As I flipped, the world turned upside down, and I saw Logan behind me, then underneath me, then he was in front of me with his back to me. I went to push my foot into his back, but he turned around and grabbed it with lightning-fast quickness, and then I was rooted to the spot with one foot in the air. Logan grinned.
“Don’t push your luck,” he said, releasing my foot. “You should have kept running.”
“But I wanted to knock you over,” I said.
“I’m twice your size—you would never have pushed me over. Good flip, though. How did that feel?”
My heart was pounding. “It was a rush. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
Logan stood in front of me and puffed his chest up. “Hit me,” he said.
“Hit you?”
“Hit me. I want to see how strong you are.”
“But I’m… gonna hurt you, aren’t I? You said yourself I was stronger than the average person.”
“Careful, Logan,” Eli warned, “She may look small, but size doesn’t mean anything.”
“That’s why I want her to hit me. I need to know what she’s working with.”
“And if I’ve never thrown a punch before?”
“It’s easy. Your strength comes from your foot. Just twist your body and push your fist into me with the strength form the twist.”
I shook my head. “I’m gonna have to give this a few tries.”
“You get one try to knock the wind out of my lungs.”
“That’s a tall order.”
Logan frowned. “Just hit me already, stop stalling.”
I sighed, then I got into a sideways stance, wound back my arm, and threw it into Logan’s formidable abdomen. It was like punching a brick wall. Pain exploded through my hand, travelled up my arm, and rattled my teeth.
“Holy fuck!” I cried out, “What the hell are you made of?”
“That… was pretty awful,” Logan said, not flinching.
I looked at my hand. My knuckles were red, and throbbing, but the pain was starting to subside way faster than I thought it would have. “Ow, man. Never ask me to do that again.”
“I won’t. You need to work on your swing, your posture. Maybe strengthen that hand a little.”
“Luckily I won’t be punching you again, so I think I’ll be okay.”
“Have you ever tried punching someone in the face before? Because that’s where you need to hit them if you want to knock them out, and let me tell you, hitting bone with your bare fist is going to hurt you about as much as it’ll hurt them. You need to be ready to receive the pain so you can deliver the strongest blow you can.”
The pain had completely disappeared now, after only a few seconds. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll do that… how can I do that?”
“I have an idea, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I need to find wood.”
Oh Jesus, not another pun. I knew he hadn’t meant to throw the pun out there, which means I was the one with the dirty mind, but he’d still put it out there, and now all I could think about was his—snap out of it, Andi. I had at least an hour of this ahead of me, and I needed to keep my head in the game.
Logan didn’t relent. He kept pushing me, testing my physical limits. I was the kind of person who had a gym membership but didn’t use it more than once or twice a month. Maybe, occasionally, I would go into a health frenzy, cut out dairy, buy nothing but healthy juices, and hit the gym like a maniac, but those phases never lasted; I would be back to eating pizza for dinner and breakfast in no time at all, every day earning the disappointment of my athletic, medal winning sixteen-year-old self.
“Andi,” Damon’s commanding voice pulled Logan and I out of the zone just over an hour after we had started training. He had come out of the side of the house and was holding something up in his hand; my phone. I must have left it in my room.
“That’s my phone,” I said.
“I know, it was ringing in your room. It’s for you.”
Damon handed the phone over. It was Evelyn, my boss. The timer was already running, had been for a few minutes which meant Damon had spoken to her before bringing the phone down to me. I picked the phone up and put it to my ear.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t answer,” I said, “I left my phone in my room, Logan was—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Evelyn said, “There’s been another death related to your case, reported to me ten minutes ago.”
“What?”
“Another woman, this one found in her apartment about half an hour ago by the police. They sent the details right over to me. I want you to go and check it out.”
“Check it… wait, me?”
“It’s your case, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I was just… Logan was training me…”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is a fresh scene, fresh body, you may find something that’ll help. The police are keeping the scene clean for us; they didn’t even bring homicide in. They know this is another one of those weird deaths.”
I nodded. “Okay… I’ll go right over.”
“I’ll text you the address. Let me know what you find.”
I hung up and stared at the dark screen, then turned my eyes up at Damon and Logan. “I have to go,” I said.
“We have to go,” Damon said, “I think it’ll be a good idea for me to take you down there myself.”
“Isn’t Eli my partner?”
“Logan and I have been asked to help you both, but I think they should stay here for now. We don’t want too many agents on the scene.”
Logan nodded. “Is there anything Eli or I should do while you’re gone?”
“Nothing that I can think of, but I want the two of you to keep a watch around here, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” I asked.
“Just in case the Circus have decided to keep tabs on us. I doubt they have that kind of manpower, but you never know.”
If that Shade was watching us, we wouldn’t know it. Hell, she could have been standing behind me and I wouldn’t have known. How did we know they didn’t have other Shades working for—or with—them? For all we knew, they had an army of people capable of hiding their whereabouts, their movements. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but I had to be realistic here.
Logan nodded, then called out to Eli. “I’m going to do a circle of the area.”
“Keep your nose clean, big dog,” Eli yelled.
Logan moved past Damon and I then started running toward the front of the property, disappearing as he made the turn around the front of the house. I turned my eyes on Damon, searching them for the answer to a question I didn’t know I wanted to ask. Somehow, he plucked the question right out of my mind and answered it for me.
“Yes,” he said, “There will be a dead body at the scene. The coroner won’t have touched it yet.”
A shiver ran up and down my spine. “I’ve only ever seen a dead body in the flesh once before.”
Damon gestured toward the house. “Tell me about it,” he said.
I started walking. “I was seven, I was with my parents, my dad had put together a barbecue for the local parish on a spot by the riverbank. It was a beautiful day, really, not a cloud in the sky, but there were so many people around it was easy for parents to lose track of their kids, and they lost track of me. I wandered off, probably chasing… man, I can’t remember, but I had an unhealthy fascination with butterflies that bordered on the creepy. It must have been a butterfly. I think it was blue… anyway, I found it, the body, just floating on the embankment.”
“What state was it in?”
“Fat. Bloated. I remember, I found it because I kept hearing this thud, thud, thud, and I didn’t know what the sound was or where it was coming from. The sound was the body’s boots pushing up against a piece of driftwood that had gotten caught in some thick roots. It was sticking up out of the water, I remember, and the body was there. Grey, plump. I screamed so loud I drew half the parish to where I was standing, includi
ng people who hadn’t been at the barbecue. I had nightmares for weeks.”
“Did you ever find out who the body was?”
I shook my head. “I was seven. I wasn’t given a single detail. My parents just acted like nothing had happened. I guess they were hoping that by doing that I would forget everything.”
I opened the bedroom door ahead of Damon and walked inside. He followed me inside and shut the door behind himself. “I get the feeling you’re still nervous,” he said.
“Are you telling me I have nothing to be nervous about? I’m about to investigate a crime scene, my first crime scene. I have no training, no experience, no qualifications, and I’m supposed to try and find a link between this person and the other three people who have died over the past week.”
“I’ll be there to help.”
“I know, but I can’t help feeling like I’m going to mess this up, and people are counting on me.”
Damon took a deep breath, approached, and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Let me tell you something that’s going to help you going forward.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Okay?”
“Soon enough, people are going to want to stop hearing about how nervous and unprepared you are.”
I arched my neck back as a rush of surprise, and a little anger, flooded my chest. “Wow. I was not expecting that.”
“I don’t mean to sound harsh, Andi, but you are a lot more competent than you think, and you’re a Mage. You have the skills you need, and the ones you don’t, you’ll learn on the field. Trust me. But, and I can’t stress this enough, let this be the last time I hear you say, or even think, that you’re unprepared or not ready for this task. Is that understood?”
I wanted to call him an asshole, wanted to tell him where exactly he could go and shove his advice. But, and I didn’t know why, I nodded. I agreed with him. I really had been playing the same note ever since this morning, and it really was getting old. That was the only way I knew how to be, though. I’d always been the kind of person who suffered from insecurities, from feeling like she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, pretty enough. I still didn’t feel like I belonged with the DPA, or even the guys, but Damon was right—I needed to stop thinking like that.
“Good,” Damon said, “Now, go and get changed.”
I rushed off into the bathroom and, for the second time today, got changed with a man waiting for me. Mindful of this, I quickly got showered and slipped into a pair of black, skinny jeans and a red top. I had to look at least a little professional considering I would be representing the DPA today, but I didn’t have much in the way of business formal clothes to wear except the pencil skirt and blouse I’d had on earlier, and I wasn’t about to wear that to a crime scene.
When I was ready, I went downstairs to find Damon sitting on the sofa with the case file in his hand. I showed him my phone with the address of the place we were going to—the message had come through while I had been getting changed. Apparently, the place we were going to was on Canal Street, but it wasn’t near the French Quarter, it was in Tulane - Gravier, a neighborhood a little further upstream.
“Do you know the area?” Damon asked.
“Not particularly. How are we getting there?”
He flashed a set of keys at me and jingled them. “Eli’s loaned us his car.”
I snatched the keys from his hand and headed for the door. “I’ll make sure not to get a scratch on it.”
“Did I say you could drive?”
“No, but of the two of us, who is the local? Besides, Eli has a sweet ride I wanna drive. Bring the file, would you?”
Damon frowned, but followed out of the house.
CHAPTER FOUR
Driving Eli’s BMW was as unreal, and luxurious an experience as I had thought it would be. It had proximity and weather sensors, cameras on the front and back, and two TV’s. It was a hybrid, had built in GPS, and more horsepower than any other car I had ever been behind the wheel of, but it also handled like it was made of water. I had never driven a car as advanced as his, and probably never would, but with the music cranked up, I was going to enjoy this drive.
Never mind that I was on my way to a crime scene—even if it probably wouldn’t look like a crime scene when I got there; how could someone having a heart attack in bed constitute a crime, let alone one worth investigating?
Damon didn’t seem to mind my choice of music, which I’d been able to easily play from my phone thanks to an intuitive Bluetooth system. The playlist I’d chosen was made up of an eclectic selection all the way from oldies rock n’ roll, the likes of AC/DC and Guns n’ Roses, to more modern beats like Cardi B. What I didn’t do was sing along, which I normally would have done had we been in the banged up old Toyota I used to own. Someone had just died, after all.
We took the turn onto Canal Street at the edge of the French Quarter and drove up until the buildings on the right stopped looking so festive and commercial, and started becoming a little more residential—a little greyer. The place where we wanted to go was right on the edge of the main street, so finding it wasn’t difficult. There was a cop car by the side of the road when we arrived, with two uniforms standing outside, one of them smoking a cigarette while the other had a word with the homeless man sitting on the edge of the block.
I parked the BMW around the back of the building, a white high-rise turned grey with time. Along the entire back wall, someone had sprayed the word DEVIL, and hadn’t even been fancy about it. I wasn’t sure why but seeing that gave me the willies. I was no stranger to graffiti, but this… there was something oddly sinister about it.
“How are we going to do this?” I asked.
“I’m going to talk to the officers and get us inside. Once we’re in, the scene is going to be yours. I want you to look around, investigate, see what you can find.”
I nodded. “Alright, let’s get to it then.”
Damon stepped out of the car first, then I followed, clocking the group of youths hanging around the dumpster out back. They were all quiet, and they were all watching the shiny, black BMW I had just pulled up in. If ever I needed my Harlequin’s luck to favor me, now was the time. Despite everything that was going on, everything that could possibly go on during the course of the next few hours, having something happen to Eli’s car was among the top of my worries.
Realizing I couldn’t have my eyes on the car and carrying out an investigation, I sighed and followed Damon around the block. One of the cops noticed Damon and walked up to him while the other continued talking to the bum on the corner.
“Officer,” Damon said, giving him a casual, two-finger salute as he approached.
“Can I help you?” the officer asked.
Damon pulled his badge off his belt and flashed it. “I’m Special Agent Sanders, this is my partner, Special Agent Daniels, we were told we were expected.”
The officer—Officer Evans-, badge number 1076—raised an eyebrow, for an instant seeming confused by what he was seeing, but then clarity dawned on him. “Right… hey, Mendez, they’re here.”
Mendez turned his head up and looked over at us, then directed himself at the bum. “I won’t ask again,” he said, “Beat it, okay? People live here.”
“I live here too, man,” the bum said.
Officer Mendez shot him a don’t fuck with me look, and the bum put his hands up and started to rise. Mendez then walked over to Damon and me, his hand outstretched. I didn’t want to take it, but luckily, he wasn’t offering his hand to me; his hand was on its way to Damon, likely for the privilege of being male. Ah, good old-fashioned sexism. “I’m Officer Mendez,” he said, “This is Officer Evans. We’ve been instructed to give you thirty minutes inside the premises, then the coroner will be here to take the stiff.”
“An hour, if we need it,” Damon said.
A kind of low vibration moved through me, barely perceptible, but strong enough for me to notice what it was, who it was coming from, and where it was going to. Damon had done something t
o Mendez, maybe Evans, too. I wasn’t sure exactly what, but I knew it was magic at work.
“Uh… sure,” Mendez said, “I think we can swing that.”
Evans nodded. “Yeah, if you need more time, we can work it out.”
He’s made them complacent. “Thank you, officers,” Damon said, “Please show us to the apartment.”
“This way,” Evans said, heading for the building’s front door.
It was red, too red, and looked new, recently replaced. Tiny, square windows on the door let me to see into the dark apartment building lobby from the outside. It looked grim and grimy from the outside, but it was worse inside. There was a distinct odor about the place, musky and warm, invasive—piss, in other words, and lots of it. Not even dog piss, either; this was people piss. Gross.
Some of the lights were out, some of the mailboxes had been ripped open, and the button on the elevator had popped out long ago, leaving a jumble of exposed wires and a piece of metal dangling from the end of it that you could grab and press. I almost didn’t want to step into the small, metal square, it smelled no better than the lobby, but I also didn’t want to walk up five flights of stairs, which I knew from looking at the numbers on the mailboxes that I would have to climb in order to get to the apartment.
It was a tough twenty seconds but stepping out onto the fifth floor allowed me to take a much-needed lungful of not-quite-fresh but at least fresher air, which not only fought off the smell fighting its way into my nose, but also the claustrophobia of being stuck in that cramped elevator. Mendez and Evans led the way to the other side of the hall where, in front of the small square window on the wall, we found the door to the apartment we were going to be going into.
Mendez produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the apartment door, and swung the door open. I didn’t know how, or why, but right away I was hit with a strange sensation, an eerie, cold feeling, as if the apartment was air-tight, and the air-con had been left on all day only to be freed now that someone had opened the front door.
I walked in after the cops, Damon beside me, and scanned around a living room that looked much nicer than the exterior of this building would have suggested possible. I had been expecting a crap-hole with peeling wallpaper, a ceiling that was falling apart, and that hot, wet stink some old houses had, but it was quite the opposite. The laminate flooring looked new and the smooth, pale orange walls smelled like they had recently been painted. I could tell that the furniture was almost entirely from Ikea, but everything was in pristine condition. Whoever had lived here had really taken care of their home.
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