by Tina Gower
We enter the auditorium and find our seats. Yin, an actuary I worked with in a recent love predictions case, waves at me from across the room.
“Kate! My gods, it’s been too long.”
“Yin. I’m glad I saw you—”
“Me too. I just wanted you to know: if you ever need anything. Any. Thing. I will be there. You know that, right?” Her eyes pin mine down with crazy intensity, like she’d murder for me if I asked her.
Makes sense. Becker and I took care of a jealous ex-friend of hers that she couldn’t do anything about directly. She did owe us. Maybe not enough for a murder sentence.
I pat her shoulder assuring her all is well. I don’t intend on holding her to a debt. She eventually stops assuring me that she will find some way to repay me when she sees her coworkers enter the auditorium and excuses herself to join them.
I text Hank that we’ve safely passed through to the seating area. Front center. We throw our coats down, claiming the pre-planned spot. I text Hank again to let him know we got the desired seats as well. His response back is immediate.
Hank: That was fast. They have zero security at this place. WTF?
Me: It’s an actuary lecture. We’re all nerds. The worst thing that will happen is someone argues over pi.
Hank: That’s stupid. Cherry is the best.
Me: Not pie. PI, as in the numerical value.
Hank: ??
Me: Never mind.
Hank: I’m just fooling you. Of course I know what pi is. There’s a long pause and then a section of text in another font as though it had been copied, cut, and pasted from a website. Pi is a mathematical constant. It is the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter.
I grin. Great detective work, Hank.
“What? What’s so funny?” Ali asks.
I show her the exchange.
She frowns. “He’s got to be insane. Cherry?” She drops the phone back into my lap as though it’s dirty. “He’s never tried my key lime meringue. I’ll forgive him. Until then.”
I scan the room and recognize two of my old professors plus another that looks familiar gathered at the far back side of the room. Then I realize with shorter hair and a button-up with a bow tie the familiar-looking woman could pass for my prediction ethics professor’s fraternal twin sister. No wait, Dr. Lal is crocotta, a descendant of hyena spirits who usually shift genders every so many years. They’re definitely the same person. As far as I know, Dr. Lal doesn’t have siblings.
The other two are Dr. Babalu-Aye and Dr. Ochosi, both orishas, multi-versatile African spirits. Dr. Ochosi not only taught our statistics set, but also taught archery in the physical education department and pre-law. Dr. Babalu-Aye had a similar setup, teaching both Intro to Prophecy and the pre-med Chemistry set.
I’m about to signal them, part hoping they’ll remember me and part imagining they’ll offer an opinion on my case, except Yang pops up in between my line of sight before I can catch their attention.
“Kate! Oh wow. I can’t believe you came.” She works her way up the main aisle and then through the row of auditorium seating. “I’ll tell the rest of our crew where we’re sitting.” She waves to Miles, Nyla, Celeste, and Maya—my replacement.
“Hey, Yang.” I force a smile to each of my office mates, not wanting them to see how depressed I am to be on suspension. “You’ve met Ali, my cousin.”
Yang shakes her hand. “Of course. I just got used to the weekly treats. I’m sure going to miss them.”
My grin falters. “Weekly treats?”
Ali makes a no-big-deal gesture. “I’ll still bring them. Why not?”
Why not? I cross my arms and initiate the traitor stare. If my office boots me out without listening to my insistence that the notice was fake and it would jeopardize the main case, they could live without Ali’s “weekly treats.” Fair punishment.
Yang gets cozy in a seat behind us. “Hey, we’re going out for drinks after this. You’re invited to join us, but of course we understand if you can’t come.”
“I can’t.” I answer too quickly, then realize that might have been harsh. “Death threat and all. Want to spend time with those I love.” I put my arm around Ali and force a loving grin.
Ali plays right into it by doing the chin quiver thing and hugging me closer. “I hate math, but my time with her is short.” She wipes away an invisible tear.
It’s too hammy. Yang sees right through it. “I see you’re taking this really seriously.”
“Sixty percent chance, Yang. Sixty. I wouldn’t bring an umbrella for a sixty percent chance of rain.”
“You’re hard core, Hale.”
I smile. “Don’t forget it. Tell Gretchen that she should petition for me to get a waver on the suspension.”
Yang bites the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. Opens her mouth to say something and then goes pale. Her gaze lands on someone behind me.
“Kate! My gods, I didn’t expect you here.” The voice of my ex-boyfriend, Kyle, is like bone on slate.
I curl my fingers, digging into my cushioned seat, not wanting to turn around. But I do. Because I hate myself like that. “Kyle,” I say flatly, no inflection or welcoming in my tone.
He plops into the seat next to me, careening around to nod at Ali. “Hisashiburi. O-genki desu ka?”
Long time no see, how are you? At least I think that’s what he said. I can barely order sushi at a Japanese restaurant with the Westernized spellings and pronunciations.
Ali responds to him in Japanese. “Fuck you, you rank asshole. Stay away from my cousin and get another seat before I hex you and turn you into a worm and introduce you to a pigeon.”
That’s not what she said; I’m just hope-guessing that’s what she told him. And judging from her body language, Kyle’s reaction, and Yang’s—who I didn’t know could speak Japanese along with fluent Mandarin—I’m not too far off.
He dismisses my cousin and refocuses on me. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
“No. It would be rude to leave my date.”
His eyes dart around the room looking for the man who stole me away, then he visibly relaxes. “Ah, you mean Ali. Of course.”
“Of course? What the hells does that mean?”
He doesn’t answer; instead he gives me a knowing smirk—one I would have once found endearing, but now I see him for what he is—so it’s a smirk and not a flirty grin. Asshole. I scan the auditorium for another open seat in the front row. There isn’t one. Shit, I’m trapped here.
Kyle sees someone he knows from another department and waves. That person wanders over and the two chat, freeing me from any further conversation. We’re stuck. Kyle clutches his seat as though someone might force him to move from it. Yang gives me a pity-look—which means she’s heard the rumors.
Ali leans over and whispers into my ear. “Cannon fodder. First sign of trouble, I’m using your married ex-boyfriend demon lover as a body shield.”
I’ve never wanted the worst to happen as badly as I do now.
The lights slowly dim and come back to full brightness. The chatter dies down. People find their seats. I do my best to pretend I don’t notice when a few heads turn my way and whisper. Kyle and I were once an unstoppable team. Nobody knew we were also together until the famous breakup. It became fuel for gossip for years after.
“Can we talk? Please, Kate, it’s important.” His hand covers mine.
I pull it away. Last thing I need is Becker to smell him on me. “I’m seeing someone.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“It’s not?”
Dr. Ochosi bounds onto the stage and adjusts the microphone lower, tapping the mesh end until the speakers squeal in reply.
“There we go. Everyone awake now. I’m delighted to introduce our guest lecturer for the evening. Michelle Kitman needs no introduction, but I’ll ramble through one anyway…”
“You were right.” Kyle leans in closer, keeping his volume low. “My call to Ind
ia was a bust. Jayesh has no idea who you are and they have no recorded vision of you.”
“Great. You should have listened to me.”
“You know we have to cover every angle.” He shifts in his seat. “But your case popped into our system shortly after Detective Lipski left my department. I traced it back to Millie Inman in Health.”
Health? Why would a Health Actuary record my case? Fine. Kyle has my attention, but when I quirk my eyebrow to encourage him to continue he doesn’t give any indication that he’s won this small victory.
“You know I was reassigned to Health for a while…after.” He squirms, uncomfortable bringing up that moment in our shared history. “Millie was a friend of mine.”
“Did you sleep with her too?”
I expect him to get angry, but he has to be decent and look ashamed. “I deserved that.”
A shush comes from behind us and we settle into our seats, facing forward, listening like the good little actuaries we are. The intro comes to an end. The crowd cheers.
“I was invited to her retirement party.” Kyle takes this moment to finish his conversation. “She’s retired. Millie. Her account was never deactivated. In fact, I found seventy active accounts from past employees. Someone is using them to create false reports.”
There is some small presentation of a plaque to Michelle. She waves it around and the crowd cheers harder.
He leans into my ear, his breath like a humid settling of stagnant air before a hurricane. “What’s going on, Kate?”
“I need you to list those accounts and get it to Lipski or Becker. We need to know what reports are being falsified.”
Kyle grits his teeth in a very grim but-wait-there’s-more expression. “It’s not just that. There are whole cases that as far as I can tell were false and we had an investigative actuary on it, solving it, changing fate.”
The air gets tight in my lungs. “Wait. What?” Wyrd was using our own people to do their dirty work?
A chorus of shhhhs hiss around us.
Kitman is on the stage alone, but her presence fills every seat and square footage. Each member of the audience appears to grow an extra inch as we all straighten as a collective, waiting for her first words. Ever confident, she takes her time. She sets her plaque under the podium, two quick tugs on her sleeves and her shirt obeys, releasing every crease and wrinkle as if they were soldiers calling to attention. Her hair is dark like mine, but unlike mine, she has two streaks of grey jutting out from her temple and wrapping all around her hair and spiraling into her bun. Her heart-shaped face has aged well. I’d heard she had some distant angel genes in her mixed with something rougher, edgier—griffin? All I knew was she was slightly adept toward magic. Not much, just enough to sense it.
Kitman reaches for the mic, coughs, and takes a quick sip of water. A light red rim around her eyes betrays her goddess-like presence, revealing her tiredness. “I had a lecture in Paradise Falls yesterday, and flew in from a consultation in Taiwan. A week ago I was at a conference in Mexico City. It’s no wonder that my body chooses today, the day I’m in my home city and the day I’ve been waiting for, to turn against me. Thankfully there are some good anti-viral spells out there.”
There’s a warm laugh from the audience.
“At least I had my personal health oracle issue me a warning so I could make an appointment before it caught up to me.”
Another murmur of agreement from the auditorium. She lays her index cards on the podium, the lights dim, the projector screen lowers, and is illuminated.
“Unsolvable cases.” She points the thin remote that looks large in her delicate hand. A picture of a young boy pops onto the screen. Five, maybe six? His soul-filled eyes seem to stare out through the ceiling; his hair frames his jawline. “Let’s dive a little deeper into techniques we can use to solve those cases that haunt us for our entire careers. This one is mine…”
I sink into my seat, attempting to listen to the woman I’ve studied, admired, love-hated, and obsessed about for the last ten or so years of my life. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if she’s held a place in my brain matter even before I knew of her existence—and Kyle, fucking Kyle, has to ruin it for me. Because now all I can concentrate on is the new bombshell of the case that may never end. My unsolvable case.
The roar of clapping jerks me from my dark thoughts.
Kyle nudges me from the side. “Hey, you doing okay?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head and search for my purse under my seat.
“You’re doing that thing where your forehead crinkles. You’re upset about the case and what those active accounts might mean. The leak goes a lot deeper than we thought. Who knows what other ways they’ve infiltrated our system? Maybe if we sit down together we can knock this out. Come up with a strategy to tackle it.”
I stare at Kitman. I came here to hear her speak and then be introduced to her, get her to take on the case, feel out any info from past cases Wyrd might be trying to overturn, assess her danger. I didn’t come here to connect with Kyle.
I smile at him anyway. “I’m wondering…how well do you know Kitman? Is there any chance you can get me an introduction?”
His face goes blank, not having expected me to respond to him at all. “I don’t know her, but I might know someone…” He searches the audience frantically. “Maybe Greg. Silvia.”
Yang leans forward between us. “I could introduce you.”
I clutch my purse and stand. “Thanks, Yang.” I elbow Ali to wake her up.
“So I guess that means you’ll be going out with us?” Nyla jumps up and down and claps.
“Huh?” I look to Yang for clarification.
“She’s meeting us there. I can introduce you here, but it would have to be quick.” She tips her chin to the stage where the line for Kitman wraps down through the auditorium and nearly out the back doors. “You’d get more time if you come out with us.”
Kyle’s eyes go wide at the opportunity. “If you just give me a minute. I could probably—”
“Is it over?” Ali rubs her face and does the quick drool-wipe check. “Oh, thank the goddess.” Her gaze lands on Kyle and she makes a bitter face. “I thought you were a hallucination. Those are some damn strong cookies.” She holds her head between her hands like it might fall apart if she doesn’t.
“Kate, please—” Kyle interrupts again.
“Can you personally get me an introduction to Kitman that doesn’t require me to stand in line?”
“No.”
“Do you have any more information on my case?”
“No. But—”
Ali steps between us. “She’s trying to tell you to back off. Don’t be a jerk and embarrass yourself. She doesn’t want to date you again. Last time you dumped her—”
“Is that what she told you? She became emotionally distant. I was abandoned by her weeks before…just because I said the words—”
“Oh right, don’t try to explain emotional abandonment to me.” Ali’s knuckles are white from how hard she’s clenching her fists. I know she’s thinking of her father, not my situation. “You were married and were considering going back to your wife.”
“Can we not discuss my personal life out in the open?” I hiss at both of them, mostly Kyle. Ali I can understand, but Kyle. “You dumped me. End of story. It’s old baggage. Let’s forget it and move on. You have a wife and I have a boyfriend.”
Kyle nods like he understands, but his lips press firmly as though he’s not done and won’t be until I hear him out. “I care about what happens to you, Kate. That’s all. Seeing you again reminded me that I never stopped caring. It doesn’t mean I love my wife any less. If my case had come to your department and nobody took it because it wasn’t a high enough priority and you knew you could save me, would you take it?”
Damn it. This wasn’t a fair question. “Of course. I don’t like how things ended, but I don’t wish you dead.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “See? That’s all, okay. That’s
it, I promise. Now let me help.”
Shit. I can’t say the words, so I nod. One quick bob to confirm we’re on the same page.
“Fine.” Ali pushes his chest to back him away from me. “You got what you wanted from her, like always. Talk to Lipski and Becker if you want to help. Kate’s off limits. Or didn’t you notice the were—”
I grab Ali and cover her mouth before she can say werewolf or Becker or any hint that we’re together. Sure, I don’t want Kyle dead, but I don’t trust him either. After Becker’s stunt this morning, I wouldn’t put it past my ex to use his power to take Becker off the case or limit his access in some way. He’d couch it and believe that it’s for my own safety.
“We have to go.” I shuffle Ali and me out of the group. “Text me the address to meet you, Yang.”
“Will do!” she calls out, and the dirty side-eye she flashes at Kyle when he’s not looking tells me I can rely on her to keep our eventual location secret.
“Lipski and Becker are going to be pissed,” Ali says as we sneak out the side exit.
“I know, but if I’m going to get Kitman one-on-one this is my chance.”
“No. I mean the cookies are wearing off.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a baggie of seemingly harmless frosted strawberry desserts. She pulls one out, her complexion pallid, and her tongue sticks out like she’s about to suck a lemon. She gags. “This is how much I love you.”
I hate the emotional debt I’m collecting.
Chapter 8
The bar Yang texts me meets Hank’s complete approval. Some shabby chic owned by two aswangs—shapeshifters from the Philippines. Aswang’s, like wolves, don’t shift anymore—or as rumor has it, aswangs never really could; it was just an optical illusion from various potions passed down through families for generations. My mother’s family had emigrated from the Philippines and we were still friends with a lot of aswang families in the city where we grew up. Apparently, one of the owners is a retired detective and so it’s a popular cop hangout. Can’t get much safer.
