Arcane Heart (Talents Book 2)

by Angela Knight

  “Yes sir.” Jake’s tone sounded frigid enough to give the sergeant freezer burn.

  “Get going.” Johnson headed back toward his car.

  Jake started to open his mouth, then hesitated, caught Erica’s eyes, and jerked his head in a signal to follow. They moved out of Owens’s hearing.

  “He smelled guilty as fuck.” There was a distinct rumbling undertone to his voice that suggested Clarence was very close to the surface.

  “Maybe. There was a lot of yellow in his aura that calmed down when he realized the sketch wasn’t worth a damn. Later when I was describing what happened, his reactions were a little harder to track. He was definitely pissed and worried, but it’s possible he reacted that way because I came so close to getting killed.”

  Jake snorted. “Yeah, I could tell he was terrified for you.”

  Erica shrugged. “When it comes to interpreting aural patterns, it’s easy to misread. I thought he had some guilty knowledge too at first, but I’m not sure it’s that cut and dried.”

  “Maybe not, but something’s sure as fuck not right. Watch your step.”

  She forced a grin, despite her own tension. “Always.”

  “Sell that to somebody who doesn’t know you.”

  Erica laughed and watched him walk off, his broad shoulders rolling with that easy male stride of his. But as she turned and headed for her own car, the smile drained from her face.

  What the hell was going on with the sergeant? And if he’s dirty, what are we supposed to do about it?

  * * *

  As Roger turned his car around and headed back to the department, he started to reach for the personal cell phone on his duty belt.

  Then he let his hand fall away. He really didn’t want to know. The little witch sensed emotions, and Nolan could smell them. Suspecting Virginia had tried to have Erica Harris killed was bad enough. If he knew she had, Harris might spot that knowledge in his aura and go straight to Gable. He’d be under investigation so fast, he’d get whiplash.

  God damn Virginia anyway. It was one thing to rough up Talents, try to create such a hostile environment they’d leave town. But murdering a cop, even a witch cop… This isn’t what I signed up for.

  Unfortunately, it no longer mattered that he’d had good intentions when he’d let the politician talk him into this. He’d come painfully close to becoming an accessory to Harris’s murder. As it was, he was hip-deep in a conspiracy that could send him to prison for a very long time.

  What would happen to Doris if he was arrested? And it would kill his eighty- year-old father. Dad had always been so proud of “my son, the cop.” He’d be a lot less proud of “my son, the murderer.”

  So you’d better make Goddamn sure you don’t get caught, because the innocence ship has sailed. You ain’t on it anymore.

  Something had to be done about the Talents, even if it was something he’d rather not do.

  * * *

  Scott Clary listened over his private cell as Sergeant Johnson explained the situation. “We can’t afford to keep playing softball with those two,” Johnson said. “This is getting serious. Our mutual friend wants them gone.”

  Meaning Virginia Laurel. Doing favors for the next Governor of South Carolina wouldn’t hurt Clary’s career at all. Assuming she managed to get herself elected, anyway. And if he did something to help her get elected, that would be even better.

  “What do you have in mind?” Scott asked. “We’ve been working on Nolan for a while now, but we don’t have much to show for it. He’s harder to play than you’d think.”

  “You haven’t had the right lever,” Johnson said. “Harris is the key. He’s got a thing for her. Work that angle right, and he’ll do something stupid. Be even better if you could get him to lose it in front of witnesses.”

  Scott curled his lip. Only an idiot would let a woman get so far under his skin that she made a useful handle. “I’ll sic Hampton on it. She hates the fuck out of Harris, and it’s mutual. If anybody can light Nolan’s fuse when it comes to his girlfriend, it’s her.”

  Better Mary than him. If Scott himself pushed the cat too far, he could end up dead. Nolan had enough delusions of chivalry not to seriously hurt Hampton, but the Feral might lose it just enough to get himself fired. Not that Scott really gave a shit. Mary could be useful, but she was also a flaming bitch.

  And not even that good in bed.

  “He’s got really sensitive hearing,” Johnson said thoughtfully. “If Hampton says something inflammatory in a low enough voice -- maybe at the meeting the sheriff’s called this afternoon -- that might do the trick. But she’ll have to be careful nobody else hears her, or it’ll backfire. We do not want to attract suspicion, especially given the fuckers who just tried to kill her. Besides, since Faraday Square, a lot of people in the department admire that big bastard.”

  Scott smirked. “Don’t worry, we know exactly how far to push. And how not to get caught pushing further.”

  “Good. Give the witch a good shove.” Johnson hung up.

  Thoughtful, Scott watched the traffic stream out of the women’s college. Power was all about relationships. You built relationships with the powerless to build a power base, and you built relationships with the powerful to hitch a ride on their coattails. Between Laurel, his brother-in-law, Johnson, and his three fellow deputies, Scott had the beginnings of a very useful network. Who knew how far it would get him? Sheriff was a distinct possibility. Maybe even governor, in a decade or so. And after that… Well, he was only thirty. He had plenty of time.

  The trick was knowing how to tie all those relationships together. Friendship wasn’t good enough -- people betrayed friends all the time. Fear, though… Fear was good. Make people afraid of something, and they instinctively wanted to find allies against it.

  A whole lot of people were afraid of Talents. He wasn’t. Cautious, maybe, but not fearful. But he was more than happy to use other people’s fear.

  A red convertible BMW peeled out through the college’s iron gates. Its young driver’s blonde hair whipped behind her like a flag.

  Clary grinned wolfishly, hit his lights and sirens, and accelerated after her.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Jake sat in the sheriff’s office briefing room by Erica’s side, watching the video of her fighting for her life.

  He kept having to remind Clarence she’d survived. She’s sitting right next to me. She’s fine. Judging by the low moaning sound the lion kept making in their bond, Clarence wasn’t convinced.

  Then again, Jake wasn’t all that comforted either. His hands coiled into fists as they rested on his thighs, and the muscles of his shoulders knotted. From the corner of one eye, he saw Erica glance at him, frowning. She’d probably heard Clarence moan.

  On the flat screen television hanging on the wall, the dash cam showed Erica approaching the Camaro, one hand on her weapon. Why in the fuck didn’t she call me for backup? She must have known there was something off about this stop.

  On second thought, he knew exactly why she hadn’t called him. She was still trying to prove herself to Johnson’s bully squad -- and that machismo had almost gotten her killed.

  On the recording, Erica approached the car on the driver’s side. An engine roared. Without looking around, she threw herself at the Camaro, braced a hand on the trunk and vaulted over it. A Dodge Ram pickup blasted through the space where she’d been.

  She landed, drew her weapon, and threw herself to one side again as shotgun pellets blew out the Camaro’s back window. A blast from the shotgun’s other barrel missed as Erica darted aside, returning fire. The Camaro accelerated away. Whirling, she raced back to her patrol car, lips peeled off her teeth, eyes narrow in rage.

  And I was miles away. I should have been with her. Protecting her. Clarence growled, echoing the thought.

  Jake watched the chase unwind, teeth grinding, his hands gripping his thighs as she pursued her attempted killers.

  When she swerved the patrol car tow
ard the trees to avoid the bus, he had to work not to manifest claws, knowing he’d puncture his own skin.

  Suddenly a soft hand landed on his where it gripped his leg under the table. Erica’s fingers felt long and cool and soothing -- and reminded him that she had, after all survived. He turned his hand over so he could grip hers. The muscles in his aching shoulders relaxed.

  The room was dead silent, none of the other deputies making a sound as they watched Erica’s efforts to catch the shooter.

  Next came her body cam’s version of events. It looked even more chaotic and terrifying than the dash cam had. Clarence’s psychic growl grew louder until it was all he could do to keep it from vibrating the air around him.

  Then, as the shotgun blasted out the Camaro’s rear window, a female voice whispered in a breath of sound so soft he doubted the Norms in the room heard it at all. “Too bad the asshole wasn’t a better shot.”

  Jake’s head whipped around to stare at Mary Hampton, who sat with the rest of her gang directly behind him and Erica. Hampton, Tom Green, Scott Clary, and Bob Martin must have slipped in after the two of them. Meeting his outraged glare, Hampton smirked. And blew him a kiss.

  Rage, hot and overwhelming, ripped away his control as Clarence flooded his mind. Blazing into full manifestation in a shower of sparks, the lion roared at the four deputies, his voice so thunderous, every cop in the room jumped.

  Oh shit!

  “Jake!” Erica hissed.

  Jake didn’t answer as he clawed for control of his Familiar before Clarence could go over the conference table at Hampton. Stop it! Clamping down on his Talent, he fought to make the manifestation vanish despite Clarence’s raging determination to teach Hampton that Erica was off limits.

  As Jake struggled to force his Familiar out of his head and back to BFS, he was vaguely aware that half the cops in the room were on their feet, hands on weapons, tense and cursing. He gripped Erica’s hand hard as he fought to control the enraged lion.

  Her free hand found his forearm, nails digging in so deep, he wondered if she was drawing blood. “Damn it, Jake!” she hissed through her teeth, “Get rid of that cat!”

  At the anger in her voice, Clarence vanished like a popped soap bubble.

  “Sit. Down!” Sheriff Harry Gable’s roar did not permit any argument whatsoever. “Nolan, have you lost your damned mind? What the hell was that?”

  Oh shit, I’ve really fucked up this time. “Sorry, sir.” His voice sounded hoarse, growling. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It had damned well better not. See me after the meeting.” Judging by Gable’s icy tone, this would not be a conversation Jake would enjoy. The sheriff’s rage was no surprise. Jake might as well have drawn on a fellow officer.

  Great. Just fucking great. Did I just get myself fired?

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Jake silently cursed himself, Gable moved to the podium at the front of the room. He was a big man with the build of a defensive lineman and a broad, beefy face under thick red hair. As he scanned the room, leaning against the podium with its Laurel County Sheriff’s star, his cool blue eyes measured his deputies. He let a long pause develop, forcing them to focus on him. “I don’t need to tell you what happened to Harris is a serious situation. This isn’t just a car stop gone bad. It was a coordinated murder attempt with at least two perpetrators. That much is obvious from the fact the truck deliberately tried to hit her, and when that failed, the Camaro driver opened fire. Both vehicles were stolen somewhere around a half-hour to an hour earlier, apparently so their owners didn’t have time to discover or report the thefts. A third vehicle, a 2013 Honda Odyssey minivan, was stolen earlier, though we can’t be sure it was connected to the other thefts. I do not like the way that smells.”

  The cops muttered among themselves, obviously not liking it either.

  “Then there’s the fact that the location is so close to Suellen Wooten Elementary, suggesting they intended to use school traffic to frustrate pursuit. According to outraged calls from parents, a Dodge pickup and a Camaro drove through the school zone at a high rate of speed, even veering into oncoming traffic to get around stopped cars.”

  A muscle rolled in Gable’s jaw as he visibly ground his teeth. “The fact that the Camaro and the Dodge were found abandoned together, while the minivan was found ten miles away half an hour later, suggests that the perpetrators used the minivan as a getaway vehicle before abandoning it, as well. That suggests there are at least three individuals involved with this: the drivers of the two stolen vehicles, and whoever picked them up.”

  Gable scanned the room, letting the implications sink in before he continued. “There can be no doubt they intended to kill a cop. It’s not immediately clear they intended to kill Harris in particular, but we can’t disregard that possibility either. We also can’t ignore the possibility that each and every one of us is a potential target.”

  But even if we’re not, Erica definitely is. Jake turned to study her, but her face was expressionless, coolly controlled.

  She’d released his hand after he’d calmed down from his near-manifestation. Now it was his turn to reach for hers beneath the table. As he encircled her fingers with his, she looked at him, startled, and gave him a smile. It looked a little tight, but it was something. He returned it, hoping she could see his determination to protect her.

  “Given that, you must maintain situational awareness at all times,” Gable continued, his tone dead serious. “And when you’re conducting a car stop, do not approach from the driver’s side. Walk along the shoulder of the road. Stepping into the roadway puts you in danger of being hit even by people who don’t intend to hit you. Something about blue lights hypnotizes some people. That’s aside from murderous shits like these three.”

  He leaned forward, curling one huge hand around the edge of his podium. “Also, I want to stress that whenever you do a high risk stop, you’ve got to call for backup. When the little voice in the back of your mind starts screaming, listen to it. If Harris hadn’t had excellent instincts, we’d be putting black ribbon on our badges right now.”

  The reminder made Jake feel sick. He wasn’t surprised to see Erica’s expression had gone stony. She probably didn’t appreciate having her mistakes during the car stop pointed out.

  “Needless to say, I want those bastards found. Yesterday.” Gable straightened away from the podium, which creaked as his weight lifted. “Unfortunately, that’s not the only thing we’ve got to worry about. There’s that Human Heritage march coming up next weekend. That’s an all hands on deck situation, so don’t even think about requesting Saturday off. Fortunately, we have ten departments from surrounding jurisdictions sending manpower to help. And we’re going to need every bit of it, because not only do we have HH to worry about, the local Talent community has sought a permit to counterprotest. Adding those two groups together is going to make for some nasty math.”

  He tapped the top of his podium with a stiff forefinger. “Or rather, it will if we drop the ball. I have no intention of being the lead story on CNN because somebody got killed. We’re going to keep those Humanist jokers and the Talents well apart. If they want to scream at each other, they can do it across us.

  “Speaking of HH…” He looked down at the sheet of paper in front of him. “There have also been reports of anti-Talent graffiti and harassment in the county.”

  “Damn Talents probably trying to get their fifteen minutes of fame,” Martin muttered.

  Before Jake could turn to glower at him, Erica’s long fingers closed around his forearm. He subsided, knowing she had a point. The last thing he needed to do was get Clarence stirred up again.

  But Gable, it turned out, had heard the remark. The sheriff leaned an elbow against the podium and glared. “Any reports of Talent harassment are to be taken seriously. Talents pay taxes just like Norms. They’re entitled to our protection when they’re threatened. And if some idiot tries to take advantage of the situation, we are going to investigate. W
hat we don’t do is assume there isn’t a genuine threat.” He straightened his big body as if coming to attention. “I will not put up with bigotry in my department.”

  He scanned the room, his gaze stern. “You would be well advised not to push me on this, ladies and gentlemen. Now, get back to work.” Gable’s lips twitched slightly. “And as they used to say on Hill Street Blues before most of you were born: ‘let’s be careful out there.’”

  A babble of voices rose as cops stood and started filtering out. As Jake and Erica stood, Gable’s gaze met his. The sheriff jerked his head in a come-with-me gesture, and he stepped out from behind the podium.

  Oh hell, here it comes. Keeping his face expressionless, Jake followed Gable from the room.

  As he left, he was conscious of Erica’s worried gaze.

  * * *

  Damn it, Jake. Don’t get fired. Biting her lip, Erica watched him go.

  “Hey.” A hand touched her shoulder, and she turned, automatically bracing herself for another confrontation. But it was Katilia Sharp, dark eyes concerned. “Are you okay? That video… Oh, damn, that was close.”

  “She’s not kidding.” Jason Ferris paused on his way out, his long, homely face just as appalled. “How the hell did you know what was coming? I’d have a face full of buckshot if it’d been me.”

  “Damnedest thing I ever saw,” another cop agreed.

  With that, she was surrounded by deputies, slapping her back and expressing their sympathy and support. Despite her worry for Jake, her heart warmed. Damn, they actually care.

  When the small crowd finally melted away, only Katilia remained, looking troubled. “Hey, what set Jake off? That’s not like him. I went to school with that guy, and he doesn’t lose his shit like that. And he certainly doesn’t whip out the fur without a damned good reason.”

  “Yeah, I know. They train Ferals to keep a tight grip on their Familiars for that very reason. I have no idea why he’d manifest.”

  On her way out, Mary Humphries paused to give Erica a nasty smirk. “Maybe you need to look in the mirror.”