appeared in in as many days, I might add, Stray was living there as recently as two weeks ago, on the day the police went to shut it down as an unlicensed werekin housing facility-and it burned down around them.”
It took me a few moments to gather my composure. “Cinnamon was not living in the werehouse,” I said at last. “That’s simply where they interviewed her after the arson.”
“But why was she even there?” Burnham said. “In a condemned factory. In Oakdale!”
“She’s a werekin,” I said. “She was having a bad change. I took her back to the people who I adopted her from because I thought they could help!”
“Why?” Burnham said, eyes flashing with disapproval. “Didn’t you have a safety cage?”
“I’m having one built in our new house,” I said angrily, “but it wasn’t ready yet.”
“Well you should have had it built in your old one before you tried to adopt a werekin,” Burnham said, oddly smug. “If you had followed the rules-”
“Hey!” I said, feeling my nostrils flare. “You have no idea who you’re talking to about following the rules-”
“Ma’am, look, you’re not helping,” Deputy Galacci said firmly. “Please calm down. Getting angry at us is not going to change anything.”
“That’s right,” Burnham said. “This police report is a clear indication of neglect.”
“Oh, yeah, this is neglect,” Deputy Galacci said, cocking his thumb back at the Academy. “Paying for her upscale private school. Look, Miss Frost, it’s clear you do care for Stray-”
“She goes,” Catherine Fremont said icily, “by Cinnamon.”
“Cute,” Galacci said. “The point is, I’m sure that the court will recognize what you’re trying to do here and straighten this all out, but I can’t ignore a court order.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed between my eyebrows with one hand. All I kept seeing was that DEI agent that had practically wanted to shoot Cinnamon on sight. It wasn’t helping.
“Look, Deputy Galacci,” I said, “I know you’re just doing your job, but I’m too damn paranoid to let you just waltz up and take her. Cinnamon was kidnapped last year, poisoned, almost killed, and I don’t know you from Adam Twelve.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Galacci said-and then the corner of his mouth quirked up. “But Adam would mean a two-man patrol. And it’s LAPD jargon. We don’t use it in Georgia.”
I glared at him. “Regardless, if I don’t see some paperwork I’m going to call the police and let the APD sort this out. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am, and I encourage you to contact the police, or at least DFACS,” Galacci said. “But in the meantime we still have to take her.”
I folded my arms. “Over my dead body.”
Galacci looked at me, hard, jaw set. He put his hand on his pistol. “Ma’am-”
“Don’t do it,” I said. I concentrated my intent and let my shield blossom, concentrated mana, a millimeter beneath the surface of my skin, and let out my breath to activate it. “Phooo. My dad’s a cop, my uncle’s a cop, I’ve dated a cop, so I don’t want to hurt you, but until I see paperwork for this alleged court order, you’re just a man with a gun threatening my daughter.”
His eyes tightened at me and he twitched a little, but he didn’t move. He was angry, but behind the anger he was actually curious, eyes looking me over, trying to see what angle I had that made me so unafraid of his badge, his gun.
“I know, I know, you think I’m a street lawyer and want to take me to jail on general principles just to ‘show me’ and my big mouth,” I said. “I’m sorry to bust your nuts like this. But I did this dance with the DEI last week, and all they needed to do to make me play nice is show me a warrant. You did have a warrant or order or some kind of paperwork in hand before you decided to waltz up and take a werekin from her mother, right?”
“Right,” Galacci said. “Burnham, show her your papers so we can get on with it.”
Burnham jerked, then came forward with a clipboard. I took it. “Thank you,” I said, glancing it over. Depressingly official ‘authorization to accept child for short-term emergency care,’ and it all looked in order. Crap. “All seems in order. Now how hard was that?”
“Not hard at all,” Galacci said, relaxing. “I’m sorry to put on such a hard nose, Miss Frost. If the order exists, it has to be carried out, whether the paper’s on me or not. But even when we do, many of the parents I have to deal with are not reasonable in your situation.”
“How could they be?” I said. “Either they’re asses, or their kids are being taken unjustly.”
“Not unjustly,” Burnham said. “but I’ll give you overcautiously. Miss Fremont, please.”
As Catherine left, Galacci spoke to me in a low voice. “Was she really kidnapped?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, swallowing. Fremont leaving to go get Cinnamon was tearing me up, but I tried not to let it show. “And poisoned, to get to me. She almost died.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” he said, even more quietly, “but you shouldn’t talk to cops about putting them down. Technically that’s assault on a police officer. Less technically, it could get you shot, which could kill you even if you are a werekin.”
“I know, and sorry,” I said. “For the record, I’m not a werekin-but I did take a shotgun blast in the chest the other day, and it didn’t faze me. I’m a magical tattoo artist. I can shield.”
“No shit,” Galacci said, curious and amazed. “You wanted me to shoot you?”
“No!” I said. “It would be a dick move to provoke you to shoot me in front of my daughter’s school just to test my shield. She’s going to have to come back here.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “If you really could take a bullet-”
“Have,” I said. “Have taken a bullet. Twice. Both times to protect Cinnamon.”
Galacci swallowed. “Well, if you could take a bullet, the coolest thing in the world for a little kid would be to see your dad, or, uh, mom, pull a Superman in front of the school.”
“It didn’t impress her,” I said. “She’s a weretiger. Claims to soak up bullets, and given how rough she had it on the streets I take it she knows that from experience. But when I got shot in the chest, all it did was make her worry.”
“Well, ah, let’s… not make that worry worse,” he said, more quietly. “This is never an easy thing. You should be the one to explain to her what’s happening.”
Somehow the thought of explaining things to her filled me with a sudden, urgent fear-and I realized Galacci needed to be filled in too. “Deputy, she has a mouth on her,” I said. “Try not to be offended. We think it might be Tourette’s. Seriously.”
“Really? Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “Thanks for the heads up, I’ll-here she is. You’re up.”
The glass door slid open on Cinnamon and Fremont. “Mom,” Cinnamon said uncertainly, darting forward, then stopping to stare at Burnham and Galacci. “Mom, what’s going on?”
“Cinnamon,” I said, squatting down to look at her.
“Yeah,” she said, eyes wide, staring over my shoulder at the deputy.
“Cinnamon,” I said, and choked it off. Then I started to tear up. “Cinnamon, oh, damnit, Cinnamon, they’re taking you from me. I’m so sorry. They say it’s only temporary-”
“And you believes them?” she said, tugging at her collar, head snapping in her tic.
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I said, “but, regardless-I’m going to fight to get you back.”
“I-I-believes you, Mom,” Cinnamon said, tearing up too. “Fuck! I believe you.”
“Oh, Cinnamon,” I said, hugging her. She grabbed me so fiercely my back cracked, but I didn’t care. I just hugged her back and cried. “I will get you back.”
“I knows-I know, Mom,” Cinnamon said, glancing back over her shoulder at Fremont, then looking at me. The tic twisted her face, but she kept it under control. “I know. ”
She looked up, and I felt movement behind me. “It’s time,” Galacci said.
“This is Deputy Galacci,” I said.
“I gots that,” Cinnamon said, eyes flickering over him.
“And that’s Margaret Burnham. They’re with DFACS. They’re going to take care of you, until I can come back for you. OK?”
“OK,” Cinnamon said.
“Don’t kill them,” I said, “or you’re grounded.”
“Mom!” Cinnamon said, mouth quirking up at Burnham’s horrified reaction and Galacci’s suppressed smile.
