by C. M. Cevis
Isaiah nodded, his phone already out of his pocket. “Right,” he replied. “I hope this isn’t a weird one again,” he said.
Nick snorted a laugh. “I’m pretty sure it’s a weird one, my dude.”
“Damn. What I wouldn’t give for a regular old drive by gone wrong or something.”
The two friends shared a sad chuckle and settled in for the long haul that was a crime scene investigation.
3
NICK’S OFFICE WASN’T ANYTHING GLAMOROUS, but it had a door and a few windows that made the room sound like he was camped out beside the highway when he opened them. He’d met people who’d set foot into his space and felt overwhelmed, but for him, it was home. Almost more so than his apartment.
It had been hours since the crime scene, and he’d spent all of them out on the street, knocking on doors and asking questions. Nothing came of any of it, of course. Nothing ever did. But he wasn’t going to kick his own ass months from now about having missed something important simply because he didn’t ask. He and Isaiah had called in the rest of the new guys from DCS (Difficult Case Squad officially, and Dicks to everyone who wasn’t on it and some who were) and had them help canvass. It wasn’t easy being a cop in a city where the populace distrusted you on principle, but he loved his city, and he wanted to change that perception. So he stayed and did his job and then some.
Patrick’s preliminary report had been on his desk when he’d arrived, and while part of him was tired enough to want to leave it there and deal with it after a few more hours of sleep, he cracked it open and began reading.
The victim was a thirty-seven-year-old lawyer named Edward Cavanaugh. His body didn’t contain any visible puncture wounds, though Patrick had inserted a handwritten note that they could have been ruined by the other significant wounds on the body. The wounds weren’t just on the victim’s chest, it seemed, and Patrick said that they weren’t made by any sort of weapon that he could identify. If he’d had to guess, the tears in the skin had been made by a large animal, though shifter or nature gone wrong, he couldn’t tell. He hadn’t found any saliva traces, which seemed to rule out consumption as the goal of the murder.
Behind that report was an extra bit of victimology that looked like it had been added by the captain. Mr. Cavanaugh worked for a small law firm that was housed in an office building in Catonsville and had been reported missing three days ago by his live-in girlfriend. She stated that he’d gone out with some friends and never came home. Behind that were two slim folders dated several weeks prior. Nick frowned and flipped the first one open as the sound of women’s pumps brought his attention to the doorway.
Captain Nina Blackmore was a five-foot-nothing barrel of gunpowder. She’d done her time in uniform and earned the respect of the guys that she’d been promoted over. In a city where racism was oftentimes rampant, the little Latina woman who headed up the police department had more respect than most of the highly-paid politicians in that city, and there had been more than one call for her to run for mayor. For now, she had turned down those invitations to stay with the guys that she loved, with her family at the precinct. But Nick always told her not to discount the idea.
“I saw Patrick in the hallway while he was waiting for the body to get here this morning. He told me what he saw out there.” Nina crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway as she spoke.
“Yeah, he saw weird shit,” Nick said with a chuckle.
She smirked. “True, but weird shit that I think I’ve seen before. Or maybe this guy is ramping up to something bigger.” She pointed at the two folders in Nick’s hands. “I may be wrong, but I think this is the third body, not the first.”
Nick continued flipping through the first of the two folders. “It’s possible. Good thing you remembered these cases. Linking them might give us some clues that we wouldn’t have seen otherwise,” he said.
Nina nodded. “Right, that’s what I was hoping.” She took four steps up to his desk and gently closed the folder he was perusing. “Take it home, Nick. You can look over that folder with a beer in one hand. Think of it as payback for having to drag yourself out of bed this morning.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cap. I’m all right.” Nick shrugged. “Aren’t you supposed to be dealing with bureaucratic shit, and not this?” he said, indicating the victim’s information.
Nina’s laugh was came out as more of a chuckle-snort. She hated it, but Nick thought it was in adorable contrast to how badass she was. “Sometimes I dip my toes into the streets when I need a break from the bureaucrats,” she said with a grin. Nick snickered. “Go home, Officer Dukas.”
With a tired nod, Nick stood. “See you tomorrow, Cap,” he said. “Have a good night.”
~ ~
NICK’S APARTMENT WAS JUST LIKE he’d left it, except it was dark now because he hadn’t thought to leave a light on for himself. He managed to make it to the pass-through counter without taking out a shin and flipped on a light switch.
Step one for the night was done. Step two was to order himself a pizza since he was exhausted and not even remotely interested in cooking or finding company that would cook for him. And step three, wonderful step three, was the cold beer that he’d just cracked open as he sunk down onto the couch and opened the case files that Nina had given him. He could wade through anything with a good beer in hand. Or three.
4
IT WAS THE CLUB’S OPENING night and, from what Willow could see, the line was stretched down the street and around the corner. She smiled from the third-floor window as she watched the line slowly but steadily move. Business being good was wonderful, but she didn’t have time to enjoy it. Not yet, at least.
The girls—Isis, Kimberly, and Bianca—had arrived the night before and were temporarily working the floor as waitresses. The rooms weren’t ready for them to start working yet, and regardless of what they did in there for money, Willow was not one for making them perform under duress. Her girls were happy, healthy, and well taken care of, and it was going to stay that way. They could sling drinks until it was time for them to sling something else.
She’d met the three of them while she was in New York, at a time when she needed them and they needed her. They’d started their business together, and while others called it a brothel, they called it a lucrative opportunity. The fact that she was the one making the decisions had been borne out of necessity. The girls were all wonderful people, but none of them had the balls to make decisions that would affect more than just themselves, and that wasn’t the type of person that you wanted running your business. While most of it fell to Willow, she always took them and their opinions into consideration. That was one of the reasons their situation worked. That, and all of them really enjoyed what they did for a living.
“How many people are we expecting?” Isis asked, coming to stand beside Willow. Goodness, she was stunning—all pale, freckled and red haired. She was the sweetest person in the world once you got to know her, which just made her even more beautiful. But she’d had a hard upbringing that had broken a few things inside of her. She had started their friendship looking to Willow for guidance on what to do about everything. Now, she was one of the few that Willow trusted to make the decisions when she wasn’t able to.
“Truthfully, I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting this many,” she said with a chuckle.
Isis grinned and bumped hips with her. “Kim and Bee are already downstairs. I just wanted to make sure that you aren’t going to stay up here lurking all night.”
“No, I’m not,” Willow said with a sigh. “I know I need to be down there, mingling and shit. I just have to prepare myself.”
Isis turned and hugged her tightly. “The trials of being a clairvoyant, right?” she said softly.
Willow nodded against her, and let herself feel protected for just a moment. “Right,” she whispered.
~ ~
WILLOW FELT THEM AS SOON as they entered the main space of the club. Not because they were particularly powerful, and n
ot because their presence was making her clairvoyance kick up. No, this was solely because they were attempting to show off for some reason. They were doing their damnedest to shove their power down anyone and everyone’s throat there, something that Willow had always thought was rude, no matter who you were or what you could do.
The man on the right was a walking, talking Abercrombie & Fitch ad. Tall, muscular, pale, blond hair, blue eyes, and an attitude written all over him that said that he thought he was better than everyone. The other one looked much more tolerable in the attitude department and looked dead at her as he pushed his dark red hair out of his face. Those clear emerald green eyes would have been dreamy if she hadn’t suddenly realized where she recognized that arrogance from.
“The Chamber, here to check on little old me?” she asked, slipping into an over-dramatic southern accent as the men met her halfway across the floor. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” It was the blond that opened his mouth first, speaking in a Russian accent that she hadn’t expected.
“New witches in the area are required to check in with the Chamber,” he barked.
Willow smirked and started walking again, this time on her way toward the bar. She’d been warned about the Baltimore Chamber before she’d left New York, so she’d been prepared for this little showdown.
“Is that right?” she purred, motioning for the bartender to make her a vodka and sprite.
“You knew that,” the redhead stated.
“I did.” She was aware that the Baltimore Chamber wanted new witches to check in with them. She also knew that she had no intention of doing so.
“It has been determined that you are too powerful to be here in the city unchecked,” the blond said.
Willow looked from one to the other as she took a sip of her drink. “I’m just a clairvoyant. What kind of damage can I cause?” she asked, her innocent tone just a touch mocking. The men frowned and exchanged a look.
“We’ve been told that you are too powerful to go unchecked,” the blond stated again. “If you won’t check in with the Chamber, you will have to leave.”
Willow almost choked on alcohol and laughter. “That’s what your Chamber told you?” she asked. She shrugged her shoulders casually and set her drink down. “I tell you what.” She took a step toward them. “I’ll bet you $500 that you can’t make me.”
“What?” They were speaking in unison now. Willow took another step toward them. This time, the redhead stepped back.
“I said, make me.” Neither man in front of her moved, so she turned back to the bar and picked up her drink. “If you aren’t here to fight or fuck, you’re no fun. Get the hell out, and tell the Chamber to leave me the hell alone.” She sipped, not even bothering to face them to issue her warning. They weren’t worth the effort.
“You’ll be hearing from us again,” the redhead said.
“You know where to find me, lover,” Willow said with a wink.
The two Chamber gophers turned and walked out of the club without so much as a glance back. Willow was a bit offended. Most men that she intimidated at least looked back once.
“Is everything alright?” Isis asked, slipping up beside Willow. Her gaze narrowed as she watched the backsides of their visitors retreat.
“Everything is fine,” Willow replied. She wasn’t worried about those two in the least.
5
THE NIGHT HAD FULLY SETTLED in as Robert and Blake exited the club together. It was raining pretty heavily now, but that didn’t seem to be discouraging to the line of people waiting to get inside. Robert sighed and lit a cigarette as the two of them crossed the street. He smoked some weird Russian brand that he paid to have imported on a monthly basis, a piece of his old home that he wasn’t willing to let go of.
“The Chamber isn’t going to like this,” he said.
Blake rolled his eyes before he could catch himself. “Yes, I’m aware they aren’t going to like this. If you’re so worried about it, why didn’t you do something? You’re the one always talking about how you’re so great and powerful.”
Robert shot him a look. “You didn’t do anything either,” he mumbled.
“Let someone else deal with the woman. I didn’t want the trouble,” he replied, conveniently not mentioning the fact that something about her scared the piss out of him.
~ ~
NICK SHOWED HIS BADGE TO the bouncer at the door and was immediately granted entrance without question. Something about the owner wanting the police to feel welcome anytime. That was a new approach—most of the places in the city didn’t want him anywhere near their businesses. As it was, he was only there because he always checked out the new places when they opened. It made things easier when something went wrong later.
“Well hello, officer” a voice said, just as Nick settled into a bar stool at a high-top table. Nick turned to face one of the most stunningly beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on, but she didn’t seem to notice his shock. Instead, she motioned over a pretty, chocolate-skinned girl in shorts that were almost panties. “Bianca, could you make sure this man is well taken care of? His drinks are on the house.”
Nick smirked, having regained his sense. “I can afford my own drinks,” he said, indicating a drink order to the beautiful Bianca before turning his attention back to his current new friend.
“I’m sure you can, officer, but law enforcement always drinks for free when I’m around. You all have enough to deal with, day to day,” she said, eyes bright and alluring.
Nick looked her over once more, trying to remember why she would know that he was a police officer. Unless the bouncer had informed her somehow. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
She smiled and held her hand out for a shake. “Not yet. I’m Willow, and I own this place.” Nick took her hand and shook it gently.
“Nick. It’s a pleasure.” So far, he added in his head. “How do you know that I’m a police officer?”
Willow slid into the other stool beside him. “I know a lot of the NYPD, and they know you. Especially the female officers. You’re a bit of a celebrity, did you know that?”
Nick tried not to look embarrassed. He did know that, actually. It had happened when he’d gone up to New York to train for DCS. “I did not know that.” That sounded better than admitting to knowing.
“The female officers say that you’re a heartthrob, and that most of them tried to get you into their beds when you were visiting. Half of them were married at the time,” Willow said, chuckling. “A few of them were talking about transferring, just to be closer to you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Nick said with a laugh. Then he frowned. “I hope that the reason that you knew so many officers wasn’t because you were in trouble a lot. If you’re doing something illegal, I won’t go easy on you just because you’re flattering me.”
“It wouldn’t be any fun if you went easy on me,” she said, sliding down out of the stool as Bianca returned with Nick’s drink. “Plus, I’m not doing anything illegal. Yet.”
6
ALEX HAD BEEN LECTURING FOR hours. That was what he got for covering another professor’s classes. He was tired and halfway hoarse, but he was finally done. Well, almost done. There were ten minutes left in the class, but half of the students had already packed their things to dart for the door as soon as they were dismissed. Normally, he’d have talked up until the last minute, but today, he didn’t have the energy.
“Go on and head out, guys. I’m done,” he said, closing his notes. The entire class hesitated, as if they thought he was setting them up for something.
“Really?” one of the freshman in the front row asked. Alex smirked but nodded, rubbing his eyes.
“Yes, really. You guys are my fifth class today, and honestly, I’m just tired of talking now.”
The students chuckled softly but began gathering the things that they hadn’t already and filtering out of the room. Alex, for his part, took a moment to take a deep, thankful breath that his day was over, and slung his bag
across his body.
“Professor Thomas?”
He turned to address whom he assumed was a student, but the voice belonged to a police officer in uniform. “Whatever it is, I swear I didn’t do it,” he said. The young man laughed.
“Detective Dukas sent me over,” the officer said, holding out a file. “He said to tell you that he’d like you to take a look at this case.” Alex took the file and slipped it into his bag.
“Exciting. I’ll take a look at it as soon as I am off this silly campus, and I’ll give him a call,” Alex said, knowing that the officer would relay the message to Nick.
Alex had been called to help the BCPD quite a few times, with cases where they were trying to understand the being who committed the crimes. He was basically their personal profiler, one that they used instead of calling in a Fed team—apparently the last time hadn’t gone very well. It helped that he was a psychiatrist by trade but a psych professor more often. Teaching it kept the information fresh in his mind, and he’d done a lot of good. Or so he’d been told.
“Bye, Professor Thomas!” someone called out as Alex left the building, helmet in hand. He turned and waved at a few female students that had gathered but didn’t break stride. He had already been warned that he was the campus hot teacher, and he had no interest in getting caught up in something. Hell, one of the other professors had informed him that the bayou accent that he had was captivating to her. He stayed away from her now, much to her chagrin.
His bike was parked in the smallest staff lot on campus, one that most chose not to use due to the fact that if there were more than a few cars, it was often difficult to get out. On the days he rode his Harley, that wasn’t an issue. He secured his things in his saddle bags, settled into the leather seat, and put on his helmet. The roar of the bike between his legs was better than sex, and he’d fight anyone who said otherwise. Beneath his visor, he grinned and tore ass out of there.
