Supernatural Sleep

by Ann Denton

  I end up clean, yeah. But I also end up with this crazy hair that has my bangs in a giant rolling wave five inches higher than my forehead. And garish red lipstick. I stare for a second, aghast, at my reflection in Mrs. Snow’s window before my Broomer arrives.

  “Oh, you look lovely dear,” Mrs. Snow claps and takes a quick photo with her phone.

  I don’t have the heart to correct her. Or the time to fix my hair. I’ll just have to deal. I climb on the broom and zoom to the hospital.

  Seena gives me directions to an admin meeting room on the top floor.

  In the elevator, who do I see but Melanie? The little troll NQN. She’s in the back corner, staring at the floor.

  “Hey, Mel,” I say.

  She glances up. I’m sure it takes a second for her to recognize me with the crazy hair and makeup.

  “Oh, hi,” she squeaks.

  “Doing okay?”

  “What? Yes. Of course. Why would you ask that?” her hands fidget.

  “Anything else been stolen recently?”

  She sputters. “Wha—what?” she grabs a dreadlock and goes to chew it. Then, as she realizes what she’s doing, she freezes.

  Something’s going on. She’s hiding something. And with two murders and a magical draining at her hospital, hiding things is not allowed.

  “You can tell me now, or I can get my boss and we can talk at the station,” I press. “Mr. Flores will be pretty disappointed. He liked you.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “He’ll be sad to hear his favorite NQN’s gotten herself into trouble.”

  “I didn’t mean to!” she spits out before she realizes it. Then she glares at me.

  “Your choice. I’ll call him right now.” I grab my phone. It’s got zero signal in the elevator, but I pretend to stab a button anyway.

  “Fine! Fine. That guy, from the Halloween Board. He’s paid me to get him some stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Extra pillows, the nicer sheets from long term care, just stuff, you know …” she trails off.

  “I think you’re leaving out some important details. When you did inventory, was that the only stuff missing?”

  “No. He paid for … things,” her voice has dropped to a whisper.

  My stomach drops too. My brain is spitting out theories that range from the idea that Jackson might be the murderer to the idea that my sister’s boyfriend has some weird troll fetish.

  “He paid me to—” she leans forward.

  So do I.

  “I really don’t want to get fired.”

  “Melanie, did he pay you for something illegal? You know someone’s going around murdering fae—”

  “It’s not him! He’s trying to catch the bad guy!”

  “What?”

  She scrunches her eyes closed. “Mr. Rock paid me to give him a second dose of Uglify.”

  “You gave him more?” What the hell? That is nowhere in the universe of what I was expecting.

  “It’s not an illegal drug or anything!”

  “Why?”

  “So he could stay here longer.”

  I jerk upright. “Why?”

  “He thinks he’s the perfect bait. His power is stone. His girlfriend and her mom have good powers, too. He’s gonna draw the murderer out, get the two of them over, and together they’ll—” her lips twist into a strange smile. Almost manic.

  “Stop.” I clench my fists. “What the heck are they thinking? Scratch that, I know exactly what my mother’s thinking. ‘If no-power Lyon can be a cop, I can do this.’ ‘Cause I’m nothing, right? Because the amazing fire and teleportation powers of the other vics are nothing compared to her cleverness. It’ll be so darn easy. It’s the mortal world after all. She’ll get a medal. And a promotion. Across the Veil, everyone will sing her praises.” My mother’s a stupid bit— I take a deep breath to calm myself down. For once, my mother is not my problem. For once, she’s stuck her nose in so deep that someone else gets to handle her shit.

  Melanie is staring at me oddly. Probably because I’m ranting like a crazy person.

  “You’re gonna need to tell my boss about this.”

  “I—but—”

  “Pretty sure you aren’t supposed to give a patient anything a doctor doesn’t order while said patient is in the hospital. Even a legal substance like Uglify.” I override her. I pull her out of the elevator behind me. Her hand is strangely slippery. I’m probably causing her to anxiety-sweat. Too bad.

  We head down the hall to the meeting room. When we get inside, the room’s swarming with cops. (Actually, the whole building is swarming with us. I think Bennett’s got cops roaming each hallway, just in case.)

  Bennett must have already briefed everyone because he’s handing out assignments as I squish myself into the crush at the back. “Darrell, the family of Alvin Masterson is coming in. I’d like you to speak with them and take a recruit with you.”

  Darrell nods and starts walking. To my surprise, he stops in front of me.

  “Fox. Nice hair. Let’s move.”

  “Sir, Melanie needs to talk to someone.”

  Darrell flags down Flowers, who heads our way.

  I hand off the trembling NQN with a smile. Enjoy that Flowers. You think I’m annoying? Wait ‘til you have to tell my mother ‘no.’

  Darrell and I about to leave when Mayor Honeycutt walks in, his security bats flapping around his head. The big minotaur carves a path up to the front of the room. “Mr. French. I’m glad to see your team is taking this seriously.”

  The mayor turns to face the room and snorts, like he’s about to charge. Everyone shuts up quick. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is serious. The city needs your help. With this disaster going on, fae officials are considering moving the Halloween celebration elsewhere next year. This is the city’s biggest tourist season. Not to mention that it’s a tragedy and an embarrassment that we’ve failed to protect guests in our city. Whoever solves this case will earn themselves a raise. Now, go do what you do best. Find out who’s doing this. And annihilate them.”

  Honeycutt gives Bennett a nod and strides back out without another word. I turn to watch him leave. I had no idea things were that bad. Stupid sleep. I’ve missed out on a lot.

  Darrell grabs my shoulder. “Fox, you heard the mayor. Let’s go solve this case.” He heads to the hallway.

  I turn and follow him. “Sir, I didn’t hear anything about the latest victim. What happened?”

  Darrell unwinds a strip of bandage from his arm and puts it loosely around both our wrists. “There’s a privacy spell in that. No one else can hear us.”

  “Wow, you have a lot of spells.”

  “Yup. Every mummy that lasts ends up needing a lot of spelled bandages to sustain themselves.”

  “Yeah, I’d heard you were fae that went mortal.” It was one of the things every supernatural child studied in school. The perils of becoming mortal. Mummies are fae who went human, giving up immortality for a chance to rule people like gods. Become pharaohs.

  He shrugs. “Who knew Egypt would fall so fast? But anyway, that third vic. No known connection to the first two. Just a powerful S.O.B. who happened to pick up crotch rot and land himself here. Wouldn’t say where … guess that doesn’t matter. But he had the power to teleport from place to place.”

  “Snot bubbles! So, if this murderer is absorbing these powers, they now get to tele—”

  “Whoa, this guy could be stealing powers to sell on the open market. Bennett hasn’t discussed that option. I doubt this guy is using the magic. The urge to use magic once you get it—a lotta mummies burn themselves out, literally, right after they come into magic.”

  “How do you use magic if you were turned human?”

  He eyes me. “That’s a very personal question.”

  “Sorry. I was just wondering. I mean, in this case, someone may have figured out a way to use another person’s magic. If you’re mortal, you don’t have your own magic. And you said ‘get it’�
��as in mummies somehow get magic. Like you don’t just have it—does it have to do with the ley lines? Like can you go there and just absorb it?”

  Darrell jerks on our free hands. He pulls a bandage off one of his fingers to reveal a very shriveled, pointy bone covered in red skin. He sets the bandage on my shoulder. I have to work very hard not to be offensive and shudder. But—gross! That one touched his skin.

  “I need your true name as fae in exchange for this information. Along with the agreement not to share it.” His eyes get a slight yellow glow.

  Dude! Am I about to learn a badass mummy secret? Totally worth giving him my name, right? “Lyoness ni’Maeve Fox.”

  “This does not get out. There aren’t very many mummies. And there won’t be any if people find out how we use our power. They’ll unwrap us all and create a linen craze.”

  I nod.

  Darrell continues. “It’s not limited to ley lines. We all have hieroglyphics in our bandages. Personalized hieroglyphics we have developed ourselves over millennia. The hieroglyphics are actually spells within spells. They draw magic into them from the magic in the air. Then they use that magic to perform the secondary spells.”

  “Whoa.”

  “This magic is very ancient. Very time-consuming. I very much doubt anyone today would use such a thing. This generation has the attention span of gnats.” Darrell retrieves his bandage and covers up that yucky raisin finger.

  “But—”

  “Lyon, I’m taking you to teach you about tact with a victim’s family. Tact is an area where Diego Flores thinks you could use some improvement. You will focus your attention on that. Only after that’s done, will I let you start discussing wild theories again.”

  I bite my lip and nod. “Can I ask one other question?”

  Darrell sighs and nods as we enter the parking garage.

  “Was the selkie released before or after this third victim?”

  “Before.”

  “So, she’s still a possible suspect?”

  “Yes, but given the complexity of the magic used in this crime, she wouldn’t have had time to set it up—”

  “Set up. You’re assuming set up was done right before the murders.”

  “That’s typically how murders work, yes.”

  We reach Darrell’s police car and I’m about to grab the door handle when Darrell grabs me, shoves me up against the car next to his, and presses his mouth to mine. He grabs a thigh and wraps it around himself.

  I try to push him off but he’s forceful. He doesn’t stick his tongue in my mouth, which THANK GOD. Can you imagine four-thousand-year-old tongue? Yeah, it might be magically preserved but after seeing that finger. No. Just no.

  Eventually, Darrell lets up enough that I can breathe.

  “What the hell!” I punch his shoulder and try to unwrap our bound wrists.

  Darrell puts a hand over mine to stop me. “I didn’t want her to recognize me.”

  “Who?” I look around the parking garage, but it’s empty.

  “I worked undercover a couple months ago trying to flip a girl from the Crypts. Turn her into an informant. Didn’t work out. But, I don’t think she knows I’m a cop. And I don’t want her to know. Anyway, she just headed inside. Sorry about that, Fox.”

  “You’re semi-forgiven as long as you promise not to hold the whole true-name thing against me.”

  “Deal.” He flips out his phone and dials Bennett. “Boss, got a Crypt inside. Fatima. Yup. Just wanted you to get some eyes on her.”

  I hate how my life seems to be entwined with the Crypts lately.

  Darrell unwraps our wrists. We climb into his cruiser and head to the office. He glances over at me. “You’re quiet. What’s bothering you?”

  Yeah, not gonna tell him my whole polluted personal life. “How does a mummy work undercover?”

  “Ly, it’s called a disguise.”

  “But is the illusion so real she could touch you? Why were you worried?”

  “She knew my voice. Couldn’t understand what we said, but if she recognized my voice and saw me by a cop car?”

  “What about the touching?” Now I’m just curious.

  “They’re called sleeves, Lyon. Skin is a little hard for spells to replicate. Gets a little … squishy, I guess. So, covering up is a good idea. But yeah, people can touch you.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I know that’s not what’s really bothering you. We don’t have to talk about it. We do need to talk about putting together theories. Because rule one is that eighty-five percent of the time, the murderer is found standing over the body.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been told.” Repeatedly. Ad nauseam.

  “In this case, the NQN found the first vic. A janitor found that last one. Doc found out one. No one person found all three. So, this case is an exception. But still, the point is this: most people aren’t that smart.”

  “But some are—”

  “Look, why do you think someone would go to all this trouble to steal power? Why would one person do that?”

  “Well, because, if I was an evil genius, it’s what I would do.”

  Darrell laughs. “Lyon, you’ve got sweetheart blood in you. That means there ain’t an evil genius bone in your body.”

  I cross my arms and play pout. “I could be bad if I wanted to.”

  “Sure you could.”

  “Well, you’re one, too. So, you couldn’t be bad either.”

  Darrell gives me an evil grin. “I used to be one. Now, I’m technically still a mortal. I can be as baaaaad as I want.”

  Bastard.

  Chapter 17

  We arrive at the Tres Lunas Police Station, a rundown little cinder block building that looks like a lame college dorm.

  Becca’s the only person in a sea of desks. Everyone else is either out on patrol, working at our courthouse office, or at the hospital. Halloween’s crazy times.

  Becca’s head rests on her hand as she stares at the computer screen in front of her. She jumps when the door slams behind us.

  “Whoa! Uh, hi, can I help you?”

  “Becca, it’s us,” I wave a hand at her.

  “What?” she stands. Her uniform is wrinkled. “Oh, sorry.”

  “Have you slept?” Darrell asks.

  “Um … not really,” she runs a hand through her long brown hair. Her cheeks grow red.

  Darrell rolls his eyes and walks over to his desk. He opens a drawer and tosses something at her. “Eat a Peppy Perk. We have a victim’s family coming in. Can you make them some coffee?”

  “Sure thing,” she swallows the tablet and her eyes grow wide. Her hands start to tremble.

  “That might be too much caffeine for you,” I observe. She really is a tiny sprite.

  “Nope. Nope. I’m good.” She heads toward the back of the office, where Gloria, our coffeepot, is located.

  I follow. “Why’d you stay here all day? What have you been working on?”

  I help Becca pour the coffee grounds, since her hands are shaking too much to get it into the big filter.

  “You and Seena already helped solve a case. I’m behind. I have to stay late.”

  “First off, you were in the hospital last case. And secondly, not a competition.” Okay, Seena and I compete. But that’s not the same. Poor Becca doesn’t have to slog through the mud, too.

  “Fine, not a competition. You lose by default. I just have to beat Seena now.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. What are you working on? Maybe I can help give you an edge.”

  “Oh, you know. The Portalport. I’ve been tracking down anyone they stripped of power or visitation for the past three years. I’ve found everyone except for one guy. It’s really frustrating.”

  “What happened to that guy?”

  “Isidore Flood. Fae who was showing off for his girlfriend. Caused a rockslide that killed a group of hikers.”

  I bite my lip. “Sounds bad.”

  “Yeah, well, one human got away. So not only was it a mort
al murder, it was a breach of secrecy too.”

  I whistle. “That’s bad.”

  “Yup. That’s bad.”

  “Really bad.”

  “Really, really bad.”

  “Are you just gonna keep repeating—”

  “Are you just—”

  I cut Becca off. “I definitely think you are banned from Peppy Perk from now on. Maybe you can try my neighbor’s potions instead. They’re … delicious,” I lie. Unlike her cooking, Mrs. Snow’s potions taste like feet.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Becca waves a jittering hand through the air.

  I shake my head. “Yeah. I’m gonna write to the manufacturer and have them put in big letters on the side of the jar—Not for Sprites.”

  She tries to stick her tongue out at me but ends up biting it because she’s shaking so hard.

  “Back to this Flood guy. He was fae?”

  “Yup. Super powerful. He had earth and water magic, I guess. Pretty old, too.”

  “What’s pretty old?”

  “I dunno. Three, four thousand?”

  My brain spins up like a computer. “Old enough to know those complicated spell chains Darrell talks about?”

  “Why would he have needed them if he had dual element magic?” Becca asks. “He applied for Egypt, I think. Back in the day. Didn’t make the Pharaoh cut though. Guess there was a competition to get that. I’ll have to ask Darrell sometime.”

  “Did the Portalport strip him of power?”

  “Oh yeah, banished to the mortal realm, too. No more visits anywhere beyond The Veil.”

  “Sounds like this guy has good motive.”

  “Why do you think I’ve been here all day trying to track him down?”

  “You know Seena could probably run some algorithm.”

  “Shut up. You are not a true friend. I will figure it out without him. Oh, I have your costume by the way. Follow me,” she leads me toward the women’s locker room in back.

  “I thought you were here all day.”

  “Seena brought me food. And the costumes, so we can leave from here later.”

  “I thought I was supposed to head to the pumpkin patch after watching this interview with Darrell.”

  Someone pounds on the locker room door. I go to open it.