But that wasn’t what worried me at that moment. I had no idea where my father’s death left me and my mother. I was a bastard, something the kids at school were fond of telling me. My surname was James, granddaughter of Hunter James, the most reviled man on the planet. Were we no longer part of the Family?
Chapter 2
Twenty-two years later
The man sitting in my boss’s office was a mage. Or at least, he was dressed like a mage, which was a pretty good indicator. I didn’t recognize him.
Not that mages wore uniforms, but they all tended to flashy, expensive outfits. I didn’t know if their arrogance and flamboyance was a side effect of their magik, or if they picked it up along the way from their families and schooling, but I had never met a mage who was shy and retiring.
Witches tended toward the hippie-earth-mama-organic-farmer look. Vampires dressed in black or silver or red gothic-disco fashions, and werewolves seemed to favor either mountain man or Native American shaman outfits. Demons wore whatever, or nothing at all. The Fae dressed like the Fae.
The type of magik I had was fairly rare, but almost all of those I knew with it wore black leather and rode motorcycles. Except for Mary Sue. To say she was different was a world-class understatement.
My boss, Thomas Whittaker, was a mage, and I was pretty sure that his dark tailored suit trimmed in gold piping cost more than I made in a month. But he was a hundred years older than I was, so I had time to catch up. Not that I planned to be sitting in an office when I was one hundred thirty. The fantasies I indulged in when thinking of my future trended toward white sand beaches and pina coladas, with surfer-muscled cabana boys lighting my dope pipe and giving me massages.
“Ah, Danica,” Whittaker said, waving me into the room. “This is Mychal Novak. Mychal, this is Danica James, the magitek I was telling you about.”
Novak gave me the up-and-down about three times, and he didn’t look happy. I probably didn’t either. The Novaks? Me being called into a meeting with a scion of one of the Ten Families didn’t bode well for me having a happy time.
“Mychal is joining us from the drug division,” Whittaker said, drawing my attention from the pompous ass sitting in front of his desk. The way it was stated raised immediate fiery-red flags. No. No, no, no. Please no!
“Danica is one of our finest detectives,” Whittaker said. The red flags launched fireworks. “She also came over from narcotics, so you have a common background. I’m sure the two of you will work well together.”
My new partner. I stared at Whittaker, and he stared back.
After my last case, he had said I would pay for breaking protocol, not to mention a few regulations and a couple of laws. But I had solved it, when half the force had been stymied. That bought me a reprieve and the lack of a reprimand in my file. It also bought me a new partner, and Whittaker’s look dared me to object.
Considering Novak’s family connections, I assumed he must have screwed up somewhere if Whittaker was assigning him to me. If he was a wunderkind, he would have landed with another mage, one who was older and more established. One who was considered a good influence. Most cops looked at an assignment to be my partner as a form of punishment, if not a death sentence. The two deaths weren’t my fault, though. Idiots do stupid things.
The Novak Family was one of the Ten, usually considered the richest and most powerful. I wasn’t fixated on following the antics, scandals, and maneuverings of the Families, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Whittaker was allied with Novak. I could sense the deference in Whittaker’s attitude, even though the Whittaker clan was one of the Hundred, and Thomas was Mychal’s boss. Class structures were ingrained from an early age.
At least my new partner was easy to look at. Mychal appeared to be mid-thirties, about my height, with dark hair, perfectly symmetrical features with chiseled cheekbones, and an athletic body that promised he might be in decent physical shape. It could have been worse. Whittaker could have saddled me with an out-of-shape drunk, like the guy he assigned me to when I was new.
“I drive,” I said to Novak.
Before Novak had a chance to reply, Whittaker said, “A beat cop called in a homicide in downtown Baltimore. Tompkins was tagged, but he just called and asked for Arcane Division assistance. He’ll probably turn it over to you.”
I nodded, then said to Novak, “Let’s go.”
My new partner followed me out of Whittaker’s office and down the stairs to the parking garage. He raised an eyebrow when I led him to the sporty-looking black Toyota the department assigned me. I assumed he was probably used to top-dollar luxury land barges, but the Toy was fast, nimble, and cornered like a bat. Not as good as my cycle for chasing down vampires, but in my opinion, it was the best the Metropolitan Police Department had to offer. My modifications made it even better.
We buckled up and blasted out onto the street. Novak stiffened, and I tried not to grin. I flipped on the lights and hit the freeway, swerving in and out of traffic and sitting on the horn. No sense breaking my partner in gently. If stuff got rough, he needed to be ready to deal with it.
Chapter 3
It wasn’t a bad area of the city, although it used to be better before the pandemics and subsequent wars. And it had seen an increase in drug trafficking in recent years. Probably because a lot of college students and single young professionals lived in the area. It
