Out of Mind

“Breathe deeply through your mouth,” Ben told her, although the scent of death already fouled the air.

“The flowers,” she said. “Sickening.”

Funeral parlor was Ben’s last thought before the first wave of uniforms stepped through the door.

“Cynical,” Willow murmured. “Bored. Determined. Jaded.”

This wasn’t the time or place to get excited, but Ben knew he was looking at a woman coming fully into her powers—whether she wanted to or not. He wanted it for her, all of it. And he wanted it for himself. She was picking up emotions and still didn’t have enough control to stop herself from singing them out loud.

“NOPD, Sergeant Deneuve,” a sergeant in the lead said. “Who’s the victim? Who made the call?”

“I did,” Preston Moriarty said. “This lady is Chloe Brandt, Val’s wife.” He indicated Val Brandt, who appeared to have sunk into shock.

The sergeant swiveled his square jaw and thrust it forward while he sized up the rest of them. “You’re a Millet,” he said flatly, moving his gum from one side of his mouth to the other while he regarded Willow.

“Yes,” she said in a firm voice that made Ben grin. “Willow Millet. I’m the one with the Cadillac household engineering firm, Mean ’n Green. You need it, we do it—better than anyone else.”

“Uh-huh.” The sergeant was a serious man. “The same outfit hanging out around two murder scenes yesterday. And wasn’t your family mixed up with the so-called alligator scare?”

“Hey, Sarge.” Another policeman shoved his head through the door. “We got press and press and more press. What d’you want to do?”

“Keep ’em back,” the sergeant said. “No closer than the other side of the street. And get the tape up. Call for reinforcements for when civilians start arriving.”

“We’ve already got people from around here,” the other cop said.

“Do I need to know this?” Sergeant Deneuve said. “You know what to do. Do it.”

Two plainclothes detectives walked in, huddled with Deneuve and went carefully upstairs.

Ben could hear excited voices in the street, and the occasional shriek.

The arrival of Dr. Blades wearing green scrubs with a white coat flapping from his thin shoulders meant Willow could put off answering the sergeant about the Millets’ former involvement—only months earlier—with another series of bizarre deaths.

Crime scene personnel straggled in carting equipment, and a photographer started snapping away.

Nat Archer had slouched along behind the medical examiner, exhaustion dragging down every line of his face and body.

“Hey, Nat,” Ben said, and got an evil glare for his pains.

Willow let out a soft “Oh.” But then she looked away and crossed her arms.

Too bad they couldn’t leave now and talk about what was on Willow’s mind, and there was plenty.

Blades knelt beside the victim, while another member of the crime scene team undid a large, black bag. Gloves went on before Blades gave Chloe any particular attention. When he did, his facial expression didn’t shift, but his sigh was something they all heard.

Uniforms swarmed through the place, following directions to tread lightly, until Nat said loudly, “I want to be first through. If you’re not involved right here, make yourselves useful outside until I call you.”

Sergeant Deneuve nodded approval and stood observing Blades at work.

Nat’s partner, Bucky Fist—stocky, sandy-haired and cheerful—wiped his feet on the front mat. Ben noted this and decided Bucky was either a really nice guy or obsessive-compulsive. Bucky walked in and stood at the ready, close to Nat.

“Is she dead?” Val asked. His lips were colorless and his eyes stared.

Ben felt incredibly sorry for the guy.

“Yes, sir,” Dr. Blades said. “It might be a good idea if you went along with Detective Archer here. He’ll let you know where we go from here.”

“Is the sitting room okay, Val?” Vanity asked.

She took his dull nod for agreement and walked into the closest room, flipping on lamps as she went. Val went with her, but Preston Moriarty hung around until Nat gave him a significant stare and Preston went after his friends.

“Go in there with them, Bucky,” Nat said.

Blades examined the dead woman, using forceps to slip smaller specimens into bags an assistant opened for him. “I need to be in my lab,” he said. “Fast.”

Ben figured that was the man’s way of indicating he considered hanging around with anyone but the dead a waste of time.

“Is it the same—”

“No.” Blades cut him off and looked up. “Similar but different. Not good news.”

Willow moved closer. “Could one of the bats people are talking about do that?”

Blades gave her a bored glance. “Don’t tell me you’re buying that, too. We apparently have killer bats all over New Orleans.”

“People get nervous when they don’t understand,” Ben said, warning Willow with his eyes to be careful what she said. “They grasp for any explanation.”

“Sorry.” She came in loud and clear. “That was a stupid thing to say. He’s saying two different things are killing people. Does he mean two different weapons—like knives?”

“I don’t think so.” This communication could become very comfortable.

“Can one of you tell me what happened?” Nat said. He had been watching the two of them closely. “Were you both here?”

“Just me,” Willow said. “Ben was waiting for me outside. I came for a job interview with…with Chloe. We were upstairs and she was fine when I left her.”

Nat cleared his throat.

“I must have been the last one to see her alive,” Willow said.

“Last but one,” Ben said quickly, wishing she weren’t so damnably honest.

Sykes strolled from outside and Blades said, “So much for your people keeping the gawkers out.”

Mario edged around the front doorjamb as if he didn’t really want to be seen. Trust Sykes to think of bringing the dog, since he gave Willow comfort.

“You remember Sykes Millet, Blades,” Nat said. “He’s Willow’s brother.”

“He’d be hard to forget,” Blades said, looking from Ben to Sykes. “Bloody gathering of wizards. How many of you are in this town?” He returned to his work.

“That’s a good question,” Sykes said, his tone amused in Ben’s brain. “Wonder if we could scare up enough for an army.”

“When we’ve got more time, we’ll check it out,” Ben told him.

“Behave yourselves.” The immediate shocked expression on Willow’s face at her own announcement silenced both men.

“Will you show me where you and Mrs. Brandt were upstairs?” Nat asked Willow. If possible, he seemed even more weary.

“Does she need a lawyer?” Ben said.

“I’m not accusing her of anything.”

“It could happen, though, right?” Sykes said.

Nat blinked slowly. “Anything could happen.”

“We could get Ethan over,” Ben said. His younger brother was a lawyer.

“I’ll be fine with Nat,” Willow said. “All I’m going to do is show him where I was with Chloe.” Her voice cracked, and her eyes abruptly filled with tears.

Ben put a hand on either side of her face and wiped away the tears with his thumbs. “Hush,” he said quietly, putting his mouth near her ear. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. Maybe it’s a good idea to run over things with Nat so we can get you home. Don’t answer any questions you don’t like, okay?”

She nodded.

“He can’t do anything with what you say anyway,” Ben told her. “Not without reading your rights and having a