“Sorry. You can put me down now.”
He did, slowly, and took a step back. Dane lowered his hand to my arm, offering support if I needed it. Logan kept his hand on my cheek, and I managed to give him a small, quick smile. Quick, because it occurred to me that I was actually covered in blood. “Oh. That’s blood. My blood?”
“Don’t know.”
“You’re all burned,” Damian said. “You’re actually burned.”
“It doesn’t hurt.” I felt a little woozy, but otherwise, remarkably okay for nearly being burned alive. Or a close, psychic approximation of it. “I can’t ride in your car like this.”
Disbelief flashed across Logan’s face before he laughed. “Don’t worry about my car. Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Gently pulling my hand out of Damian’s grasp, I flexed it and took a closer look. Yep, there were small, clear blisters all over my newly pinkened skin. I pulled my coat sleeve up, and the blisters continued up my arm. “Is my face blistered too?”
“Yes. I am so sorry, Cordi.” Damian was quivering with guilt, the corners of his lips downturned.
“I’m okay, really. Nothing hurts. Well, my throat, but other than that...”
“What in the hell just happened?”
I turned around to look at Dodson, Logan and Dane moving to be ready in case I passed out or something. At least, I thought that’s what they were doing. The big detective looked a little pale, and the front of his clothing was smeared with blood. His eyes looked slightly wild too.
Though such visions weren’t all that regular, and I’d definitely never had one of being burned alive before, I couldn’t resist assuming a nonchalant tone. “Sometimes, psychic stuff goes all out. That’s what happened. I got a minute of reliving what those poor men went through.”
Dodson stared at me, and I wished I could see myself. It had to be sight that wouldn’t soon be forgotten. I probably looked like Carrie after the pig blood had been spilled on her. Behind him, the others were gathered around the door, also staring at me.
I shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t know in advance what’s going to happen. Even sorrier, because it didn’t give us anything useful.”
Dodson opened his mouth, closed it and looked down at his shirt. He looked at me, grunted, and turned around. “Show’s over. Back to work.”
EIGHT
Strangely entranced, I stared in the mirror. Where in the hell had all the blood come from? Even my pea coat was soaked in it. The only item of clothing it hadn’t soaked through were my boots, but from the feel of it, my socks hadn’t escaped the deluge.
“You okay in there?” Logan asked from the doorway of the restroom. He was keeping the door from closing, to keep an ear on things. I didn’t think I was in danger of passing out, as the woozy feeling had passed.
“Yeah.” I finally turned the water on, happy the museum hadn’t upgraded to the water-saving, auto sensor type faucets. After peeling off my remaining glove, the interior of which was bloody, I began washing both hands. The pinkness was fading from my skin. I hoped the blistering disappeared as fast.
“Kind of thinking touching the dead is not a great idea for you.”
“Can’t really argue with that.” But I’d probably do it again, somewhere down the line. “What did it look like to you?”
“An explanation of why there’s been fresh and cooked blood. It was seeping down, out from your hair at first. After Dodson picked you up, it looked like it was coming from every pore. The blisters appeared just a second after that.”
“What can cause that?”
“I don’t even have an idea,” he said. “I see Dane coming back.”
He’d gone out to the car to grab Logan’s bag from the trunk. Shifters, at least those of my clan, tended to keep extra clothing on hand for emergencies. I was in luck, because this time, Logan’s extras were sweats. They’d be too big, but at least they’d be dry.
“I’m going to need a trash bag for my clothes.” I hoped the blood would wash out of everything, and congratulated myself on not succumbing to the “Women in Leather” stereotype. I could only imagine how difficult peeling off blood-soaked leather pants would be.
“We’ll find one.”
“Hey, and maybe one of those dust cloths to dry off with?” I’d need more than paper towels for my hair in particular, assuming I could figure out how to rinse it in the shallow sink.
“Sure.” Logan followed that with, “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Dane said. “Does she need anything else?”
Logan gave him my requests, and our partner went off in search of both items. I went to the door to take the bag, holding out my other hand for his inspection. “I think it’s fading.”
He looked at my hand and my face before nodding. “It is, but maybe we should call Alleryn and have him look you over.”
I hesitated, but then I could quiz the healer about his Prince’s sudden political aspirations. Of course, I had an idea about them, but confirmation would be nice. Plus, getting a checkup would put a stop to the worried vibes zinging off Logan, Dane, and Damian. Those vibes were getting annoying, like little electrical shocks. “Okay. I guess ask him if he’ll meet us at my place.”
“Will do.”
Dane returned with a big, black trash bag and a clean, folded dust cloth. “Here you go, Bloody Mary.”
“Hah. You’re funny. Thanks.” I was careful to keep both clear of my clothing. “Okay, time to shut the door and make certain no one busts in on me.”
“They’ll have to go through us first,” Dane promised with a grin. “I bet Dodson thinks you’re a badass now, after how quickly you went from screaming to cool as a cucumber.”
I had to smirk a little, feeling smug I’d recovered so quickly. “Be out in a bit.”
Door shut, I went back to the sink area, put the bags and dust cloth down, and began undressing. Each item went into the trash bag immediately, though I stuffed my bra and panties underneath my jeans and shirt.
Naked, I backed up to take another look in the mirror at the blood smeared all over me. For just a minute, fear took hold. What if the vision hadn’t been a psychometry effect, but a precognition?
I shook my head at my mirror self. Don’t go borrowing trouble, Cordi.
Nearly an hour later, I stepped out of the restroom with the duffle and half-full trash bag. Dane immediately offered to take both, and I let him. Not knowing if it was my blood or not, I’d put both used paper towels and the dust cloth in the trash bag. My boots were in the bag too, leaving me to walk around in my borrowed socks. I’d skipped donning Logan’s boxers, surprised to find a pair included since the one time I’d helped him undress, he hadn’t been wearing any. Well, none had been in his jeans when I pulled them off him.
“Now what?”
“Damian wants us to look at the security tape,” Logan replied.
I made a “don’t really want to” face. “Experiencing a little of it was kind of enough for me.”
“Then we’ll tell him that, and take you home.”
We set off for the security office, and found both detectives and a uniformed officer there. The maroon smears decorating Dodson’s clothing apparently bothered him, because he was brushing at one on his shirt when we walked in.
“Hey.”
Damian spun around, scanning my face. His brightened. “You don’t look as burned.”
“It’s fading, but Logan called Alleryn and I’m going to get checked over. Pretty sure I’m fine though,” I added when another dart of worry zoomed from him. I hated asking in front of Dodson, but did anyway. “You don’t want me to watch their deaths, do you?”
“Of course not. But I do want you to watch just before, and what happened after. If you feel up to it?”
That I could do. “Sure.”
“Okay, have a seat.” He nodded at the uniformed cop, who began tapping away. A second later, I was seated and watching the screen. A lump rose in my throat when I recognized one of the security g
uards as they walked into the room with alert expressions. It was Ernie, the sixty-something man who’d shown us the video of the magic mirror’s theft.
They split up after entering, each covering a side of the room, and halted at the back of the coach to converse. There were head shaking and shrugs. Whatever they’d heard or seen, no one else was in the room with them.
All of a sudden, both men went rigid, their stiff bodies floating upward until they were three or four feet off the ground. “Pause that.”
The cop did, and I studied the image closely. Nothing indicated an invisible being had grabbed and lifted them. “Telekinesis.”
“Jump ahead,” Damian ordered. It took a second for the cop to find the right point, and we watched as the glass tops of the display cases exploded. Once the glass settled, a pair of dark brown, leather boots went floating out of sight, followed by the stick from the other case.
“Telekinesis again, and the cause of death has to be pyro-kinesis. I don’t know how the killer does the blood thing.” I sat back, sickened by the idea of someone using psychic abilities to murder innocent humans. “With telekinesis, there’s no need for him to kill anybody. Why is he?”
“He wants blood.” Dodson brushed at his shirt again, his eyes on the screen. “We’re probably looking at a vampire.”
“The vamp council has rules about killing humans.” Look at me, defending the very beings I’d once been happy to turn to ash for any reason. My, how things had changed. “If the killer’s a vamp, he or she has gone rogue.”
“Could this be political then?” Damian’s brow was furrowed when I turned the chair to look. “Maybe a vamp trying to prove he or she is beyond the council’s control?”
“I couldn’t tell you, but I can talk to Lord Derrick. Tell him it’s possible there’s a rogue, and I bet the vamp council will turn the Barrows upside down, looking for one. Of course, if they don’t find him or her, it’ll either be because the killer’s not a vampire, or the killer’s not staying in the Barrows to avoid being found out.”
“Right.” My friend nodded.
Dodson was brushing at his shirt, his blue eyes moving from the screen to Damian. “She can’t just go blab about the case to vampires.”
“I don’t know how they did it where you’re from, but here, we’re committed to working with the various supernatural law personnel.” Damian dismissed him with a cool glance. “I’ll talk to Stannett, and let you know if he okays it, Cordi.”
“Sure. Anything else you need from us tonight?” Exhaustion was beginning to set in, along with a super-sized headache.
“No, go on and get checked over. Let me know what the healer says.”
“Sure thing.” I got up, and Damian touched my arm.
“Thank you for trying, and I’m sorry the experience was painful.”
I moved enough to peck him on the cheek and smiled. “It’s okay, all part of the psychic package. I’ll text you later.”
“All right. Bye.”
We left, Dane slinging the trash bag with my soggy clothing over one shoulder. “Well, this has been an interesting night. You planning to grill Alleryn about Thorandryll?”
I had to cover a yawn, wincing because it caused a spasm of pain. “I was, but man, I’m tired.”
“I’d ask, but he ignores me. He’ll speak to Logan.”
Pushing the main door open, and nodding to the officer on watch duty, Logan uttered a soft snort. “He keeps our conversations limited to orders and snarky remarks.”
The concrete’s cold seeped through my borrowed socks after my first two steps outside. I swallowed my first reaction to Logan’s statement, which was “Well, he is an elf,” and frowned. “Not nice of him.”
“Elves don’t see a reason to be polite to those below them, which is all non-elves. Minus a few exceptions.” Logan stiffened. “He’s leaning on my car.”
“Alleryn?” I peered at the parking lot. “Oh, Brock.”
The reporter was leaning against the back of Logan’s car, and didn’t move when we approached. He was too busy studying me, and I wasn’t comfortable with his scrutiny. I hadn’t felt silly until then, in my borrowed clothing and shoelessness.
“Miss Jones, Mr. Sayer. Care to comment on what’s going on tonight?”
Logan’s response was short and succinct. “Get off my car.”
“No comment,” I added to his demand.
Brock smiled, and moved, his attention turning to Dane. “Don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Nate Brock.”
Dane just looked at him while Logan checked the dark, glossy green paint for scratches. Not finding any, he shot Brock a flat, unfriendly look before unlocking the trunk for Dane to toss the bags in.
“Weren’t you wearing something different when you arrived, Miss Jones?” The reporter’s eyes were back on me, and I hoped I hadn’t missed any spots of blood. “What happened to your face?”
“No comment.” I’d forgotten the blistering.
Brock grinned. “Any comment on your boyfriend deciding to run for mayor?”
Dredging up my sweetest smile, I repeated, “No comment.”
“Benjamin Jones, that’s your father, right? And ah, Sunshine Jones, she’s your mother?”
Damn, he worked fast. It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep smiling. “No comment.”
He shook his head. “Lack of cooperation seldom works in my subjects’ favor, Miss Jones.”
My brain began to itch. Brock was trying to get into my mind. Logan slammed the trunk lid hard enough to shake the car, and I jumped.
The reporter just looked at him. “Nice car, Mr. Sayer. Did you restore it yourself? You’re a mechanic, right? Have a garage in the Palisades?”
Dane herded me to the passenger door. Logan pretended Brock didn’t exist, walking around the reporter to the driver’s door.
“How about you, young man? Are you a mechanic too? Why would the police need a couple of mechanics at a crime scene?” Brock paused before firing off one more question as we were getting into the car. “And why does the Prince’s girlfriend need two mechanics escorting her around?”
I’d gotten into the backseat, because Dane wouldn’t, and sighed as both men shut the car doors. “He’s good.”
“He’s irritating.” Logan started the car. “And he’d better move.”
Brock did, and the mental itching began to fade. I turned to watch him, trying to estimate the distance between us. “Don’t back out yet.”
“Why?”
“I’m checking something. Did either of you get an itchy brain?”
They replied in stereo, “No.”
“Good.” The itchy sensation stopped completely, and I turned around. “About forty feet. That’s his telepathic range.”
“Helpful to know.” Dane twisted in the front seat, hooking his arm around the headrest. “Do you catch brain chatter from us all the time?”
I had to think about it, and finally shook my head. “Actually, I don’t think I do. I catch emotions sometimes, but I think most of the telepathic contact has been direct. I listen for you guys to think at me.”
“Logan’s driving, so try doing to me what Brock was trying to do to you.”
“Dude, I don’t pick brains like that. Especially not my friends’ brains. It’s rude.”
Dane laughed. “I know you don’t, but I’m asking for a good cause. I want to know if I have a secure brain or not, and if I do, how secure it is.”
I hesitated, feeling it was wrong to even think about breaking into a friend’s mind. That was way different than simply listening to thoughts flying out of people’s heads, or “dipping” into the minds of those without any mental shielding to speak of, in order to glean information. “I don’t know.”
“You won’t be doing anything wrong, because I’m asking you to do it.” He smiled. “I think it’s important we find out if it’s possible for Brock to get inside my head.”
He had a point, and I reluctantly agreed. “Okay, but let
’s be clear: I am not comfortable doing this.”
“Noted, and sorry I’m asking, but I really think it’s necessary.”
“You do realize that if someone with psychometry touched you, they could find stuff out that way, right?” Though, come to think of that, I couldn’t recall my psychometry reacting much when I touched shifters. Only a single, vivid episode with Patrick, Nick’s older brother came immediately to mind. “It’s a gate opener for other abilities.”
“Sure, but I’m thinking telepathy is the big issue. Most vamps have it.” Dane flicked his fingers. “You have it, Brock has it. Could be wrong, but I’m thinking that means telepathy’s a pretty common ability.”
Another good point. He was just full of them tonight. “I guess so. Okay, ready?”
“Yes.”
NINE
I’d established a telepathic link with Dane before, to transfer a memory from him to Leglin. That had been with my partner’s cooperation, and his intent focus on the appropriate memory.
This time, Dane wasn’t being cooperative, and my linking attempt ran smack into a wall. “You do have a natural shield.”
“See if you can break through it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, because I don’t know what could happen. I might break your shield permanently, or give you an aneurysm, or who knows what?”
“Logan’s here,” Dane said. “He can help me shift, and I’d heal.”
I appealed to Logan. “I don’t think it’s safe. I’m used to scanning and talking. This is way different.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror at me. “We trust you.”
Maybe they shouldn’t about this particular thing. Technically, no one was safe from a powerful, skilled telepath, including less powerful telepaths. Hence my running as fast as possible away from Derrick the first time we crossed paths. If I threw modesty to the winds, then I counted as a powerful telepath, but as a skilled one? Not so much.
Dane was watching me. “Come on, Cordi.”
“Okay, fine.” I huffed out a breath. “But if it starts to hurt, say something so I can stop.”
A Little Street Magic Page 6
