by Ann Denton
An evil idea spreads through my mind like a thundercloud. “So … we know where our murderer will be later tonight.”
“Yeah, in a crowd of ten thousand people at an open-air concert where she can escape a million different ways,” Bennett’s scrolling through the concert deets on his phone.
“We’ll have to wait,” Flowers agrees with the boss.
“Ah, but we also know her weakness,” My grin spread and glee crackles like lightning in my stomach. I stare hard at Seena. My eyes flicker between him and the posters.
“No. No! I figured out it was Mason,” he sputters.
“Don’t think of it as losing the bet. You didn’t. Think of it as being a hero.”
“I don’t need to be a hero,” Seena protests.
“Then why are you working here?”
Flowers and Bennett haven’t caught on yet.
Flowers eyes bounce between us. “What are you arguing about?”
“Seena’s gonna be our trojan horse.”
“Oh, that cleared it up. Thanks, Fox.” He glares down at me.
But even his glare can’t dampen my joy. “Seena’s gonna be our trojan pegasus.”
The men’s eyes flit to the posters on the wall.
“You think that will work?” Flowers is, as always, skeptical.
“If we call the arena and find out if she’s got a backstage pass…” Bennett eyes Seena. “Only about fifty people get back there. Plus crew. Entrances and exits already guarded.”
“This is a bad idea!” Seena’s voice cracks a bit as he sees the guys start to sway.
“All you’d have to do is talk to her. Give us enough time to surround her.”
“Yes, talking to women is my forte,” Seena rolls his eyes.
“We’re gonna make you look so good that she’s the one who’s gonna talk to you,” I reassure him.
He stares daggers at me. “Bisho’ur.”
I shrug. “Can’t insult me if I don’t know what it means.”
“It means you’re an idiot.”
My grin just doubles. “I think you’re getting confused with your languages again. You mean genius.”
“I don’t have wings.”
His excuses are getting more pathetic by the second. “Lucky for you, I know a lady whose been sewing herself a set of wings for a wedding,” I blow on my shoulder and dust it off. That’s right. I’m feeling that badass at the moment.
Bennett’s already got his phone out, making calls.
I lean toward Seena, who’s slumped down against the dresser. “What kind of stencil do you want on your hip? Ice cream cone? Or … I know! A rainbow and cloud! So she’ll think you’re a big fan too.”
“I hate you.”
“You are gonna be the envy of our entire class. You are gonna be the guy who caught the big City Council Killer.”
“I can’t believe she gave herself that name.”
“Ego right?”
Seena just sighs.
Now that he’s resigned to his fate, I pull out my phone and speed dial Sarah Snow. She answers on the second ring.
“Hey, it’s Lyon. I’m gonna need those wings you made.”
“Sorry, what’s that, sugar?”
“Your wings. And all the body glitter you’ve got. Police business. We’ll write you a check.”
“Is this for that murder case?”
“Can’t say.”
“Ooooh! It is! Well of course, honey, whatever you need.”
“We’ll be there in twenty to pick them up.”
As I hang up, Flowers narrows his eyes. “Are you friends with a hooker? Who has fake wings and body glitter just sitting around their house?”
I laugh. “You can go inside and pick them up for me. See for yourself.”
Flowers looks traumatized as he climbs into the car, a pair of wings wrapped in plastic trailing the ground behind him.
“Get the body glitter too?” I ask.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we might have just done a public service,” he swipes a hand over his eyes.
“Mrs. Snow is an amazing neighbor,” I chide.
“What took so long?” Bennett pulls away from the curb and steers toward his house. He decided (graciously) not to perform Seena’s makeover at the office. In front of everyone.
“She refused to hand over the wings until she’d … modeled them.”
I snort. Seena guffaws.
“It’s not funny. I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to look at another winged woman without flashbacks.”
I bite my lip. I can’t be sure, but Sarah knows what a hard time Flowers has been giving me. Was this payback? I really hope so. I’ll have to ask her later, but for now, I’ve got a pony to dress up.
Two hours later, I can’t believe my eyes. Or the secret snapshots I’ve taken with my phone. Seena might be prettier than me. I may have to hate him a little.
Seena shifted into a horse in the bathroom. And man, whatever muscle he’s missing as a guy he makes up for as a horse. Albeit a tiny one.
We’ve painted him jet black. I had a Broomer deliver some rainbow stencils, paint, and a studded leather collar to Bennett’s house. And then I got crafting.
The wings though. OMG. Underwear models watch out. Mrs. Snow should be making and selling these suckers instead of those nasty potions she’s obsessed with. Nah. Nix that. She saved Becca—who is totally getting a copy of these photos.
I straighten the last lock of Seena’s mane when Bennett calls time.
While I created art, the guys did all the legwork to get Seena approved for backstage and set up the trap. I take a step back from Seena, hands in the air like they do on those nude painting competition shows.
“Bam! Masterpiece!” I stick my hands out and showcase my work, earning myself an approving nod from Bennett, who ducks out (I think to avoid laughing in Seena’s face).
Seena groans as he looks at himself in the mirror. “Ugh. I look like a frickin’ female.”
“You mean a blue-ribbon show pony. And no way you look like a female. You’ve got the leather thing going on. And look, I put lightning bolts through your rainbow clouds. Totally manly.”
I’m working so hard not to laugh. But it’s hard. This is literally the best moment of my life. “If there’s a shootout tonight and I die, I think I will have achieved my life’s goal. Which I didn’t even know until this very moment is seeing you dressed like this.”
“You know revenge is a bitch, right?”
“I look forward to meeting her.” I’m pretty sure he can’t do anything to top this. If he can … well good on him.
Seena gives me a hard look but doesn’t have any more time before the guys trot him out to a horse trailer and load him up for the concert.
I toss an extra vial of glitter into my pocket in case Seena needs touch ups when we get there.
Flowers sidles up to me as we watch Bennett drive off with our magnificent murderer-catching lure. “You know, Fox. If this works, it might be the second time in your life you had a decent idea.”
“Decent? I’m probably gonna make posters out of the photos I took in the bathroom.”
“If you do, I might know someone who wants one.”
I turn to stare. Flowers has the hint of a smirk on his face.
“Come on, you gotta admit, that’s the funniest forkin’ thing you’ve ever seen.”
Of course, that ruins it. Because I’m not allowed to tell Flowers to admit anything. Ever.
The smirk disappears. His eyes turn cold. “Get your mind back in the game, rookie.”
He turns on his heel and I’m forced to follow. Because he and I will be holed up for hours in a music equipment trailer waiting for the ‘backstage experience’ after this concert. Peachy. Just what I want. To sit in the dark crammed in next to a grumpy tiger shifter.
I pull out my phone as Flores climbs onto his motorcycle. Because, of course, he’s too manly to drive in a car. He has to feel the motor vibrate hi
s balls. He tosses me the helmet, which I miss.
“Dammit, Fox!”
“Sorry. It was the helmet or my phone.”
“You don’t need your phone.”
“I do if I’m gonna survive you,” I scoop up the helmet and press send on the phone.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Flores grumbles as I reluctantly climb on behind him.
“I ordered food. So you won’t be the most grumptastic person on the planet.” I don’t tell him that I spent forty of my last sixty gold on frickin’ meat. Because then he’d refuse it. But, denting my bank account is better than the dent my head’s likely to get otherwise.
“We’re supposed to be hidden,” he growls, as he starts the motorcycle.
“We will be. But it’s called a steak-out right?” I laugh at my own joke as I strap on the helmet and climb uncomfortably on behind him. I wrap my hands around his torso and I can feel his pecs through his jacket. That shouldn’t be possible, right?
“Not funny,” he shakes his head.
“I’m hilarious.”
“You’re an annoying loudmouth,” he shoots back. Then he hits the gas and anything else I might say is ripped away by the wind.
It’s time to catch a baddie.
Chapter 22
Flowers and I eat and then take turns peering through a gap between the doors of the equipment trailer.
The waiting game sucks. Particularly when the person you’re waiting with doesn’t want to play any games whatsoever.
My ideas for charades, scary-stories, and crazy sound-effects are all shot down.
Flower’s ideas for fun waiting activities are squats, wall sits, calf raises. In short, torture. And he likes his torture with a side of silence. (Relative silence since the opening act is screeching onstage.)
After a while, I can’t help myself. The silence is driving me nuts.
“How’s your family?”
“What?”
“Got a mom? Sisters? Brothers?”
“I don’t talk about personal shit.”
“You know now I’m gonna take that as a personal challenge to find out, right?”
“They’re called boundaries, Lyon. Get some.” His tone is harsh.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stop running around screwing with the boss’s head. Focus on work at work.”
“I’m not—”
“Horse shit. You’re pathetic. Trying to get ahead.”
“I’m not. We dated years ago—”
“Liar.”
“I’m not. We hooked up before I got this job—”
“I don’t want or need any details.” Flowers turns away and peers through the crack again.
“I wasn’t gonna give them to you. We aren’t together because I told him—”
“Can’t follow a single direction. No details.”
“We aren’t together!” I snarl.
Flowers holds up a fist. At first, I’m ready to smack it down, thinking he’s shushing me. But then he turns his head and widens the crack a bit.
“I think she took the bait.”
“What?” I’m next to him in two seconds, spat forgotten. I’m shoving close, trying to see. He won’t budge. Because he’s that kind of jerk. Fine. I get on my knees and shove his legs aside so I can peer outside. I’m not above acting like I’m three.
Jackie Hanna, in a tutu and rainbow-striped pigtails, is talking to Seena, petting his wings and giggling like a maniac.
“Ha! Parlor, fly. Welcome.”
“What?” Flowers is staring down at me like I’m some kind of freak.
“I’m the spider.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Nothing. Never mind. My grandma’s old saying. Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the—”
The radio in my ear buzzes to life and I cut myself off before Flowers shoves a palm in my face to make me shut up.
Bennett’s voice crackles with static. “Start closing in.”
Flowers bounds out of the trailer like it’s on fire, leaving me to amble out behind and shut the doors so they don’t swing free and make a racket.
Unfortunately, Jackie’s not a reporter for nothing. Her sharp eyes notice Flowers subtly running at her like a damn football player.
Suddenly, Seena’s on the ground. He hits his hidden chest mic with his snout, screaming, “She’s got a gun! Invisible silent fucking gun!” He nuzzles his thigh. Flowers stops to help him and Jackie changes direction.
“Shnikes!” I hit the mic and let the team know she’s headed west.
I turn on the speed. I focus on Jackie. Only Jackie. On those ridiculous pig tails. On her blue glitter top. She raises a hand.
I duck. I don’t hear a bullet, but it must whizz right over my head. I glance back. Behind me, a drum bursts apart. Shit!
When I turn back I realize … we’re now backstage. And where’s she running? Yeah, you guessed it. Center stage.
Well, if she wants to get arrested in front of a crowd of thousands … so be it. I charge after her.
Jackie bolts for the edge of the stage and just dives.
“Fudge nuggets!”
Jackie surfaces, and she’s surfing the crowd. They’re eagerly carrying her away from me.
The band onstage has stopped playing. They’re staring at me, owl shifters who’ve let their eyes shift into bright glowing orbs for the show. Security’s closing in, ready to throw me off the stage like some groupie. I don’t see Flowers. Bennett’s yelling orders in my ear, but the static is so loud I can’t understand him. What do I do?
I run to the singer and grab his mic. He just stares at me through stringy emo hair.
Moment of truth. Do I tell these people I’m a cop in training and she’s a killer? Visions of mass panic, screaming, and trampling enter my brain. Nope. Nope. Come on stupid me. Think. What would make me wanna help someone out?
I yell into the mic. “My sister just hooked up with my boyfriend. Stop that witch!”
Bam. Mic drop. Literally. I toss it down onstage.
I see Jackie disappear from the surface of the crowd. I run to the edge of the stage and jump onto the willing hands of a dozen men wearing Rainbow Cloud shirts.
I hear a chorus of “Get her.”
“She deserves what’s coming!”
“Give it to her!”
It was a gamble, but shifters hate cheating. Betraying the pack. Obvi, there are other magical creatures here, but thank you Flowers for the remedial lessons. Shifters love loyalty. And with a shifter band onstage, I figured the percentage of the crowd would be higher. I think I gambled right.
I know I did when the crowd sets me down right in front of Jackie and then forms a tight circle around us. A fight circle.
Crap. I can’t fight a woman with an invisible gun! She could kill me. She could kill people behind me. And it would be all my fault.
Heat floods my body. That thought is a nightmare. Nobody can die because of me. I can’t let that happen. I’ve gotta get her to lose the weapon!
I almost smack myself in the forehead. As Jackie whirls toward me, I mutter, “Jackie Hanna’s lost her gun.”
She raises her hand. I feel a bullet whiz by my left thigh.
Fuck!
I try to ignore the crowd. Zero my focus. I picture Luke. “That bullet’s lost in the ground.”
My right leg starts to tingle. Then burn, just like it did when I practiced. I don’t hear screams behind me. Please don’t let anyone be shot.
I dunno if that worked, but I have to try again. I watch Jackie’s fingers reach for the trigger a second time. It feels like she’s moving in slow motion as I speak. “Jackie’s lost her gun in Diego Flores’ office.”
Jackie raises her hand. I clench my eyes shut. Please work. Please please have worked.
Smack!
She smashes my face with her hand.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Until she punches me again. Right in the eye.
“Truck
ing witch!” I shove her back and I hit the radio button in my ear and turn on my work mic. “We’re in the crowd. There’s a fight circle around us.” Jackie’s eyes narrow. I can tell she’s figured out I’m a cop.
I pull out handcuffs, the only police-issued item I’m allowed to have, since I’m still in training.
Jackie’s lips move. And then she disappears.
Godmother freaking dammit! Why does a nymph have better magic than me?
Without warning, my hair screams in pain. My face is yanked down. Into an invisible knee. I taste blood.
Are you shitting me? I have to fight an invisible suspect? She yanks my hair to the side and pow—my ear’s ringing.
The crowd around us boos and hisses.
I wildly toss punches. I latch onto skin and pinch somewhere hard enough to make her yowl.
But she’s beating me. My head’s getting woozy.
I need to be able to see her. The thought flashes like bright neon in my brain. That, or I’m seeing colors from all the punches.
I reach into my pocket and grab that vial of glitter I saved. Better than nothing. I fling it at her.
Whoosh.
Suddenly we’re in the air. Then I’m not. She drops me.
I hit the ground hard. I stand up quick. What happened? Did I lose her?
I glance up. She’s not invisible anymore. Flying up must have shocked her system enough to disrupt her invisibility spell.
Jackie’s boobs are covered in gold glittering … pixie dust. They’re bobbing in the air like balloons, hitting her in the chin. She tries to shove them down but can’t. They bobble back to smack her face. She growls.
I giggle.
She kicks out at me, but that just flips her backward. Her boobs are dangerously close to bobbing out of her top.
She’s stuck there. Suspended. As a nymph, she can’t fly. Can’t move beyond the basic lift the dust gives her.
I reach for my camera phone. “You like photos of yourself right, Jackie?”
Flowers and Bennett come barreling through the edge of the circle as I take a photo with full flash.
“What happened?” Flowers asks.
I shrug, slipping the vial of pixie dust back into my pocket. No need for Tabby and Mrs. Snow to get in trouble after all the help they’ve given us.
