The Hex Files Box Set: Books 1-3 (Mysteries from the Sixth Borough)

by Gina LaManna

  “I thought you barely knew her.”

  “I didn’t need to know her. She was so beautiful,” Damien said with a far-off look in his eyes. “So smart and feisty, and—”

  “—And very not interested,” I said firmly. “Back to the bracelet.”

  “Well, her bracelet was sort of dangling off her wrist, so I just sort of slipped it off when I helped her through the front door,” Damien said, looking disappointed I hadn’t fallen for his pitiful, and very creepy, story. “I was planning to buy her another drink, but she disappeared before I could give the bracelet back. I wasn’t worried—I knew she’d be back. She sneaks in here once a month or so.”

  “You knew she snuck out here?”

  “Oh yeah,” Damien said. “She gave a fake name, she came and left alone, she never let herself get too out of control. She was flying under the radar for sure.”

  “Hiding from her parents, and everyone she knew and loved,” I muttered. “Did you see who she left with the last night she was here?”

  “Once she hit the dance floor, Bran needed me to take care of some inventory in the back. By the time I finished, she was gone. Or, at least, I couldn’t find her. Speaking of finding her, what sort of things can you see on that bracelet? Will those little thingies help you get her back?”

  “The Residuals,” I coached, “and no, not necessarily. But they might give us a clue as to who took her.”

  “What do you see?”

  I gave a heavy sigh. “Fluffy pink dots, like stars, fat bits of dust almost, just hovering around it. The spell was freshly cast just before you slipped it off her wrist. Someone must have hit her with it as she arrived.”

  “That’s impossible,” Damien said with a frown. “I greeted her at the carriage, and she wasn’t under any sort of spell then, I don’t think.”

  “Spells can work from a distance, or even on a delayed sort of timer,” I said. “It’s hard to say which one this was.”

  “Well? What spell is it?”

  “I think we’re done for now,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”

  “But—”

  “Look, maybe you really did like Linsey and are anxious to make sure she’s safe, but we can’t discuss the case anymore with you. Unfortunately, you’re still one of the last people to see her before she went missing. That makes you a suspect.”

  Instead of reacting with an outburst of anger like I expected, Damien gave a huge shrug of his shoulder and let out a long, slow breath. “I guess that makes sense,” he said. “It just sucks. I really wanted to see her again.”

  “Then we need to do our jobs so that we can find her,” Matthew said. “Where can we find your partner?”

  Damien rolled his eyes again. “Bran’s probably upstairs soaking in the hot tub or sitting in the sauna. We’ve got a private entertaining area up there, and I saw him head up a bit ago. God forbid he actually do any work around here.”

  “Thanks for your time. I’d like to finish my fries before going upstairs,” I added. “Could you give us a minute?”

  Damien hauled himself to his feet and stalked off behind the bar where he retrieved a bottle of water and stared at us from across the room.

  “Would you like to step outside?” Matthew asked. “It looks like we won’t get much privacy in here.”

  I waved a hand. “It’s fine—Damien is not magically inclined at all. I’m guessing he’s got some elf blood in his family history, but it’s not much. I’ve never seen anyone with less Residuals clinging to them. He’s got Spell Splash, and that’s about it—and boy is it overpowering. I think he’s trying to compensate for something.”

  Matthew gave a thin smile. “What about the bracelet?”

  “The street slang for the spell I’m seeing is called a Dead Head,” I said. “I’m guessing this one was purchased in The Void because there weren’t any unique, defining qualities to it. Almost all homebrewed potions are flawed in some way, but this one is perfectly standard. And it makes sense because there will be less of a trace to follow.”

  Matthew nodded, and I lapsed into silence as I studied the Residuals once more, scanning for a hint of something that might give us an edge. As a general rule, Dead Heads temporarily rendered a person’s brain useless. The target became totally open to suggestion which made it easy to convince a person under the spell of basic things. Hence the reason it’s illegal and found in The Void.

  “What I still don’t understand,” Matthew mused, “is how the person who took Linsey knew she had this particular power. We haven’t even confirmed she has the power; there’s still a chance this kidnapping isn’t related to Maybelline and Lillie.”

  “The best way to find out is to recover Linsey,” I said. “It’s time we find Bran.”

  I DISLIKED BRAN EVEN more than I disliked Damien at first glance—which was saying quite a lot. Matthew and I found Bran on the rooftop as Damien had suggested. The staircase opened to reveal a sky-blue infinity pool surrounded by a small bar currently unmanned. Next to a row of lounge chairs sat a bubbling hot tub which had me sweating from a mere glance at the steam spiraling off the surface.

  The part-owner of Dust sat in a hot tub with his arms spread wide, his eyes closed, and his face tilted toward the sun. The smell of coconut oil wafted toward me, and I felt greasy at the sight of him. Bran must have lathered himself in the stuff because he was as shiny as a bald spot and greasier than olive oil itself. I could put him on a barbecue and he’d sizzle.

  “Bran?” I asked, purposely leaving my hand retracted. There was no way in Hades I was touching that slick palm. “Detective DeMarco and Captain King. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

  Bran didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Talk to Damien.”

  “Already did,” I said. “Your turn. Talk to me about Linsey Luca.”

  He cracked one eyelid open, studying me with annoying precision. When he finished his scan, he merely shifted lower in the water until it lapped at his chin. “What about her?”

  “You know her? Seen her around?”

  “Yeah. She’s Damien’s newest infatuation.” Bran raised a hand over the water, opened his eyes, and muttered a spell too quiet to hear. “Get over here and take a look. He’s ridiculous.”

  I stepped closer to the hot tub, curious, as the water began to warp and change colors. I had no interest in seeing what Bran was wearing under the water, as I suspected it wasn’t much, so I was glad to see the top layer of liquid thickening into an image.

  “Damien’s office,” Bran said with a dry laugh. “Little sneak peek for y’all. Hopefully answers some questions.”

  I glanced down at the hot tub, which had become a window into Damien’s office. In the moving image, there was an old metal desk, ugly green walls, and a burnt out light bulb. On the desk, was a framed photo of Damien and a girl. It didn’t take long to recognize the female as our missing woman.

  “Why does your partner have a photo of himself and Linsey on his desk?”

  “He got that photo taken a few weeks back,” Bran said with a smirk. “We had a photographer here, and I swear he hired the guy just to get a shot of him and Linsey. Lord knows he didn’t have any other shot with her.”

  “Why’d you go into business with Damien?” I asked. “Excuse my bluntness, but it doesn’t seem like the two of you are what I would call friends.”

  “You’d be correct,” Bran said. “But we’re family, which means there’s blood which is unfortunately thicker than water. Damien’s my cousin. I’m doing this as a family favor.”

  “You fronted the cash,” I mused, “and he takes care of the dirty work?”

  “You could say that,” Bran said. “We call ourselves partners, but as you can tell, we’re not equals. I’m just better than Damien—in every way.”

  “And far more modest,” I grumbled. “Talk to me again about Linsey. She’s been coming here on and off for a few months, I take it?”

  “Yeah—I don’t remember the first time she was here, bu
t I recognized her. I mean, she’s a Luca. She can shout fake names until she’s blue in the face, but she isn’t getting rid of that Gilded Row stench. You work in a place like this, and you learn to smell a Gilded from a mile away. They’re great for business... and tips.”

  “You’re a sorcerer,” I said, an easy assumption to make based on his trick with the hot tub window. “What do you make of a Dead Head being used to lure Linsey Luca away from your club?”

  Bran’s head lolled back, as if it was too much effort to hold his head up as he glanced at me. “I’d say that’s a pretty lame way to kidnap a girl. There’s no creativity involved in a spell purchased from The Void, and if you’re implying that I was to blame for it, I’m offended. I would’ve made a much bigger splash if I was running this show.”

  Surprisingly, I believed him. Sorcerers were well-known for their loyalty to magic—and magic alone. They were difficult to corrupt when it came to the purity of magic, but it certainly wasn’t impossible. It didn’t stop sorcerers from being jerks, however.

  “Sure, but you could have done it. It’s your club, and you’re certainly powerful enough.”

  “Right. But I didn’t do it.”

  “Neither did Damien,” I said. “He’s got next-to-no Residuals on him of any sort.”

  “Well, yeah,” Bran drawled. “He’s a sorry excuse for a spellslinger. At least he’s got a bit of elfin blood. That’s about the only thing he has going for him, and it’s the reason we got the permit to build Dust in the Golden District. I’m full sorcerer. The club’s in his name, the money’s in mine. It’s a fine line.”

  “I see,” I said. “You both hate each other, but you need one another.”

  “That’s family for you.”

  As Bran shut his eyes and leaned back, I focused on the Residuals surrounding his body. There were enough to keep me busy for some time, and most of them made me cringe. Suffice to say I could see why Bran had been drawn to running a club where plenty of women flocked. He clearly enjoyed their attentions.

  “Enjoying the view, Detective?” Bran opened his eyes and grinned.

  “Just trying not to see my fries for the second time. Your Residuals are something else.”

  “If you’re not arresting me for any of it, then I think we’re done here.”

  “What do you know about Lillie and Maybelline?” I asked. “The elves recently found dead. We know they frequented here, so cut any crap about not knowing them.”

  “I haven’t lied to you yet, have I, Detective?” Bran gave a pleased smile. “I know them, sure. They came around from time to time.”

  “We have an eyewitness placing the three elves at Dust the night before two of them were kidnapped on the street. It was said they left here in a rush—as if trying to get away from someone. Any thoughts on who that might have been?”

  “I’m not often down in the club for very long,” Bran said with a lewd smile. “Once I meet my lady for the night, I retire to my private quarters. It’s much less... crowded up here.”

  “Yes,” I echoed, glancing around at the full rack of liquor to the side of the hot tub. “Looks peaceful.”

  “You should come visit sometime, Detective,” Bran said, sizing me up as he shifted his weight to better see me from the hot tub. “I bet you’d look hot all dressed up.”

  Matthew’s fists noticeably clenched. The air cooled twenty degrees.

  “Bring your squeeze,” Bran said with a wink toward Matthew. “The two of you would look good together. Good for publicity, too.”

  It was a testament to Bran’s powers as a sorcerer that he didn’t back down from Matthew. Because I didn’t want this hotheaded showdown to turn into a scene, I rested my fingers gently on Matthew’s arm.

  “As a matter of fact, we might take you up on that offer,” I told Bran. “We’re not done here. In the meantime, if you hear anything, or remember anything about Linsey, Maybelline, Lillie, or Cynthia, Comm us immediately.”

  “Sure thing, Detective.” Bran gave a salute, then closed his eyes again and sunk up to his chin. With a wave of his hand, bubbles erupted around him.

  As we climbed down the stairs and made our way out onto the street, Matthew’s gaze slid to mine. “What did you think of Bran?”

  I considered. “I think he’s a very powerful sorcerer, and he knows it. He’s cocky, confident, and he doesn’t have to work hard for attention. I think he enjoys being the more desirable cousin, and I bet he keeps Damien around for the sole purpose of putting him down and looking like a king next to him.”

  “Harsh,” Matthew said. “But I would agree.”

  “He has enough power to use a Dead Head, or better yet—to hire someone else to use the Dead Head so the Residuals aren’t on him.”

  “Does Bran have enough power to extract a certain elfin magick?”

  “I hate to make assumptions, but I would guess the answer is yes. I think we need to keep an eye on him.”

  “They could be working as a team,” Matthew mused. “Damien and Bran...or someone else. The club is a cesspool of dirty dealings. That’s a slippery slope to the greedy and morally gray.”

  “I agree,” I said. “But for now, we have nothing solid on either of them.”

  “Then we’ll have to find something.” Matthew gave me a thin smile. “Enjoy your date, Detective. I’ll meet you back here at midnight.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re going undercover tonight.”

  “We’ll be recognized.”

  “Probably,” Matthew agreed. “But we have to start somewhere.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t buy it. I think you’re trying to make sure my date doesn’t last all night long.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t do that, Detective.” Matthew smiled at me. “By the way, bring your Stunner.”

  “To the date or the club?”

  “Both.”

  “Hey, now,” I said, raising my finger in protest. “I’m allowed to have dates where I leave my weaponry at home.”

  “Not in that dress, you don’t,” Matthew said, and his eyes got glazed as if he were picturing every detail of the exquisite fabric. “There’s nothing innocent about that dress, Detective. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Chapter 12

  Nothing innocent my ass, I grumbled as I slammed the door to my apartment shut.

  “Where’s my dress, people?” I asked my furniture. “Marla?”

  “Oh, hello, Detective!” Willa popped out from behind Carl. “You’re home early.”

  “I am?” I glanced around me, scanning the room. “Did I know you’d be here?”

  “Er—not exactly.” Willa rung her hands in front of her body and her cheeks flushed. Her blond hair bounced around her face as she let out a nervous, high-pitched giggle. “I just sort of needed to borrow something. One of my heels broke”—she thumbed over her shoulder to where the offending shoe sat, separated from its spikey heel—“and Jack let me in here to borrow a pair of flip flops.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. I’m glad Jack actually used his brain for once,” I said. “Did you find what you needed?”

  “Well, that’s not the full story, actually,” Willa said. “You know your dress?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “The red one?”

  Willa nodded. “It’s probably just best if I show you.”

  With that, she stepped aside and gestured to my bedroom. I gave her a curious look and crossed through, stopping in the doorway to find my coatrack propped in front of the mirror with my brand-new dress draped over Marla’s spindly limbs in a way that looked oddly flattering.

  “Before you say anything,” Marla drawled in her raspy, cigar-smoke voice, “just have a look at me, won’t you doll? It’s been so long since I’ve been allowed to look fabulous. Tell me I look ravishing, dahling, just tell me once.”

  I leaned against the door, huffing with my arms crossed. “I hate to admit it, but you do look great. Why does my coatrack look better in a gown than I do?”

&n
bsp; “You’re not mad?” Willa asked. “Marla promised me that you let her try your stuff on all the time.”

  “My coatrack is a liar,” I said, “but of course I’m not mad. Marla’s conned me into doing worse. Like agreeing to wear the stupid red dress in the first place.”

  “Speaking of red dresses and dates, you need to get ready,” Willa said. “Grey will be here in less than an hour, and your hair is a rat’s nest.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “We’re best friends!” Willa chirped. “We tell each other things like that. Now, lose the shirt. Come on, we’re all women here—it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  Grouchy, I stripped down to my underwear and felt like a child as Willa helped shove me into the dress and zip it up. She patted me down in random places that felt quite invasive and hiked up my breasts in a way that had me barely able to see my feet beneath them.

  “Can’t breathe,” I said. “Top heavy.”

  “Okay, I did the corset back maybe a bit too tight.” Willa graciously let it out, and my feet reappeared. “Though your chest looked ah-mazing. Grey wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off you.”

  “Don’t care about that,” I said. “Now, I need your help with one more thing.”

  “Can I do your makeup?” Willa asked. “Pretty please?”

  “No. I need you to help me find an inconspicuous spot to place my Stunner.”

  “But—”

  “I’m taking the Stunner.”

  “That’s so uncivilized. And very unromantic. He might be feeling you up one minute, and then whabam! Hard, cold metal next. Really, Detective, I think you should lay off the weaponry.”

  “Nobody’s feeling anything up,” I said. “We need to hurry. Where can I put a weapon that won’t be noticed in a pat-down search?”

  Willa eyed me up and down. “Well, I can think of one place, but you’re not gonna like it...”

  Half an hour later, Willa had me tied back, pinned down, made over, and God knows what else. I had a Stunner wedged uncomfortably close to my erogenous zones, but at least it was loaded and invisible to the public eye—a true feat, considering the fact my dress skimmed every curve of my body and left no room for error. I was tapping my foot, waiting at the door, when a knock sounded that sent my heart skittering.