I could do simple things without even trying, like imbuing drinks with feelings and moving my hair out of my face with no hands. But outside of healing, which my adoptive family had forced me to become an expert in, I’d never really tried anything big.

  In all my years as a Guardian, I’d never relied on magic to make my blades fly straighter or my legs pump faster. That seemed like a sure way to get myself killed. As skilled as I was with magic, I’d been taught to always remember I could never rely on it. It wasn’t as much a part of me as my nerves, my strategies, my muscles. I could wield it like a weapon, but it would always be a borrowed one. It would never truly be mine. And anything that wasn’t truly mine could betray me.

  So now, as I stared at these two men who were clearly both in over their heads—and who would truly need my help if they could ever get past trying to convict me of a crime I hadn’t committed—I wanted badly to magic my way out of this situation entirely and go hunt Ray on my own. But that would require some serious, mind-altering shit if I didn’t want it to land me behind bars somewhere down the line. And I wouldn’t mess with the serious shit unless I had no other choice.

  “Tell you what,” I said slowly. “If a partnership with the DSC is in the works and you’re still working out the kinks, why not add me to the mix for this case?”

  My reputation was questionable right now, yes, but at the end of the day I was still a former Guardian. And I knew there was no precedent of the DSC ever turning down help from a former Guardian.

  If I pressed the issue, I might even be able to get them in trouble for trying to keep me away. I wouldn’t mention that unless I needed to, though.

  Before either one of them could answer me, I continued, “Since it’s just you two here doing the questioning, resources must be spread thin already. Doesn’t look like you have anyone from the department here backing you up now—or am I wrong?”

  That made them nervous, for sure. It was tough to tell with Crane, because he’d seemed nervous more often than not since I’d met him. But I knew I was in dangerous water when I saw the blood drain from Dirk’s face as he gripped his bandaged shoulder, where Ray must have burned him earlier.

  Shit. I hadn’t meant that as a threat. Was he really still drunk, or was I really that menacing? Either way, the last thing I wanted was for him to think he had to attack me in self-defense.

  Clearly, these guys had no idea what to expect from someone like me. I didn’t know what to do to not scare them.

  “Hey, I promise I’m really not a bad guy,” I tried. “If you arrest me now, you’ll just have to let me go in a few hours, because I guarantee you’ll find no evidence to hold against me. But if you let me work this case with you, find the jerk who set my girl on fire, you’ll get to spend some quality time with me. Now, I’m sure that will convince you I’m innocent—but if you’re right and I’m not, that’s the best chance you’ll get of finding anything to hold me on. Think of what it could do for your careers . . .”

  Crane was smiling when I broke my stare away from his partner. He might actually believe me on the case of my innocence. Or maybe my magic had somehow gone completely rogue tonight and I really had put lust in his drink just by contemplating it.

  That would explain Becca’s mysterious burst of strength right before she’d gotten on stage, too. I hoped that wasn’t the case, because it had never happened before. And as much as I knew it was foolish to rely on my magic being . . . well, reliable—it was unsettling to think I could have such a complete lack of control.

  But if Crane was standing across from me burning with desire right now, that would be a little hilarious. Not to mention tempting. He was actually pretty hot if I ignored the awkward personality.

  “I . . . think it could work,” Crane said cautiously. “As long as we keep an eye on her, at least we’ll know she’s not causing trouble for anyone else,” he added, probably for Dirk’s benefit.

  “That’s because she’ll be causing trouble for us instead. What could she possibly help us with? We know what we’re doing.”

  “But I know Becca—um, knew her,” I amended, choking on the words. “I know her behavior tonight casts suspicion on the man who escaped, and I know the best way to find him again.”

  “What would that be?” Crane sounded genuinely curious to know.

  “Becca’s son.”

  “She had a son?” Dirk’s face scrunched up as he flipped through his messy-looking notebook.

  “See?” I smiled. “I’m already helping.”

  “Okay,” Dirk snapped as he clapped his notebook shut. “Compromise.”

  “Hmm?” Crane asked, but Dirk was already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

  He squinted at it and after a few taps, it was against his ear. “Miriam,” he barked, “I need one of your squishies.”

  What in all the hells was that? Judging by Crane’s hand over his eyes, it wasn’t anything good.

  “Maybe you can help us, maybe you can’t,” Dirk said, putting his phone away. “Maybe we can put you away for good, maybe not. Either way, we can’t afford to babysit you. We’ve got our own leads to follow.”

  Do they? I wondered. Or was this a matter of pride?

  “So after a quick stop at the station, we’ll let you go. Talk to Becca’s son. Find the man you think is so suspicious. Do whatever you like. We’ll have someone watching.”

  “Meaning . . . you’re sending someone else with me?”

  Crane let his hands fall away from his face and, with a slight groan, said, “Not exactly—”

  “Come on,” Dirk snapped, already making for the door. “You’ll see.”

  6

  Half an hour and plenty of bitching later, I was walking up the steps to my apartment with a pink, gelatinous blob latched on to the back of my neck.

  It had turned out Miriam was more than just a woman from the DSC who could read minds; she was also some kind of psychic Barbie swamp monster who regularly shed bits of herself and turned them into minion parasite spies. The one attached to me couldn’t read my full mind—supposedly—but it gave Miriam a clear, constant line to my stream of consciousness. Unless I suddenly became very good at lying to myself, she would always know where I was and what I was doing.

  That alone, I wouldn’t mind so much. But really, a pink blob?

  I’d had to let my hair out of its usual knot to hide the damn thing, since it looked more like alien cancer than a terrible fashion choice—though I wasn’t sure which would have worried Etty more. Now my skin was crawling as unruly waves of my long hair brushed against my cheeks and shoulders like flying insects. I hated bugs. And I absolutely hated wearing my hair down.

  When I reached my apartment, I aggressively pushed my hair behind my ears and took a deep breath, resisting the temptation to burst through the front door. If Noah was here, I didn’t want to scare him.

  The poor kid would already be in shock, trying to process the loss of his mother. And Etty, too . . . Becca had always been the link between us, the one who loved both of us and made us get along with each other because we both loved her. Without her, were Etty and I even really friends? I had no idea, and now I felt almost like I was walking into an apartment with two bombs, ready to explode. I had to tread carefully.

  I turned the knob slowly and pushed the door forward, surprised to find it dark inside. I hadn’t been gone that long, and it still wasn’t too late. Midnight, maybe? Past the kid’s bedtime? I still didn’t know much about Noah’s routine. He usually kept to Becca’s room when he was here, but he spent most days and nights with his father. A man who seemed nice enough, but who had cheated on Becca and then expected her to stay with him for the sake of their family. When she hadn’t, he’d turned against her and lawyered up, arguing that she wasn’t devoted enough to be Noah’s mother, and then that her choice of work made her unfit to be anyone’s mother. With her gone, it seemed he’d gotten what he’d wanted. Noah would be his now.

  The thought made me sick. Maybe I would steal Noah from him, give those cops a real reason to put me away. Or maybe I’d find that his father was somehow behind Becca’s death. Yes, that would kill two birds with one stone. Avenge my friend and save her son from an atrocious upbringing. Let’s do that, I thought. But realistically, the man wouldn’t have needed to kill Becca to ensure custody of his son. He’d already been well on his way to winning that, if what Becca had told me was true.

  No, Ray was still the most obvious suspect, and I was willing to bet he’d gotten close enough to Becca before sending her up in flames that Noah would be able to tell me something useful about him.

  “Etty?” I whispered as I stepped forward into the dark, perfectly comfortable without the use of my eyes.

  I knew from experience to pick my feet up high over the eight-inch platform heels Etty always left right by the entrance. I’d stubbed my toes on them far too many times and gotten into far too many screaming matches with Etty on the subject before Becca had convinced me to suck it up and look before I stepped.

  Feeling her absence in the apartment already, I turned left as soon as my outstretched fingers brushed the back of the furry sofa in the living room, then made my way to the kitchen. There, by the stove, I finally flipped on a light.

  When the sudden brightness washed over me, I felt it in the stinging and sudden heaviness in my eyelids. They wanted to close. I wanted to sleep. But even if I didn’t have a monumental task ahead of me, midnight would still be too early for bed.

  As much as I’d been trying to delay it, to push it down until I had the spare time to deal with it, my grief over Becca was catching up with me. Slowing me down. Making me irritable. But I knew if I didn’t focus on saving her, it would only get worse.

  I needed coffee.

  As I opened the tin and savored the rich scent that filled my nostrils, I worked to recall Becca’s image in my mind. Not as she’d been at the club, dead and gone—but with life and pain still in her eyes, the way she’d looked tied to that stake in whatever strange realm I had accidentally followed Ray to.

  I spooned some beans into the grinder and pressed the lid down, relishing in the jolt to my nerves caused by the sudden loud noise. Almost as good as the caffeine itself. But when it got quiet again and I tipped the grounds into the coffee machine, I heard what sounded like an Etty groan coming from the living room.

  I poked my head out the kitchen doorway and saw Etty sparkling gently in the shadows, face down on the fluffy white couch, splayed out like she was the one who’d been murdered tonight. I sighed, then went back to the coffee machine and opened the cabinet above it, grabbing two mugs instead of the one I’d originally planned for.

  Mine was a dusty blue color in the shape of an elephant—the handle its trunk—and hers was cheetah print. Becca had gotten them both for us as gifts, saying they reminded her of us. I’d been offended until she’d explained that elephants are friendly and smart, but they have great aim with their trunks and everyone knows not to fuck with them. Now I would cherish it forever.

  Taking care not to spill, I padded from the kitchen to the couch with the two steaming mugs in my hands—mine with cream but no sugar, and hers with about a pound of sugar but no cream. I sat on the sage-green rug on the floor beside the couch, strategically placing Etty’s mug of coffee right beneath her sleeping face. Then I sipped mine and waited.

  In less than a minute, her eyes were open and coppery irises were glaring back at me, shining with sadness more than anything else. This might be the one time I could wake Etty up without her getting mad at me about it; right now, she was too distracted by other feelings.

  She blinked, and in a fluid motion so quick it couldn’t be human, she swept up her coffee and sat cross-legged on the couch, holding the cheetah-printed mug under her face and closing her eyes against the warm steam billowing up.

  “Hey,” I said.

  Her eyes still closed, Etty ignored me and dipped one of her long golden fingernails into the coffee. She shivered as some of the liquid was sucked into her finger—the caffeine going straight to her veins in a display that might have made me jealous if it weren’t so weird.

  Etty belonged to a rare court of fae, desert dwellers who could dessicate their enemies with their claws.

  She popped her finger into her mouth, licked it clean, and then set the mug down on the short table in front of her. Turning to me, she just sighed.

  I nodded gently towards Becca’s room and asked, “Is Noah asleep?”

  “Hmm?” she said. Then, once my question had really registered in her brain, she added, “He’s not here.”

  My face scrunched up with worry. “Is he with his father? I thought Becca said she would have him today.”

  “Yep,” Etty replied. “She said that. Then this afternoon she told me Baz was babysitting for a while.”

  “What? Baz?”

  “Yep.”

  “Bawdy Baz?” I repeated, incredulous. “The thousands-of-years-old genie who keeps nothing but tea and booze in his kitchen is babysitting our girl’s six-year-old?”

  “Yep,” she said, closing her eyes again to take a drink the human way this time.

  “Why?”

  Etty pursed her lips and opened her eyes, shifting them far to the left. “Umm . . . That’s a good question.” She raised her voice a little as her words quickened. “Becca was saying a lot this morning but I wasn’t really awake, you know . . . so I . . . I don’t remember.”

  I could see the grief fight for control of Etty’s face again, her lips quivering just a little, her jaw setting, and her eyes shining with wetness.

  “And now she’s gone.” Etty set her mug down once more and covered her face with her hands. “She’s gone and I don’t remember what she said.” Her words came out muffled through her fingers, and then the sobs took over.

  Fuck. I took a deep breath, trying not to panic. I had no idea how to deal with this kind of thing. Crying. Sadness. Well, I could deal with my own emotions—but comforting someone else?

  Before coming to work at Baz’s club, I’d never been in any environment where that particular skill had been expected of me. And even there, as the bartender, I didn’t need to be great at it. I could just pour drinks and crack jokes, and there were always plenty of naked women all around me who were much better at the “There, there, honey; it’s okay” than me.

  Etty was one of them. And now she needed . . . me. I briefly considered asking for her mug back and infusing the coffee with some comfort, but it didn’t seem appropriate. Becca was dead, and any feelings that came from that deserved to be dealt with the real way.

  So I reached out awkwardly and touched my hand to Etty’s shoulder. I’d just barely made contact with her shimmering dark skin when she jerked away from me. And for an instant, her claws extended, and the glitter on her skin looked more like thousands of barbs on a cactus as she bristled.

  It was over almost as soon as it started, and she was back to her soft, sad, sparkly self, staring at me with round eyes.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just—”

  “It’s okay, I get it.” I forced a tiny smile onto my face. I didn’t have time for her emotions now anyway. We weren’t friends with Becca gone, and that was okay. It would have to be okay. But I hoped we could at least be allies. “Um, do you think you could do something for me? For Bex?”

  She looked up at me with fierce eyes and wiped away her tears. “What?”

  “Remember how you said you could ask your queen? About what may have happened to Becca? Before she . . . you know. It was probably Ray who hurt her, but just in case we’re wrong about that . . . or even if we’re right, your queen might be able to help us figure out how he did it.”

  Etty was just looking at me, her eyes hard, her fingers slowly tightening around her mug.

  “And you said something, when you saw what happened. Something about wings? If it’s a fae thing, anything you can do to help me understand—”

  “Wings.” Etty closed her eyes and breathed in. “I said that?”

  “You did, I think. When Becca was dancing.”

  “I don’t remember that,” she said quickly. “I’ll request an audience with my queen, though. No way am I going to work tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. I’m gonna go hunt down Noah—call me if you get anything, okay?”

  “Kay,” she said.

  Without another word, I grabbed my emergency bag from the closet by the front door and made my way down the stairs outside.

  I needed to know anything Noah could tell me about Becca’s relationship with Ray, and now I also needed to know what the hell Becca had been thinking leaving her kid with our wacky, irresponsible boss.

  She wouldn’t have done that unless she’d been desperate, and anything that could have made her feel desperate the morning of the day she died was something that could help me catch her killer now.

  7

  The pathway to the garage underneath my apartment complex gleamed with black ice. Not the kind of invisible ice that caused car accidents, though—this was actually black. Pigmented. Like glassy coal covering the pale cement that usually didn’t have any ice on it at all.

  Everything was kept well salted in all seasons nowadays, because people thought it would ward off evil just as well as it did ice. Right now, as I remembered being surrounded by obsidian that looked eerily similar to this pathway, I kind of wished I knew whether that was true. If it was, I might have less to be afraid of. But the list of things that could and would kill me far outweighed the list of things that might be repelled by salted walkways.

  Evil is far from the only thing in this world worth fearing, I thought, remembering the words Simeon had drilled into my brain on our first day together, three years ago. I’d thought I’d learned everything I would need to know in my four years of Guardian training, but my first charge had turned out to be my best teacher. He had taught me that a person with reasonable motivations is far more dangerous than the most straightforward of evil creatures, every time.

 

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