by Ann Denton
Never bleach a van while a dragon drives. They’re hot-headed by nature. Bennett’s road rage is fierce. Let’s just say it’s a good thing Petey’s already undead, otherwise the bleach bucket he took to the face mighta’ been a problem. As it is, he just reeks so much he can’t go inside.
He mumbles curses under his breath because he can’t exactly berate Bennett out loud. That would be career suicide. He hides in the bushes near the windows, trying to peer in as he airs out. Since it’s near dawn, he’s gonna have to move around as the sun rises so he doesn’t get burnt.
I pat his back. “I brought my phone. I’ll do what I can to get footage if you need to leave.”
I don’t see Bennett after I get Petey set up, so I go to the side door to an employee entrance and walk in like I own the place. Employees give me the side eye as I walk through the kitchen, but I just make my way over to Cherry Jones, the unicorn shifter who runs the joint.
“Hey lady, mind if I do some covert ops?”
Cherry’s stirring up a berry and fisheye pie filling at the moment, and the blue ooze smells like heaven, even if the blinking is a bit disconcerting. She stops stirring and wipes an arm across her pale forehead, pushing back her rainbow-colored locks of hair. “Is this gonna wreck my dining room?”
When I explain the sneaky nature of my elderly friends, Cherry bursts into laughter. “Damn! That’s awesome! What do you need from me?”
“I was wondering if one of your servers could ‘drop my phone’ under the table and let it record their convo while I watch your security feed. Pretty please?”
She shakes her head and laughs. “Tara!” she calls a waitress over. “Help my friend Ly-ly out.”
I get all set up in the security room and I’m feeling a little bit smug when I lean over and see Flowers grabbing some napkins and heading to one of the fifties style diner booths, where a woman waits. Right behind him is Bennett, who slides into the very next booth with a burger, acting like he’s out to dinner alone.
Crap. Why didn’t I just do that? I’m an idiot.
But my waitress is already in motion. Tara’s actually a great super-spy buddy. She ‘drops’ my phone on the floor, kicks it under the booth, and heads back toward me. And then she sits down next to me and flicks out an earbud, tossing it to me.
“I had your phone call my phone. My phone’s recording the call. And then I told Cherry I’m taking a break.”
Instant gratification washes over me as I hear Flowers trying to make small talk.
“So, Mrs. Snow tells me you like mountain climbing?” It’s so totally weird to hear him try to make friendly conversation. If I weren’t watching him on the screen at the same time, I’d swear it wasn’t Flowers talking. He’s using a tone of voice that I’ve literally never heard from him before. He almost sounds normal.
The girl mumbles her response, like she’s super shy. I barely hear her say, “Yes.”
“What made you get into mountain climbing?”
“I grew up in the mountains,” the girl hides behind a head of sparkling, straight white hair. I can hardly make out her face, except for a button nose.
“Really? Where? I go hiking around here a lot,” I can already hear impatient Flowers bubbling right underneath the surface. Ooh, is he gonna be able to stay nice? Or is his rude gonna show?
I lean in. This is as addicting as reality TV.
“I’m not from around here.”
“Okay,” Flowers bites into his burger and chews, letting the awkward stretch out and get nice and thick. Because the girl doesn’t offer up any more info. She just sits there, playing with her fries, still hiding her face.
Flowers sighs and puts his burger down. “Look, Babie, you want to date, right? Then you need to speak up a little more. Give more in-ormation… I mean, talk more about yourself.”
“Okay,” Babie slouches a bit.
“Things like where you were born. Or grew up.”
“Nepal.”
“More than one word answers, Babie.”
“I’m from Nepal.”
Flowers grits his teeth. I kinda feel sorry for this poor girl. Where did Sarah and Tabby dig her up? She’s clearly not ready to date. And Flowers is clearly not a match for her. I rethink my earlier praise for Blue Snow. I think they mightta’ missed the mark with this one.
“I’m … I was born right here in Tres Lunas,” Flowers replies. I realize he changed his sentence to avoid the word ‘from.’ His statement gets no response from Babie so he tries again. “So, what made you leave Nepal?”
“Hunters,” Babie takes the world’s smallest bite of a fry. So small she can swallow it whole. Without chewing. The kind of bite supermodels take before they go gorge on spinach. I might be reclassifying her from the pitiful to the plain weird category. Who doesn’t like fries?
“One word answer again, Babie,” Flowers scolds, though far more gently than he’d ever scold me.
“Sorry. Hunters made me leave.”
The look on his face makes me wish I could freeze frame the security footage. I’m pretty sure it’s the same look he gives me six times a day. Utter frustration. He does this thing where his teeth show. It might be a growly tiger thing. But it’s kinda funny. Very comic book. And it really just makes me wanna irritate him more to see it again.
Babie doesn’t take it that way. “Did you just show your teeth to me?” she asks, uttering her first full sentence since they sat down. She pushes her hair back from her face and bares her own teeth. Her canines elongate. Her eyes get a slightly reddish glow.
Flowers sits back in his seat, stunned.
I’m stunned as she actually repeats her sentence. Unprompted.
“I said, did you just show your teeth to me?!” This time she growls as she leans forward over the table. The red glow in her eyes intensifies. And suddenly, she shifts. In public.
Her clothes shred. She grows three feet taller, tipping the table and the food toward Flowers. White hair sprouts all over her body and her hands turn into big, clawed monstrosities.
“Burning tiger tails!” I whisper. Blue Snow Matchmaking set Flowers up with a yeti!
Chapter 10
Bennett and Flowers are way too casual as they arrest poor Babie for public shifting. I sneak out of the security room and collect my phone while they’re hustling the raging mountain monster outside and into the van, still growling about Flower’s teeth.
All in all, the date went way worse than I was expecting, but the arrest went far better, mainly because Bennett was there, and I didn’t have to help. (What? Self-preservation. When Babie shifted her feet grew until they were two feet long. She woulda’ crushed me. Only Bennett’s mini blowtorch mouth kept her from rampaging and destroying the place.)
I pocket my phone, wondering how I’m gonna tell Sarah and Tabby about this disaster (hoping Babie isn’t one of their friends’ granddaughters or something). I absentmindedly steal a handful of Bennett’s fries from his abandoned meal on the table.
When I turn around, he’s watching me, arms crossed and a bemused smirk on his face. It’s far better than the haunted look he wore earlier this evening. If torturing Flowers with bad dates helps put Bennett in a better mood, I’ll take it.
“You missed all the drama,” Bennett says. “You stay outside with Petey?”
I shrug. “Saw it on the security cameras.”
He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Don’t tell me any more. I don’t want to know. If you were doing anything even slightly legally grey, I don’t wanna know.”
I shrug and shove another fry in my mouth. Fine. I won’t tell him I was listening/recording on my phone. It’s more for my friends’ benefit anyway. “Did you see the way she ate fries? Just from that, I could tell she was crazy.”
Bennett’s grin turns into a laugh. “Have to admit, that was a more exciting dinner than I’m used to.”
“Are all shifters that crazy? I feel like that’s all I’ve run into lately.”
Ben shrugs. “You�
��re dealing with drugs on this case. They mess up mental and magical connections.”
I sigh, “Yeah, that’s true.”
Bennett lowers his voice. “Mixed shifters also have it harder from the get-go. I mean, my dragon tugs at me. But what if I was a dragon deer? What if half of me was literally the prey of the other half? That can mess you up big time. Mentally, half of you wants to destroy the other half.” He shakes his head. “I can see why so many of these poor mixed shifters get hooked. Not to mention their looks. Mixed shifters generally look like both of their parents, literally. So, if a woman’s dad was a lion shifter, she gets a mane when she shifts. Peacock—tail feathers. Same for guys. Even without the predator-prey mental issues, that can mess you up.”
Those are good points.
He grabs his burger and shoves it into a to-go box. Then he pulls out a second box, tosses his fries in it and hands the box to me. Ben pulls a honey packet from his pocket and tosses that to me, too.
I can’t help the slightly mushy feeling that gives me. He’s always been a thoughtful guy. But then Luke pops into my head and I shove that mushy feeling away with a, “Thanks, Boss.”
He gives me a sad smile. “Sure thing.”
We leave Wendel’s in silence. I end up squished between Bennett and Petey on the van’s bench seat for the ride back to the station. Babie is stuffed in the back. She’s gone human and shy again.
My knee accidentally rubs against Bennett’s and I see his fists clench on the steering wheel. I don’t think my knee touching a guy’s knee has been this awkward and wrought with sexual tension since I was twelve and we went on a field trip to the zombie war re-enactment. (Note: When I become a museum director in another life, I will not hire actual zombies to re-enact the war. At least two kids in that class got left behind on the field muttering “brains.”) I try to ignore the awkwardness by eating my fries, but end up spilling honey on my uniform, which is just great since I’m already down that uniform from the nap shack.
When we get to the station, Bennett has a rookie start booking the yeti. Flowers gives a statement, then comes over to Petey and me.
“I need to thollow up on the son oth our vic, Thread Grant.”
He just lisped through that whole sentence. Thread for Fred is epic. I bite my lip and keep my face neutral.
It doesn’t work. Flowers can sense my amusement. He gives me a threatening glare as Petey just looks confused by the lisp thing.
“I thought his name was Fred.”
“Yup. That’s what I said.”
I press my lips together hard and keep quiet, avoiding eye contact. I have no doubt that after a yeti just blew up on him, Flowers has some anger to vent. I don’t need to be vented on.
“What can I do to help, sir?” Petey opts to be a kiss ass.
Flowers looks frustrated when we don’t give him an outlet for his rage, but he holds it in because we’re in public, cops and people under arrest swarming all around. He continues, “I called Tall Tales and it looks like Grant’s working now. You two, come on.”
We’re supposed to clock out, but crime doesn’t sleep. Besides, I’m pretty sure Flowers doesn’t want to have to lisp in front of the general public, which would definitely happen if he had to say “Fred” multiple times. I bite back a sigh and nod. Guess I’ll just have to put off researching a cure for this ‘effing’ curse until later. Heartbreaking.
We get to Tall Tales just as story-time ends. The place is flooded with kids. Little snotty-nosed witches run around as their mothers stare blankly off into space holding coffee cups. A mother genie grabs her toddler and stuffs him back into his lamp as he throws a tantrum.
We avoid the audioboos section, where a number of bored ghosts float, waiting for customers. You can hire them to follow you around and read a book to you. But the last time I did that, I got an asshole named Brian who kept ruining the sex scenes by blowing raspberries or adding a running commentary on how particular positions weren’t physically possible. I’m pretty sure his wife killed him and he’s bitter about it. Anyway, I haven’t gotten an audioboo since.
It turns out that “Freddie” works in the stockroom, per the manager. When we enter, he’s doing donuts in the forklift.
“This is gonna go well,” I say.
Petey snorts.
Flowers jerks his head and stares at me. At first, I’m not sure what he wants. But then I realize.
“Fred Grant!” I call out.
The donuts slowly stop. Freddie turns to us and pulls off his safety goggles. I love the irony of that. Wearing safety goggles as he does dangerous spins in his forklift. I have a feeling he’s a dead-to-rights idiot. My feeling is not wrong.
“Whas’ up?” Freddie trots over, his hair flopping in his eyes. He does that annoying emo headshake thing to get the hair out of his eyes, instead of just using his hand to move it like a normal person. He’s a skinny dude, with one of those Adam’s apples that protrudes so much it looks like it hurts.
“I’m sorry. Your mom passed away,” I tell him.
Freddie doesn’t look very surprised. Maybe the ME’s office told him. I’m not too clear on the protocol of that yet. We haven’t gotten that far in the grandiose booklet that is the Tres Lunas Investigative Training Manual. (The evil thing is five inches thick. But does the government pay for a real binding? Nope. Those cheap asses pay for those plastic spines with claw tabs that pop the eff off every time you turn a page.)
I turn to Flowers. This isn’t my first murder. But it is kinda the first time I’m officially allowed to talk. And I don’t know what to say.
Flowers turns to Freddie. “When did you see your mom last?”
Freddie scratches his head. “Um … two days ago? Was that Tuesday? She always makes meatloaf on Tuesdays.”
“You go over on Tuesday?”
“Go over?” Freddie looks lost.
“To her house?” Flowers clarifies.
“Ummm … nah. I’m kinda in between places right now.”
Ah. Another millennial who lives with his mom. Like, I know I’m technically millennial. But I don’t get it. Maybe it’s because my mother’s such a nightmare. But who wouldn’t want their independence? Apparently, Freddie, who likes meatloaf.
“You and your mom get along?” I ask, adding a smile and a, “I couldn’t stand my mom.”
“She wasn’t home much.”
“Worked a lot?”
He nods.
“Freddie, who’s your mom’s boss?” I ask.
Flowers glares at me. Apparently, I’m supposed to be good at questioning. Not direct.
Freddie shrugs and says, “Dunno.”
Petey leans forward, his voice smooth and seductive. He puts off a vampire predator pheromone or something that sends chills down my spine. “You never met him?” Petey asks.
Freddie gulps.
“No. She wouldn’t let me meet him.”
“So her boss was a man,” Petey leans forward, letting his fangs extend slightly.
“Um … Um…”
“You will tell me the truth,” Petey commands.
“Yes.” Freddie’s voice is suddenly woozy and he sways on his feet. Petey’s doing a number on him. For the millionth time in my life I wish I was not a super-loser. I wish I had useful, cool powers like Petey. Dammit!
Petey puts out his hand and holds Freddie by the shoulder. “Her boss’s name?”
“Tar.”
“Tar what?”
“Just Tar.”
Tar is a troll name. Freddie might have just tied this drug operation to the troll gang, the Bloods. I mean, Flowers suspected it before. And we have lots of evidence that might tie it to them. But this is quicker.
Petey looks back to Flowers, who gives an approving head nod. Frickin’ tiger feces! Guess Petey just got moved up to class favorite. Stupid vampire powers. If I had compulsion as a power, I coulda’ done that, too. Eff the universe.
I try asking a question anyway, because there’s a stupid part of me
that doesn’t know when it’s time to shut up. That part says, “So, this was a Blood operation?”
“Whoa!” Freddie takes a few steps back. “I don’t wanna get smashed. I dunno anything about them. I dunno what you’re talking about. She’s never said anything about a gang.”
“If it was a Blood operation, they usually hand down positions to children. Wouldn’t you inherit the nap shack?” I ask.
Freddie crinkles his nose. “You think I wanna wipe poopy butts all night? No thanks.”
Flowers pretty much crushes my bicep when he yanks me back. “Sorry, Mr. Grant. This is our trainee. She doesn’t know anything about anything yet.”
Fred eyes me warily, but he nods at Flowers. “I had a trainee a couple months back. Couldn’t hack it.” He jerks his head at the shelves. “Guy lied on his application. He was a phoenix shifter. Can you imagine a phoenix working in a bookstore? Idiot. Burned two pallets of books in a row.”
Flowers gives a sympathetic nod. “That uncontrolled shitting is the worst.”
I bite my lip and turn away. I can’t even. Flowers just said shitting instead of shifting. Uncontrolled shitting. Gah—that is comic gold right there. I’m gonna be so sad when I figure out how to reverse this effing problem.
“Yeah, I felt bad for the guy before we fired him. Girlfriend moved away for grad school or something. But, dude. This is serious stuff. Can’t go losing your head and get all heartbroken up in here. Not when you’re a walking firestick.”
I’m finally able to turn around after swallowing my giggles.
Flowers is nodding at Freddie. “Mr. Grant, I just have one last question.” He leans forward. “What kind of creature was your mom?”
“What?” Freddie looks nervous. He looks side to side, though there’s no one else in the warehouse with us. “What do you mean?”
Flowers looks almost regretful when he says, “Mr. Grant, most Nappie dealers were once users. Nappies tend to attract certain types of shithters.”
Aw, man. I’m kinda disappointed he lisped it this time.
Freddie shakes his head. “I dunno what you’re talking about. She was a witch. I’m a wizard. That’s it.”
