by Gina LaManna
“I know, Matthew, and I love you, too.”
“I’m sick of the reasons we can’t be together,” Matthew said. “There are always reasons that we shouldn’t work. We are different species. I could hurt you, crush you, bleed you to your death with one wrong move. Don’t you think I know that? I’ve struggled with it since the day I met you. I understand that more than you could ever possibly know.”
My throat constricted with emotion.
“I will give up this life for you. My wealth. My career. Anything. There’s no sum of money that could take me away from you, no career that is more important than the way I feel for you. When we are together, I’m whole. And that’s all that matters.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Crying was for times of sadness, and I’d had enough of them. Matthew’s words filled the hole in my chest like a vase with colorful sand in joyous swirls and spirals of life. The more he poured in, the more fragile it became. One wrong move and the vase would crack, and the sand would slip away, lost forever, washed away by the tears threatening to fall.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this, Matthew,” I said. “I never meant...I’ve always loved you...I didn’t know—”
“You don’t owe me an answer,” Matthew said, exhaling with a huge sigh that resembled relief. “But I had to know if you’d chosen to let your affections stray elsewhere. I couldn’t wonder for an eternity if I’d lost you because I hadn’t told you how I felt.”
“I hope this will show you how I feel,” I whispered against his cheek, before dragging a kiss along his neck and ending on his lips. I let my body press firmly against his and tugged at him, desperate to be closer. “I want to be with you more than anything else, Matthew. It’s been a long, confusing road, but all paths lead back to you no matter how far I try to run.”
Matthew needed no more invitation. In the next moments we were wrapped together, spiraled around one another. Clothing fell to the floor, bedsheets twisted and ripped. The headboard slammed against the wall as Matthew pulled me to his chest—
And then the steady buzz of a Comm drew us to a perfect freeze.
Matthew sat beneath me. My arms circled his neck. I had on only a lacy set of underwear while Matthew was down to his boxers.
“It can wait,” he said. “I need—”
“It doesn’t matter what we need,” I said, pulling back. “We’ll pick this up later. It might be Marcus.”
Matthew’s hand closed around my wrist. “No.”
“But—”
“I need an answer, Dani. Now,” Matthew said, his eyes unrelenting. “If you want this as much as I do, some things will have to change.” His gaze trailed toward the Comm. “I refuse to let us walk in ambivalence again. I want you, Danielle. I’m ready to be together. Are you?”
“Yes.” The word eased out before I was able to logically process it, but I knew that was my only answer. I’d grieved Trenton. I’d fought to get over Matthew. Nothing had helped. Whether or not I was ready, there was only one option for me, and I realized that fully. “But for now, this has to wait.”
Matthew pulled my face to his for a hard, fast kiss. Then he let go, stood, and reached for his Comm.
“Captain King,” he said gruffly.
I climbed from bed, well aware that Matthew’s eyes were locked on my body as I dressed quietly. While I was mildly frustrated that we’d been interrupted, it was for the best. We needed time to process our decisions, to come to terms with the meaning of it all—outside of the bedroom. Not under the haze of love and lust, and the heady combination of both.
“What is it?” I asked as he ended the call. His gaze was averted, which meant the news wasn’t good. “Who was that?”
“Nash,” he said. “He went with Marcus to track Damien. They’ve got him located, but Damien’s on the run. They’re closing in on him, and I need to go help.”
I tuned out halfway through Matthew’s explanation when a realization of my own struck. My pulse quickened and my limbs went numb with a sudden epiphany. I collapsed onto the bed, my head falling into my hands as everything came together in one perfect puzzle.
“I snapped my head up and looked into Matthew’s eyes. “My God. I know what the bastards are after.”
“Dani—”
“Go after Damien,” I said, strapping my Comm onto my wrist. “I’ll meet you later.”
“Where are you going?”
I narrowed my gaze at Matthew. “Home.”
Chapter 23
My adrenaline raced at full force as I hurried home.
Suddenly, everything made perfect sense. As I jogged to the pizzeria, flicking through the facts in my mind, I realized they were all there. The clues were all laid out in a perfect little web.
I burst through the front door of the pizzeria, so lost in my musings that I barely registered how bizarrely out of place I looked panting in the entryway to DeMarco’s Pizza.
“Carry on,” I mumbled to the staring patrons. “Nothing to see here.”
“Dani?” Jack asked. He’d been mid-pizza-serving when I’d crashed through the door, and he scrutinized me carefully as I entered. “What’s wrong?”
I narrowed my own gaze at him, still peeved from his morning’s show, and growled. “Where’s Willa?”
“She’s upstairs with—”
“Thanks,” I said, then blew by him. I’d save Jack’s lecture for later.
I made quick work of the stairs and the narrow hallway on the second level, then let myself into the apartment with a touch of the doorknob. Fighting to appear calm, I stepped through and scanned the room. I didn’t have to look far because Willa and Tink were sitting at the kitchen table with teacups and biscuits strewn around them, coloring on sheets of paper Willa had probably dug out of a neglected drawer.
“Hello,” Willa chirped, giving a guilty glance at the biscuits. “Just having a little snack. How are you, Detective?”
Tink didn’t bother to look up. She bit her lip, focused on the drawing in front of her.
“I’m good,” I said. “Actually, I was wondering if I could talk with Tink for just a moment.”
“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” Willa asked, her voice rising like an escalator until it reached squeaky proportions. “I think Tink is probably pretty fragile right now, and—”
“It would be very helpful to her mother’s case,” I said through clenched teeth. “Do you mind if I take over for a second?”
Willa stood, squeezed Tink’s hand. “Alright, lovebug. You keep on coloring, and my friend Dani is going to ask you some questions, okay?”
Tink chomped on her lip but didn’t respond.
“She’s a little shy,” Willa said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
I had no argument left in me, so I merely shrugged and sat in an empty seat at the table next to Tink. Willa took that as an affirmative and plunked herself down on the other side of Tink, picking up a crayon and pretending not to listen as she scribbled messily on a deformed looking picture of a sunshine.
“Hi, Tink,” I said. “Remember me? We met this morning, and I’m the one who is trying to help you and your mom.”
Tink hummed, and I took that to mean she understood and wasn’t afraid. Though she wasn’t exactly chatty, which could make my next task difficult.
“Tink, I know my next question is going to be a hard one,” I said, “but I could really use your help. Do you have a special power?”
She continued humming, but ended the stanza with a brief nod.
“I thought so,” I said. “What is your special power?”
“A tree!” Tink turned her paper around and showed me a purple and pink trunk with leaves. “For you.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking the paper and tucking it lovingly—I hoped—against my chest. “But we really need to discuss these powers. Can you tell me what they are?”
Tink stuck her tongue between her teeth. “I’m an elf.”
“Exactly,” I
said, “and I know that some elves have special powers. Little girl elves, and mama elves. Like you and your mom. Am I right?”
Tink closed her mouth as her face went pale. She shook her head.
“I know it’s a secret,” I said. “But I really, really need you to help me with this.”
“We don’t tell,” Tink said in a hushed, frail whisper. “We don’t tell about our powers. Those are the rules.”
“I know, and you can trust me with your secret, I promise.”
Tink shook her head, more firmly.
“Hey, Tink,” Willa said, leaning closer. “I have a secret to tell you. And it’s that you can trust Dani, okay? Your mama sent you here for a reason—to help her. Dani is working hard to get your mom back safe and sound, but you were brought here for a reason, and I think you know that.”
Tink looked down, hungrily eyeing the crayons.
Willa fished her another piece of paper, and as Tink went desperately to work scratching out all white spaces with a blood red crayon, Willa continued. “I’m going to leave the room because I know you don’t want to tell people about your secrets. But you can trust Dani. In fact, she has a special secret of her own.”
“You do?” Tink looked up at me. “A secret power?”
I gave a grateful glance to Willa and then nodded at Tink. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I can see Residuals. Do you know what those are?”
Tink hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.
“You know a spell, don’t you?” I said. “I’m going to leave the room. I want you to say your spell quietly so I can’t hear it—any simple spell—and when I come back, I’ll be able to tell you exactly what it was.”
Tink looked intrigued and gave a floppy nod.
I pushed my chair back and left the room, making loud noises as I closed the door and moved down the hallway. A minute or so later, Willa appeared at the door and gestured for me to return.
I walked into the room, scanned the air, and then flashed a grin at Tink. “You trickster,” I said. “You didn’t do any spells.”
Tink’s eyes grew wider. “How did you know that?”
I shrugged. “I have powers that help me see spells.”
“I have powers too,” Tink said in a whisper. “And so does my mom. That’s why they took her. That’s why she tried to bring me to you. To keep me safe. But my mom said I was supposed to keep my powers secret.”
Willa silently stood and left the room, closing the door behind her. Meanwhile, I made my way back to the kitchen table and found Tink’s little hand and held it tight.
“Except, you didn’t keep it a secret,” I said. “Did you?”
Tink looked surprised, then guilty. “What do you mean?”
“You said he was going to kiss me,” I explained gently. “I think you, and several other elfin ladies, have the power to see the future. Clairvoyance. Am I right? If you shake your head, you still haven’t told me. Really, I already know the answer, don’t I, Tink?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re not supposed to know.”
“I swear I will take your secret to my grave. But I would like some help understanding how your powers work, if you don’t mind.”
“Will it help my mom?” she asked. When I nodded, she bit her lip. “You can see spells?”
“I can.”
“Then watch.” Tink closed her eyes and reached out, touching my shoulder with her hand.
In the next second, she glowed a golden color. A halo appeared around her head and ten tiny beams of light shot from each finger. Just like her mother in the alley. I understood suddenly that Lisa hadn’t been in on the kidnapping as I’d initially thought—she’d merely seen the future. That’s how she’d known exactly where to jump, when to vanish, and how to escape. And it was probably how she’d known to bring Tink to the pizzeria for safe keeping. She had known we’d be the ones to put the puzzle pieces together. All thanks to one special little girl.
“Here,” Tink said, reaching a hand up to tug at her necklace. “I need your help. Take this off, please.”
I helped Tink take her necklace off, a simple silver chain with a fat pearl attached at the bottom. It was a beautiful piece that seemed a sin to remove.
“You need this,” she said, sounding insistent. “You must take it.”
“Where’d you get this necklace?” I asked, holding the chain in my hand. I was hesitant to take it because it felt precious, a sentimental gift more than a monetary one from someone important to Tink. “This belongs to you.”
She shook her head. “Not right now—you need it more than me. It will keep you safe, and it will bring mama back to me.”
“But—”
Tink closed her eyes and glowed for a moment. “Please!”
I fastened the chain around my neck, more to prevent a temper tantrum than anything else. “What did you see?”
“I can’t tell you that. You know too much already.”
“You touched my shoulder,” I said. “That means you must need some sort of physical contact to read the future.”
“For little kids,” she said with a shrug. “My mom is better at it than me.”
“I bet she’s had years of practice.”
“My mom thinks they’re going to bring us to Gilded Row when the elders test my powers,” Tink said. “I’m very strong.”
I smiled and gave a soft laugh. “Stronger than you know, Tink. I’m sorry I can’t spend more time with you, but—”
“It’s time for you to go,” Tink said matter-of-factly. “I know.”
I laughed again. “Of course you do. Thank you for trusting me.”
“I didn’t,” she said. “Mama did. I think she used her powers to see you.”
“Your mama is a strong woman,” I said. “And so are you. I’m going to get Willa, and you can hang out with her until your mom comes back. Sound okay?”
“Can I have pizza?”
I smoothed her hair. “Of course. Whatever you’d like. Just don’t eat so much you get a stomachache, or I’ll be in trouble with your mom.”
Willa was waiting outside the door with an anxious smile on her face when I went to retrieve her. “Did it work?”
“I hope so,” I said, touching the pearl around my neck. “I sure hope so.”
I’d barely cleared the front door to the pizzeria when my Comm rang with a message from Matthew.
“Damien got away,” he said briskly. “Where are you?”
“I just left home,” I said. “I can’t explain yet, and I’m sorry. But I made a promise.”
“Fine.” Matthew was smart enough not to argue. “I need you to get ahold of Felix. He buzzed with an update, but I didn’t have time to take the call.”
“I’ll take care of Felix,” I said. “Find Damien.”
Matthew ended the Comm without fanfare.
Hard to believe we’d been in his bed hardly an hour before, wrapped in a tender, passionate embrace. No wonder we’d found it hard to maintain a relationship—we never had time to finish what we started. But that, I vowed, would change. Just as soon as we wrapped this case.
A small voice in my head told me I’d said the same thing before, time and time again. There was always another case. Another innocent that needed saving, another murder that needed solving. And often, combinations of both.
When would it end?
“Felix,” I said into the Comm. “I’ll be to the lab in five minutes. Have your results ready.”
“Thank you, Felix,” he muttered in a nasal imitation through the Comm. “I really appreciate your speedy results, and the fact that you put me first above everyone else who needed work done yesterday.”
“Felix.”
“Sorry,” he said. “It’ll be ready. And Detective, I think you’ll be surprised.”
Chapter 24
“I’m not at all surprised,” I said to Felix. “Sorry, champ.”
The tech wizard shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced down, a keen look of disapp
ointment on his face. “What do you mean you’re not surprised?”
“I mean your results make perfect sense. It fits snugly together with everything else I’ve discovered today.”
“What sort of discoveries have you made?” Felix asked, a curious glint to his eye. “Explain to me how a Siphoning Spell fits into the rest of this case.”
There was silence for a moment as we both looked down at the silver bangle on the table. The bracelet I’d nabbed from Reina’s arm at the casino the other night, the one touched by her magic.
“You first,” I said. “I’d like to know how an ancient Siphoning Spell has found its way onto the bracelet of a casino dealer.”
“A very good question. In fact, I thought you’d never ask.” Felix shoved a thick pair of glasses up his nose and rubbed his hands together with glee, before tugging up the sleeves of a crinkled white shirt to his elbows. With an excited trill, he launched into a description of the centuries-old magic. “It all began when—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off mere seconds into his explanation. “I’m on a time crunch. I’m going to need you to dumb it down for me.”
Felix chewed on his lip, again disappointed. He was probably the greatest mind in all of Wicked, regardless of the fact he couldn’t seem to keep food stains from collecting on his shirts. I watched, striving for patience, as he struggled to find a simpler explanation.
“What we have here is a very old school of magic,” Felix said, nobly launching a second attempt to make me understand. “A mixture of runes and curses that have been created specifically to funnel magic through its wearer. It’s implemented exclusively on the bangle.”
“Right, I’ve got that,” I said. “Fast forward.”
Felix gave a flustered sputter. He hated to be interrupted, so I made a good effort to close my mouth and keep it shut. I wanted to get out of the lab and back to the precinct in case Matthew, Nash, and Marcus needed a hand roping in Damien.
“Anyone who wears this bracelet,” Felix said, lifting up the silver so it glinted under the lab lights, “has what’s called a channeling power. It’s been illegal for years, hence the reason it’s centuries-old magic. Because most people aren’t stupid enough to use it any longer. It’s heavily punishable by prison sentence, as evidenced by the Goblins vs Elves case of 1799.”
