I holstered Grief, took a couple of steps, and decided sitting sounded more appealing. My hands began to throb so loud they drowned out Cassandra’s first words to me.
“What’d you say?” I asked as she righted the chair that had been lying beside mine and took a seat.
“You look morbidly pale,” she told me.
“I lost a lot of blood.” I nodded to the small pool I’d made beneath my original table.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Orange juice and some chocolate-chip cookies.”
Cassandra went back into Sustenance. When I saw her rise to her full height, I realized the manager preferred that we leave as soon as possible. But it was hard to deny that regal command in her slashing hands (
I wolfed down my first cookie, watching with interest as five squad cars pulled up, forming the spokes of half a wheel with Sustenance at the hub. A couple of nice officers began interviewing the hysterical moms, shortly after which two cars pulled away and headed off in the direction Desmond had taken.
A ruckus behind me distracted my attention. A small man with a pointy nose and enormous ears waving from behind his straight black sideburns came rushing out of the cafe followed closely by the manager.
“I have been banging on that door for a solid fifteen minutes! Don’t tell me you didn’t hear me!”
“I am so sorry, sir,” said the manager. He had a please-don’t-sue-us tone in his voice as he said, “Could I offer you a gift certificate for two complimentary dinners before you leave?”
Cassandra rose from the chair beside me. “Gregory?”
He came to her and grabbed her outstretched hands. “Cassandra! You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through!”
Her eyes went wide as he touched her. “Actually, I would.” She looked sharply at me. “The reaver locked him in their storeroom.”
I studied Gregory thoughtfully.
“What happened to her?” asked Gregory.
Cassandra filled him in. Even though she skipped a lot it still came out sounding uberscary. He started backing toward his car before she was halfway through. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“I . . . I’m sorry, Cassandra. I can’t become involved in this.”
“But . . . her dreams. They could kill her, Gregory.”
I held up my hand before Cassandra felt like she had to beg the guy. “Let him go. He’s safer away from me. It’s what I’ve been trying to get you, Bergman, and Cole to do practically since the day we met.”
Gregory nodded his thanks and took off, not even waiting for his gift certificate.
“Very interesting.” We turned our attention to the handsome, bald black man from SWAT. The van had pulled up shortly after Gregory had charged out the door and though the five guys who’d dismounted seemed pretty disappointed to have missed the fun, one had strolled over to listen in. He’d also used Cassandra’s distraction to his advantage, openly admiring her while I wondered if there was any way on earth I could hook them up.
I stood. “Cassandra, my ID is in my left front pocket. Would you show it to Sergeant . . . ?”
“Preston,” he said, his voice a silky bass that made Cassandra stand a little straighter.
Cassandra retrieved my CIA identification, allowing me to sink back into my chair before the street could spin any faster.
Preston took some time examining the plastic he held. When he gave it back to Cassandra, their hands brushed and she gave him a long, sad look before turning away. Was she truly shrugging off this gorgeous young ass-kicker?
“What can you tell me?” he asked. I knew it. Quick to pick up on my unspoken message but no doubt patient enough to lie still in the hot sun for hours until he got the order to pull the trigger. If these guys resembled Cleveland SWAT at all, they worked the paranormal cases. If not, oh well. I still felt I could trust them.
“Are you familiar with reavers?” I asked. He shook his head. Unsurprised, I said, “They’re killable, but just barely. I got one last night near the festival. He’d already murdered a man, but I nailed him before he could rip the guy’s soul off the good and narrow. You getting me?”
“You’re talking some high-level demon shit, right?” he asked. I nodded. “We don’t get much of that here. Mostly run-of-the-mill stuff. Coven wars. Revenge cursings. Domestic disputes over questionable potion use. That kind of stuff.”
“Well, here’s what I can tell you. I was just attacked by another reaver, apparently the first one’s floor boss. I seem to be the only one around who’s able to see these monsters’ weak spots, but I wasn’t finding one on this creep.” I gave him a full description. “You find Yale, I suggest you use the big guns. Flatten him with a steamroller. Drop a bomb on him. Do not underestimate him, okay?”
“Should I expect some weird shit to go down at the festival this week?”
“If it does, and we need backup, I’ll give you a call.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his card. Handing it to Cassandra, he said, “See that you do.”
Sergeant Preston made sure nobody else came to bother us, except an EMT who smelled of stale cigarette smoke and looked like she’d been up for the past forty-eight hours. I was the only one who didn’t wince when the
