Kicking It

by Faith Hunter

  Using a simple spell I carried in a ring, I unlocked the door and entered Derrick’s room. The curtains were drawn tight, casting most of the room in deep shadows. The only light poured out of the doorway where I stood; it was just enough to frame Derrick’s form in the bed. At a glance I knew I hadn’t woken him, and I stole a moment to admire the toned flesh on display. We were partners, so I’d never let him see me look at him like that, but damn, the man was gorgeous. The sheets were his—sultry red—and as usual, he slept in the buff.

  He’d had a rough night if the twisted and fallen sheets were any indication. Of course that left only more—as in nearly all—of him on display. My gaze stole several moments to glide over the sleek muscles of his back, down to the half-covered outline of his ass, and then onward over the sheet until his strong legs reappeared. He was a thing of beauty—and that wasn’t just my relationship-starved hunger talking. Constantly traveling for cases wasn’t conducive to finding—or keeping—a boyfriend. With a sigh I also noted the signs of distress in my partner’s sleeping form: the way one arm covered his face, the shimmer of sweat on his skin, and the clenched fists.

  Walking across the room, I opened the blinds, filling the room with light. He still didn’t wake, so I headed to the bathroom next. I grabbed his bottle of painkillers from the sink and a pint glass. The first I opened and the second I filled half full of water.

  “Hey, Derrick. Wake up,” I said as I reentered the room.

  No response. Not even a shift in his sleep-heavy breathing.

  I tried again, with the same results. While this much flesh on display made for good eye candy, it also prevented me from shaking him awake. Not that I hadn’t been in this situation before.

  Setting the open pill bottle on the bedside table, I dumped a bit of the water in my palm, let it run down my fingers, and then made a flicking motion. Water droplets flung from my fingers and Derrick jerked backward with a loud inhalation.

  “What—?” Derrick blinked several times before groaning and running a hand over his eyes and down to the dark stubble forming on his chin. “I had a premonition.”

  “I assumed that much,” I said, moving the painkillers and glass closer.

  He took both with a nod of thanks. Then he dumped several pills onto his palm, not bothering to count before tossing them back and washing them down. Wow, the premonition must have been intense.

  I considered waiting in the room for him to tell me what he’d learned—though it may have nothing to do with our case—but he’d no doubt appreciate a chance to dress. If he had any important information, he’d hurry.

  I was halfway through cleaning and reassembling my crossbow when the doors dividing our rooms opened and a now clean and dressed Derrick emerged.

  “So,” I said, setting down my crossbow so I could give my partner my full attention. “Did your premonition pertain to our case?”

  “Yes, but you aren’t going to like it.”

  —

  Sometimes Derrick’s visions were specific. This time? Less so. All he knew—or at least, all he shared—was that I’d find out something important at the No Bull Vegetarian Diner. He didn’t know when or how I’d learn this crucial info, but he said solving the case hinged on my presence in the diner.

  The idea of more waiting, possibly a lot of waiting, didn’t appeal to me, but how could I argue? Premonitions weren’t something that could be fudged—it was the future. You try to change it, and the vision already took that into account.

  Which was why, two hours later I was sliding into a corner booth at No Bull. I hadn’t been sure if I was on a recon trip or a hunt, so I’d played it safe and went full hunt mode. That included all my obfuscation spells, which while I wasn’t exactly invisible—true invisibility charms tended to have a high fail rate—I might as well have been. I was cloaked with a spell that wrapped shadows around me, a look-away charm, and if anyone did manage to see through those, I had a spell that made me even harder to remember than normal. I’d also activated my muffling charm.

  The diner wasn’t huge. It had maybe a dozen booths along the front, a handful of tables in the center, and a milk-shake bar to one side. The seat I’d chosen gave me a decent view of the whole place, with all its shiny chrome and cartoonish art in the style of Roy Lichtenstein. The booths and tables held only a scattering of patrons, but the milk-shake bar was packed. And a milk shake sounded good, but I resisted. I was on a stakeout after all.

  The bell on the door tinkled softly and a young couple entered. Their eyes skittered over my booth without stopping before they picked a booth halfway between the door and me. A dumpy-looking waitress in a salmon-colored uniform took her time waddling up to the couple. I watched as she took their drink orders before heading toward the kitchen and I gave a mental groan. There was nothing sinister or suspicious about this place or the people in it.

  Not yet, at least.

  —

  The dinner rush started a little before six. No Bull filled quickly, a line forming at the front. No one questioned the empty—looking—back booth. With the crowd came a second waitress. Unlike the one who’d been on the clock since I arrived, this girl was all energy and smiles. She danced from table to table as she took orders and delivered food. I was rather surprised considering she was wearing totally impractical footwear for a waitress. I hated the term “do-me heels” but I couldn’t think of any other description. They were bright red with four-inch, pencil-thin heels, and they didn’t match her uniform.

  As I was looking for anything unusual or out of place, the shoes were suspicious. And they were the only unusual thing I’d seen so far today.

  This seriously can’t come down to a pair of stilettos? I’d been hunting shadow creatures for half a week and they were somehow tied up with a giddy waitress who liked heels? It didn’t seem credible, and yet, I had to find a way to confirm or eliminate her as the unknown witch culprit. Which means I need to get my hands on those shoes.

  The bell on the door chimed again, and I tore my gaze off the waitress. I’d intended to study the new patron, but I already knew this one.

  Derrick.

  He didn’t bother looking at the patrons, but, if I judged his studying gaze correctly, he evaluated the room as a whole. He turned in my direction and headed past first one, then two, three booths until he stood at the final booth. He slipped into the seat across from me and then twisted so he could rest his back against the wall with his feet in the aisle.

  Without looking in my direction he said, “With the wall behind it and with this being the only booth without a panel window, this is probably the most defensible place in the room. It also has the best vantage point.” He ran a hand through his short hair, further mussing it, and then shot a smile in my direction. “So, drop the charms and tell me how brilliant I am, Darque.”

  I deactivated my charms and spells.

  “Eh,” I said, swiping a hand casually through the air, “I guess you’ve learned a thing or two working with me the last few years. What are you doing here, Knight?”

  He shrugged and picked up a menu, his hands already gloved. “I thought I’d come help you with your surveillance.”

  “In our five years as partners you’ve never once joined me on a case.” That earned another shrug from him, and apprehension gathered like a winding spring in my chest. “What else did you see in that premonition?”

  Whatever he was going to say was cut short by the appearance of our waitress—and not the happy one as her section was the opposite half of the diner. I ordered a strawberry milk shake but Derrick passed on both food and drink. That didn’t improve our waitress’s mood.

  Once she’d gone, I turned toward my partner. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Did you see the other waitress’s heels?”

  “I’m guessing you haven’t suddenly become interested in fashion, so are you asking because you
think they might be pertinent to our case or because you know they are?”

  “If I’d seen anything else that would help you, I’d tell you.” He frowned. Then he swiveled back around in his seat and rose. “This was a mistake. Enjoy your hunt.”

  “See you back at the hotel.”

  He stared at me, shaking his head. “Here, take this.” He handed me a small disk on a chain. It was the materials he used for healing charms. Was I going to get hurt or was someone I was with going to be? He’d never given me a healing charm before I was injured before.

  I lifted an eyebrow but the waitress returned with my shake before anything else could be said. I thanked her dismissively and then thought better of it.

  “Hey, what’s her story?” I asked our waitress as I nodded toward her coworker.

  “Who, Vicky?” She scowled at the other woman and Derrick sank back into his seat. “You’d never know she took a bottle of pills and washed them down with vodka just a couple weeks ago. Had to have her stomach pumped. Then she gets released and she comes back here and flutters around.” She wiped her hand on her apron before turning back to me and leaning closer, as if we were discussing some conspiracy. “I tell you what—I don’t know what they gave her at that hospital, but I want some.”

  “Is she a witch?”

  The waitress stepped back, giving me a stunned look. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  I shrugged and picked up my milk shake. She took the hint and waddled away from the table. As I sipped silently, Derrick nodded at me.

  “What, you thought you were the only one who could gather intel?” I asked as I set down the shake.

  He ignored that, twisting to look over his shoulder at Vicky, the perky waitress. “She really is very happy. How sad is it that happiness is part of what makes her suspicious?”

  I couldn’t disagree. I also had a hard time imagining her being responsible for more than a dozen hospitalizations and for releasing shadow creatures. Every patron she served seemed happier for having interacted with her.

  Derrick ran his hand through his hair again, making more clumps stand on end. “What do you plan to do?”

  “Short of walking up and plugging her with a sleeping charm, I can’t think of any way to check the shoes for spells.”

  “Yeah, that would be about as discreet as dropping a house on her.”

  He said it while I was in the middle of sipping my shake and I barely choked down the half-frozen liquid around my laugh. I covered my mouth to cover my half laugh, half cough. Once I’d recovered I steered the conversation away from movie references and back on topic.

  “I need a spell checker with more range,” I said, but they didn’t exist.

  Actually they did, and I had access to one. He just happened to have two legs and walked around.

  “Let me borrow your phone.”

  My partner lifted an eyebrow but didn’t question or argue as he handed me the phone. I pulled out the slip where Russell had written his number and punched it into the phone.

  I didn’t need a spell detector if I had a sensitive.

  —

  Officer Russell Lancaster arrived in record time. He wore a goofy smile as he crossed the diner, but it fell from his face when he noticed Derrick.

  “Inspector,” he said, nodding at me and giving the word a chilly formality. He stood at the edge of the table, his features caught in a tide shifting between embarrassment and confusion.

  Derrick was sitting sideways on his bench, taking up the entire thing, so I scooted over to allow the young officer to join us. He did, but his movements were disconnected, uncertain.

  “Officer Lancaster, this is my partner, Inspector Knight. And vice versa.”

  Russell held out his hand but, no big surprise, Derrick didn’t take it. Even with his gloves on he never shook hands. Instead he gave the young officer a sharp half wave. I could all but hear Russell’s teeth grinding from the perceived insult, but it wasn’t my place to reveal that my partner was wyrd.

  “Anyway, here’s the issue,” I said and then laid out a very brief explanation of why we wanted to know about Vicky the waitress’s heels.

  He looked doubtful, and I wasn’t sure if that stemmed from a lack of faith in his own ability or if he just couldn’t picture the bright young waitress as guilty. Still, he didn’t argue but nodded when I finished and closed his eyes so he could concentrate.

  After several long moments he shook his head. “There are a lot of charms and active spells in here. I, uh, might also be a little too close to you, Inspector. Your arsenal is a little overwhelming.”

  Right. I really should have thought about that.

  “You’ll have to get closer to her then. Why don’t you go flirt with her?”

  Russell gave me a stunned look.

  “Maybe it’s just the smile, but she is very pretty,” Derrick added.

  “Not as pretty as you,” Russell said turning large chocolate-colored eyes and his own smile on me.

  Derrick tried—and failed—to cover his laugh behind a cough. I shot my partner a scowl, but I wasn’t insulted. I was very aware of how ordinary I appeared. I used it to my advantage as often as possible. And while I was flattered by Russell’s attention, there was business to be done.

  “You’re cute, but you’re what? Nineteen? Trust me—that would never work.” I paused, giving him a moment to accept my words. “Now, there is a job on the table, and I’ll pay you, but don’t think a heart is up for grabs.”

  The disappointment played across his features, but after a moment he nodded. “Buy me dinner. That will be pay enough for using an ability I can’t turn off anyway. I’ll be right back.”

  He headed for the waitress in the fetish heels and I sipped my rapidly melting shake. Derrick and I both watched as he approached and her already brilliant smile lit up an extra degree. Now those two would make a cute couple. If she wasn’t evil.

  Russell returned after a few minutes and sank into the bench beside me. I expected him to give a report of some sort—he was an officer, after all—but he sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty tabletop in front of him.

  “Are you injured?” After all, the creatures could wound with no physical trauma; maybe the waitress could, too.

  “No. Nothing like that. She was nice. Very nice. I just . . .” His face scrunched, his lips pursing and his brow crinkling. “You were right—the shoes are spelled, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the spell does.”

  Not a good sign for the waitress.

  “You did well. Here. You said you wanted dinner?” I passed him the menu, and then sat back in the booth as I considered what to do next.

  The waitress wasn’t currently hurting anyone, so no need to make a scene and drag her out in front of the patrons. I’d wait until the diner closed. Also, just because her shoes held a complex spell didn’t mean she was guilty, but it was damning enough that I’d have my crossbow at the ready when I approached her.

  Russell’s food arrived and the table fell into silence as he ate, Derrick thought about whatever the hell was bothering him, and I considered the capture I’d make tonight. It wasn’t exactly companionable silence, but it could have been worse. Then Russell’s fork fell onto his plate, food flying off it and skittering across the table.

  “Something’s happening. A spell.” Skipping subtlety, he lifted a shaking hand and pointed.

  Right at the waitress.

  The lights from a truck streamed through the large panel window in front of the table where she stood. It illuminated her and the patrons at the booth in front of her in an eerie yellowish tinge as their shadows stretched across the tiled floor. The waitress stood inside the shadow of one of the men and where her and his shadows met, the darkness quivered, like I was looking at oil instead of the absence of light. It could have been anything, or n
othing, but—

  “What is she doing?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the comingling shadows.

  “I—” Russell shook his head and tried again. “I don’t know. But I don’t like the way it feels.”

  That was enough for me. “Move.”

  He didn’t move fast enough. I vaulted onto the table and hit the floor running. A flicker of stored magic called my crossbow to my hand, and still moving, I lifted and fired. The blue foam bolt hit the waitress in the temple, the spell inside splashing onto her. She went down, hard.

  All talking stopped for one suspended moment, making the diner silent aside from the jukebox. Then chaos erupted. People screamed and cursed. Most jumped out of their seats, rushing for the door until they’d created a bottleneck jam.

  “MCIB,” I yelled, holding the badge over my head. It didn’t help. It rarely did in situations like this.

  I used a touch of magic to send my crossbow back to its holster, and then I shoved my way through the crowd, trying to reach the waitress and her victim. A small pool had opened around the girl, keeping her from being trampled. Which was good—I preferred to take the human elements of crimes in alive. Unfortunately the man whose shadow she’d . . . well, I didn’t know what she’d done to it, but it hadn’t looked good, was gone. Damn it.

  I jumped onto the booth bench and searched the crowd. The man was already outside. Double damn.

  “Hey, Knight,” I yelled, hoping my voice carried over the panicked outcries.

  Derrick, unsurprisingly, hadn’t entered the melee. Instead he stood against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest as he remained well clear of anyone who could accidentally touch him. He watched the madness with a rather apathetic expression, but his head jerked toward me when he heard his name.

  “Can you get her secured and processed? She’ll be down several hours unless someone dispels my knockout spell.”

  At his nod, I jumped from the booth and pulled an evidence bag from my pocket. If I were following procedure—or being intelligently cautious—I would have pulled on gloves and cast a circle before trying to remove Vicky’s heels, but I needed to catch up to the man she’d worked some unknown magic on. And I needed to find out what that magic was. With that in mind, I grabbed the shoes and pulled them off feet covered in welts and blisters.