by Gina LaManna
Fred remained silent as I grabbed the cream cheese from the door and slammed him shut. I threw two pieces of bread in the toaster and pressed Tammy’s buttons with a flinch.
She jerked to life, perky as ever. “Morning! Morning, Detective! How are you today?”
“Can’t you just toast the bread?” I asked with a sigh. When she glowed red with frustration, I decided I’d better be nice to the only appliance who seemed to like me—and who had the capacity to burn my apartment down. “Good morning, Tammy,” I said reluctantly. “How are you today?”
“Great! Great!” she said, a small, almost dreamy face appearing on the side nearest me. “It was wonderful to see Matthew again. Will the two of you be getting back together?”
“Nope.”
“Aw, but it’s true love! I’m part psychic, did you know that? And I see the two of you together.”
“Part toaster, part psychic?” I murmured, heavy on the skepticism. “Why do I find that to be a stretch of the imagination?”
“Your toaster talks,” Carl said from across the room, “and you think the weird part is she used to be a psychic?”
“Shut up before I donate you to a pillow fight!”
“Put me out of my misery,” Carl said. “It’s not like there’s any rest for the wicked around here. You use me like I’m going out of style.”
“Matthew still loves you, you know,” chirped Tammy. “I can tell. The way he stormed in here all upset this morning...” She heaved a huge sigh, which was echoed with a dreamy one from Marla across the room. “It was magical.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, he is so handsome,” Marla said in that velvet voice of hers. “When you didn’t answer after the first few knocks this morning, he just blew through those doors like they were nothing. A knight in shining armor coming to save his queen.” She said the last part with a hint of bitterness to her voice, as if she’d give anything to be in my place. “If only I could turn human. I’d love that man right.”
“You don’t understand,” I muttered. “It’s not that simple.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand,” Marla said. “He’s the most gorgeous male specimen to walk this earth. Deadly, too—he’s got that dangerous thing when his fangs come down, and whoooo-mama. He obviously cares about you—fiercely.”
“She’s right,” Tammy agreed. “He was ready to murder someone this morning when he thought you were in danger. Poor Doorknob—rest in peace.”
I glanced toward the door, once again finding it curious at the way the other appliances seemed to have a special fondness for the silent knob now resting on the floor. Apparently, Doorknob had inherited a voice like the rest of the objects in my apartment, but I’d never heard him speak before. The others simply referred to him as Doorknob. I often wondered if the appliances were just playing a joke on me and the handle wasn’t enchanted at all. One could never tell...
“Here you go! Here you go!” Tammy dinged, positively shivered with excitement, and shot two pieces of toast toward the heavens. “Perfectly golden with a hint of burn, just the way you like them.”
“Thanks, Tammy.” I grudgingly moved through my apartment in relative silence as I nibbled at the toast, dressed for the day, and listened to the inane chatter of my furniture.
They’re pretty good about keeping quiet when I have guests, but the second I am alone in my apartment, they start up. It’s like having a permanent radio turned on at a low volume all the time. On a more depressing note, I’m rarely lonely.
Maybe someday, I’ll find the counter curse to shut them up for good. In the meantime, I’d grown used to them and, some might say, almost fond of them.
“I’m going to send Jack up to straighten out my door. While I’m out, can you guys please keep an eye on this place?”
“If Jack’s around,” Marla drawled. “My eyes will be focused on something else.”
I ignored the coat rack and left the apartment with one last glare before taking the stairs down at the end of the hall.
My living quarters take up the entire second floor above the pizzeria. It has two bedrooms, though one is miserably unfurnished, along with an open kitchen, a living room, and a tiny Juliet balcony off the master. One and a half baths round the space out into a cozy home. A fire escape perches outside of the living room window, though it’s hardly necessary at only two floors up, and I am fairly certain the window to it is stuck shut.
The door to my apartment leads into a narrow hallway, the wooden floorboards old and creaking—normally loud enough to alert me to the sound of visitors, except for Matthew. The man moved with no more footprint in the world than a light breeze.
At the end of the hallway is a skinny spiral staircase that rounds down to the back of the pizzeria’s kitchen. I often keep it locked during business hours to prevent random guests from traveling upstairs in search of the restroom.
I let myself into a small room meant for employees to lock up their possessions, then pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. At this hour, all surfaces, pots, and pans gleamed spotless and quiet. I mentally thanked my brother for seeing the party through and leaving this place looking flawless. The party seemed to have been a complete success.
I eased out of the kitchen and made my way into the dining area, finding my youngest brother, my all-important Director of Operations, snoozing head down in a booth by the window. I moved closer to him, noting his nose had faceplanted just inches from a half-eaten pie. I was magnificently unsurprised.
What did surprise me was the beauty of the parlor at sunrise. Matthew had barely waited until normal witching hours to wake me—an hour I hadn’t seen since I stepped down from the precinct—and the stunning stillness of the world rendered me silent.
Light filtered in, washing the room in a vibrant array of pinks and oranges and yellows. The sparkling tables and stools stood empty, a sight that wouldn’t last when the pizzeria clicked into high gear for the lunch hour. Just last night, this place had been filled to the brim with all varieties of species, all flavors of pizza, all different beats and hums of Jack’s eclectic soundtrack. This morning, the silence was golden.
Until Jack gave a snore I’d have suspected from a troll. I nudged him with a light tap to the back of the head. He hardly reacted, merely shifting his head deeper into his arms and lapsing back to sleep.
“Jack, what happened?” I pinched the skin just above his elbow. I’d try to be nicer, but nothing short of a trumpet to the ear could wake my brothers. “Why didn’t you go home? Did you get evicted again?”
Jack shook himself from his haze, peering through one bleary eye at me. “No, I paid my rent.”
“Then what are you doing sleeping in my booth?”
“Dougie dared me to eat a full pizza.”
The mention of my twin brother had me rolling my eyes. Where Jack was ‘pretty and dumb’ of his own admission, my twin was ‘nerdy and brilliant’ by all accounts. Whether out of jealousy or boredom, Doug never seemed to leave Jack alone. I ran interference when I could, but sometimes...watching over Jack felt like a full-time job.
“I couldn’t quit,” Jack expanded, a look of reproach in his eye. “A DeMarco never backs down from a dare.”
“Yeah, but this is just stupid. Why couldn’t you take the pizza home and finish it there?” I gestured my hand to show the empty room. “Nobody else felt the need to stay and watch over you.”
Jack watched me blankly for a second. “Didn’t think of that.”
“Right.”
“I could have done it too, you know,” Jack argued. “If I hadn’t eaten seven pieces during the course of the evening.”
“Something to be proud of.” I clapped him on the back. “Say—I know you’re scheduled for the afternoon off, but is there any chance you could stay?”
Jack surveyed me. “Will I get paid?”
“Uh, yeah. Of course.”
“Then yeah, I can stay all day,” he said happily. “I tol
d you a half-truth right there about rent—I only paid half of it. So, I could use the extra hours.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll give you enough for the next two months of rent now if you help full time at the pizzeria for the next two weeks.”
“What’s the catch?”
Sometimes Jack wasn’t as dumb as he claimed to be. I hated those moments. “Something’s come up, and—”
“Something? Or someone?” He gave me a look that said this was one of his more perceptive moments. “I saw Matthew and Nash last night at the door. What’s going on?”
“There’s this case that’s come up, and they need my help.”
“What about the new chick? The hot one you trained.”
I smacked my brother’s head again. “Lucia is a very intelligent, capable woman.”
“Yeah, and she’s smoking hot. What happened to her?”
“She’s...” I exhaled, unsure how much was public knowledge. “She’s unable to help on the case, and they need my expertise.”
“I dunno, Dani—I don’t like the sound of this.” For all of Jack’s flaws, he had the most gigantic heart out of any of the DeMarcos. Loyal to a fault, he was a teddy bear that we all tried to protect—even though he often ended up watching over the rest of us. “You quit for a reason—a very good reason.”
“I didn’t quit, I retired.”
“Sure, whatever,” he said. “You stepped away because you couldn’t handle it anymore.”
“Jack—”
“Look, Dani, it’s not a weakness.” Jack pushed aside the pizza and rose to his full height. He was two years younger than me and six inches taller. Due to his massive caloric consumption, he had more muscle than a grizzly bear. “You have seen some weird shit, and none of us blame you for taking a step back. It’s not going to help if you run right back into the precinct at full force.”
“The borough needs this case solved, and—”
“Would you have done it if anyone besides Matthew asked you to come back?”
His eyes leveled on me, and I hated that they cut through my flimsy excuses. He could see that my feelings for Matthew hadn’t gone away. I didn’t have to like Matthew to still be in love with him in a peculiar sort of way. There was a connection between us that ran deeper than attraction, deeper, maybe, than love. We had counted on each other, pulled one another out of dark times, and that bond had yet to be severed despite the distance we’d put between us.
Jack shook his head in dismay. “The vamp’s using you.”
“Captain King asked out of respect—Nash was there too. It’s not just the vampire. I’m damn good at my job, Jack. How quickly you forget.”
“I’ve never doubted that, Detective,” he said, leaning on the last word. “But more than an officer, you’re my sister—and I don’t like seeing you hurt. That’s the only way this is going to end, Dani. Nash didn’t see you when you were at your worst—he was too busy dealing with his own problems. I was there for you.”
“No, it’s different this time around. It’s just one case.”
“You’ll end up hurt—if not physically, then heartbroken.” Jack averted his eyes, looking almost ashamed. “I’m not watching you go through that again. I love you, Dani, but you’re picking up the pieces this time. I can’t do it again. Consider this your warning.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ve been warned. Thanks for your consideration.”
I reached into the travel belt I always carried when on duty, not having realized how natural it had been for me to slip back into my role as detective. I had on dark leather pants and a black tank top, my belt along with a Stunner, potions and antidotes strapped to it, and my badge. It stalled me for a moment, and I wondered if Jack was right. Was this such a horrible idea?
Yes, I decided—it was a bad idea to return to the precinct. But there was nothing I could do about it, either. Lucia was missing, and Wicked needed me. Once a public servant, always one. If Captain King needed my help, I’d be there to serve.
The Hex Files were just a bonus, I told myself, though the little voice in my head wasn’t entirely convinced. I felt particularly snarly at the thought as I pulled a drawstring pouch from my belt and threw some money toward Jack.
“Rent,” I grunted. “Have the shop open by eleven to be ready for the early lunch crowd. Make sure you get rid of the pepperoni stuck to your cheek before it opens.”
“Dani, wait—”
I spun around, watching as Jack stared forlornly at the coins on the table. It was more than he’d need to cover rent for the next six months. I could tell his fingers itched to reach for it, but something held him back.
“I know why I’m doing this,” I said quietly. “I don’t like the situation any more than you do, but I need to do it. Trust me.”
Jack watched my face for any sign of a lie, any sign of weakness. He studied me in the honest way that nobody else in the world could, and eventually, he must have approved of what he saw. Snatching up the coins, he nodded at me.
“Don’t worry about the pizzeria,” he said. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be, and I’m happy to help.”
“Thank you, Jack,” I said. “For everything.”
Jack watched as I left, his eyes on my back even after I locked the door and headed down the street to find Matthew. His eyes followed me through the window, but I didn’t look back to meet his gaze. If I had, I might have turned around. I might have thrown out this case and refused to help, but I was too weak to do that.
Whether it was the pull of the case, the need for order in the borough, or the effect Matthew King had on me, I couldn’t say no. The desire for justice ran deep through DeMarco veins.
If I repeated it over and over again, I could just about convince myself.
But even I knew better.
The Hex Files were not just a bonus.
They were the only hope for me to heal.
Chapter 9
As Matthew had promised, my badge wasn’t all-access. It wasn’t even half-access, if I were to be honest. I showed up at the precinct flashing the special consultant photo at the front desk, and all it got me was a stupid Comm up to Matthew’s office.
The goblin receptionist told me to ‘have a seat, the captain will be right with you’, but I remained standing. It never took Matthew long to arrive.
Right on time, he appeared a few seconds later dressed in his Monday best. He must have gone home and changed after he’d scared the sheets off me this morning. He’d traded the black jeans for more official looking attire.
He wore a severe, exquisite suit. It enhanced his already powerful aura and brought out the depths of his eyes and the pale tint to his skin. His hair looked different, as if he’d showered and run his fingers through the dark strands before they’d dried. To polish the look, he’d planted a fresh smirk on his face that said I didn’t look nearly as put together as I’d hoped.
He studied me for a long moment, and while he did, the lobby fell intensely still. Not a soul breathed. The receptionist didn’t shuffle a paper, the Goblin Girl who’d been sobbing in handcuffs froze, and the set of overweight spellslingers bumbling through the front door stopped in their tracks.
My skin burned as Matthew’s eyes raked over me, taking in my significantly more informal uniform. My relaxed attire had been the butt of many jokes between Matthew and me before, but it was easier to laugh about our choice in clothing when we’d been in the middle of taking them off.
As his eyes settled on my face, his lips quirked into a remembrance of his older smile—the one that glowed only in private when the two of us were alone—when we’d been wrapped around one another, the secrets between us bound by our embrace.
“The badge looks good on you.”
“How’s Joey?” I asked as Matthew gestured for me to join him on a walk. My brother’s earlier comments returned in full force, reminding me of the dangers, not only of the physical nature, involved with the case. There were also the complications of t
he mind to consider, and now I wondered if there could be complications of the heart, as well. Because of this, I stuck closely to a professional script. “Did he come out of the daze?”
“Yes, he’s in an interview room. Not feeling well, I’m afraid, but that’s to be expected.” Matthew’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t seem to remember much.”
“You questioned him without me?”
This time when Matthew’s eyes flicked to me, they belonged to that of a captain, not a friend. “Though it’s none of your business, no—we didn’t. He was mumbling and entirely confused when we took him out of holding, however.”
I nodded. “You think he could’ve accidentally gotten dosed?”
“There’s always a chance. Tricky to say—it’s been used as a defense so often with druggies it’s impossible to know who’s lying to get out of charges and who’s telling the truth.”
“Jones doesn’t have the characteristics of a recreational drug user,” I said with a frown. “When I checked his Residuals yesterday, there were none of the usual signs: Scent Sweepers, Drug Deducers, Sanity Boosters—nothing that the usual suspects use to cover up their tracks.”
“He was picked up once for illegal purchase of a Goblin Girl,” Matthew said. “Often, the crimes one is picked up for is tenfold less than what they’ve actually committed.”
“Illegal purchase of a Goblin Girl?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you think it could be related to the body we found in 309?”
Matthew shook his head. “It was an underage soliciting attempt. He was seventeen, and the legal age to engage with a Goblin Girl is twenty-one. The files are technically sealed on Joey, but...”
I understood what wasn’t said. Matthew had power, status, and the skills to unlock things meant to stay hidden. I dared not press him further since the topic was too close to my heart. After all, The Hex Files wouldn’t unlock themselves.
“Here we are.” Matthew stopped in front of a two-way mirror. “He hasn’t moved for an hour.”
