less fortunate creatures and humans, too.
That, and money created from magic turns to dust after a few days anyway.
So, I have to work. I’ve accepted it.
I stepped under the less-than-strong flow of water, which was more like a little boy peeing on my head, and grabbed my gardenia-scented soap, lathering my entire body. I repeated the process four more times before I could actually say I felt any semblance of clean.
After toweling myself off, I plodded into the living room with a towel wrapped around my head and body. Then I noticed the blinking red light on the answering machine beckoning to me. I had three new messages.
I hit play. Bram’s alto voice, the pitch reminiscent of his English roots, filled my living room.
“Ah, I’ve missed you, Sweet. Come by the club. I have information for you.”
The arrogant bastard-he never bothered saying, “It’s Bram.” As to the information he had…that could be meaningless. Bram had been trying to get into my pants since I became a Regulator-about two years ago. And just because he had my home phone number didn’t mean he’d succeeded-I used to be listed in the phone book.
I deleted the message. I’d have to pay him a visit tomorrow. The next message was from my dry cleaners-my clothes were ready to be picked up. The third message was from my boss.
“Dulce, it’s Quillan, Sam told me what Fabian did to you. Just calling to make sure you’re okay. Give me a call when you get in.”
I hit delete. Quillan was a good boss; he was the big wig of Headquarters, and an elf.
Elves are nothing like you’re imagining them, although they are magical. Whereas I have the innate ability to create something from nothing (all it takes is a little fairy dust), Quillan is magical in his own way. He can cast spells, control his own aging and he’s got the strength of a giant. Fairies and elves are like distant cousins-sprung from the same magical family tree but separated by lots of branches.
Quillan is tallish-maybe five-ten or so, slim, and has a certain regality to him. He’s got a head of curly blond hair that would make Cupid envious, bronze skin, and eyes the color of amber. And he’s also the muse for the hero in my romance novel. But, he doesn’t know that.
I wasn’t in the mood to call Quillan back. I’d add him to my long list of visits for tomorrow. Even though it was Saturday, it looked like I’d be working.
Sometimes working law enforcement for the Netherworld is a real bitch.
TWO
A.N.C. Headquarters is located on Main Street in Splendor. It’s a two story, white concrete building with dark triangular windows-like it shared the same architect as the Amityville house. It was busy when I arrived at nine a.m. Saturday morning. A couple of werewolves were already in custody, a fairy in one holding cell, and a leprechaun in the other.
“Hey, Baby,” the fairy called out.
“Hello, Zara. Nice outfit,” I grumbled.
She twirled around as if she were a ballerina. Her hot pink halter dress inched up her thighs until I worried she might flash everyone. With her fishnets, she looked every inch the hooker-which was fitting, considering she was one. She smiled as I walked by, her red lipstick screaming out, as if enraged it was paired with orange hair and a pink dress.
I nodded at Elsie, our receptionist, who was busy entering the weres’ info.
“Hey, Dulcie,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the crying of the old woman next to her.
“My poor baby! They ate him!” the haggard woman sobbed. Amid a bout of breathlessness, she pointed at the two weres. “Tore him to bits, so there was nothing left but fur! Disgusting, you’re disgusting!”
I cringed.
Elsie just bobbed her head while she tried to console the old woman, even as the old woman berated her. Ever since creatures of the Netherworld had decided to go public, over fifty years ago, we were still subject to fear and ignorance from humans. Most humans had learned to accept us, but plenty still believed we should all be dead.
I hightailed it down the hall and poked my head into Quillan’s office, only to find it empty. With a shrug, I headed further down the hall to my desk.
Every city with a large enough Netherworld population had its own A.N.C. precinct. Our A.N. C office wasn’t a huge unit-Quillan kept about fifteen employees on staff-but it was big enough for Splendor and the three other cities within our jurisdiction-Sanctity, Estuary and Haven. The crux of the Netherworld activity-what activity there was- always centered in Splendor, though.
When I reached my desk, Quillan was sitting on the edge of it, deep in conversation with Trey, our only other Regulator. Quillan flashed me a disarming grin of pearly whites, as I threw my backpack onto my seat.
“Dulcie O’Neil, you decided to grace us with your presence. You okay?” he asked.
Trey laughed, his rumbling chuckles echoing through an immense stomach. “Heard you got turned into somethin’ pretty nasty, O’Neil?” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, I did Trey, and when I looked in the mirror, there you were.”
Quillan grinned and put a concerned hand on my shoulder. “You didn’t call me back last night.”
I turned my attention from the heat of his hand to my computer and booted it up. “I was really tired. I got in the shower and went to bed.”
“Are you going to see Fabian today?” Quillan asked.
“That’s my plan.” At the mention of Fabian, I remembered the stranger who’d been in his store. “Before the little bastard turned me into that green thing, I noticed a man in his store. I couldn’t tell what he was.”
“Really?” Quillan asked.
“Yeah. And he hadn’t registered with me. Did anyone register with you yesterday?”
Quillan pulled out his Blackberry and flipped through the bios of recent creatures to our territory. Every bio included the creature’s photo, what part of the Netherworld he or she was from, his or her race, reasons for being in our district, and contact names and addresses.
“I thought maybe he’d gotten lost on his way over,” I said.
Quillan nodded to Trey. “You see anyone suspicious around?”
Trey managed to shake not only his head but also his three double chins. He was one chubby guy, well a hobgoblin actually. The only reason he was a Regulator was he had a great knack for seeing the future and the past, something that made him…useful, though I hated to admit it.
“Nothin’ out of the ordinary,” he said, the light glinting off his perpetually wet upper lip.
“I’m planning to talk to Fabian about it today,” I said. “After I let him know exactly how much I didn’t appreciate his stunt yesterday.” Quillan smiled. “I’m coming with you. I don’t want him trying anything again.” I had to swallow the annoyance that careened through me like a fat man on a bicycle. “I can handle this on my own.” “Not up for argument,” Quillan said.
“Fine,” I grumbled, secretly making note of his tight-lipped expression-it would serve me well in my characterization of Captain Slade, the hero of my romance novel.
Quillan quirked a brow but didn’t say anything more. Trey returned to his desk which, unfortunately, was right across from mine. Quillan’s office had a great view of Splendor park which was now in bloom with orange poppies. My desk had a view of Trey. “I’ll just get my jacket,” Trey said. “What is this-a field trip?” I asked.
Quillan met my gaze and shook his head. I frowned and turned my computer off, wondering why I’d booted it up in the first place. Not finding an immediate answer, I stood and started down the hall, ahead of Quillan.
“And what’s Trey doing here anyway?” I asked. “Doesn’t he have something better to do on a Saturday?”
Quillan shrugged. “Apparently not.”
As we hurried down the hall, me hoping we’d lose Trey somewhere along the way, Zara wrapped her hands around the prison bars, running them up and down, trying to be suggestive. “Hi, Honey,” she said, looking at him like he was crack and she, Whitney Houston. Quillan didn’t meet her eye. “Hi, Zara.” She smiled and made me want to hit her. Her attention fell to me, and she smiled even wider.
