The Good, the Bad, and the Undead - Page 3/29

My gaze was drawn to Sara Jane's nails as she fidgeted across from me. Last time I had seen her, they were clean but worn down to the quick. Now they were long and shapely, polished a tasteful shade of red. "So," I said, looking from the fitfully flashing enamel to her eyes. They were blue. I hadn't known for sure. "You last heard from Dan on Saturday?"

From across the table, Sara Jane nodded. There hadn't been a flicker of recognition when Edden introduced us. Part of me was relieved, part disappointed. Her lilac scent pulled the unwelcome memory of helplessness I had felt while a mink caged in Trent's office.

The tissue in Sara Jane's hand was about the size of a walnut, clenched into a ball with her trembling fingers. "Dan called me as he was coming off of work," she said, the tremor reflected in her voice. She glanced at Edden, standing beside the closed door with his arms crossed and his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "Well, he left a message on my machine - it was four in the morning. He said he wanted to have dinner together, that he wanted to talk to me. He never showed up. That's why I know something's wrong, Officer Morgan." Her eyes went wide and her jaw clenched as she struggled not to cry.

"It's Ms. Morgan," I said uncomfortably. "I don't work for the FIB on a regular basis."

Jenks's wings shifted into motion as he remained perched on my foam cup. "She doesn't really work regularly at all," he said snidely.

"Ms. Morgan is our Inderland consultant," Edden said, frowning at Jenks.

Sara Jane dabbed at her eyes. The tissue still in her grip, she nudged her hair back. She had cut it, and it made her look even more professional as it bumped about her shoulders in a straight yellow sheet. "I brought a picture of him," she said, digging in her purse to pull out a snapshot and push it at me. I looked down to see her and a young man on the deck of one of the steamers that take tourists out on the Ohio River. They were both smiling. His arm was around her, and she was leaning into him. She looked happy and relaxed in blue jeans and a blouse.

I took a moment to study Dan's picture. He was clean-cut, sturdy looking, and wearing a plaid shirt. Just the kind of man one would expect a farm girl to bring home to Mom and Dad.

"Can I keep this?" I asked, and she nodded. "Thanks." I tucked it in my bag, not comfortable with how her eyes were fixed upon the picture as if she could bring him back by her will alone. "Do you know how we can get in touch with his relatives? He may have had a family emergency and needed to leave without notice."

"Dan is an only child," she said, dabbing at her nose with the crumpled tissue. "Both his parents are gone. They were serfed on a farm up north. Life expectancy isn't high for a farmer."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. "Technically, we can't enter his apartment until he's declared missing. You don't happen to have a key, do you?"

"Yes. I - " She blushed through her makeup. "I let his cat in when he works late."

I glanced down at the lie-detecting amulet in my lap as it briefly shifted from green to red. She was lying, but I didn't need an amulet to figure that out. I said nothing, not wanting to embarrass her further by making her admit she had the key for other, more romantic reasons.

"I was there today about seven," she said, eyes downcast. "Everything looked fine."

"Seven in the morning?" Edden uncrossed his arms and levered himself upright. "Isn't that when you - you witches, I mean - are tucked in bed?"

She gazed up at him and nodded. "I'm Mr. Kalamack's personal secretary. He works in the mornings and evenings, so my schedule is split. Eight to noon in the morning and four to eight in the afternoon. It took a while to become accustomed to it, but with four hours for myself in the afternoon, I was able to spend more time with... Dan," she finished.

"Please," the young woman pleaded suddenly, her gaze shifting between Edden and me. "I know something's wrong. Why won't anyone help me?"

I shifted uncomfortably as she struggled for control. She felt helpless. I understood her better than she knew. Sara Jane was the latest in Trent's long string of secretaries. As a mink I had listened in on her interview, unable to warn her as she was lured into believing Trent's half-truths. For all her intelligence, she hadn't a chance to escape his charm and extravagant offers. With his offer of employment, Trent had given her family a golden ticket out of their indentured servitude.

And Trent Kalamack was truly a benevolent employer, offering high wages and outstanding benefits. He gave people what they desperately wanted, asking in return nothing but their loyalty. By the time they realized how deep he demanded that loyalty go, they knew too much to extricate themselves.

Sara Jane had escaped the farm, but Trent had then bought it, probably to ensure that she would keep her mouth shut when she found out about his dealings in the illegal drug Brimstone, as well as the desperately sought-after genetic medicines outlawed during the Turn. I'd almost tagged him with the truth, but the sole other witness had died in a car explosion.

Publicly, Trent served on the city's council, untouchable because of his vast wealth and generous donations to charities and underprivileged children. Privately, no one even knew if he was a human or Inderlander. Even Jenks couldn't tell, which was unusual for a pixy. Trent quietly ran a good slice of Cincinnati's underworld, and both the FIB and the I.S. would sell their bosses to have a court date with him. And now Sara Jane's boyfriend was missing.

I cleared my throat, recalling the temptation of Trent's offer myself. Seeing Sara Jane under control again, I asked, "You said he works at Pizza Piscary's?"

She nodded. "He's a driver. That's how we met." She bit her lip and dropped her eyes.

The lie-detecting amulet was a steady green. Piscary's was an Inderland eatery serving everything from tomato soup to gourmet cheesecake. Piscary himself was said to be one of Cincinnati's master vampires. Nice enough, from what I'd heard: not greedy with his vamp takes, even-tempered, on record as being dead for the last three hundred years. 'Course, he was probably older than that, and the nicer and more civilized an undead vampire seemed, the more depraved he or she generally was. My roommate thought of him as sort of a friendly uncle, which made me feel oh-so-warm and fuzzy inside.

I handed Sara Jane another tissue, and she smiled weakly. "I can go out to his apartment today," I said. "Do you think you could meet me there with the key? Sometimes a professional can spot things others miss." Jenks snorted, and I shifted my legs, bumping the underside of the table to make him dart into the air.

Sara Jane showed relief. "Oh, thank you, Ms. Morgan," she gushed. "I can go right now. I just have to call my employer and let him know I'll be a little late." She gripped her purse, looking like she was ready to fly out of the room. "Mr. Kalamack told me to take all the time I need this afternoon."

I glanced at Jenks's attention-getting buzz. He had a worried I-told-you-so look. How nice of Trent to let his secretary take all the time she needs to find her boyfriend when he's probably stuffed in a closet so she'll keep her mouth shut. "Ah, let's make it tonight," I said, thinking of my fish. "I need to look up a few things." And whip up a few antigoon spells, check my splat gun, and collect my fee...

"Of course," she said, settling back as her expression clouded.

"And if nothing turns up there, we'll go on to the next step." I tried to make my smile reassuring. "I'll meet you at Dan's apartment a little after eight?"

Hearing the dismissal in my voice, she nodded and stood. Jenks flitted into the air, and I rose as well. "All right," she said. "It's out at Redwood - "

Edden shuffled his feet. "I'll tell Ms. Morgan where it is, Ms. Gradenko."

"Yes. Thank you." Her smile was starting to look stilted. "I'm just so worried...."

I disguised putting my lie-detecting amulet away by digging through my bag and pulling out one of my cards. "Please let me or the FIB know if you hear from him in the meantime," I said as I handed it to her. Ivy had the cards professionally printed, and they looked slick.

"Yes. I will," she murmured, her lips moving as she read vampiric charms, the name Nick had given my and Ivy's agency. She met my eyes as she tucked the card in her purse. I shook her hand, deciding her grip was firmer this time. Her fingers, though, were still cold.

"I'll show you out, Ms. Gradenko," Edden said as he opened the door. At his subtle gesture, I sank back into my chair to wait.

Jenks buzzed his wings for my attention. "I don't like it," he said as our eyes met.

A flash of ire took me. "She wasn't lying," I said defensively. He put his hands on his hips, and I waved him off my cup to take a sip of my lukewarm coffee. "You don't know her, Jenks. She hates vermin, but she tried to keep Jonathan from tormenting me though it might have meant her job."

"She felt sorry for you," Jenks said. "Pitiful little mink with a concussion."

"She gave me part of her lunch when I wouldn't eat those disgusting pellets."

"The carrots were drugged, Rache."

"She didn't know that. Sara Jane suffered as much as I did."

The pixy hovered six inches before me, demanding I look at him. "That's what I'm saying. Trent could be using her to get to you again, and she wouldn't even know it."

My sigh pushed him back. "She's trapped. I have to help her if I can." I looked up as Edden opened the door and poked his head in. He had an FIB hat on, and it looked odd with his white shirt and khakis as he gestured for me.

Jenks flitted to my shoulder. "You and your 'rescue impulses' are going to get you killed," he whispered as I found the hallway.

"Thanks, Morgan," Edden said as he grabbed my canister of fish and led me up front.

"No problem," I said as we entered the FIB's back offices. The hustle of people enfolded me, and my tension eased in the blessed autonomy it offered. "She wasn't lying about anything other than having a key to let his cat out. But I could have told you that without the spell. I'll let you know what I find out at Dan's apartment. How late can I call you?"

"Oh," Edden said loudly as we slipped past the front desk and headed for the sunlit sidewalk. "No need, Ms. Morgan. Thank you for your help. We'll be in touch."

I stopped short in surprise. A curl of escaped hair brushed my shoulder as Jenks's wings clattered against themselves in a harsh noise. "What the hell?" he muttered.

My face warmed as I realized he was brushing me off. "I did not come down here just to invoke a lousy lie-detecting amulet," I said as I jerked into motion. "I told you I'd leave Kalamack alone. Get out of my way and let me do what I'm good at."

Behind me, conversations were going quiet. Edden never hesitated in his slow stride to the door. "It's an FIB matter, Ms. Morgan. Let me help you out."

I followed, tight to his heels, not caring about the dark looks I was getting. "This run is mine, Edden," I almost yelled. "Your people will mess it up. These are Inderlanders, not humans. You can have the glory. All I want is to be paid." And see Trent in jail, I added silently.

He pushed open one of the glass double doors. The sun-warmed concrete threw up a wave of heat as I stomped out after him, almost pinning the short man against the building as he gestured for a cab. "You gave me this run and I'm taking it," I exclaimed, yanking a curl out of my mouth as the wind blew it up into my face. "Not some stuck-up, arrogant cookie in an FIB hat who thinks he's the greatest thing since the Turn!"

"Good," he said lightly, shocking me into taking a step back. Putting my canister on the sidewalk, he stuffed his FIB hat into his back pocket. "But from here on out, you are officially off the run."

My mouth opened in understanding. I was officially not here. Taking a breath, I willed the adrenaline out of my system. Edden nodded as he saw my anger fizzle out. "I'd appreciate your discretion on this," he said. "Sending Glenn out to Pizza Piscary's alone isn't prudent."

"Glenn!" Jenks shrilled, his voice scraping the inside of my skull, making my eyes water.

"No," I said. "I already have my team. We don't need Detective Glenn."

Jenks left me. "Yeah," he said as he flew between the FIB captain and me. His wings were red. "We don't play well with others."

Edden frowned. "This is an FIB matter. You will have an FIB presence with you when at all possible, and Glenn is the only one qualified."

"Qualified?" Jenks scoffed. "Why not admit he's the only one of your officers who can talk to a witch without pissing his pants?"

"No," I said firmly. "We work alone."

Edden stood beside my canister, his arms crossed to make his squat form look as immovable as a stone wall. "He's our new Inderland specialist. I know he's inexperienced - "

"He's an ass!" Jenks snapped.

A grin flashed over Edden. "I prefer rough around the edges, myself."

My lips pursed. "Glenn is a cocky, self-assured..." I fumbled, looking for something suitably derogatory. "...FIB flunky who is going to get himself killed the first time he runs into an Inderlander who isn't as nice as I am."

Jenks bobbed his head. "He needs to be taught a lesson."

Edden smiled. "He's my son, and I couldn't agree more," he said.

"He's what?" I exclaimed as an unmarked FIB car pulled up to the curb beside us. Edden reached for the handle of the back door and opened it. Edden was clearly from European decent, and Glenn...Glenn wasn't. My mouth worked as I tried to find something that couldn't be remotely construed as being racist. As a witch, I was sensitive to that kind of thing. "How come he doesn't have your last name?" I managed.

"He's used his mother's maiden name since joining the FIB," Edden said softly. "He's not supposed to be under my direction, but no one else would take the job."

My brow furrowed. Now I understood the cold reception in the FIB. It hadn't been all me. Glenn was new, taking a position everyone but his dad thought was a waste of time. "I'm not doing this," I said. "Find someone else to baby-sit your kid."

Edden put my canister into the back. "Break him in gently."

"You aren't listening," I said loudly, frustrated. "You gave me this run. My associates and I appreciate your offer to help, but you asked me here. Back off and let us work."

"Great," Edden said as he slammed the car's back door shut. "Thanks for taking Detective Glenn with you out to Piscary's."

A cry of disgust slipped from me. "Edden!" I exclaimed, earning looks from the passing people. "I said no. There is one sound coming past my lips. One sound. Two letters. One meaning. No!"

Edden opened the front passenger door and gestured for me to get in. "Thanks bunches, Morgan." He glanced into the backseat. "Why were you running from those Weres, anyway?"

My breath came in a slow, controlled sound. Damn.

Edden chuckled, and I put myself in the car and slammed the door, trying to get his stubby fingers in it. Scowling, I looked at the driver. It was Glenn. He looked as happy as I felt. I had to say something. "You don't look anything like your dad," I said snidely.

His gaze was fixed with a ramrod stiffness out the front window. "He adopted me when he married my mother," he said through clenched teeth.

Jenks zipped in trailing a sunbeam of pixy dust. "You're Edden's son?"

"You got a problem with that?" he said belligerently.

The pixy landed on the dash with his hands on his hips. "Nah. All you humans look alike to me."

Edden bent to put his beaming round face in the window. "Here's your class schedule," he said, handing me a yellow half page of paper with printer holes along the sides. "Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Glenn will buy any books you need."

"Hold it!" I exclaimed, alarm washing through me as the yellow paper crackled in my fingers. "I thought I was just going to poke around the university. I don't want to take a class!"

"It's the one Mr. Smather was taking. Be there, or you won't get paid."

He was smiling, enjoying this. "Edden!" I shouted as he backed up onto the sidewalk.

"Glenn, take Ms. Morgan and Jenks to their office. Let me know what you find at Dan Smather's apartment."

"Yes sir!" he barked. His knuckles gripping the wheel showed a fierce pressure. Pink patches of Ivy-Aid decorated his wrists and neck. I didn't that care that he had heard most of the conversation. He wasn't welcome, and the sooner he understood that, the better.