by A. L. Tyler
It was a shame that I was the only one who would ever hear it. The sound of raw magic—magic that just was, and was not used for any particular purpose—was a beautiful one. It sounded the way that sunlight shimmering on new snow on a very cold winter looked. A million dazzling points, like a shattered rainbow.
Nearly like a waterfall or a rain stick, but made of wind chimes, until it collapsed into nothing and dispersed.
I turned back and nodded to Nick. He stepped inside, glancing around cautiously. His hand slid along the wall until he found a switch. The lights went on. I let my eyes wander the room, and my ears took in the new magic that had been hidden beneath all the protective spells.
For all the grandeur of the exterior, the residence held very simple possessions. He had a living room set that looked like it had been purchased at a garage sale, covered in stains and old pet hair.
“Does he keep a dog?” I asked Nick. I hated magic pets. Cursed animals were different than cursed objects, and it was a rare day that one went on living after its magical entanglements were removed.
Not what I wanted to deal with that night.
“If he does,” said Nick, “that would be news to me. He hasn't had one in as long as I remember.”
Nick cleared his throat and I turned to look at him. He had his gun drawn again, and my eyes lingered longer than they should have—yes, that thing made me nervous, and he certainly knew it. He nodded toward the archway that led to another room. I turned back, sighing and flexing my fingers, and led on.
I didn’t like being used as a human shield, but I understood. I would hear it coming long before Nick would.
And, criminals were expendable. Couldn’t forget that.
“Hello?” Nick called. “Is anyone else in here?”
“We can go faster if we split up,” I suggested sarcastically.
“Not on your life,” Nick said. We moved past the living room and into the kitchen.
Dirty dishes, food on the table, and garbage that looked like it hadn’t been taken out in a week or two. My nose wrinkled as the smell, old and organic, hit me hard in the face.
Farrow had a stack of mail about a foot tall on the countertop and pamphlets for ordering food littered the fridge, all held up by mismatched magnets.
I furrowed my brow. There was a child's painting in the mix. A cat between two flowers, smiling beneath a blue sun.
“I thought you said he didn't have family?” I asked Nick.
Nick looked at me in question, and then followed my gaze to the fridge.
“He doesn't,” he said. “He is a womanizer. Maybe he does have a kid, but it isn't his kid, if you get my drift.”
I nodded. I guess that made sense, but I had trouble believing that a man who didn't care at all about a child he created would put said child's messy art on his refrigerator.
“Are you sensing anything?” Nick asked me testily.
“No,” I said an irritation. “And it's not a sense. It's not like a spider power. I'm not Spider-Man.”
“Well, except that it kind of is a superpower,” Nick said.
I rolled my eyes. We kept going.
We continued through the main level, checking the garage and office, and a downstairs bedroom. There was a small sun room off the back of the house, and it held what I would expect of a magic counterfeiter.
Some fresh herbs, ground minerals, basket of gemstones, and boxes upon boxes of new knives from China in the process of being worn down to look old and weathered. He was forcing bulbs to make sure he had ready flowers for the spells that required them. I smirked when I opened a natural oak storage chest and found that Farrow was unknowingly using a wand that was, itself, a convincing forgery of an eighteenth century Allestare-Winch.
The work almost made me miss my old career. I had never seen the job this naked and real before, and it piqued my interest the way few other things ever had.
Up the stairs and on the second floor I checked out several more bedrooms, the bathrooms, another office, then we proceeded up a ladder to the unfinished attic.
There was a ton of junk, and junk magic, but no one else was there.
“Anything?” Nick asked me.
“A lot of fakes and forgeries,” I said. “But nothing related to our case. I told you so.”
“You told me so?” Nick narrowed his eyes at me. “You told me what?”
“I told you he wasn't our guy,” I said.
Nick shook his head, making a face.
“The fact that we didn't find anything just means he's not keeping it here,” he said. “It doesn't mean he's not our guy.”
“Uh huh,” I said. “Sure.”
“I'll tell you what,” Nick snapped. “How about you do what you're good at, that being desk work, and I'll do all the stuff that actually requires thinking.”
“Sounds great,” I said with fake enthusiasm. “It just seemed like you were slacking a little on the thinking, so I thought I would step in.”
“You're awfully cheeky for a dead woman, Driftwood.”
We exited the house. Nick took care to lock and seal the door before we left. I had to give him props for that. One never knew when they were going to have to return and look for something they didn't know was significant at the time.
Chapter 20
NICK HELD THE CAR DOOR open for me and shut it after I got in. Joe and Farrow were sitting in the back seat. The garbage and clutter had mysteriously vanished and I could hear the faint and fading tinkling of a spell that had relocated everything to the trunk. It gave a final acoustic flourish before settling to silence.
Joe’s magical signature was elegant, like a violin. He’d put in hours of practice to achieve a finish like that.
Nick swung into the driver’s seat and started the engine. I cringed, expecting to hit the floor again, but he set off at a much gentler pace. I glanced over at him, wondering if he was pitying me, but he seemed to be purposefully avoiding my gaze.
“Farrow,” he said suddenly. “You have a kid? I never took you for a family man.”
I tried to sit up straighter, even though I was exhausted.
Farrow didn’t answer his question. Instead, his eyes settled on me. “This your new pet, Warren?”
I sank down in my seat again. Nick eyed Farrow in the rear-view mirror.
Farrow didn’t wait for his answer. “You should know you’re working with one of the Bleak’s best lap dogs. He doesn’t care who he screws over, so the second you aren’t useful anymore, you’re a goner. And you already look like you’re not long for this world.”
Joe waved a hand and Farrow stopped speaking as his silencing spell rang, rather ironically, like a sounding gong.
We dropped Joe back at his place and left Farrow with him. I felt sick to my stomach and exhausted, and my hands were starting to itch anew as feeling returned. I stayed in the car, nursing my wounds and hoping I would get to sleep in a bed instead of a bathtub that night. Even from a superficial glance at his property, I knew Joe hadn’t been lying: he was an expert in spell craft and protective wards. Layers upon layers of complementary work, and even where one set ended and another began, everything worked on the same beat. To me, it was like listening to a clever mashup.
Nick paused before we started driving again. “You did good work back there.”
I licked my lips and snorted. Farrow’s words that Nick would use me until I was done were fresh in my mind. “You mean when I missed the second ward, or when I shot lightning out of my arms? Looked like an epic fail to me.”
“You should call in sick to work tomorrow. We got the guy, and you look like you could use the sleep.”
My eye twitched. I did need the sleep. More likely, Nick was closing the book on this tangent and getting ready to collect on my bounty. “This isn’t the guy. I’m the best the Bleak has—had—and I’m telling you, any brown-nosing intern they put on this review is going to tell you he’s not the guy. No payout for you.”
“Are you sure you’re
not just saying that because you need more time to escape?”
I glared at him. “You know, I could have just let him escape. I could have chosen to bolt you while he ran. But I didn’t. Farrow didn’t do this. Are you sure you don’t want me to call in sick so you can turn me over to the Bleak?”
He sat back, taking his hand off the key in the ignition as he considered. “I already told you, I’m checking on your father’s case. But I see your point. I’ll tell you what, Driftwood. You did good. We’ll wait and see what the Bleak says about Farrow and the knife. If you’re telling me the truth, I’ll see what I can do about your crimes. I’ve been with the Bleak a long time. My word carries some weight.”
I was telling the truth. I was sure he was lying, but I didn’t see what he was getting out of it.
“Your hands could use a doctor.” We started to drive.
“My hands are fine.” I didn’t bother to look at him. My hands weren’t fine. I was pretty sure I’d fractured or sprained something. I didn’t like attempting healing spells with untamed ancient magic, but seeing as I doubted I could make it any worse, I would probably attempt one when I was alone again.
“If you say so.”
I sat, stewing. This whole misadventure had been a waste of time, and the poor heating in the old Chevelle had me half-curled into the fetal position for warmth. The dead of night wrapped itself around the car as we drove through the rolling hills back to Fall Gulch. “Do you have any other suspects?”
Nick took a deep breath. It took him a moment to respond. “No. We wouldn’t be here if I had doubt.”
“You think I’m lying?” I accused.
“I think you want to live,” he replied firmly.
“I’m not lying.”
“People have done worse when their life was on the line.”
This time I looked right at him. “You’re willing to bet a child’s life that I’m lying?”
He hit the brakes so hard that I thought we would spin out. I went flying into the dash before hitting the floor.
I grabbed at my throbbing nose, and my hand came away bloody. “Shit!”
Nick sat still in the driver’s seat, his hands clutching the wheel as he breathed deliberately slowly.
“I’m not betting anything,” he said quietly. He kept his eyes fixed, staring out the front of the car. “I’m not the one who kidnapped that kid, and I am doing what I can to help her. You need to know right now that I’m not going to be manipulated into believing that every life I try and fail to save is somehow my fault. You also need to know that if you try to pull that shit on me, it does not end well for you. Do not use that child as some sort of threat to make me believe you. That’s low, Driftwood. And frankly, my opinion of you is already low enough.”
The disgusted look on his face made me flinch away when he pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and threw it at me. The moment it left his possession, it erupted into a cascading ring of sleigh bells before landing on my now empty seat.
A healing potion. Smart to travel with that in his line of work.
It would have been nice for him share earlier.
I unscrewed the top and took a swig. The pain in my nose started to subside, replaced by a calming heat. I capped the flask and handed it back to Nick, careful that our hands never touched.
I wasn’t thinking. If I had thought before throwing out my accusation, I would have remembered the children that Nick lost. I’d hit him where his armor failed, and he was right—it was low of me.
He nodded impatiently at my end of the bench seat, and I climbed back up.
I took a deep breath, wondering if he was done with me. Vampires had notoriously short tempers. I was desperately aware of the blood that was smeared across my face and hands.
I could smell it. So could Nick.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Do you want me to get out?”
“No.” He answered too quickly.
“I wasn’t thinking. Kane told me about—”
“I’m aware. It’s a rare thing that Kane keeps anyone’s secrets but his own.”
He was breathing deeply again, like the time I had exposed my neck and dared him. Leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, I wondered what he was saying to himself to keep the craving at bay.
I sat still and silent. I didn’t want to run, giving the predator an excuse for chase. I didn’t want to stay and make it easier for him.
I worked a desk job. How to deal with vampires was beyond my training.
Nick’s eyes finally flashed open and darted to me for a microsecond before he looked away. He swallowed.
“Are we good?” I asked. I flexed my fingers. Courtesy of Nick’s healing potion, that pain was gone, too. If it came down to a fight, at least it would be a fair one.
He nodded, eyes dark. When he suddenly leaned toward me, I pressed myself hard into the back of my seat to avoid any contact. The slack of his coat brushed against me as he rolled my window down to help get rid of the smell of blood.
He rolled down his window, too, and we drove home in the freezing late-spring night.
I tried not to stare at him, but it was hard not to when I was worried he might pounce at any moment. He didn’t seem bothered by my stare.
That night in bed, I tried to formulate a new escape plan. I thought about telling the police that I was being stalked or that I had been kidnapped, but I knew Nick would sound the alarm and Fallvale would be filled with handlers. There had to be another way.
Maybe I could stake him.
Maybe I could get out of Fallvale before he knew I was gone.
Maybe I could bribe Kane to get me out.
None of the ideas would gel. Every time I thought I was on the right track, the picture of a little girl in a red polka dot sun dress flashed in front of my eyes and everything fell apart.
Maybe Nick could separate himself from the guilt of not saving her.
I couldn’t.
Chapter 21
MY GROCERIES WERE ON the counter the next morning with a note. Nick was out following up on a minor disturbance about thirty minutes away in Coyote Ridge County.
I had his blessing to go to work if I wanted. Kane had orders to shoot first and ask questions later if I did anything “cheeky”.
“Morning.” Kane sat up groggily on the couch, rubbing a hand over his comically messy hair. He raised his other hand and saluted me with gun.
Damn warded bullets.
“Sleeping on the job?” I said bitterly.
Kane gave me a lopsided grin as he set down the gun and waved a baby monitor at me instead.
I scoffed. “Seriously?”
“The other half is hidden under the floorboards.”
I cocked an eyebrow. Twisted vampire...
“He also installed some extra smoke detectors on your behalf.” Kane shrugged. “And by the way, you snore. Not loud. Kind of adorable.”
He sat up and walked over to the other side of the kitchen bar, pulling a shirt on as he sat on a bar stool. I narrowed my eyes.
“So, what are we having for breakfast?”
I gave him a wry smile. “You can have whatever you want. I’m going to work.”
He yawned. “Alright. Just let me catch a shower first.”
“Nope.” I beelined for the door. “I’m going now.”
“I’m supposed to drive,” Kane said with a frown.
I grabbed the keys off the table by the door and shook them at him. “Catch me if you can, con man.”
“Hey!” I heard him slam his chair back and stand up. “I have a gun!”
I shut the door and kept going. He missed the elevator and met me, winded, at the bottom of the stairs.
“Party. Foul,” he said, trailing after me. “This is my life or yours, Driftwood. You’d honestly leave me on the hook for your disappearance?”
“So shoot me.” And now was the perfect moment for a page out of Nick’s book. I put both hands on the hood of my car and smiled serenely at him. “I won
’t be emotionally manipulated, Darling. Nick’s the one who’s going to kill you, and that’s not my fault. No honor among thieves.”
I got in and started the car. Kane scrambled to hop in the passenger side in time. He was still wearing the sweat pants he’d slept in and his hair was wild. I stared at him for a moment before the difference in his appearance finally registered.
“Do you usually wear eyeliner?”
He glared at me. “And I feel a little naked without it now. Thanks for your concern.”
“You look better with eyeliner.”
“Not helping.”
I LEFT KANE IN THE parking lot. Inside, work went on as it always did.
“What’s the problem?”
Bailey. Even given that the alternative was Certain Death, I nearly spun on my heel and walked back out of the evidence room.
“Drifter.”
Too late.
“Running late?”
“Late night.” I set my bag down next to my work station and tried to act casual. “Personal.”
He sneered. “Some of us still make it to work on time whether we feel like it or not.”
Marge picked up a hefty stack of case file copies and tapped them noisily on the desk, clearing her throat. “Robbery spree. Not all of the cash was recovered. Your case, your call. Get on it.”
“I have more important—”
“So do I,” Marge said flatly. “And as my more important encompasses every damn case we have, as opposed to the one—one!—that I am asking of you, get on it.”
I sat down and logged on to my computer. I needed to know if they had opened the crime scene yet. If I could just get in, I was sure there would be something I could use to prove Nick had the wrong suspect.
