Child of Fire

He looked at me for a moment, then smiled. He was a friendly guy today. “It sure was lucky.” He began to gather his stuff. Then he stopped and looked at me again. He knew something he wasn’t saying.

There was something else going on here. There was something I wasn’t seeing.

And honestly, I didn’t like being on such friendly terms with Emmett Dubois.

“Excuse me, Chief,” I said. “Can I ask your opinion on something?”

“Okay. What is it?”

I opened my jacket wide, so that when I reached into it he would see there was no gun. I drew out the scrap of wood.

“This is a little something that I’m trying to sell to Hammer Bay Toys. I think it’s a neat little trick.”

I set the scrap of wood on the bed beside his folder. The design on the front continued its slow, implacable churning.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. He looked down at the moving paint, obviously intrigued. Then he looked up at me. “May I?”

“By all means,” I said.

Emmett picked up the scrap of wood. As soon as he touched it, the design went dark. A tiny flare appeared on the wood, and then a jet of black steam and iron-colored sparks erupted from the design.

The chief had a predator inside him.

Emmett dropped it and jumped back. He laid his hand on his weapon. “What the hell was that?”

“This,” I said, “is a Geiger counter for magic.” I picked it up. My tattoos and ghost knife made the design flare silver for a second. “You have some kind of nasty spell on you, Chief. What is it?”

He stared at me, his eyes wide. I stared back. Was he involved in the deaths of those children? Did he even know about them?

“Come on, Chief. Tell me what’s going on here. What’s happened to you? What’s happened to your town?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in this town?”

“You already know who I am. You read all about what I did last fall. As for what I’m doing here, there’s something wrong in this town. I’m here to fix it. Party’s over, Chief. We know about you now.”

He sniffled. I had spooked him. He wasn’t used to that. “Maybe I should take you in-“

I laughed. “You don’t have any idea what I am, do you? I’m not going anywhere with you this time. You’re going to have to tread carefully.”

It was a bluff, but I wasn’t going to put myself at his mercy. He was infected and had to be destroyed. Once Annalise found out, she’d pinch his fat head off.

But was Emmett an underling? The secret source of Charlie Three’s seizures? Or was he another victim?

Emmett glared at me and backed toward the door, his hand on his weapon. I just smiled at him. He left.

I sat for a moment, thinking about Cynthia, the mayor, and Cabot. Was Cynthia in on it with her brother and Emmett? Was Farleton in on it, too? Maybe Cabot was trying to put a stop to the deaths. It was something to think about.

I walked back to the waiting room. Cynthia was still sitting on the plastic couch. I was startled to see Annalise on the other side of the room, incongruous in her oversized fireman’s jacket, steel-toed boots, and tattered pants. For one absurd moment, I thought she’d come to be treated for her burned hands.

Cynthia stood when she saw me. “Was he decent to you?”

“He was fine.”

She rubbed her hands on her pants, looking uncomfortable. She wanted me to keep her company, but Annalise was already moving toward me. Cynthia sat again. Annalise took my elbow and led me down the hall out of earshot.

“What have you been doing?” she asked.

“Making enemies. Friends, too. The chief of-“

“That girl said you saved her life,” Annalise interrupted. “Is that true? Who is she?”

It seemed funny that Annalise was calling Cynthia a girl. Cynthia looked to be six or eight years older, but looks can be deceiving. “Sure, it’s true. And she’s Cynthia Hammer, sister to Charles Hammer the Third. She’s the one who was following us in the SUV.”

Annalise glanced back at Cynthia, making sure she was still on the couch. “I want you to fuck her,” she said. “Then find out everything you can, especially where her brother is. I can’t track him down.”

“You’re a real class act, boss.”

“Just do it. I have work to do in the morgue.”

She turned on her heel and stalked away. I wondered again how many dead bodies she had seen, and how long it had taken her to become what she was.

And she hadn’t even given me a chance to tell her about the predator in Emmett.

I ran into the hall, calling her name. She stopped and turned toward me. A passing nurse shushed me forcefully.