is a term locals use for the black market sale of magic. Certain spells, and more often curses, are illegal. But like all illegal substances, there’s a place to find them. In the Sixth Borough, that place is The Void. A dark, shifting sort of mass that is never quite tangible and all too elusive.
“I’m just saying the stuff that happens in these rooms ain’t the sort of busts that make a cop’s career.” Donny spoke almost apologetically. “It’s like, SpellHash deals and shit. Nothing important. Pennies, really. No cop’s gonna make chief because they broke up a little party in the Motel Sixth.”
“What about Charlie Bone was different than the normal dealers that come in and out of here?”
“He was...” Instead of looking surprised at the question, Donny seemed to think it was a good one. “He was polished. Soft spoken, not the usual thug looking to have a good time or to make a quick buck. I sort of wondered if he’d gotten the lines of communication crossed with his partner or whoever and ended up here on accident.”
“Did you ever see a partner? Did anyone enter the building after Mr. Bone?”
Donny thought. “We had one dude and a Goblin Girl come in here—a Mr...” Donny paused, glanced over the chicken scratch list of names signed into his log. “Mr. Long.”
Dani rolled her eyes. “What did he look like? He a regular?”
Donny snickered. “Yeah. He’s in here twice a week. According to the girls, he lives up to his name.”
Dani looked a bit like she might gag, which was impressive, seeing as her stomach was one of the strongest in the precinct. She had worked some of the most gruesome cases the borough had ever seen. Matthew allowed himself the slightest of smiles at the irony.
Donny wiped the smirk from his face when Dani sent him a scathing look. “Where might I find Mr. Long?”
“He’s upstairs with the girl. They should—ah, be finished by now. He checked in around eight thirty. He usually stays until midnight, but I can’t imagine he keeps her busy the whole time, if you know what I mean.”
“We know what you mean, Donny!” Dani flicked her hair over her shoulder in frustration. “Which room is he in? By the time I get back downstairs, I want a list of everyone who’s been in and out of here in the last week.”
“Room 412,” Donny said. “It’s at the end of the hall. Say, what do you think is going on here? Usually they don’t bring out the vamp for nothing.”
Matthew’s lips curled inward, and his fangs began their descent once more. He could try to fight it, but it wouldn’t work; some aspects of him were too natural, too animalistic in nature. Fighting who—or what—he was would be useless. He’d come to terms with that a long time ago.
“Shut up,” Dani said. “His name’s Captain King.”
Donny raised a hand in apology, though he seemed relaxed, as if he somehow knew he’d passed the interview. Dani glanced at Matthew as she stood, and her eyes flitted toward his mouth expectantly. She twisted away when he caught her staring.
“Officer...” Dani started, as the door opened and the half-elf leapt to attention.
“Dwight,” he said. “Officer Dwight, Detective.”
“Dwight—get a list of all the visitors from Donny and go over them one by one. I want to know who they are, what they look like, what they were doing—or who they were screwing—and then what they
were really doing here. Understood?”
Dwight nodded, took a clipboard and a pen, and stepped into the office. Danielle left, giving a wide berth as Matthew held the door open for her. As she brushed past, he caught the familiar scent of her: honeysuckle and sugar, with a hint of sunshine.
Sure, there were the added smells of rising dough and melting mozzarella and Italian herbs, along with hints of fresh basil, tomato sauce, and a whiff of red wine that clung to her shirt.
As a vampire, Matthew could dissect even the faintest, the most exquisite of scents, yet his favorite in the world was that of Dani. The way she smelled fresh from a shower, free from perfume, from lotion, from anything that might mar her natural pheromones, was absolute perfection.
“Thanks,” she said once the two reached the hallway. “For that.”
“For what?” Matthew raised an eyebrow in question.
“For letting me handle Donny in there.” Dani brushed a strand of hair from her face, which unleashed a new wave of scent that hit Matthew straight in his gut. “I know you probably wanted to step in, but I appreciate you letting me handle him by myself.”
Matthew gave the faintest of laughs. “Even I wasn’t feeling like stepping between the two of you tonight.”
She laughed too, but it was dry and businesslike. “We didn’t learn a whole lot from him, unfortunately. We’ve got an unknown dude strolling in here with a fake name. As far as we know, he wasn’t meeting anyone, nor was he accompanied by a partner. How did he get the bodies to the third floor?”
“I don’t think Donny was looking for Invisibility Incantations,” Matthew pointed out. “Our mystery man could have floated them in through the front door for all we know.”
“True enough.” With a disappointed grimace, Dani shook her head. “I tried to look at the Residuals around the front door, but there are over a hundred Cloaking Spells from the last twelve hours alone. The people who come here don’t want to leave any proof behind. Things are too diluted around the front desk to determine whether Charlie Bone cloaked himself or used any sort of invisibility spell.”
Matthew reached out a hand, despite his better judgment, and rested a finger on her cheek. As usual, she felt warm, vibrant, filled with life—some of the many qualities he missed dearly from his days next to her. The movement was tender, and Dani closed her eyes, leaning against him for the slightest of moments before her sigh broke them apart.
“I suppose we should get upstairs and interview Mr. Long and his girlfriend before they head out.” Dani checked her watch, noted the time was around 11:30, and then led the way to the fourth floor.
Matthew followed her, swift and silent in his movements, and together they ascended the stairs because the elevator wasn’t functioning. When they reached the door, Dani extended her hand to knock, but Matthew reached out and clasped her wrist before she could move.
“Thank you,” he said. “For coming back to help. I know it’s hard.”
She tilted her head to the side. “It’s not so bad.”
Matthew pulled his hand away from her, the absence of warmth singeing him like dry ice. Dani didn’t seem bothered by it. She rapped her knuckles against the door and waited.
Eventually, a man opened the door, and Dani groaned at the sight of him. “I did not sign up for this,” she said, and then stepped inside.
Chapter 4
I made sure Matthew heard my mutterings as we stepped through the door of 412 in seedy Motel Sixth. I hadn’t signed up to see this. I’d signed up to deal with dead bodies and criminals. Not naked men.
“Put some clothes on,” I said to the nude man I could only assume was one Mr. Long. I didn’t stare long enough to verify. “Now. I’m Detective DeMarco with the Sixth Precinct, and this is Captain King.”
The man didn’t seem inclined to move at all, and in fact, seemed quite proud to be on display. “What’s this about?”
I focused on the man’s face, raising a hand to shield the worst bits from view. He was fair-haired and blue-eyed—with a shimmer of amusement on his face. I instantly disliked him.
“I said put some clothes on,” I repeated. “Why would you open the door in the buff?”
He gestured to the bed behind him. “I was occupied. The knock sounded important, so I figured I’d answer.”
I scanned the rest of the room and spotted a Goblin Girl in bed—also naked, though she’d had the decency to cover herself with a sheet. I could tell she was on the younger end of the spectrum because her skin was the lightest shade of green. Not quite as pale as the young woman found with the mayor, but close.
She had maybe a year or two on the dead girl downstairs, which would put her somewhere between twenty-three and twenty-five, if I had to guess. Purchasing time with newer Goblin Girls was more expensive than the older models. Luck must have been on Mr. Long’s side at the casino this evening.
I strode past the couple to the bathroom and grabbed a towel from the shelf. I threw it at Mr. Long with enough force that he flinched. “Wrap this around your waist.”
He draped the towel casually over his hips. I ignored the fact that it didn’t hide very much at all. When I instructed Mr. Long to sit on the bed, he did so with a smirk, letting the towel slip to the floor in the process. He gradually retrieved it and rested it on his lap in what felt like slow motion. The cocky idiot was playing games with me, and I did not appreciate it.
Matthew stood back in the doorway, not quite watching Mr. Long, but aware of every detail. He must have known that if he asked me back as a consultant, he’d have to give me the freedom to do things my way. I appreciated his thoughtfulness, albeit grudgingly.
“What time did the two of you arrive here tonight?” I asked Mr. Long. I jotted down his response, an answer that corroborated Donny’s story. “Okay—you rolled in here around 8:30. Did you see anyone else? Hear anything?”
Mr. Long shook his head. “Not that I remember. What’s this about?”
“Are we in trouble?” The Goblin Girl’s artificially long eyelashes trembled, her voice quivering. Becoming a Goblin Girl walked the gray zone between legal and not. But it appeared this girl was still too new to the profession to be jaded against law enforcement. Give her time, I thought—she’d grow to hate us.
“Did you do anything that might cause you to get in trouble?” I gave the girl a firm stare, figuring I’d push while she was nervous. She shook her head, convincingly enough, and began to cry. “Then no, you’re not going to be arrested, so long as you’re honest with us. We’re looking for a man with light-red hair, a little taller than me. Did you see anyone who matched that description?”
“You don’t have a name?” Mr. Long asked.
“I’ll give you his name the minute you give me yours,” I said. “Feel like handing over your identification?”
Mr. Long shut up. He had the look of a businessman that wouldn’t necessarily appreciate word about his activities at the Motel Sixth being made public.
“Great. Then we’ll keep this as anonymous as possible so long as you give us something to go on.” I hesitated, doing a brief scan of the Residuals in the room. Aside from some odd enchantments with a sexual overtone to them, there wasn’t much for me to dissect. There was the lingering scent of SpellHash, and though I could tell it was likely from the previous tenant, they didn’t know that. “If you’re not interested in sharing, however, I’d be happy to collect that ID I mentioned and bring you in on some Hash charges. I can smell it in the air.”
“We didn’t take any!” the Goblin Girl cried. “I’m not into illegal substances. I swear to you.”
“Then tell me what you heard. Something you saw. I need something,” I pressed. “Now.”
Mr. Long shifted uncomfortably. “The description you gave us could fit a lot of people, Detective.”
“Fine. Get started listing them. While you’re at it, how often do you come around here?”
Mr. Long glanced at his girl, almost sheepish. As if he didn’t want to admit t
he truth in front of her. But one glance at Matthew’s silent, hulking figure in the door, and Mr. Long’s face lost most of its blood.
“Two, maybe three times a week on average. Give or take,” he said softly. “I don’t usually talk to anyone except for Donny.”
“You usually come up here with her?”
Again, his eyes flicked behind him, then refocused on me. “No. We just met for the first time tonight. I usually...” He hesitated to clear his throat. “I had a good night at the casino.”
“She’s a little pricy for you on a normal night,” I said, deducing easily what he’d meant. “Fine. You use the same girls normally?”
“Use.” He flinched at the word. “I see some of the same girls from time to time, yes. But more often than not, it’s whoever is...available.”
“Lovely,” I said icily, my voice giving away exactly what I thought of his practice. “The man whose description I gave you: I want names.”
“Lady—er, sorry, Detective, you know we don’t do names around these places. There are two people I can think of who I’ve played MagiCraps with at the casino that might fit. But don’t quote me on it—I didn’t see them around here tonight. They’re called Joey Jones and Lucas Fitz.”
“Where might I find these gentlemen?”
“Gentlemen.” He snorted at that, which I thought was interesting considering his own present state of undress. “Yeah, sure. You’ll find them at Table 13 on any night of the week. They should still be there now if you need to talk to them that badly.”
“What is this about?” The Goblin Girl asked. “Something bad happened, didn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t be here if it was anything pleasant,” I said, then crooked my head toward Matthew. “Neither would he. So, you didn’t see Joey or Lucas here tonight?”
Mr. Long appeared to be deep in thought. “I don’t think so—I don’t recall seeing anyone here tonight except for Melinda—” he nodded toward the girl—“and Donny.”
