The Hex Files_Wicked Long Nights

by Gina LaManna

  I rapped on the door to the penthouse and waited as I heard some muffled shouting and scurrying noises. Frowning, I leaned closer to listen, practically falling through the doorway when it was pulled open by a woman dressed in more white accessories.

  “Hello,” I said, surveying the woman before me with a bit of confusion. “I’m looking for Mr. Sanders Lupis.”

  “He’s not here,” the female elf said in a dainty, frazzled voice. “Why? Who are you?”

  The woman wore a snowy white dress that slid down to her ankles, jewelry made from the purest of pearls, and eyeshadow and mascara that made even her eyelashes white. Her skin was pale enough to resemble bodies at the morgue, and her hair was silvery in a way that stole my breath with curiosity.

  “I have some questions to ask him,” I said, digging into my pocket for my badge. “I’m a special consultant for the NYPD.”

  “You’re a cop?!” The woman’s eyes bugged out. “Come inside, come inside. I need to talk to you.”

  “Well, that’s a surprise,” I muttered. “But okay then.”

  It could be worse, I figured. She could’ve sent me packing without explanation. At least this way, I could poke and prod about who she was and where I could find Sanders Lupis. The woman had yet to introduce herself, though I suspected based on her dress and appearance that she was Mrs. Sanders Lupis. There was no way she was hired help. Hired help wouldn’t be able to afford the skin pigmentation treatments she’d undergone.

  “Sit down. Do you want a coffee? I was looking for someone to call, as a matter of fact. I’m glad you’re here. What brings you by?” The woman fluttered around the kitchen as if it were a foreign place. “Where the heck would my mugs be? Lucinda! Where are the mugs?”

  The first non-white part of the house appeared in the form of a Goblin Girl, which surprised me. Normally, Goblin Girls spent time in the casinos and worked as ‘special acquaintances’ to men. While the practice was considered legal, it hovered in a gray zone that led to many arrests. One thing I’d never seen before was a Goblin Girl maid.

  Lucinda gave me a bland smile and reached into a hidden white cupboard and retrieved two mugs. “Can I help you with anything else?”

  The woman dressed in white peered into the mugs. “Uh, yeah. Where’s the coffee?”

  Lucinda hid a smile, as if amused by the woman’s obliviousness. “Right away, ma’am.”

  “Sorry, but to whom am I speaking?” I piped up. “I haven’t caught your name.”

  “Oh, silly me. I’m Mrs. Renee Lupis. I’m Sanders’s new wife. We got married a few months back.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” The woman seemed unaffected by my well wishes, instead watching, fascinated, as the Goblin Girl made and poured coffee into the mugs. “Wow, Lucinda—that’s just fab. Thanks, hon.”

  I gave a double blink this time as Lucinda cackled a laugh. Her cheeks turned suddenly pink, as if she was embarrassed. It was an odd blend with the pale green tint to her skin. She ducked her head and coughed to cover up her laugh, then found a cloth and wiped down the already-spotless counter some more.

  “You said you needed to talk?” I asked as Renee slid me a mug. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Yes! It’s totally weird.” Renee flashed inch-long, pearly white talons in my direction as she tapped her fingernails against the counter. “I want to report illegal necromancer activity.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Necromancer activity,” she said. “I think someone’s raising my ex-husband from the grave to spook me.”

  She took a giant swallow of coffee and looked supremely unbothered by her declaration. I choked on my sip and stared blankly at her.

  “You do realize that is a huge accusation?” I asked with all the severity I could muster. “Necromancy magic is illegal and punished quite heavily.”

  “Well, I don’t want my dead husband popping out of my closet,” Renee said, “so punish away.”

  “What makes you think someone is using necromancy magic? Did you see his body? When did he die? Can you just...” I hesitated. “Tell me a little about yourself? I’m trying to piece everything together.”

  The woman slid a bar stool over and sat right at the counter of her kitchen. I took a stool on the opposite side and found myself wondering how I’d ended up having coffee with a woman rich enough to dye her skin deathly pale. Even so, something felt off with her. She wasn’t the typical rich elfin housewife I pictured in my mind. As I waited, she took a deep breath, then launched into a quick-talking tirade.

  “You probably are thinking I don’t seem very rich, huh?” she asked nonchalantly. “It’s okay, I know you were thinking it. I’m not really normal in the Golden District.”

  “Um, I suppose the thought crossed my mind.”

  Renee giggled and leaned closer. “You’re probably wondering about Lucinda—usually Goblin Girls aren’t maids, obviously. But Lucinda’s a friend. She wanted out of the business, and I’d just married this guy—a real sack of money, you know?—so I begged Sanders to let me hire her on to help around the house. I’m so bored sitting around here all day, so me and Lucinda basically hang out and chat. She just does work when Sanders is around, so he doesn’t think he’s paying her for nothing. We were eating bon bons and listening to the dating show when you arrived.”

  “And your husband...”

  She waved a hand. “Sanders doesn’t care. He’s literally so rich he doesn’t know what to do with his gold. He thought it was weird I wasn’t spending more, so I started buying this crap—skin treatments and fancy gowns—so he’d stop pestering me about it. He likes when I spend his money.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I wasn’t raised that way, though. Sure, I’m an elf.” Renee gestured to her ears. “But I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks—that’s how Lucinda and I met. We slummed around the casinos together plenty in our youth.”

  “How did you meet your husband?”

  “Sanders is my third husband,” she said. “The first husband I married for love—then he turned gay and ran away with the pool boy. The next husband died—he’s the one who someone is using to spook me. I married him because he was just so nice. I really liked spending time with him, but then bam! He got himself run over by a trolley. He really wasn’t the smartest bulb.”

  I could barely mask my astounded expression, but I did my best. It must have worked because she continued.

  “The third one, Sanders, I married because the size of his...” She trailed off, tittering. Renee gave me a knowing wink. “Bank account. You know what I mean?”

  I gave an uncomfortable cough. “Close enough,” I said. “And how did you meet Sanders?”

  “I pickpocketed him,” she said. “I wasn’t rich before I married Sanders Lupis. I got caught, though, and when I ‘fessed up and apologized, there was just this fiery spark...” She gave a shudder and closed her eyes in a moment that felt too private to witness. “Anyway, we fell into bed, and the rest is history. Now he gives me his money, I don’t have to pickpocket strangers, and we have great sex. I mean, what more can you ask for?”

  “I just...” I shook my head, bewildered. “I have nothing to say.”

  “So, can you help me out with this ex-husband issue? There’s nothing to extinguish a romantic mood like seeing your ex’s face above the bed, especially seeing as he was hit by a trolley. It’s not like he’s looking his best, you know?”

  “How do you know it’s his real body, and not...a ghost?” I wasn’t certain that I actually believed in ghosts, but in a land where pixies and vampires were real, nothing was too strange to consider. “Did you touch him, or did he touch you?”

  She flinched. “Gross, no way. It’s only happened twice. Both times when I was getting ready for bed.”

  “Walk me through how it happened.”

  “Okay.” Renee stood and waved for me to follow her.

  I hadn’t meant a literal walk-me-
through, but since Renee seemed intent on being thorough, I followed along. The woman had piqued my curiosity.

  “Here’s the bathroom,” she said, showing me an exquisite marble thing with a bathtub big enough to fit seven. Spouts for all different soaps and bubbles and scents circled the edges, and a rain shower and sunlight bulb sat mounted above. “So, I do the whole beauty ritual before bed, do my business...” She gestured to the toilet. “Then I come on over here.”

  I followed her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom via a walk-through closet. The bedroom was a study in white lace and shiny platinum. Only sleek black marble provided a darker accent in the way of a dresser and matching nightstands.

  “I open my closet to get into my robe, and voila!” She threw the doors open. “Saw his face right there. Bizarro, huh? I got so spooked I just slammed the doors shut.”

  “Well,” I said, hesitant. “I’m not actually an expert in necromancy magic, but I’ll tell you what. If it happens again, try to see if it’s an actual body and not some sort of illusion.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “If it is a true necromancy complaint, we have an entire unit that handles it,” I said. “I’ll get them over here to check things out if you can confirm it’s truly his body.”

  “That’s disgusting, but okay,” she said. “Whatever will get rid of him.”

  “I’ll warn you, it’s probably not necromancy,” I said. “The body wouldn’t just...disappear. And if you closed the closet doors, your, ah, ex-husband’s remains would be stuck in here.”

  “Damn, you’re smart! No wonder you’re a cop.” With a bright smile, Renee nodded for me to follow her. “I want another coffee. Lucinda! The coffee? By the way, what did you need to talk to my husband about?”

  “Do you know if he went down to the morgue recently?”

  Renee’s face paled further. “Dead bodies? It’s not my husband doing this to me, is it?”

  “I wouldn’t think so, Mrs. Lupis.”

  “Oh, right. It’s probably something for work,” she said, exhaling a huge breath of relief. “Sanders did say he met with that weird necromancer Sienna a while back. He was down there to scope out an insurance claim on a body. Someone was claiming their grandparent was killed, and it’s Sanders’s job to prove they croaked from old age. Who knows?” She offered a shrug. “Does that answer your question?”

  “Sure does,” I said. “Thanks so much.”

  “If you still want to talk to him, I’d try his office. Do you need the address?”

  “I have it, thanks,” I said. “And if you think of anything else, or if you have any other strange sightings, Comm the precinct and ask for me—I’m always happy to help.”

  “Sweet,” Renee said with a wide grin. “You know, I used to run from cops. And now I’m friends with one!”

  I thought ‘friends’ might be a bit of a stretch. But seeing as I wasn’t exactly a fluttering social butterfly, I should probably take what I could get.

  Which was why I hugged Renee back when the slim elf threw her hands around my neck and squeezed. Only when I was halfway down the steps did I realize she’d never even asked my name.

  Chapter 8

  I Commed Matthew after leaving Renee and gave him a quick update on my progress. After I finished my story about Renee, he glossed over his equally unproductive meeting with Beatrice Brown. Next up, he’d be handling the doctor while I made a quick pass by Sanders Lupis’s office.

  Since I was in the area anyway, I stopped by the elfin gelato stand that won all the awards last year for best dessert. On an impulse, I ordered the Sunshine Spray—a decorated cone in the shape of a sun. Varying shades and flavors of yellows and oranges, pinks and reds, purples and blues spread out in a sticky sweet mess.

  Slurping down my cone, I continued through the Golden District to Sanders’s office. He worked on the far end of the district, and I felt no need to rush. The sun beamed warm and hot on my neck, a refreshing change of pace after the Dead Lands. Sometimes visiting Sienna left me feeling half dead myself.

  Once I’d slurped the last of the gelato clean, I wiped my hands and took a moment to study Sanders’s office. It was sleek and pristine, one of the taller buildings on a skyscraper-free road. Within the Golden District, people weren’t allowed to build upward like they were in the marketplace. It was a symbol of wealth.

  The door to the lawyer’s office slid smoothly open, and the second I entered, I felt the chilly efficiency. Charmed orchids bloomed on the front desk, hanging in an impossible balance of beauty and perfection. A light floral scent seeped throughout the room, infusing every square inch with a soothing tone. It was at once meant to relax and intimidate.

  I felt neither relaxed nor intimidated, but I also wasn’t Sanders’s normal visitor. I imagined the person who might step foot in here—it would be someone feeling nervous, most likely. After all, it wasn’t often that someone went looking for a lawyer when their life was in a nice harmony. Even if the lawyer was meant to help with a positive event—purchase of property, sale of creative rights, adoption—nerves would still run rampant. Who visited Sanders recently? Why did the lawyer visit the morgue?

  The visitor would also have money. Even my footsteps felt out of place in my functional, yet not-exactly-trendy, shoes. Then again, I wouldn’t want to be in four-inch heels when trying to bring in a werewolf under a full moon. That was just asking to be eaten for breakfast.

  “Hi, I’m here to speak with Sanders,” I said, easing my way up to the receptionist. “I don’t have an appointment.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” The elf sitting behind the desk gave a practiced frown. “He’s booked weeks out. I can fit you in at the end of the month if...”

  She trailed off as I pulled my badge from my pocket and slid it across the marbled countertop. “How about we find an appointment about five minutes from now? I’ll try not to take long if he cooperates.”

  She cleared her throat, glanced at the badge, and made a valiant effort not to look intimidated. After all, she was probably trained to deal with law enforcement. If Sanders was doing something unethical, he might have trained the elf on an escape route, which was why I had my eye on her fingers—making sure she didn’t press some sort of personal alarm to Sanders that’d alert him to my presence and make him mysteriously unavailable for questioning.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t wrong.

  As the elf’s hands inched below the desk, I removed my Stunner and placed it in plain sight. “If I get a memo that Sanders isn’t back in his office, my finger might just slip on the trigger. I’m guessing you don’t want to mess up that nice haircut of yours with a jolt of electric magic, do you?”

  Her lip quivered. “What do you mean?”

  Her feigned innocence only annoyed me. “Look, Ms.—” I glanced at the front desk sign—“Sweeney. We’ve both been around this block, so don’t play any games. It’s useless.”

  “Detective,” a voice said from the hallway that spilled into the waiting room. “May I help you?”

  I took a deep breath. This interview was not off to a ravishing start, but then again, I wasn’t known for my tact. “Mr. Lupis?”

  “Obviously,” he replied, unamused. “You have five minutes. Follow me.”

  I pulled the Stunner back from the desk and tucked it into my holster. I trailed behind him down a cozy lit hallway that felt more like a spa than a lawyer’s office. Clearly, Sanders Lupis had done well for himself. Though whether he’d done well legally was another question entirely. Most lawyers didn’t have an escape plan with their receptionist.

  “What can I help you with, Detective?” Sanders entered a sleek, carefully decorated office and sat behind the desk without extending a similar invitation. “I understand you’re not here for small talk?”

  “No, sir,” I said, taking a seat in the chair opposite him. “I’m here on a case. I see your assistant is prepped for such occasions.”

  His eyes narrowed. �
��What do you want?”

  I studied his Herculean blond hair and pale blue eyes. His ears had a slight point to them, his lips a perfect pink pout. Even his cheeks were flushed the appropriate amount, giving life under his shiny helmet of styled hair.

  “Why did you visit the morgue?”

  Whatever Sanders had expected, it wasn’t that. Then again, the man defended many horrible people for his career. He probably expected the dead ones to be the least of his problems.

  “The morgue,” he said slowly. “Is this about that necromancer?”

  “What about her?” I asked, striving for loyalty to Sienna, but unable to shake the sight of Residuals on her hands. She’d been lying about something, and for the first time, I found myself wondering if Sanders knew what she was hiding. “Do you know her well?”

  “Sienna? No,” he said. “I’ve run into her on a few occasions. Sometimes she’s called to testify in court. I’ve been for and against her testimony, and let me just tell you, it’s much more pleasant when we’re on the same side. She scares the living daylights out of me—no pun intended.”

  Though he made it sound like a joke, I could see the flash of fear in her eyes. “Why’s that?”

  “Listen closely, Detective,” he said, folding his hands on his desk and leaning toward me. “My business isn’t one of playing nice. Sometimes, we gotta do what we gotta do. And the necromancer is never willing to go to bat. For any sum.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve tried to pay Sienna off?” The Sienna he spoke of was the one I knew, so I latched onto that hope and barreled onward. “And you’re upset because she refused to take the bribe and stuck to the truth?”

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not admitting to anything except the fact that the woman can’t be swayed in any direction. Last time I was at the morgue, I was crossing my fingers her testimony agreed with me.”

  “And was Sienna on your side?” I asked. “What case were you looking into?”