Back on home territory, I strode through the reception area of the shared workspace that housed Cohen Investigations. The pug danced underfoot on her new collar and leash, examining the exposed brick, original oak floors, and steel cross bracings. With a soft huff, she deemed the place acceptable.
Coming to my office had always been a bright spot in my day, and it had been with a heavy heart that I’d shut down my website. The Mundane private investigation firm that I’d worked so hard to establish was no longer open to the public. I didn’t have the heart to take down the stenciling on my door and I couldn’t declare myself Nefesh and change my detective license either, since I had to keep my Jezebel magic secret.
Bryan, the dog-crazy insurance agent who shared the space along with Eleanor, a graphic designer, murmured hello from the leather sofa, not taking his eyes off his laptop. When he’d asked about my new contract in his industry, I’d given the name of a global insurance firm, and he’d merely nodded. If my cover story passed the Bryan test, I figured it’d hold up to the casual observer.
Mrs. Hudson barked, and Bryan perked up, practically long-jumping the couch to get a better look. “You got a puppy!”
At his approach, the dog shivered closer to my leg, whining softly.
“She’s just a temporary visitor.” I scooped Mrs. Hudson up and she snuggled into my chest. “Nothing personal if she’s skittish around you, she’s a rescue pup.”
“That’s okay,” Bryan said. “It looks like she’s very happy with you. What’s her name?”
“Mrs. Hudson,” I said.
“Cute.” He obviously had no idea where the name came from and thus no opinions on it one way or the other. I liked him more for it.
“Hey,” Priya said, opening my office door and stepping out.
Priya only worked for Team Jezebel one day a week. The rest of her time was now devoted to overhauling House cybersecurity. As the person who had hacked them the most often, she was uniquely qualified for the job.
“Today is not your allotted day. Did something happen?” I sniffed the air. “Do I smell pakoras?”
Priya rocked back on her heels, her eyes crinkling in amusement. “Yup. The meeting got pushed and then Mummy asked me to make a special delivery.”
I groaned. “Make it go away.”
“I warned you the first time this happened to say no. You’ve only yourself to blame. I’ll get Mrs. Hudson some water.” Priya headed into the kitchen.
Bryan lit up. “I have some doggie treats. Be right back.”
Mrs. Hudson cocked her head at me, her little black nose glistening. Why were pug’s faces so consistently damp?
“Feel free to bite the person inside.” I took a deep breath and entered my office.
Five minutes later, even Mayan didn’t seem so awful. I leaned back in my new, non-deadly chair with its added cushioning. Lumbar support was a beautiful thing. “To clarify,” I said, “a seven-foot-tall she-devil pinned you against the wall on Saturday night, stuck her tongue down your throat and, I quote, ‘sucked out your soul, your free will, and your Fortnite know-how’?”
Arnav, the scrawny fifteen-year-old sitting in one of the client chairs on the other side of my desk, bounced his leg at tweaker-level speeds, an energy drink clutched in his hands. “Yeah. Her name’s Ellie. You gotta get it back.”
“Your soul?” I raised my eyebrows at Priya.
“Told you not to talk to my cousin.” She blew compressed air into her keyboard.
“I told Geeta I was now only working for the insurance firm.” I gestured at Arnav. “She doesn’t seem to care.”
“Our family drama is your family drama,” Priya said.
“Hey,” Arnav protested.
“You’re here because a ‘she-devil sucked out your soul.’ Your protest is noted and summarily ignored,” Priya said.
I nudged Mrs. Hudson away from the tin foil package and slipped her another dog treat, before helping myself to one of the crispy vegetable balls. “Your mother made me pakoras. How was I supposed to refuse?”
The pug toddled off to play with some chew toys that I’d bought.
“Mom’s evil that way,” Priya said.
“Harsh, Pri. I’m telling Auntie.” Arnav shook his head, then frowned at me. “What do I need my soul for?”
“Nothing that I can think of in the foreseeable future.”
Mrs. Hudson nosed half-heartedly at a ball, then turned her attention to a colorful twist of rope.
“My Fortnite skills, though. Those are important,” Arnav said. “There’s a tournament tomorrow.”
After my office had been trashed by a suspect in a previous case, Levi had completely restored it with all new upscale ergonomic furniture, reframed a university graduation photo of Priya and myself, and replaced my dart board and mounted holder. That was generous enough, but he’d gone one more step and hung up a set of framed Sherlock Holmes book covers, transforming this room from a nice office to a space that was uniquely mine.
I now gazed upon those prints, seeking strength. Sherlock would never have put up with this shit. Arnav had been a drama queen since birth and I resented being tagged to deal with his “latest crisis” as Geeta had put it the first time she’d delivered me the fried deliciousness that guaranteed my compliance.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” I said. “What’s your Fortnite character called?”
“Psycho Bandito.” Arnav leaned forward with the manic enthusiasm of someone about to launch into a very detailed description of a topic only slightly less painful to the listener than stepping on a Lego.
I quickly cut him off. “Ellie’s last name is what?”
“Ramirez.”
“And the guy she decided to date instead of you is who?”
“Logan.” Arnav froze, then hurriedly backpedaled. “That has nothing to do with it. She stole my skills, dude.”
Priya snorted and Mrs. Hudson barked, pawing at a squeaky toy that was shaped like a deranged cow.
I plucked the energy drink out of Arnav’s hand. “You want your skills back? Drink water and get some
