“She’s a regular of ours,” Rashid said. “A vigilante of sorts, so she should fit in with your team, assuming you’re able to bargain with her. She’s made a hobby out of tracking pyro incidents and stalking incendiaries and making our job more difficult. I should’ve known when you mentioned it that she would’ve been on the scene the night of the fire.”
“She knows who the incendiary is?”
“I don’t know,” Rashid said. “Being forthcoming with information isn’t her specialty, which is a real shame because she’d make a great informant. Really, she would be a good PCU detective, but she’d hate that I said that. She won’t talk to us, of course, but maybe she’ll open up to you.”
Rashid pulled into a dumpy little parking lot where unkempt, brown weeds poked out of the potholes and concrete parking curbs sat askew, some disintegrating to expose their corroded rebar. Two other PCU vehicles were parked in the lot, an educated guess made as to their approximate spaces, the designated lines missing from the pavement. If it hadn’t been for the telltale matte black paint and blue lights, I would’ve never guessed that this was supposed to be PCU headquarters. Then again, if you were on a tight budget and trying to remain inconspicuous, you’d pick the least appealing building on the block, too.
At least we’d made this trip without the bags over our heads and handcuffs digging into our wrists.
From the outside, the building appeared abandoned with the exception of the vehicles in the lot. Old, gray stone with long, narrow tinted windows and three bays that reminded me of the historic firehouses. If they were trying to be discreet about their location, it kind of worked. Though the small stone building—likely a repurposed Victorian carriage house—looked wildly out of place among the modern businesses and high-rises.
A swell of energy caught my attention when I stepped out of the car, the fine hairs on my forearms standing on end. The buzzing static sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. The last time I’d been here, I hadn’t paid much attention to the wards around it. While I assumed they could stay invisible to the naked eye, I caught a shimmer every now and then, a pulse of glowing red that had the consistency of smoke.
We trailed Detective Rashid to one of the bays where she paused to flash her ID against a digital scanner. The door buzzed and jerked open, wailing on its massive hinges. The air shimmered between us and Rashid, delicate wisps of reddish-orange light revealing themselves from around the doorframe and the walls. An uncomfortable pressure settled against me, a slight resistance as the static buzzing rose like a wave.
The room other side was brightly lit and cool, low hanging lights dazzling off the polished black floor tile. We passed the front desk where a bored secretary watched surveillance screens. A radio crackled on the desktop, overlapping voices breaking through the static. Half of his attention had been captured by the novel in his lap, and he didn’t even spare us a cursory glance.
It wasn’t like any other municipal building I’d been in, the modern décor and overuse of frosted glass made it feel like an upscale hotel lobby. I hadn’t paid much attention the last time I’d been here. My only thought had been focused on how badly I’d wanted to leave.
An eerie sort of silence had fallen over the room, not even a radio station pumping through the sound system. Just all kinds of buzzing and humming—the lights, the A/C, the wards. I didn’t see how anyone would willingly spent a lot of time here.
That could’ve been the whole point.
A series of rooms, some used for offices and others with an unknown purpose, lined a narrower hallway off the main lobby. Rashid stopped outside one of the doors, all of them identical brushed steel and frosted glass except for the metal plaques beside them. The door gave a soft click as it unlocked. A single industrial light in the middle of the ceiling made it look a little like an old broom closet.
“I see you’ve slipped your cuffs,” Rashid said to the young Asian woman at the solitary table inside. She was perched on its surface, her scuffed Converse sneakers planted on the seat of a hard plastic chair. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one years old. The cuffs in question were on the table next to her, the chain warped and melted in two.
“They weren’t even locked.”
“And yet you chose to ruin another pair, anyway,” Rashid said. “What about the lock on the door? That didn’t excite you?”
“Not this time.” She glanced up from picking at her black nail polish. “You’ve really got to try harder with those wards on the cuffs, babe. It took me five minutes at most. Didn’t even break a sweat. I think you’re getting a touch sloppy.”
It felt like there was another conversation happening here.
“Detective would be more appropriate, thank you,” Rashid corrected. “Zahira, when I’m feeling generous, and usually I am. You know, we wouldn’t keeping having this conversation if you let us do our job and stopped getting in the way.”
“And miss the look on your pretty face every time one of your cops hauls me in here?” the young woman countered. “The separation anxiety would be killer and you know it.” She lifted her head, her hand falling into her lap as if she’d finally noticed she had company. “I didn’t realize you were bringing a whole welcoming party with you.”
Rashid crossed her arms. “Gemma, this is Lieutenant Jodi McGuire, Javier Santos, and Victoria Phoenix. They’re with fire investigation. Sort of. Since the PCU has a No Demon policy, we’ve been trying to find a workaround.”
“Gemma Yoon.” She twisted strands of her long hair between her fingers, a couple of rings catching the pathetic light in the room. Her hair had been dyed in a gradient, the roots black and dissolving, gradually, into pastel pink.
A smudge of black darkened her eyelids, and there was a subtle highlight across her rounded cheeks that gave her olive skin a glittering effect. She wore clear plastic-frame glasses and a sleeveless band T-shirt with ripped denim shorts. A black leather motorcycle jacket had been draped over the back of her chair.
One of those I SURVIVED PERDITION FALLS souvenir buttons was pinned to her shirt above where it had been knotted to one side by her hip. They were popular at tourist shops and street carts that sold cheap souvenir merch, the phrase printed all over shirts and pens and mugs and coasters.
“Breaking rules, Zahira? I have to say, I’m impressed. This is a side of you I haven’t seen.”
“I only do it with the best intentions,” Rashid said. “There comes a point when you can only handle so much red tape. If this saves more lives, then it’s necessary rule-breaking. I’ll figure out the rest later.”
“I’m Nix,” I said. “You were there at the Allen Street fire, and then at the fire on Fillmore last night. We’re trying to hunt down the incendiary who started them.”
“Oh it’s you.” She broke into a radiant smile. “I remember you. The firefighter. My apologies. The wards weren’t quick enough to protect you. Best I could do was a warning on such short notice. But it wasn’t really my fault. That incendiary moved too fast, tried to cover his tracks. There was so much energy coming off that house I thought you’d at least take the hint and get out of there.”
“I felt it,” I replied. “I’m just new to all of this.”
“Ooh, new blood,” Gemma mused. “That’s fun. I remember those days. You were sure packing a lot of heat for a rookie, though.”
My brows knit together. “You felt that?”
“It was really, really impossible not to. Like I said, serious heat. The kind you can’t ignore. Then again, you had a demon in there with you and things can get mixed up.”
“Did you see the incendiary?” Javier asked.
“See it? Oh, no. You don’t see incendiaries like that unless they want to be seen and by then, the trouble’s already started,” she answered. “I caught his trail and followed him. It was a quiet night, I had nothing better to do. This crafty bitch decided he liked moving around in another realm, so I lost him before he torched the place. He was strong, though.”
<
br /> “Do you have any idea who it might have been?” Jodi asked.
“It’s possible,” Gemma said. “A stab in the dark would be more accurate in this city. But of all those incendiaries hiding in plain sight, only a select breed have power that strong.” She narrowed her gaze at Detective Rashid. “You know this already. Why I am I wasting my time?”
“I’m not allowed to give that sort of information to anyone outside the PCU,” Rashid said, patient and even. “I’m risking enough as it is. But someone who has this same information and isn’t burdened by a title, who’s seen these demons on the streets themselves and made those connections, could do that. I want this case solved, Gemma. I don’t care what it takes, as long as we don’t have any more firefighters killed. You have information that can help them. I know that you do.”
“I realize it’s probably the last thing you’d want, but I want you to consider joining our team,” Jodi insisted.
Gemma laughed, doubled over, the sound sarcastic and incredulous. “That’s hilarious that you think I’d ever work for the PCU. Do you know how many times Zahira’s tried to recruit me to work in this dungeon? If I said no to her, I’m definitely not saying yes to this.”
“We’re not—”
“Yeah, no thanks.” She hopped down off the table. “Teamwork’s not really my style.”
“We aren’t formally working under the PCU,” Jodi said. “We don’t follow the same rules. I thought that vigilantism would appeal to you.”
“Well, it does, if I’m the only one doing it,” Gemma replied. She slung her motorcycle jacket over one shoulder. “Are we done here?” When she grabbed for the door handle, she found it locked and traded a combative glance with Detective Rashid.
“Please,” I begged, meeting Gemma at the door. “All we want to do is catch this guy. I know there’s nothing in it for you. I get it, okay? I wouldn’t agree to it, either. Just work with us on this one case, that’s all I ask. Just this one.”
I could see Jodi’s visible disappointment at her low recruitment numbers, but what other choice did we have?
Gemma sagged against the closed door and sighed, her hair fluttering in front of her eyes. She leveled us all with a look of annoyed resignation and an indifferent eye roll. “We’ll have to go to Hell’s Gate. If you’re up for that sort of thing.”
Her aggravation at the exit being barred dissolved into a contagious, amiable grin. “Now, if you would be so kind as to unlock the door, Detective, that’d be fabulous. I’d love to hang around this hellhole, but unfortunately for both of us, I have a crappy job I’m going to be late for.”
Once their voices receded down the hallway, Jodi huffed out an exhale and followed after them.
“I like her,” Javier said. He traced his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Think she’ll go for it?”
I crossed my arms. “At this point, we can only hope.”
The wards pulsed around us, holding stationary positions in the air, intricate configurations thrown like glitter on the warehouse walls. It reminded me of fine lace. I watched Gemma weave them into existence from the ether, wispy phantoms of smoke dripping from her fingertips, the air heavy with heat, painting in a secret language only the fire itself knew. Vines of light now draped the warehouse in their red-orange glow to protect our mission and ourselves from the city. They tinted our skin in shades of red as if we had become the grotesque, fabled old renderings of the demons we were about to hunt. I almost wished these demons came with sharp teeth and claws and gnarled horns, spitting out Latin and lewd insults. Maybe then they’d be easier to locate, easier to kill.
“Let’s get this shit over with, yeah?”
Javier fussed with his silk tie as he crossed the warehouse floor dressed in a tailored black waistcoat and pants. The wards reflected off his polished leather shoes and the perspiration already shining on the sharp planes of his face. This morning’s rain had lifted and in its place the balmy air had returned. It was the usual oppressive weather cycle, which meant the three of us were dying in our dress clothes.
I tried to pick out a sensible outfit. Something I could move around in if we got caught in a fight.
A pair of boots with a low heel, high-waisted trousers and a crimson blouse that dipped lower than necessary, in my opinion. At least I could breathe. I wore more makeup than I had in a while, the effort exhausting by the time I’d painted my lips dark red and achieved a decent smoky eye. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, I just did not find the idea of being lusted after by demons appealing. Sexual attraction wasn’t something I’d ever reciprocated, though I’d found people attractive in other ways. Sensually. Romantically. Aesthetically. So the concept of all-consuming physical lust had always been a baffling concept.
Gemma had explained that although the incendiaries weren’t exactly mortal, they still loved to revel in human pleasure. They fell into bed with mortals on the regular, especially the pyromancers who chose to align themselves with them, which seemed like another hot mess entirely. The idea was to blend in and become the kind of people the incendiaries would willingly associate themselves with.
I caught Javier staring while he finished rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves. He wasn’t as discreet as he thought.
“What?” I pushed a few strands of hair off my face before it threatened to get stuck in my lipstick. The loose waves were suffering from the humidity.
“Nothing,” Javier said.
“Okay, sure.” I rolled my eyes. “Your tie is still crooked, Santos.”
“I got it,” he insisted. “It’s not crooked.”
“Just…here, let me.”
I approached and he relented, dropping his hands to his sides, the offending tie left to its own stubborn devices. With the heel on these boots, the height gap between us had narrowed a bit, though Javier still stood a few inches over me. The rich spices in his cologne hit my senses as I shifted the tie under the collar of his shirt. He watched me from under his long eyelashes, his gaze thoughtful, falling for a moment on my lips. The intensity of his eyes on me rivaled the warmth of his closeness, the heat of the sultry night. I tried to maintain my focus on his tie, anywhere but his face, but my eyes were drawn to his. It only lasted a moment, but it was long enough to notice that his expression was soft, endearing, hints of surprise and curiosity peeking around the edges.
“You know,” I said, my voice just barely above a whisper, “we never covered killing incendiaries in our training sessions.”
“Never had the time,” he said.
“I’m sure Jodi won’t be letting us hunt to kill anytime soon, but better to be prepared, right?”
“Same rule applies,” Javier said. Though I wasn’t looking at him, the weight of his gaze still fell heavily. His voice was low, tumbling like gravel. “They’ve got a fire inside them. It’s our job to find it and put it out.”
After a few minor adjustments, his tie decided to cooperate. “Appreciate it,” he said.
“No problem. Told you it was crooked.”
I pulled away once I realized I’d stayed in his immediate orbit several seconds too long, the heady scent of his cologne still saturating the air around me. Javier’s lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something more, his fingers restless at his side, but Jodi’s brisk entrance quelled whatever almost came next.
“Detective Rashid is already patrolling Hell’s Gate,” Jodi announced. Her uniform was starched and precise as usual, sans her navy jacket. She’d taken off her badge and the pins with her rank that were typically on her lapels. “She’ll be the first one to respond if something should happen and keep any other PCU detectives out of the area until you’re done. Let’s hope that backup isn’t needed. I’ll be here maintaining the line of communication between myself and Zahira.”
“You’re not going with us?” I asked.
“Thank God,” Gemma mumbled, kicking a fragment of concrete. She had on a pair of ankle boots with a chunky heel. Her dress was black lace, the long sleeves
and neckline sheer chiffon. She’d also switched out her glasses with the clear plastic frames to black.
Jodi pursed her lips instead and didn’t offer a protest. She probably figured it wasn’t worth the effort.
“There’s a reason why I have a desk job with fire investigation. I’m not cut out for field work anymore. I haven’t been for a long time now.” She tugged at the sleeve of her pressed white shirt. A reflex of hers in the same way that someone might favor a fresh wound or trace an old scar. “That’s why I have the three of you.”
Gemma snorted. “Of course.”
“My first priority is everyone’s safety,” Jodi assured. “That said, I trust you’ll use discretion and react responsibly. Extreme tactics aren’t going to do the job in this situation, though you might find the thought tempting.” Her eyes flickered, briefly, to me and Javier, and I felt the silent warning branded on me.
“Unless, of course, you find yourselves attacked first. If you have to get out quickly, then you do that. I don’t want you three risking your lives any more than you have to.”
Jodi’s hard stare darted around our half-circle. Her Lieutenant Voice had made a reappearance, and I wondered whether or not she realized it. For a moment, I felt like I was back on the job. Like this was just a regular shift.
Except, you know, the demons.
“Are we understood?” she wanted to know.
We gave a murmur of agreement, and she sent us out into the night.
15
“This is the highlight of my vigilante career,” Gemma grumbled. “I just wish I was getting paid for it. You think the suit would kill me if I sent her an invoice for the wards I put up or no?”
Her peal of cynical laughter ricocheted into the night. We were heading back to the edge of The Raze, straight into the ebb and flow of people moving between the bars and clubs. It was still ten minutes to midnight. Perdition Falls’ night hadn’t hit its peak yet.
Baptism of Fire (Playing With Hellfire Book 1) Page 16
