“Okay.”
He leaned back just a little, the chair creaking in protest. “You know what Black Crane is, yeah? Blood and drugs. Human trafficking. Dark magic.”
Black Crane. A crime syndicate we’d kept under control when magic was strong, and that apparently continued to thrive off the magic and drug trade, even though magic didn’t have the kick it used to.
“Sure, I know Black Crane.” Oh! Crow feather. Suddenly made sense. “But I only borrowed their car.
“Are they dead?”
“Not stupid enough to come in here if they were.”
From the look on his face, he didn’t think that was funny.
“Listen, I don’t care what you do,” I said. “Terric got me involved when he chased down Hamilton this morning. And, I’d like to point out, nobody told
“What did you do?”
“Left them reconsidering their manners beside the road. And brought you their car.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“What part?”
“Any of it. Don’t you own a phone?”
“Not on me. Would you rather I had brought them here with me? Citizen’s arrest?”
“No. I’d rather you stayed out of this, Shamus. From now on.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say. I am staying out of it. See you around, Detective.”
I turned and strolled off, baseball bat over my shoulder.
“Flynn?” he called out. “Go see a doctor. You look like death warmed over.”
He had no idea.
I just kept walking.
Fresh air and more sunlight. It wasn’t far to the office. Fifteen or twenty minutes. If I walked fast enough, Eleanor might not even notice all the fancy shops we were passing by.
Keep walking. Keep walking. Dodge the man with the dog. Dodge the woman on her phone. Green light. Yellow. Sprint across the intersection. Almost clear of the shops. . . . no luck.
Eleanor went from drifting along to a dead stop. She got one look at a hat shop on the corner and clapped excitedly. I groaned.
“I promised Terric I’d be there,” I whined.
She just raised her eyebrows. Yeah, telling her I didn’t want to be late for work was not going to fly. She knew I didn’t care.
“You can’t even wear them.”
She drifted toward the hat shop door. Got her max distance from me and waited, arms crossed.
“I don’t wanna.” I started toward her anyway. Living women: stubborn. Dead women: about a hundred times worse.
I walked to the front window, close enough she could go in the shop. She waved at me to follow her.
“No.” I pulled out a cigarette and backed away from the door so the shop owners wouldn’t call the cops on me for smoking. I lit up.
Glanced over. Eleanor stuck her tongue out at me, then slipped through the glass door into the hat shop.
I leaned my head against the brick and ignored everyone around me. Didn’t care that they were alive. Didn’t care that their pulse echoed in my skull like drums. Didn’t care that my cigarette was out before I’d had more than two drags on it. Did. Not. Care.
Pushed the world into dimness, into fog. Away. So I didn’t have to feel the life. So I didn’t have to feel.
Cold fingers pressed on my fingers. Eleanor. I let the world back in.
Snap, click. Pow. Edges and beating hearts.
She pointed at her head, then at mine. Big grin on her face, all excited. Talking. Too fast for me to figure out what she was saying, not that I could hear any of it.
A few more gestures toward the shop, and finally I got the basic of it.
“No. Hell no. I do not want a hat.”
I pushed off the wall and ignored her for the next five blocks.
She finally gave up floating in front of me with her hand in my face—sorry; that doesn’t make me trip anymore—and flipped me off before window-shopping along behind me.
Building, up a flight of stairs, office: destination achieved.
Pushed through the second set of doors and past a short lobby that had four potted plants, all growing.
When had the place gotten so damn green? I pushed through the next set of doors, leaving two potted plants still growing.
Tall ceilings, lots of light coming in through windows, hardwood floors, shelves, and several desks. Modern, but unable to shake its past as a grain warehouse, it was expensive real estate the Beckstrom fortune had donated to the Authority back when Allie’s dad was moving and shaking the world of magic.
Eleanor floated off and sat outside on the window ledge to pout.
There was exactly one heartbeat in the room besides mine.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Dashiell Spade,” I said to the man walking toward me with a file folder in his hand.
He was younger than me by a few years, about five eleven, dark hair combed back and up with just a bit of muss to it, black-rimmed glasses that didn’t hide the fact that he had a face that had probably gotten him all the prom dates he could handle. Trim, dressed in a checkered long sleeve with a light sweater, slacks, and dress shoes. Northwest office chic.
Came in as our assistant three years ago. Looked like the poor guy hadn’t found a way to break free. Wondered what kept him here.
“Shame! It’s great to see you again. Coffee? Booze?”
“Yes, please.”
“The whiskey’s where you left it,” he said. “I’ll pour the coffee.”
I pushed off to the desk where I used to sit. Corner of the room where I could see the doors and all the windows.
Everything was pretty much where I’d left it. Phone, computer, knife stabbed into a stack of notes. There were also three potted plants on the desk, two of which were some kind of vine that crawled up the brick wall into the rafters and across the windows.
Those I had not left there.
“So, how’s life been treating you, Dash? I thought you’d have moved on by now.”
“Things are good, thanks.”
I crouched down and pulled the bottle out of the holster that kept it stuck beneath the top of the desk.
“We’ve missed you around here,” he said. “Most people’s long weekends don’t last for months. Or years.”
“Well.” I stood, studied the bottle, which was nearly full. “I knew the place was in good hands. Terric, he’s all right at what he does, I suppose.”
Dash grinned and shook his head. “No one’s cared more or worked harder than he has.”
“Proving my point. And you are damn near the best secretary . . . administrative assistant?”
He handed me the cup of coffee. “Second. I’m Terric’s second.”
“So, that’s a step up, right?”
He nodded. “I’ve left you a few messages lately.”
“Oh?”
He glanced over at the door and frowned.
“Terric should be here soon,” I said. “Out with it, lad.”
He seemed to make up his mind. “Come on back to my office.”
