Winterstruck: an urban fantasy supernatural crime thriller

by Sara C. Walker

  The door down the hallway opened. Luke. I stopped when he entered the waiting area.

  I wanted to cross the room and wrap my arms around him, but he hadn't even looked at me yet.

  I gestured at the coffee table, where a cup of coffee had gone cold next to a plastic-wrapped sandwich. "I thought you might want something to eat."

  "Thanks."

  "How's your dad?"

  "Not good. He's on oxygen, but between the asthma, the COPD, and his age, there's only so much they can do."

  He was being very logical about this, but I knew that was a defence mechanism.

  "How…how are you doing with all this?" How are we?

  He shrugged. "It is what it is."

  His eyes met mine, then, and they were full of sadness and worry. I wanted to walk over and hug him and tell him it was going to be okay, but I knew that was a lie and I knew he didn't want to hear anymore lies.

  He stepped into the room and sat down in one of the hard vinyl chairs. He picked up the sandwich and peeled back the plastic wrap.

  "You know what?" I said. "That coffee is cold. I'll get you a fresh one."

  "No, no. It's okay. I'll drink it."

  He spread out the plastic film until it was almost square and set the sandwich on it. I think it was tuna or chicken. I couldn't remember, but it smelled strongly of mayonnaise.

  "Thanks for coming," he said. "I know this isn't easy for you."

  I shrugged. He remembered how much I hated hospitals. I'd disliked them for my whole life, but when my father died and my mother chose his bedside to tell me it was my fault for not being there, I really couldn't stand being near one.

  "It's fine," I said, meaning our relationship would be fine and I would do anything for him, including sitting in this place.

  But we both knew we were anything but fine.

  "You don't have to stay," he said.

  "Are you staying?"

  He nodded. "I'll take Mother home and stay with her."

  I bit my lip.

  Please don't let this be happening...

  I had to fix this. I had to wipe his mind of this night somehow so we could move on.

  "Luke?" I recognized the bellow of his mother. "Luke!" she cried frantically, as though she was looking for a lost boy on a playground and not a twenty-seven-year-old man.

  He got up and went to the hallway.

  "In the waiting room, Mother. Julia is here."

  "I need you down here," she snapped.

  Luke threw me a look that was half worry and half "see what I've been putting up with?" and got up to answer his mother's beck and call.

  I didn't wait for an invitation; I followed him down to his dad's room.

  We found his mother pacing back and forth in front of a closed door.

  "They took me out of the room," Marjorie said as soon as she saw Luke. She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the door.

  "You have to go in there," she said. "You have to find out what's going on."

  "Mother, I'll only get in the way—"

  "For heaven's sakes, you're a doctor, Luke. You belong in there!"

  "I'm a researcher for another hospital—"

  "I don't care." She opened the door and thrust her son inside. Stunned, Luke stumbled into the room. Marjorie pulled the door shut.

  I wasn't sure what to do. Shocked as I was by Marjorie's actions, I stood there with my mouth open, wondering if I should say something or merely hope she took no notice of me.

  She burst into tears. I decided to put my arm around her and find her a place to sit before her distress caused her to collapse.

  "Marjorie, are you okay?" I asked gently.

  "I just—I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I haven't slept much since the fire and what little sleep I get has been plagued with nightmares. Emile is everything to me. I don't know what I'd do without him."

  Luke returned within minutes.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. It was something he did when he was thinking. The worry creases around his eyes were deeper than before he went into the room.

  "Dad went into cardiac arrest," he said. "They revived him, but he's…well, with the smoke damage from the fire, his lungs shut down. If he doesn't start breathing on his own again..."

  Marjorie burst into fresh sobs. She threw herself out of the chair and into Luke's arms.

  "Oh, Luke. Why did that fire have to happen? Why?"

  I turned my face away. I knew why. I was the reason why.

  Guilt weighed me down as though I'd been filled with wet cement.

  This was entirely my fault.

  Our relationship was on the brink because of me. Because of my job.

  Emile could die because of me.

  I needed to fix this. I had no idea how, but I needed to do something.

  26

  Alarm bells clanged somewhere in the room. I woke with a start. Light streamed through the break between the curtains. Morning.

  I reached over and shut off the alarm, cracking open one eye to glance at the clock. Six thirty a.m. I sighed. Might as well get up and be on time for work, for once.

  It took some time last night, but eventually Luke was able to convince his mother that the best thing for her to do for Emile was to go home and get some rest. She wanted to stay by her husband's side, worried as she was that he might not make it through the night. Luke assured her that Emile was stable and she could take some time to care for herself. She only agreed to go when he said he would drive her home.

  Wracked with guilt, I could do no more than head home with a greater resolve to catch Hammond. The image of every tablecloth aflame burned behind my eyes. He'd knowingly put lives in danger. I wanted to make damn sure he paid for this.

  For this reason, and for the opportunity to confront Magnusson about Harry, I was looking forward to going to work. And the first task on the list was to refill my bottle and find Luke. There was still time to fix this.

  By the time I reached the office, I'd missed three calls from Oshaun. That in itself was weird, but when I pulled into the parking lot, things took a turn for the strange.

  Oshaun stood in the parking lot, watching as boxes were loaded onto a truck—boxes that were being removed from our office by city cops. Our secret office.

  I parked my car, got out and went over to her.

  "I tried to call you," she said.

  "I was driving."

  "Figured you'd still be in bed."

  I shrugged. "I'm running early today."

  She made a grunting noise that clearly said she didn't believe it, even though I was standing right there.

  "What's going on?" I asked.

  She sighed. "We've lost the case."

  "What? How? Why? I'm so close." A man in a blue uniform went by carrying an open box with a familiar green mug on top. "Hey! That's my mug!"

  Wide eyed, I turned to Oshaun. "What does my mug have to do with the case?"

  She crossed her arms over her chest and gave the cop with the clipboard an icy stare. "Absolutely nothing."

  He shrugged and smiled. He was enjoying this.

  Oshaun took me by the elbow and steered me out of earshot but where we could still see the officers loading up the truck.

  "Magnusson left very clear instructions," she said. "Stay out of their way and let them take what they want."

  "So he knows? He knows they know the location of our office? Our secret office?" My mind grappled with all the implications. "He told them."

  Shit. This was bad.

  I turned my face away from the officers. "We have to stop them," I said quickly.

  "You will do no such thing," Oshaun snapped. "You will stay out of their way as instructed."

  "They can’t do this. We’re federal agents!"

  "They don't care. Remember the victim named Marissa? She was recently separated from her husband," she said.

  "Yes. So?"

  "That husband is a Toronto cop. They want answers and don't believe we're delivering them fa
st enough."

  "So they took over? Just like that?"

  "With the pressure from civilians, they don't feel they have a choice."

  Crap.

  I held my mittened hand to my forehead. This was really bad. "But the cops can't handle taking down Hammond. They know nothing about how to contain him," I argued. "I couldn't even contain him and I know what he is."

  Oshaun set her jaw. "I guess they'll have to find out the hard way."

  "So we just let more people die?"

  "We might have to."

  I shook my head. "No. No, we can't. Magnusson will never stand for this. Wait…where's the boss?"

  Oshaun drew in a breath. "Down at the station."

  I gasped. "He's been arrested?"

  "Detained," she said between clenched teeth. "For questioning."

  "For how long?"

  "For as long as they want."

  "We have to get him out of there. They have no right to hold him."

  "He can hold his own. We don't have to rescue him just yet."

  I chewed on what she was suggesting. "You think he's controlling the conversation?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  "Well, I don't. The fact that these cops are even here suggests he's giving them more information than they need. We need to do something. Can't we just wipe the memories from these cops?"

  "It's not that simple. The restaurant fire has been all over the news. They want answers."

  "Then surely the government will step in and force the local police department to give us back the case."

  "Maybe. But that will take time."

  "We don't have time. Hammond is too volatile. Magnusson said he put in a call to his contact at CSIS. They're working with the military to formulate a plan. We have to call them. They have to help us."

  "The feds don't have to help us at all. We're black ops. They can disavow all knowledge of us."

  Crap, crap, crap. "Why would they do that?"

  "To save their own asses," she said with a sigh. "In fact, I’m beginning to think that’s what’s happened here."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I think the government has told the police that we’re not who we say we are."

  I started to panic. "What happens to us?"

  "Depends on these guys. If they're happy with our work, maybe nothing."

  "And if they're not?"

  "We could be held until the government sorts it out," she said with a shrug. "You have a fallback plan, right?"

  A fallback plan meant going on the run and hiding. It meant never talking to friends and family ever again. It was meant to be used if everything went wrong—if the agency was publicly exposed, if faeries organized and decided to reveal themselves to humans, if faeries decided to turn the tables and call out our agency as the enemy. Or if our own government decided to deny all knowledge of our actions and turn the tables on us, making us the scapegoats for everything that’s gone wrong…

  I'd trusted the government. I'd trusted that we would be able to do our jobs to keep humans safe. I hadn't put together a fallback plan because I never thought I'd need one.

  I shook my head.

  Oshaun sighed with all the weariness of a mother who's heard the question "Why?" fifteen million times a day. She took out her cell phone. "I'm sending you the fallback planning package you got on your first day with us. Make sure you use it this time."

  I wasn't going to let that happen. I wanted my life with Luke.

  "What if I can get Hammond?" I asked.

  Oshaun gave me a look.

  "Before the cops go through our stuff and try to get him, what if I get him first?"

  Oshaun sighed again. "How will you do that?"

  "You still have access to the server?" I gestured at her phone.

  "I have my backup server." She sounded offended that I had to ask.

  "Can you send me the cab company data that Charlie helped me dig up?"

  A flash of bright orange caught my eye. Sitting on the top of a box being passed to the truck was a familiar poster.

  "Hey!" I yelled. "You can't have that." I looked desperately at Oshaun for what to do. "They're taking Garfield. Why are they taking Garfield?"

  We watched helplessly as more than just the information about one case left the office. They were removing everything. Oshaun was right. We’d been disavowed. Cut off.

  "They haven’t arrested us yet. We’re free to go, right?" I asked Oshaun.

  "Yes, but only the Goddess knows for how long. What are you doing?"

  "Send me the data," I said. "I'm going after Hammond."

  I turned to march to my car.

  "I don’t approve of this, you understand. But you can't do it alone," Oshaun warned. "He bested you once. You won’t get near him this time."

  I paused. My shoulders drooped. She was right and I knew it. I'd always known it. There was no way to do this job alone. The fae were just too powerful.

  But I had a partner in mind.

  Was he out there?

  Maybe.

  Only one way to find out.

  I put two fingers to my mouth and blew out a sharp whistle.

  The cops hesitated, raised eyebrows at me, but carried on with packing up our entire operation. Oshaun kept her poker face, but as the seconds turned to minutes, her disappointment showed.

  Suddenly, a black lab bounded across the parking lot. I opened the back door of my car, and he jumped in and sat down on the seat as if he owned the place.

  "Let me know if there's something I can do," she said. "I can't do much—" she inclined her head at the officers. "—but I'll do what I can."

  I gripped the car door, pausing before I climbed in. "Actually, there is something you can do for me..."

  As I drove out of the parking lot I noticed Oshaun typing away on her phone.

  It was time to cash in a favour and see if faeries kept their promises.

  27

  As I drove across town, I had the air cranked full blast to keep the windshield from fogging up. Leander changed into human form and sat in the middle of the backseat.

  "Let's get one thing straight," I said, clipping my words. "We're not friends. You don't work with me; we're not partners. You're—" I glanced sideways and lowered my voice. "fae. The only reason you're here is because—"

  My mind flashed back to Hammond's mouth on my toes, the heated look in his eyes, and how I wanted him inside me more than life itself.

  My car suddenly felt a thousand degrees warmer and four times smaller.

  "You're here to help me put that son of a bitch behind bars," I said. "And then we're done. We're even. We're square. Wookie life debt paid in full. Got it?"

  He stared back at me, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Were my words and tone harsh? Probably. But he was fae.

  And I was still chapped about the police taking my mug. And Garfield. Seriously, how dare they? These things had no bearing on the investigation whatsoever. They just wanted to display their power.

  Today, we finished this. And then I was done.

  "Yeah," he said. "I got it. But just so we're clear..."

  Anger held in check reverberated in his voice.

  I raised an eyebrow, waiting to find out if he was adding an additional clause to our agreement.

  "Don't ever whistle at me again," he finished.

  He was dead serious. And right to call me out for it. I shouldn't have done it, but at the same time, he shouldn't have been lurking. Was he saying he was finally done with hovering around me? I suddenly felt sad about losing his friendship—if that was the word to describe our bizarre relationship.

  "Next time, use your words," he amended, "and ask."

  Relief flooded through me. He wasn't cancelling his friendship at all. He was finally standing up for himself.

  I grinned. "Done."

  I drove past the entrance to the Breckenridge Conservatory twice to be sure. No one was following us. I pulled into the grounds, my breath held, eyes searching for
a patrol car on duty. The overcast day grew darker as we navigated the long road under the evergreen canopy of the wooded area to the main building.

  The parking lot was empty. Just as I'd hoped, the police were too busy elsewhere. My stomach sank as I realized the raid on our office was probably the reason they were busy elsewhere.

  I pulled up next to the staff entrance. Leander shivered from the brutal cold in my car. We hurried inside—after I picked the lock.

  "This place feels weird," Leander said. "Tell me again why we're here?"

  He probably wasn't going to like this. "It's a Summer stronghold."

  He sucked in a breath. Yep. Not liking this.

  "I'm calling in a favour," I said quickly.

  I pushed the door ajar, letting in the winter wind, and said, "Simon, can you hear me? Simon, I found them."

  Then I turned back Leander. "And we're solving this mystery."

  He didn't have time to react or tell me how bad a plan this was because Simon yanked open the door and strode in.

  "Why am I here?" he snapped with narrowed eyes. Already seething. Off to a great start.

  "Wait," Leander said. "You said this is a Summer stronghold, as in a place where the Court resides. But that can't be possible."

  "Why?"

  Simon turned to me. "Because if it was, neither of us would be able to be here without permission of the sovereign. And I would be breaking more rules than you have bones in your body."

  "Was that a threat?" Leander asked, standing with his back straighter, muscles tense.

  Simon looked like he was about to respond to Leander, but then turned to me, waiting for me to answer his question.

  "So if this isn't a Summer stronghold, what is it?" I asked.

  "You might call it a 'way station'," Simon said. "A minor stopping point that our folk have used when passing between our realms."

  "Your folk? As in fae who belong to the Spring Court?"

  "Yes, and those who belong to the Summer Court. We preferred this place for the year-round plants and warmth of the greenhouse. It's energizing for the travel. Obviously, it hasn't been used as a way station since the Veil came down. We checked it for the missing ones shortly after they disappeared, but found no one."