started working with us over a year ago. Maybe now was as good a time as ever. “Right, like I could tear a warlock apart.” “You could be in cahoots with someone else.” “You slimy little ball of gremlin…” Trey’s smile broadened. “Come to think of it, that creature you got turned into had to be pretty strong.” “Enough,” Quillan interrupted. “Dulcie, I’m going to need to take your statement. Strictly for the record.” I swallowed the humiliation that crept up my throat. “You’re serious?” Quillan nodded. “Maybe you were the last person to see him alive.”
I shook my head against the injustice of the whole damned thing. “The killer was the last person to see him alive and besides, I wasn’t the only person in the store. That stranger was there, too.”
“That’s right,” Trey said, trying to subdue a laugh. “Our mysterious stranger. That’s one rock solid alibi, Dulce.”
I took a step toward him. “Do you have anything else to say?”
Quillan grabbed my arm. “I said…enough. Now Dulce…let’s go back to Headquarters. Trey can stay here until the crime scene team arrives.”
Without saying a word, I spun on my heels and stomped down the hall, Quillan behind me. Shaking my fist until a mound of dust emerged, I blew in the direction of the burning netting. It immediately went out, leaving the shop in total darkness. “Thanks, O’Neil,” Trey said. “Real professional.” “Fire hazard, Trey,” I answered. “Quillan,” Trey called. “How am I supposed to-?” “Figure it out,” Quillan snapped. I pushed open the door, and the sunlight acted like a blowtorch to my retinas. “Back to the office then, is it? Or do you trust me enough to drive there?”
I knew it was standard A.N. C protocol to take my statement, but I wanted to make it tough on Quillan since he hadn’t told Trey he was full of it for thinking I could do that to Fabian.
I threw open the door to the Wrangler and didn’t wait for Quillan to buckle himself in before peeling out of the parking spot.
“I don’t think you did it, you know that right?” Quillan finally asked.
“Yeah, thanks for saying as much to Trey.” I shook my head, irritation bleeding through me, and sighed. “Look, I know it’s standard procedure, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He nodded. “How about I give you Monday off? You’ve spent plenty of your weekends in the office. Maybe you need a day off.” I snickered. “Aren’t you afraid I’d ditch town and head for Mexico?” “You’re not going to let go of this, are you?” he asked with a grin. I shook my head. “The eight ball says no.”
We said nothing for the rest of the drive and even as we walked back into Headquarters. Quillan continued playing mute as he escorted me into the interrogation room.
The interrogation room, for Hades’s sake.
I threw my keys onto the table, unholstered my gun and set it beside my keys. Then I took my seat with as much disdain as I could muster.
Quillan didn’t sit but leaned his head out the door. “Lottie, I need Saturn please.”
Saturn was a logging system that took statements in real time and then logged them into whatever case file they belonged to. It was basically a glorified computer that had been bewitched by Sam, but it didn’t look like a computer-it looked like a scroll with a feather pen.
Lottie flew into the room, carrying Saturn with her as her little wings beat madly to keep airborne. She was small, maybe the size of my hand and Saturn was about double her size. Pixies have incredible strength though- think ants-so it wasn’t too much of a struggle for her to carry the scroll.
Lottie was dressed in a flowery yellow skirt with a matching blouse, her platinum hair pulled into a severe bun like she thought she was a librarian or something. She smirked at Quillan but regarded me with disinterest. Stupid pixie had never liked me-she’d always been jealous of my close relationship with Quillan. Well, I’m sure she was getting miles out of this one.
She unwound the scroll. As she unrolled it, the feather pen flew out like a dog ready to retrieve a stick. If the damn thing had a tail, it would’ve been wagging. Then the pen poised itself on the scroll, waiting for direction.
Lottie faced me with a frown. “Dulcie is being interrogated today, is she?”
I narrowed my eyes and turned to Quillan who just smiled. “Not interrogated, Lottie, we just need her statement. So, yes, you can enter Dulcie’s name into the system.” Lottie tsked at me, and I wished I had a fly swatter. She glanced at the scroll again. “Name: Dulcie O’Neil.” Her eyes sought Quillan. “What case is it?” “Murder of Fabian Nesbeth, the dark arts warlock.” She nodded and faced the scroll. The pen was already poised and raring to go. “Murder case of Fabian Nesbeth, the warlock,” Lottie finished.
The pen scribbled on the scroll, the writing looked like calligraphy in gold paint. As soon as it entered my name, a red case number bled through the scroll in the upper right corner. I was case number 2,456. That might sound like we had a lot of cases, but Headquarters had had Saturn for over five years. Lottie turned to us again. “Okay, Dulcie, you can start explaining how you killed Fabian now.” “Don’t screw with me, mosquito, or I’ll smash you,” I spat. “Thanks Lottie,” Quillan said. “I can take it from here.” She flew from the room in a huff as I turned to the scroll which was apparently recording my little outburst.
Quillan shut the door with a weary sigh. “Watch yourself, Dulce. You know this recording will be sent back to the Netherworld so you’d better be on best behavior.” I frowned. “Or else what?” “Or else you could be going back to the Netherworld. Understand?” “Crystal clear,” I snapped.
A small, sympathetic smile played on his lips. “Okay, Dulce. Tell me about everything that happened yesterday, starting when you woke up.”
THREE
“I woke up yesterday morning,” I started.
“What time?” Quillan interrupted.
I shifted in my chair and resisted the urge to sigh. I should’ve known better-I’d have to give minute details. Hades-be-damned, I so didn’t have the patience for this. “In the late morning, maybe ten a.m.” He nodded. “Go on.” I glanced at Saturn. The quill pen was doing a good job of writing our every word. Time to trip the thing. “Ten a.m.,” I started, my voice a whisper. The quill paused and cocked its feather, as if trying to make out what I was saying. “Dulcie, don’t screw around,” Quillan interrupted with an impatient sigh. I frowned and figured it was fun while it lasted. The pen tapped itself against the scroll. The thing had no sense of humor. “Okay, okay,” I grumbled. “Anyway, I woke up at ten and ate some cereal. Before you ask, it was frosted flakes.” Quillan just shook his head.
“Then I took a shower and tidied up the apartment. I’d planned a visit to Fabian’s dark arts store because word on the street was he’d be receiving a delivery soon.”
“How did you know it was arriving yesterday?” Quillan interrupted.
“Well, I didn’t know for sure it was going to come yesterday. Trey had been getting visions of a truck delivery to Fabian’s sometime last week, so I made sure I patrolled pretty frequently.”
“But, Trey didn’t get any inkling that Fabian would be murdered?” Quillan leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs at the ankles. Holy Hades, he was one sexy bastard.
I shrugged. “If Trey did, he didn’t share that with me.” I took a breath. “So, when I went to talk to Fabian about his delivery, he looked nervous. He was helping a stranger who I’d never seen before, which threw me off. Otherwise, I would’ve been prepared for the Hemmen spell.”
“The stranger,” Quillan started. “Can you describe him?”
“Tall, maybe three inches taller than you.”
Quillan faced the airborne pen. “I stand five feet, eleven inches making this stranger six feet two inches.” He faced me again. “What else, Dulce?” I frowned. Quillan was really five-ten, but if he wanted that little inch, he could have it. “He had dark hair and blue eyes.” “How dark was his hair?” “Black.” “What type of creature was he?” I shook my head. “That’s the kicker. I couldn’t tell.” “Let the record note this stranger didn’t register with Headquarters,” Quillan added. Every time he spoke, he faced Saturn as if he were addressing a crowd full of voters who might put him into office. “Once he bespelled you, then what happened?” he asked.
“Fabian must’ve known I was paying attention to the stranger cause that’s when he put the Hemmen on me. I left the store immediately because I started to feel pretty sick. It took me a few minutes to realize it was the spell taking shape. I ran all the way to Sam’s house, and then the spell took over and turned me into that blob.” Quillan faced the pen again. “For the record, ‘Sam’ is Samantha White, witch. Employee of Splendor, A.N.C. Headquarters.”
