Merchant of Dreams 1.05

The earthquake hit almost as soon as we stepped out of the corners office. I was jolted forward as the wave passed, snagged my foot on the curb, and hit the ground in a solid collision that left me reeling. By the time I was done groaning, it’d already passed the world was calm once more. Calm except for the cacophony of crying birds and dogs barking far off.

The people of Ashen were so used to the quakes that no one even bothered running out into the streets. Mine was likely the most serious injury in the whole city, and that was saying something. I’d scraped the skin and some flesh off one elbow, leaving it quite a bit bloody. Kaiten came up from behind, grabbed my uninjured arm and hauled me up none too gently.

“Oww!” I cried, jerking out of his grip. “Did I ask for your help, Iceman? I think you hurt me even more.”

Kaiten looked at me without a shadow of sympathy. “How the hell have you survived all these years? You didn’t even stop walking.”

“I thought I could get to car in time.”

“The car is all the way across the parking lot,” he snapped. “What were you afraid of? They sky falling on your head?”

“Damn Typhon and his tricks. This is him you know,” I replied, ignoring his obvious inquiry. Everyone knew the sky couldn’t fall. What an idiot. “Some prenaturals think he’s causing the earthquakes.”

Kaiten answered my blatant attempt to misdirect his attention with a deadpan stare that left me biting my lip and trying to employ dimple-power. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened inside,” he said. “You knew Leela Snow was a werewolf. I checked her file—her other file. There’s no mention of her mutation anywhere.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you. Promise this stays between us?”

“If it pertains to the case, I’ll follow the trail wherever it leads,” he said. “The most I can promise is to keep your name out of it.”

A sigh escaped my lips. “Alright…Schuler called me yesterday night. He told me everything he knew about the case, as a way to mend bridges between-”

Kaiten was suddenly beside me, and I could feel the anger washing off him in sweeping waves. His aura burst out in a kaleidoscope of spinning colors, and I felt something lurking deep behind it. A beast that wanted to be free.

“Bullshit,” he spat. “That is a damned lie, detective, and I’m not buying it. The truth in ten seconds or I’m going to look into every inch of your past until I find something to use against you.”

Normally I’d back away. I wasn’t the kind to jump into a confrontation unless I was certain I could win. I’m the dog who slinks away with her tail between her legs, only to return during the night to tear out my enemies’ eyes while they’re sleeping. However, this wasn’t the time to give ground. I’d shown Kaiten a certain amount of leniency that I wouldn’t others, and it’d taught him not to fear me.

“Use against me?” I asked slowly. “Are you suggesting blackmail, detective inspector? As you likely know, I’m having dinner with my father tonight. Perhaps you’ve heard of him: Chief Commissioner Danthir Rohin, aka the man who has your balls in his fist?”

To his credit, Kaiten didn’t even react. Not so much as a twitch. “I’m an honest and decorated officer. The Commissioner has a reputation for fairness, and the fact that you’re still sitting at a desk is proof of that.”

“Fine, you called my bluff and I came up empty,” I replied, stepping almost right into him, “but you spent three years in Deadtown, undercover in a gang no less. What did they make you do?  It probably wasn’t pretty; I know a great deal about their rites of passage and some of my friends from Deadtown still keep in touch.”

This time, he paled. I saw some of the fight leave his eyes.

“What?” I demanded. “Afraid? Afraid of what I’m going to find if I make a few calls? I know there must be something you’re hiding from those days. Maybe you even a killed a person or two. What’s one more murdered gang member, right?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, contracting and loosening. “You’ll never find anything. Deadtown is where secrets go to die.”

“Only for those who don’t know where to look,” I replied unwaveringly. “If you dig a grave for me, make sure you dig on for yourself too, because I’m going to drag you down to hell with me.”

“I’m glad we understand each other,” he said. “You stay out of my way and I stay out of yours.”

“Fuck, Iceman. Sometimes you’re actually smart,” I laughed, but the laugh was more a biting threat than anything else. “Another day, another place and we might’ve been friends.”

“Perhaps. Will you need a ride to the station?”

The question came with such suddenness that I didn’t have time to keep my surprise bottled. Of course, that was all a part of the game. He’d managed to crack my poker face, the bastard had. Whatever he was, Iceman played a good game of ‘don’t back down’. I seriously didn’t want to know how he was in hand-to-hand or with a pistol in his fist.

“I may need a ride, yes,” I replied. “Are you offering?”

Kaiten sighed. “Get in the car.”

Great. I’d just had a fight with the one guy willing to drive me around, and I had a whole day behind a desk ahead of me and nothing to do.

♦    ♦    ♦

If anything, my life was brimming with excitement, and I figured that out five minutes after Kaiten and I pulled out of the coroner’s office. We idled at a red light, separated by a thousand miles of awkward silence, and the morning traffic was just beginning to swell. Early birds going to office. This was Codo, of course, the busiest district in Ashe and the center of its business arena.

A beige sedan pulled up alongside the Camaro, and man wearing a durag leaned out to say something to me. He wasn’t a man, really. The illusion of being human was firmly in place, so anyone who saw him wouldn’t look twice, but his attempt to seem like an ordinary person couldn’t fool me. I was a glamourist, and a mediocre prenatural didn’t have a chance of fooling me.

Under it all, the man was a riphead. They were mercenaries of the prenatural world who would do about anything for the right price, and the right price was decided entirely on the morals and stupidity of the riphead in question. Considering they had no morals and they were a step above ogres in their decision making abilities, even preschoolers could hire one with their day’s lunch money.

The riphead in question was rather low on the mercenary ladder, which I could tell by the vertical, yellow mark that painted his dappled forehead. If there were two marks, I might’ve watched out for him. Three marks, I’d start getting nervous. Four, I’d probably just draw my FN Five-Seven and shoot him dead. I’d wonder what the fuck happened afterward. Five vertical marks meant shit had hit the fan, and I needed to find a place to hide and possibly stay hidden for a long while. To my knowledge, ripheads never went above five marks on their head, but I couldn’t be sure. In any event, I didn’t want to know.

They were rather ordinary seeming people, these, but not ordinary enough to walk around without illusions. Mottled colors spread across their flesh, almost like they’d been dipped in paint and left to soak. I had it on good authority that it was all natural, and it made them one of the prettier breed of monsters I’d crossed paths with. They came in all shapes, but most were long limbed and extremely determined to succeed in their job.

The guy in the driver’s seat was a riphead as well and he watched me, a smile on his face. It was one of those cold, threatening smiles that Kaiten threw at me every five or ten seconds, as it fancied him. It was one of those smiles that made me glad I had a weapon pressed up against the side of my chest.

“You get our message, sweet thing?” asked the guy, showing a line of serrated, tobacco stained teeth. Probably a coward, I guessed, and seriously high on something.

I watched the riphead for a long moment, perfectly calm. The moment they had drawn up, I’d known something was wrong. Kaiten reacted to my coldness almost instantly, assuming a flat expression of nothing and nothing. The pair of us probably looked like bisque dolls ready to go to war, just that I had really big eyes and dimples while he was a wall of unbreakable ice.

“Message?” I asked. One word; massive impact; learn from the master. “Why would a riphead deliver a message to me?”

That hit him—those last words. His flesh changed colors almost, and his aura flared with a flash of yellow fear. “How’d you know-?”

“You mentioned a message,” I reminded him. “I’m waiting.”

A blue tongue darted out of his mouth, flicking out over his lips in a gesture of uncertainty. “Yeah, the message. An old friend sent us,” he replied, stressing the two words. “We said we’d be in touch, remember?”

The message from last night leapt to my mind. The one left on my kitchen counter with my sister’s picture in it. I doubted seriously these two were fuckers behind it, but they’d most likely been employed by the mastermind of the plot. If he was careful, which I knew he was, he wouldn’t have told them who he was, but I wasn’t entirely rational at the moment. Someone had threatened my sister, and I finally had a target to take all my anger out on.

“You’re dead,” I said without inflection, “both of you. Run, because you’re fucking dead.”

Something in my voice must’ve rung true, because they were roaring out of the intersection a second later with rubber burning in their wake. I don’t remember shouting my head off at Kaiten to follow them or grabbing him by the collar, but I found us in quick pursuit without even realizing we’d taken off.

The Camaro danced through traffic, catching up and tailing the sedan under Kaiten’s expert hand. He veered into them twice, causing them to sway erratically and slow their car in fear. He finally drew abreast of the pair, flashed his silver badge, and then forced them to give up by racing ahead and blocking their way. With oncoming traffic to one side and nowhere to go, they braked rapidly and came to a still.

I was out of the Camaro before it even stopped, feet pounding the asphalt. I came alongside the passenger side, face fixed in a mask of fury. “Open the fucking door!” I shouted, but the riphead had rolled his window up and locked the car. They were single-markers, and they knew they couldn’t take me. Call it instinct. “Open it or I’m going to hurt you!”

I saw him shake his head, and I just snapped. My hand went into my jacket, and I drew the FN Five-Seven. Gripping it by the slide, I swung backhanded and smashed the window amidst a cascade of glass. Shards cut his face and hands, and great deal of them just fell into his lap. The riphead tried to scramble away, but I gripped him by the throat and drew him almost clear out of the window.

My blood burned hot, giving strength to my muscles. I’d never really known my parents, so I wasn’t sure where I got my strength, but it helped in situations like this. The asshole’s eyes widened when he realized he couldn’t fight me, and that shock turned to pain when I drew my fist back and rammed it against the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck!” he shouted, blood spewing from his nostrils and down across his lips in a gush of dark red. “Fuck, lady!”

I gripped him by the collar, perfectly aware of my surroundings and even Kaiten’s rapid approach from behind me. In this heightened killing state, nothing escaped my attention.  “Who hired you? A name or you die here and now.”

“We just got paid to deliver a message!” he howled, voice thick with pain. “It was all over the phone. An envelope came to our door, I swear!”

Kaiten’s hand wrapped around my upper arm. “Azadana,” he whispered urgently, “people are watching. There are cameras everywhere. Don’t do this; you know better.”

I hesitated, but that moment of indecision robbed me of the will to murder. He was right, and I was a stupid bitch for losing control in public. This went against everything I knew. Everything I’d taught myself and been taught over the years. Shit, but this was just clean stupid. What would I have done? Killed the man in broad daylight?

“Azadana,” he repeated, and this time it was said much more firmly. He pulled my arm, and I felt myself go with his strength. He was strong. Not just strong. Stronger than he had any reason to be. Stronger than a human. “Come willingly or I’ll drag you away. Don’t make me do that.”

I jerked out of his grip and strode to the Camaro. I should’ve been shaking, and years ago something like this would have me doing exactly that, but I was perfectly in control of my body. Not my emotions, but certainly my body. That was the difference between a professional and an amateur. Professionals were always at top form, even if they lost their minds.

I noticed Kaiten’s hands were steady on the steering wheel as we drove away, and there was nothing but emptiness in his eyes. I knew what to expect. Anger, questions, answers and then a lecture. That’s how it was with him. It was surprising I knew so much about the man despite the fact that I’d met him less than twenty-four hours ago.

The ripheads would be long gone by now. Their car was probably stolen and untraceable, and it didn’t matter anyways. They knew nothing, a fact that hurt me to admit. How easy would it have been if two low-level grunts could give me the name of their employer? It was never that easy, not when you were dealing veterans of the game.

Kaiten parked finally along the side of the road and killed the engine with a sharp twist of his wrist. Scary. He angled his body slightly so that we were facing each other, and I pressed myself back against the door almost without thinking. It would give me time to draw my weapon if I had to, which was an odd event to consider since I wasn’t afraid of Kaiten. I was afraid of what he could do if he wanted, but the man was too stable to lose control. Just wasn’t the kind.

“Would it help if I said you looked absolutely tasty in that shirt?” I asked innocently. “The color really brings out your eyes.”

“Stop that,” he said without wavering, “it isn’t endearing to make light of what just happened.”

“Kaiten…”

“I risked everything back there, detective,” he replied. “My career; my reputation. I honestly believe you had no idea how much danger you put us both in. Imagine if they had killed an innocent bystander during the chase or pulled a gun on you and started firing.”

“I would’ve killed them if they did.”

“I believe that. In fact, I believe that if I hadn’t stopped you, it you would have killed them anyways,” he replied, but it wasn’t said as an accusation or criticism. He was telling me he’d seen the darkness on the surface, ready to break out. “I want an explanation, and in this you owe me one. Who were those men?”

My mouth tightened into a grim line of refusal. I was acting like a child, sure, but I think I had a goddamned right to. Someone was killing people in a way I’d only seen on other person do—me. Someone else was sending me late night messages—breaking into my apartment to do so—with pictures of sister along with them. On top of all that, everyone thought I was mole for Deadtown gangsters and couldn’t be trusted. It was all one, colossal clusterfuck of bad luck.

I blame it on the Puppet Master.

“Who were those men, detective?”

Oh, he was throwing the detective card around. No more first names.       “No idea. Wanna go back and ask them?”

“Allow me to rephrase: why were you chasing them?”

“That’s not rephrasing. That’s an entirely different question.”

“You’re not even remotely amusing. I want an answer from you.”

Not even remotely amusing? Well, I never!

“No idea,” I repeated, prolonging the words as if they’d make more sense that way. “No idea. No idea. Go the message, detective?”

“You expect me to believe you chased down two men, broke their car window and smashed one of them across the nose without any reason?”

I raised my hands in resignation. “Alright, allow me to rephrase: it’s none of your fucking business.”

“You made it mine the moment I saved your ass back there,” he snapped. “So you had better give me an excellent damned reason not to bring criminal charges against you.”

“Criminal charges?” I laughed mockingly. “Yeah, for what? I could easily argue I had reason to believe the men were dangerous. They were fleeing, even, which just makes it all that easier.”

“I won’t do it based on what you did to them,” he replied. “Are you forgetting something? The moment you grabbed my shirt and told me to chase them, that was assault. I feared for my safety, so I was forced to obey. Placing an officer of the law under duress isn’t taken lightly, and considering how everyone hates you, I won’t have to work all that hard to have you removed from the force.”

If only I’d been stuck with an idiot, things would’ve so much easier. “You’d lie under oath just to get at me?”

“I wouldn’t lie; I would state the facts as they were, and their implication would be clear. Decide now. I’m done playing your roundabout games and dealing with your childish tantrums.”

We just stared at each other for a long while, and I couldn’t help but admire the shape of his lips and the straight cast of his jaw. That’s me: noticing inappropriate deals at all the wrong times. I just couldn’t help it; anger made everything so much sharper and beautiful. I’d certainly seen better than Kaiten, but his appeal was in the fact that he didn’t care. He wasn’t even trying to impress anyone. The question, however, was if I could I trust him.

A breath slipped past my lips, and I leaned my head back. “This is my problem, so you let me deal with it however I want. This stays between us,” I said. “Just us.”

“It stays between us,” he agreed with a nod.

“Sure about that?”

“I keep my promises.”

Suggesting I don’t, huh? Tricky bastard. Well, here goes. “After you dropped me off last night, I found a note in my kitchen,” I said heavily. “It had a recent picture of my sister in it and a threat to harm my family. That’s about all I know about any of this, and if you want me to tell you more, I can come up with some fictional shit to please you.”

Kaiten smiled slightly, but there was also a shadow of worry on his chiseled features. “For once, I think you’re telling the truth,” he murmured almost absently. “Wasn’t there a demand of some sort? They must want you to do something.”

“Oh, they want me to do something, but they just haven’t gotten around to telling me yet. These guys are the kinds who scare the shit out of you long before they start talking,” I replied. “I’m not sure it has anything to do with me, really. I don’t have any access to sensitive information. I mean, a rookie could find out just as much as I could by using the police database.”

“That leaves only one option: your father.”

“My uncle.”

“Yes, your father,” he repeated. “He’s a powerful man, perhaps they hope to use you somehow. You need to report-”

My eyes hardened. “What did I say? I’m handling this my way, and you have no right to interfere. You keep your promises, remember? Or was that all crap to get me talking?”

“It wasn’t,” answered Kaiten stiffly. “You can expect me to stay out of it…if that’s what you would prefer.”

“It’s what I would prefer, so let’s not talk about this again.”

Kaiten turned and started the car, but he paused before doing anything else. “How did you know they were ripheads? I didn’t see anything to give them away.”

I shrugged and looked away. “I’ve learned some tricks, detective. Nothing hides from me…at least not for long.”

And on that note. Goodbye.

Merchant of Dreams 1.04

When I left my apartment twenty minutes later, Kaiten was standing by his car with a scowl painted on his face. Alright, maybe I hadn’t been ready when I called him. Who there was chewing gum on the back of my trousers? Certainly not me.

Last night, I’d been sleepy and quite a bit tired, so I’d failed to notice details I usually kept an eye out for. Now, with the morning sky golden above us and a nice chill in the air, I let my gaze rove over Kaiten with greater detail. He was either ex-military or very well trained. I could tell by his dead eyes and straight back, by the way he held himself, entirely aware of the space around him. It was a quality only the most competent could master.

Deadly. Efficient.

He was in a black suit, dressed for work and without a hair out of place. The slight bulge in his jacket signaled a weapon, and I was sure there was another at his ankle even if I couldn’t see it. Could I take him in a straight draw? Probably not. It was just a feeling I had. His motion was too fluid, too easy. His eyes never missed a detail and there was a way to him that I’d only seen around hit-men in Deadtown.

“Five minutes?” he asked coldly.

I turned and showed him my back. “I had chewing gum stuck to my jeans, and good morning to you too.”

He gave me a flat stare. “You didn’t say where we were going over the phone. Apparently, my every word is being recorded by several clandestine organizations.”

“For being an asshole, yeah,” I replied, “and we’re going to the coroner’s office. No time to chat, Iceman.”

“The coroner’s office? Is this related to the case, or am I simply acting as my driver?”

“Are you refusing to take me? Very, very bad, Kaiten.”

He ran a hand through his thick hair, and I think I wobbled slightly. “It’s right by my station,” he said finally. “Am I missing something? Do you know something I don’t?”

So Robocop wasn’t omniscient. Well that was just magnificent, wasn’t it? I slipped into his black Camaro and started playing with the radio almost as soon as I was in. He slapped my hand away—twice—before turning on me and demanding a straight answer.

“Alright,” I sighed. “Calm the hell down or you’ll blow a vein. Leela Snow died an hour ago at the hospital.”

“What?”

“She’s off to sunnier pastures,” I clarified. “I paid someone at the hospital to call me the moment it happened. The corner is planning to cut her open any minute, and I want to be the first to hear the findings.”

“You mean the corner is going to perform an post-mortem? We don’t call it ‘cutting open’ in our profession.”

“Yes, that,” I replied with a distracted nod. “Are you glad I woke you?”

“I wasn’t asleep, if you must know,” Kaiten said. “What’s with the change of heart, anyways? You do realize it’s your function to keep me away from the investigation?”

“And do you realize your function is to get as close to the investigation as you can? By reminding me of my function, you reduce the chances of ever receiving credit for this,” I replied. “So let’s be happy I bothered to call you and move on, alright?”

Kaiten’s eyebrows met in sharp disapproval, but he started the car and pulled out into the street. I gathered a deep breath, lost in swimming thoughts, and I was hit suddenly by the scent of molten chocolate and almonds. Man, but did I want to bury my nose against his neck and just pant away. Did he rub himself down with the stuff? It was the only way to smell like that. Right at this moment, he felt more like a tasty meal than an attractive man. Maybe a bite of him wouldn’t hurt.

Calm down, tiger. Think ugly thoughts. Blood and gore. Gore and meat. Meat and steaks. Steaks are yummy. So is coffee. Coffee is like chocolate. Chocolate with almonds. Kaiten Elzoran. Oh, my god! It was a vicious cycle. How was I going to escape? Get out of my head, demons!

“What are you thinking?”

“Blood and gore,” I said, perhaps a little too quickly. “You know…the post-mortem. There’s going to be so much blood.”

“Actually, there’s not going to be much. The bodies are drained before,” he replied. “Does blood scare you?”

What a funny guy, right? “No, blood doesn’t scare me,” I said lamely. “Trust me when I say I’ve seen my share of it.”

“That’s what I heard.”

I was suddenly quiet. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, not much,” he replied with a shrug. “People talk. I don’t indulge in the practice, but I asked around about you.”

Shit. How much does everyone know about my past “Did you, now?”

“You sound offended.”

“And you sound incredibly friendly today. It’s creeping me out.”

Kaiten laughed, and I think it was the first time I’d heard him. The sound was deep and strong, overflowing with life but not enthusiastic enough to reflect a true happiness. Like me, Kaiten had his dark past. He had his regrets, fears and evils.

“I was terribly rude last night, and I’m hoping to make up for it,” he replied, and there was a note of honesty in his voice. “After I saw how your colleagues treated you…well, I didn’t feel incredibly just in my outrage.”

My hands curled into tight fists, and I pressed them down against my thighs. “I don’t need your fucking, self-righteous pity,” I snapped. “If you want to treat me well, do it because of my merits and not my weaknesses. I have enough people looking down on me.”

I was expecting an outburst or sharp counter of some kind. In fact, I was hoping he’d get pissed off enough to kick me out of his car. I could deal with hate and anger, but I couldn’t deal with friendship. His kindness was a sharp blade digging into me, because I knew I would turn it against him eventually. I’d betray him as I was taught to. I would betray him because he couldn’t possibly find out about my secrets.

“They say you ran off when you were thirteen,” said Kaiten quietly. “To Deadtown, no less. Just disappeared. Is that true.”

“Why?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he replied. “I was undercover there for a time. Three years with a local gang.”

My heart dropped down and hit my ovaries. I tried to keep calm when I asked, “When was this?”

“Almost ten years ago,” he replied. A cool breath of relief slid free from my lungs. “I was new to the division and good with covers. Back then, we were just figuring out how to work with the prenaturals, and I was one of the few willing to trust them.”

I laughed, but it sounded empty even to me. “You? Trust us? I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Kaiten shot me a sour glare. “I’d been dealing with red tape for two weeks when I met you last night. The Prenatural Branch threw everything they had at me, and I was angry,” he explained. “You showed up, and I just decided to let it all out. I think you’re a pain in the ass and know very little about police work, but you didn’t deserve being insulted.”

“Stop, please,” I begged with a grin. “You’re ruining everything. Can’t I just hate you? I mean, it’s so damn easy. You’re like an icicle.”

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, smiling that small smile of his. “To be honest, Deadtown changed me. It was hell at every turn. Blood and death. If aren’t a killer down there, then you’re—”

“—A victim,” I completed. “Yeah, I’ve heard that more than once. Why’re you telling me all this? Sounds incredibly personal, and I’m all for girl talk and shit, but I’d rather not have you crying on my shoulder.”

Kaiten’s gray eyes hardened slightly. “You said I shouldn’t judge you by your weaknesses,” he said, “and I’m not going to. From what I know, and it isn’t much, you survived longer than I did, and you did it as a child. Thirteen-year-old girls are either whores or someone’s play thing. Which one were you?”

Son of a bitch. This was all another way to insult me. Of course he would assume I was a whore. How else did I survive there? It filled with a burning anger that I just couldn’t hold in. “Go fuck yourself, why don’t you?” I spat, turning my face away and pressing it against the cool window. “You haven’t the slightest fucking clue what I went through, so don’t throw shit at me, you little, upstart dick.”

Kaiten laughed, and it was cold and remorseless. “I saw girls like you. Beaten and useless. Addicted, track marks all over their arms,” he replied. “If I lifted your sleeve, would I see that?”

I jerked at my jacket, pulling it off and baring my arms to him. I raked my nails across the hard muscle and thrust them up at him. “Look at that, you piece of shit!” I shouted. “Look! Not a fucking mark. I’m as clean as fucking baby. If you even knew how I survived down there, you’d crap your pants and beg me not to tear your fucking throat out.”

And then I saw it, that shadow of amusement. He was enjoying this. He’d got exactly what he wanted. Everything that had come out of his mouth was meant to piss me off and inspire an angry reaction. Shit, but I’d walked right into his trap. He’d laid it so well, pretending to be kind and understanding. Then he sprang that whore comment on me, knowing I’d snap and say something revealing, and I’d done exactly that.

“Oh, don’t stop,” he goaded. “You were saying something about tearing my throat out.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” I replied, and I was suddenly calm. I was calm like I was before I killed someone. I’d gone to that place of utter solitude where you could do just about anything and not care. It took a certain amount of experience turn your feelings off by command, but it’s a skill I’d mastered years ago “My past isn’t a tool to be used against me. This isn’t amusing. My life isn’t amusing.”

Kaiten slowed at a red light and looked down at me. “I don’t think it is, but there is darkness to you that I don’t trust. I’ve seen it before, and we both know what it means, don’t we?”

Yes, we did. He had it as well. The numbness that came after you’d killed enough not to care anymore. That point where you could draw and fire, kill and maim without hesitation. It was trick you eventually learned in Deadtown, and if you didn’t learn it fast enough then you died like the rest of them. I was a survivor, and I would never apologize for what I’d had to do.

“If I can’t trust you then I at least have to know what kind of person you are,” he continued. “There are quite a few people in the APD who believe you’re a mole. That you’re working for someone in Deadtown.”

My head snapped up, and my eyes were empty well of hate. “If my uncle thought for even a second that I couldn’t be trusted, he would never have let me join.”

“You mean your father?”

“What?”

“Chief Commissioner Danthir is your father, not your uncle. You called him that yesterday as well.”

I shrugged. “On paper, sure. He adopted me, my sister and my brother—all from different families,” I replied. “We always looked at him like he was our uncle because we still remember the homes we came from. I don’t see how that’s relevant to any of this. I’m not a mole.”

“I know that, but others are certain you are.”

I frowned up at him suspiciously as he accelerated out of the stop. “You know that? How do you know it?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Kaiten sighed, and I noticed the slight tightening of his hands around the steering wheel. “There are no track marks on your arms. Nothing to show you were an addict, and you don’t act like one either,” he said. “I spent enough time in Deadtown to know it’s almost impossible to stay away from the drugs.  If that place couldn’t break you; if it couldn’t corrupt you, then I doubt you’d betray father’s loyalty so easily.”

“You actually believe that?”

“Yes,” he replied honestly.

“Then you’re being naive,” I replied. “We both know there are more ways to corrupt a person than by drugs.”

“Oh, we do?”

I nodded firmly. “I’ve seen into you, Kaiten. Don’t play me for a fool,” I said. “We’ve already been broken, as much as we want to believe we haven’t. There’s that line you cross; that line you can never came back from. You know what I’m talking about, but you just don’t want to admit it.”

He sat there in silence, and I had my answer.

Our humanity was just a cloak for what we hid underneath.

♦    ♦    ♦

My arrival at the coroner’s office was enough to get my spirits back up. What I didn’t realize until I walked through the front door was that I knew the chief medical examiner. In fact, I knew him damn well. Hanar Javim was a middle-aged doctor who’d been a friend of the family for as long as I could remember. He was the epitome of an academic: inquisitive and slightly mad. I loved the man mostly because of his quirkiness and the fact that he never cared what people thought about him.

Oh, and he was a necromancer. Not many people knew that.

“Aza!” he exclaimed when Kaiten and I walked into his cluttered office. Glasses askew and blue eyes filled with almost childlike excitement, he jumped up and wrapped me in a strong embrace. “I received a call telling me you were on your way. I haven’t been this excited in months!”

We jumped around for a good five minutes, joking and laughing, and catching up on what had happened since we last saw each other. Apparently, Hanar had found a girl whose fascination with corpses rivaled his own, a morbid detail of his character that I’d never held against him. The fact that he admitted it meant she was probably one hell of a person. Necrophilia, anyone?

Kaiten stood in the doorway, dark and brooding, the embodiment of ‘let’s get the fuck on with this’. I ignored the testy bastard and stretched our greeting out until I could feel him shifting on the balls of his feet, just itching to jump in and separate us. Go ahead and try, Iceman.

Hanar finally became serious, looking at me from behind his steel-rimmed glasses. “How are you really doing, Aza?” he asked sternly. “I know the readjustment hasn’t been easy.”

My eyes flitted to Kaiten and then back to him. “How do you know that? Is Sana tattling to you?”

“Your sister is concerned,” he replied. “She said you’ve missed the family dinner three weeks in a row.”

“Seriously? They have one every Friday. I can’t be expected to drop everything and show up.”

“What did I tell you when you came back? Routine is essential for recovery,” he said. “Routine, Aza. You need it more than you think.”

I gave him a lovely pout, bringing my dimple-powers to bear. After my return from the land of the missing, Hanar had assumed the role of an informal psychiatrist. He actually had a degree, so stop looking at me like that. The man probably knew more about what happened in Deadtown than anyone who wasn’t there to see it with their own eyes. Despite the fact that he could easily read me, Hanar wasn’t exactly resistant to my charms.

“If I promise to go, will you leave me alone?” I asked.

“Tonight,” he said firmly. “You promise?”

Score for the dimples! “I promise.”

“Good,” he replied. Then, his gaze went to Kaiten. “Detective Elzoran, forgive me for not greeting you probably. Aza has the effect of completely distracting me.”

Kaiten gave him a stiff smile, and I knew him well enough by now that the expression came as a surprise. He’d barely even looked at the receptionist, and I had the feeling Kaiten wasn’t the kind of person who cared about annoying others. So the fact that he’d bothered enough to give Hanar a smile meant he didn’t have anything against him.

“That she does, Dr. Javim” he agreed, “and the ability to annoy me to no end.

I scowled up at him, but I was too happy to be angry.

“You’re both here for the woman who died recently?” asked the doctor. “One of the white-eyes?”

“White-eyes?” I asked.

Hanar nodded, and I could see the edge of excitement in his eyes. This case interested him immeasurably. “That’s what I’m calling them. The white-eyes,” he replied. “Their eyes don’t actually turn white, they simply roll so far back that everything else disappears. Muscular spasm.”

Well that was good to know. “What can you tell us?”

Hanar hesitated. “You are part of the investigation, aren’t you?”

“I’m liaising,” I replied. “Technically, that makes me a part of the team.”

The doctor grinned. “I’m all for technicalities. This case is magnificent, Aza. I always come across interesting deaths when prenaturals are a factor, but these are some of the most bizarre I’ve ever seen.”

I hated lying to him, but I had to do it. Hanar knew I’d killed people when I was in Deadtown. He didn’t know how much though, and he didn’t know I’d done it more often on orders than in self-defense. I’d been too afraid to admit that to him. In fact, I’d been too afraid to admit any of it, and most of what he knew was based on assumptions. I would make an ambiguous statement, and he would take whatever meaning he could out of it.

Not the best system, I know.

“The cause of death isn’t clear, but it’s entirely a result of the mind,” he explained breathlessly. “There’s no trauma whatsoever on the three victims. I’m operating on the theory that they died from a neurological problem. It was almost like their body shut down; someone pulled their plug.”

“Is there any chance the victims were poisoned?” asked Kaiten. “Two died while asleep in their beds, and the third was found in an alley not a block away from where she was believed to be staying. If there were no defensive wounds, it would be possible they were poisoned.”

Hanar pursed his lips. “I considered that, but every test I’ve run came up negative for poisons,” he replied. “However, I did find something quite interesting. I don’t know how it pertains to the nature of their deaths, but all three had a common mutation in their genes.”

“Lycanthropy.”

The word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself, and I was immediately horrified. That’s me—the effervescent detective without a clue about a damn thing. How could I go and spit that out? There was no way in hell I could explain my source of knowledge, even if I consumed a dozen cups of coffee. Here’s to all the idiots capable of screwing themselves without help.

The doctor stared at me with an open mouth and then shut it with an audible click. “I believe you just stole my thunder.”

I shot Kaiten a sheepish glance and found him staring down at me in a mix of triumph and suspicion. The triumph was obviously for the fact that I’d confirmed all his theories. Now he knew I was hiding something, and he wouldn’t stop until I spilled it all out. The suspicion was obviously him wondering whether I was worth trusting and what else I’d hid from him. Just when we were beginning to understand each other, I’d pissed it away with a careless impulse.

“Care to explain how you guessed that, detective?” asked Kaiten slowly, his voice edged with warning.

“Well there’s your answer.”

“What?”

“I guessed it,” I replied with a nonchalant shrug. Yes, I’m badass and I can pull of nonchalant shrugs. That’s good genes. “Just had a feeling. Hanar always saves the best for last, so I said the first thing that came to mind.”

The doctor was too oblivious to make out the undercurrent in our exchange and continued talking. “All three of them tested for lycanthropy. From what I know, Detective Inspector Schuler has yet to link them in their private lives, but I have a medical reason to believe they may have been targeted because of what they were. I honestly believe that Schuler is incompetent.”

If there was one thing I agreed with, it was that. From what I could tell, though, there were more pressing problems than Schuler’s sheer incompetence. Kaiten was beginning to look at me like he had last night. Like I was something that ought to be knocked over the head, stuffed into a car trunk and driven off the edge of a pier.

What now?

Merchant of Dreams 1.03

Ashen City is separated into three, main blocks. There’s Old Quarter, Codo and Deadtown. You have places like Theater Lane, in all its Broadway-esque glory of lights and nightly beauty. That’s where the markets are, as well most of the gateways into the hidden realms just beyond the human eye. They exist on a parallel plane to ours, juxtaposed in a way that we step through a curtain, and in an instant we’re somewhere else. You can be standing on one side of a doorway, looking out over a crowded street, while the other side is smack in the middle of a rainforest.

Seen it happen.

Anywho, I lived between Codo and Deadtown, right on the riverfront. They two parts of the city are separated by the River Saphrin, a freshwater body infested with nymphs, grindylows and things that make me want to stay the hell away from it. The nymphs are kind, if I must admit. They whisper some many little secrets; real gossipers, those girls. It isn’t the best neighborhood, but it’s far better than the central parts of Deadtown where I spent several years.

I arrived at my apartment more than slightly tired, and shrugged my jacket off with a deep groan. I placed the FN Five-Seven on the granite, kitchen counter where I could easily get to it and kept my back up S&W 442 in my waistband where it would forever stay. If someone battered my door down, I’d have maybe zero seconds to draw and fire. Smart girl, aren’t I? Can the applause.

With some takeout perched in front of me, I put a call through to Mahla, my trusted informant within the Spook Squad. She was a hob, brownie to some, a creature of faeyr heritage who was driven to keep things in order. The modern day brownies were Wall Street accountants, insurance adjusters and accountants to powerful firms. We’d really hit the jackpot with Mahla. She easily operated the entire squad with an iron fist of order, and that put her in a position to learn a great many things.

“Hello, dear. I hope you weren’t too disappointed.”

“How the hell do you do that?”

“Do what exactly?” asked the woman from miles away. I could tell she was still in the office, burning the midnight oil.

“You know,” I said, gesturing to the empty air, “the way you can tell it’s me calling”

Mahla laughed. “Exciting, isn’t it? I have this new phone that shows me your name when you call.”

Caller ID? Well shit, that took the mystery out of it. It was funny thinking of Mahla peering down at the cellphone screen, trying to decipher what was written on the screen. A giggle slipped past my lips, but I shut it down instantly before the woman suspected I was laughing at her. She was self-conscious when it came to these things.

“I need your help,” I said, letting out a sigh. “They wouldn’t let me anywhere near the crime scene, and I really want to get my hands on the evidence.”

Mahla clicked her tongue. “Always overstepping your bounds, Azadana. When will you learn?”

I hated Azadana. Whenever someone called me that, I immediately assumed I was in trouble. Aza was better. Aza Rohin. Or Zadana, but that’s the name I went by in Deadtown. Hadn’t been called that in a long time, and I didn’t really want to be reminded of it.

“So you heard they put me on as liaison to the humans?”

“Of course I did, dear,” she replied. “I knew before anyone in the department, even the Chief Inspector.”

“But doesn’t the Chief Inspector decide all this?”

Mahla chuckled in her motherly voice. “She does, but with poor Mavin dead, who else was going to take the position?” she asked. “When his wife tore his throat out, I was the first one at the hospital.”

“Didn’t a car run him over?”

“That was afterward, when he tried to escape his wife,” replied Mahla. “She tried to bite his throat, half killed him too, but he ran out onto the street. A flower delivery van hit him, and I hear he’d ordered the flowers for their anniversary.”

“Aww,” I said, immediately switching into girl mode. What the hell, this wasn’t me? I didn’t ‘aww’ shit. “Mahla, as interesting as all this crap is, I need access to the evidence.”

“Why?”

“Please.”

“Do you plan on sharing it with the human detective? I hear Kaiten Elzoran is handsome in a tight pair of jeans.”

“Eww?” I tried not to imagine that. “Are you hoping to creep me out, because that won’t distract me? And no, I seriously don’t plan on sharing any of this with the prick.”

Mahla sighed on the other end. “I know you want to prove yourself, Azadana, but maybe you should let this one go.”

There was something to the way she said ‘this one’. Years of investigative experience, stellar field work and—who the hell am I kidding? She stressed the words specifically as if I should stay the hell away. In fact, I was half asleep already and would’ve missed it if she hadn’t put particularly strong emphasis on the two words.

“What aren’t you telling me, you naughty, naughty woman?”

“Is that any way to speak to someone my age?”

I rolled my eyes. “Please, we both know about the porn magazines in your desk. Quite an eclectic collection, if I may say so myself,” I replied. “I particularly liked issues fifty to fifty-three. Remember the one where that Latino bends back and-?”

“Azadana.”

“Yes?” I asked innocently.

“Blackmail?”

“Just telling you what I like so next time you can buy with my tastes in mind,” I replied. “Of course, share a few secrets and this stays between us.”

“You are cruel,” she muttered, but I could hear the smile in her voice. “I can’t let you near the actual evidence, but I can tell you what I know. Nothing more, Azadana. No files, especially.”

I shrugged, but then realized she couldn’t see me. “Sure. That’s all I’m asking for.”

There was a moment of brief hesitation, and I bit my lip hard enough for it to ache. Mahla’s breath was loud against the receiver as she contemplated what to say, and after a good thirty seconds she launched in. “This one was different from the last two. They were found dead, but-”

“Back the hell up!” I exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. “Last two? You’re saying there were others like this?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I thought you knew. Both men in their thirties. They had no link to each other or apparently to the woman who was attacked today. Schuler is running out of ideas. This case will make his career considering how the victims were killed.”

I was too afraid to ask.

“How were they killed?” I demanded breathlessly. Alright, maybe I wasn’t that afraid.

“The medical examiner is still trying to determine that,” Mahla replied. “No physical evidence whatsoever. No defensive moves on either of the first two; I’m waiting to find out about the third victim, Leela Snow. She seems like the only one who survived, but the doctors say she might not live through the night.”

“Crap. So no chance she gives a statement?”

“No chance. It’s sad; such a beautiful, young woman.”

I’d already tuned out, mind racing to all the possibilities. If she was dying one way or another, I could always break into her mind and figure out what she knew. I’d have to be there, standing right over her to do it. There were probably half a dozen uniforms guarding the place. No way in hell I was getting within fifty feet of her hospital bed without Schuler’s permission, and the bastard would rather blow his brains out than listen to me.

Syba’s scaled balls, but this was bad. I couldn’t do anything without drawing attention to myself, and that was the last thing I wanted. It would just be another excuse for them to come after me, and this time they could succeed in uncovering all my years on the street. It wouldn’t just destroy my life, but ruin both my uncle and brother’s careers. I’d peel my face off with blunt knife long before I let my shit touch them.

“Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“Sometimes I wonder how you survived this long,” she replied with sigh. “What’s your interest in this case? You never care.”

Quick, hang up. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s the first case I’m working—”

“You’re a liaison.”

“And I thought it might be a chance to make a breakthrough—”

“Schuler won’t like your poking one bit.”

“Hopefully, I can stick it to Schuler while I’m at it—”

“He’ll find a reason to have you removed.”

I leaned my chin on the heel of my hand. “It’s a risk I’ll have to take, Mahla. I know I’m better than a desk,” I replied, and was disappointed to hear a tiny whine in my voice. “I scored highest on the qualifications exams, tested excellently in marksmanship and jumped through almost every other hoop. None of it was because of Danthir. Not a thing.”

“I know that, dear.”

“I know you do. I just wish others would see it as well,” I mumbled. “I’m a good person, aren’t I? I mean, I’m kind and friendly.”

Silence answered my words.

“Seriously? You’re supposed to say ‘of course you are, Aza’,” I said. “Your bedside manner sucks ass.”

“I don’t mean anything by this, but you can be mean sometimes,” she replied. “They call you the Hag.”

“Me?” I exclaimed. “Me? Have you ever met me? My desk is stuffed with donuts, and I do have the station’s paperwork!”

Mahla sighed. “The donuts are over a month old and you’re handwriting is almost decipherable,” she replied. “I usually have one of the other detectives redo most of it.”

“Traitor.”

“I’m looking out-”

“Traitor,” I repeated, slumping in my seat. “I thought I was doing everything so well. Last week, I let Detective Constable Hurran borrow my car for a sting.”

“He found a dead rat in the back seat.”

I stopped. “Man, I was so sure I cleaned that rat out. It probably ate the packet of chips. That stuff was old enough to be worse than arsenic.”

“You’re forgetting the point, Azadana,” said the woman. “You need to watch out with this. Schuler won’t like us talking about the case. I’m not sure I can give you much more, but I’ll try to send you details on the other two as well as Leela Snow.”

“Who’s Leela Snow?”

“Are you even listening? She’s the third victim.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.”

“Sure, dear. I’ll email you whatever I can by tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I replied sincerely. “That’s all I need. I won’t tell them it was from you if I’m caught doing anything illegal.”

“Illegal?” Her voice went up several octaves.

“Immoral, I meant. Not illegal. Slip of the tongue.”

“Azadana…should I be concerned?”

A thought struck me. “No, but can send me whatever you have on Kaiten Elzoran? The bastard looks like he’ll be a pain in my ass.”

“I’ll try. Don’t get in trouble, dear. You seem quite careless at times.”

“Hey,” I replied, only slightly offended. If anything, my problems were all on purpose. The credit was mine. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I’ve never broken a nail in my life.”

“Not according to the rumors.”

I sat there for a good ten minutes, wondering what the hell that meant. Did they know something about me? Danthir, my uncle/adoptive father, made sure to wipe my record clean. Anything I’d done, I’d done when I was underage. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but he managed to make me look squeaky clean.

I was about to get up and go to bed when I noticed a folded paper on the kitchen counter. I hadn’t noticed it until now, and I reached for it curiously. Expensive paper. Rough and sweet smelling. Secret admirer? It could be my landlady. I think she had a crush on me.

I paused to open it.

So much you have grown over the years, Azadana. Certainly, you have far excelled my greatest expectations. I wish we could speak, to exchange and word and catch up, but that is something I’m afraid we must revisit in the future. Rest assured that I am watching over you, biding the time until we can meet.

My breath caught sharply in my throat. Damn. Damn this is shit to hell. As if I didn’t have enough problems, people from my past were popping out of the woodwork. This was the third note in the past three weeks, and this one was more direct than the last two. There was a final part to the message.

I’ll be in touch. Oh, and your sister quite the pretty woman, isn’t she?

Love, an old friend.

Enclosed with the message was a photo…a photo of my sister getting out of her car. Her red hair clung to her under the force of a breeze, and she was smiling, oblivious to whoever was taking her photo. It was taken outside her law offices. I easily recognized the background as well as her driver and bodyguard, Greog.

I crushed both in my palm and tossed them on the floor. I wouldn’t stand for this. They couldn’t extort favors from me using my past or family. That life was behind me, and I’d kill them before I let them near anyone I cared about. What? They thought I was soft just because I was out of the game. I’d show them. A few dead bodies was more effective a deterrent than any threat.

I gave my sisters photo one last look before departing for dead. Tomorrow would be a new day, and I’d deal with my problems as they came.

♦ ♦ ♦

I skimmed over pathways of golden light, leaping over a world of dreams and distant memories. A voice cried out to me across the endless landscape of crumbling thoughts and roaring emotions. This was dreamscape—a place I hadn’t seen in almost four years. I wanted out, to be free of the chains, but the heaviness of sleep enfolded my mind, trapping me inside the world of memories.

“Help!” shouted a voice from far off.

It echoed, shook and faded.

“Someone, help!” it came again.

Closer this time, louder and stronger.

The call tugged at me, and I tried to resist its inescapable pull. It dragged me deeper like a solid, lead weight—an anchor drowning me under a flood of broken thoughts. This was madness. Madness enough to leave my mind broken in a thousand pieces. If I didn’t escape, the damage would be irreparable a total. I’d fall into a vegetative state, never to wake up.

“Help!”

The dreamland came into sharp focus, crisp details leaping out at me as I concentrated on the calling voice. I was in an architecturally impossible hall, with ceilings that twisted and vaulted, bent under an invisible force and inundated like a giant wave. It should all have collapsed on itself and crushed me in it, but the space held despite all logic and despite the mechanics of gravity.

“Thank God!” cried a woman, running between pews to meet me. “I’ve been here for so long! What is this place?”

Holy shit. It was Leela Snow, the third victim. This was her dream, her nightmare. She’d drawn me into it somehow, perhaps because she sensed something special about me when I was close to her at the crime scene. This wasn’t happening, not now.

A dark blotch of blood marked the left side of his chest where she’d been shot or pierced by a blade. I didn’t have to look further to know why she was lying in a coma, life ebbing from her. The wound in the dream was forcing her mind to believe she was actually hurt.

“Ms. Snow,” I replied, and it felt stupid to assume formalities in a place as chaotic as this, “you need to listen to me.”

Her eyes widened. “You know who I am?”

“Yes, but that’s not important,” I said. “Do you remember how you got here? From where you came?”

The woman faltered. “Shadows, knives—I don’t know! I just want to leave,” she shouted. “Please, I’m going mad!”

“You’re hurt. Calm down.”

She saw the wound, and her expression fell. “Am I dying? No, I can’t die! No!”

“Tell me who did that, Ms. Snow. Think a little, please.”

I saw the thoughts flitting across her mind, the broken memories trying to sow themselves together. There was a stained window behind her, throwing hues of red and purple across the hall. It flickered to life almost like a screen. I saw her screaming, pinned down as a blade disappeared into her. Her eyes glowed with a faint gold, jaws expanding as the change took over.

“Are you a shapeshifter?” I asked urgently, knowing time was running out. “Lycanthrope? Avianthrope? Weredragon?”

She raised her head and looked up at me with a tear stained face. “Wolf,” she said softly. “I’m a wolf. No one knows. Not even my boyfriend.”

“Is that why you were killed?”

“Killed? I’m alive! Don’t act like I’m dead already!”

The floor bucked under me, reacting to her fury, and the world contorted under the force of her will. I could try to take control of the dream, but the risk was just too much. If I snapped her control over it—little as it was—we would both die here, never to see the outside world again.

“You’re in a hospital bed, Ms. Snow. This is a dream; your dream,” I explained gently. “Someone hurt you badly in here, and I have to find them. I’m a detective on your case. You called me here.”

“No. That can’t be. I was…” She stopped and looked at me in confusion. “I can’t remember. Everything is fading. My life, I can’t even remember where I live.”

“Ms. Snow, don’t give up. Why would anyone want to hurt you?” I demanded. “Two others were killed. You might die as well. I need to know why before it happens again.”

“Two others? Who?”

“I don’t know their names.”

The woman frowned at me. “You said you were on the case. How can you not know?”

“I just joined and haven’t had time to look, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does! You’re lying! You’re here to kill me,” she shouted. “Admit it! You just want to hurt me like the other one.”

I pivoted forward as the ground cracked under me and split into a gaping chasm. It dropped down into pitch-black darkness, an abyss of roiling emotion that would destroy me in an instant. I couldn’t fall in there, not if I wanted to live. However, it was looking more and more likely that I wouldn’t make it out of here unscathed if I let her do whatever she wanted.

Crazy women. In the name of all that was coffee, why didn’t they just have an espresso and chill the fuck out? If I was dying, I’d want to help the only person who could get revenge. Why wasn’t everyone else as clever? Bitches.

“Ms. Snow! Calm down!” I shouted over the imaginary sounds ringing in my ears. “If you don’t get a hold of yourself, you’ll kill us both! I’m a detective. Look, I can prove it.”

I reached for my badge, but found myself standing there in pajamas. Big Melons was printed over the front of my t-shirt, and my little shorts sported the words Juicy Bits along the back—my ass, that is. This wasn’t helping; not one bit. I looked like an oversized baby—cut button nose and dimpled cheeks. My eyes were large and gave me the appearance of a deer caught perpetually in the headlights of an oncoming car—not entirely the eyes of authority.

Shit, but I was screwed every which way.

“I died for nothing!” she shouted, and I slid closer to the edge of the chasm. “If I go, so do you!”

“Crazy bitch!” I shouted. “Have some goddamned coffee.”

I grabbed onto one of the benches toppled over between aisles and held on for dear life. I’d lost my only chance to convince her I wasn’t an icepick murderer; I needed to figure out how to stay alive. Chairs and tables flew past me into the darkness and the world seemed to bend inward on itself, collapsing toward a singularity that would consume us both in glorious death.

Yeah; no way. Nothing glorious about it.

“I’m sorry!” I said. “I’m sorry for this! You deserved better.”

Before she could decipher the meaning of my words, I snapped my will out in a sudden flood of power. The dream rippled with searing energy, driving back the chaos and replacing it, for a brief moment, with complete order. Gravity disappeared, suspending almost everything in a state of continued motion. My feet left the ground, and a sense of weightlessness settled over me.

 So this is how space felt, huh?

“What did you do?”

I looked across at the dying woman, a deep sadness settling over me. “Goodbye, Ms. Snow,” I whispered, but my voice carried across to her despite the distance. “I swear I’ll find who killed you.”

Then, with that declaration, I severed my link to the world and threw myself back along the streams of light and road of memories—the pathway back to my body. I heard her cry out, attempting to hold onto me and save herself, but I was too powerful for her to keep me chained down. I couldn’t save her, nor could I fight her, but I was more than capable of rescuing my mind from destruction.

I’m selfish; surprise, surprise.

I plummeted into the liquid barrier that separates the dreamrealm from the world of humans, drawing a breath in to brace myself for impact. Right before I slid back into my warm and cuddly skin, I saw the light wink out in the woman’s mind. A sudden darkness that swept toward me, hungry and consuming.

I dove through, and just in time. The dream shattered, and all was gone.

♦    ♦    ♦

          

I erupted out of bed amidst an explosion of bed sheets and pillows. Gasping and heaving for breath, I tried with all my might to keep myself tethered to reality. My hands scrabbled over my leather jacket until I managed to free the orange pillbox, and then I dashed toward the sink, knocking over a lamp and stubbing my toe painfully against the doorjamb.

Illusions filled the room around me, beautiful and almost tangible. A much younger version of me skipped by, singing a nursery rhyme with complete disregard for the world. Brilliant sunlight flowed out of my blue wallpaper, and my adoptive mother, Uncle Danthir’s wife, walked by in a floral dress. She was exquisite as always, but made even more so by my imagination.

This wasn’t happening in my mind. If there were people with me in the room at this very moment, they’d see it all as if it were real, despite the fact that it wasn’t. This was my glamour at work, driven insane by my adventure in fucking dreamland. Where was a good cup of coffee when you needed it?

The pain mounted sharply—tearing into me. A clenched jaw was the only thing that stopped me from crying out and letting free what was inside me. The pulls would help make the pain go away, but it would cause so many more problems. Problems much more serious than my addiction.

I managed to pry the pillbox open and shook a blue pill out of it. I tossed it down my throat and swallowed with a gulp of hot water. I’d heard higher temperature made the medicine work faster. Legends from old? Rumors? Fact? None could say for sure, but it was a mystery worth exploring.

I dropped down onto the leather loveseat, only to bang my head against the lamp I’d knocked over in my hurry. Groaning and aching, I shut my eyes tight and tried not to look at all the illusions dancing around the apartment. I was quite sure there was rendition of Pierce Brosnan standing over me. If I looked at the man, I wasn’t entirely sure I could stop myself from making him do rather delicious things.

 Hey, there’s an idea.

A thought occurred to me, and I reached for my phone through the visually solid shape of a crouching demon. Nasty things, those. I hit redial, calling the last dialed number.

“Hello?” asked a sleepy voice.

“Mahla, it’s your neighbor. I think there’s a fire in your house.”

“What?” she shouted. “Oh, my God-”

I laughed and leaned back, hugging my knees against my chest to ward off the cold. “It’s me, Mahla,” I said, “the pain in your ass.”

Silence answered my words.

“I almost died of fright, Azadana,” she said quietly. “I think I can’t feel my feet.”

“It’ll be fine,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “I needed you alert and awake.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

How to put this? I might’ve killed our hospital patient, the only person who could tell us why she and two men were dead by the hand of a dream assassin. “I want to you to check up on Leela Snow.”

“Have you seen the time?”

“It’s five in the morning. Hospitals don’t sleep.”

The woman’s frown was almost audible over the phone. “Hospitals might not, but I do.”

“Please, Mahla. I’ll throw away that mug you hate so much.”

“The one with the naked-?”

“No, the other one.”

“The one with the peni-?”

“Yes, that. Agreed?”

She sighed in resignation. “I’ll call you back in a minute.”

“Great. I’ll be chewing on my nails and shivering in excitement.”

With nothing to do, I looked around and was relieved to see most of my illusions had faded away. Good thing too. Not only could I create lifelike images, but my illusions were detailed enough to make sound. It wouldn’t please my neighbors to be woken up by the clamor of dozens of voices that I couldn’t stop from yammering on and on in a nonsensical stream of information.

Glamour was weird like that. My subconscious perceived gaps in what I created and filled them using my memory. That’s how I could create people with utmost detail after only a brief look. My conscious mind did only a tiny bit of the work while my subconscious worked overtime to patch the holes in my illusion. Quite effective, really.

With the medicine running in my blood, I finally had my glamour under lock and key. It was a good thing I hadn’t stuck around in crazy dreamland for any longer or it could’ve been much worse; if I ever woke up, that is. I was quite sure Leela Snow was dead as a direct result of our little confrontation, and I would be too if the darkness had caught up to me.

In a sudden burst, pain lanced through my skull.

Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. I needed strong coffee

I brewed a pot of it while waiting for Mahla to call back and sipped the foul tasting mix with a crinkled nose. Fine, maybe I sucked at making coffee; wasn’t exactly my forte. I could hit a target the size of a playing card at fifty yards with my FN Five-Seven and had a killer snapshot. My aikido was like heroin at the dojo where I practiced, and my mixed blood gave me the slight advantage of being just a little faster and a little stronger than most humans. So I couldn’t make coffee; could you kill a man in as many ways as I could?

Probably not. Go crawl back into your little hole and cry.

I answered the phone the moment it rang.

“Leela Snow died fifteen minutes ago.”

I winced. Well, that confirmed my theory. “Will they be doing an autopsy?” I asked.

“The medical examiner has already been called in,” Mahla replied, and I could hear a note of caution in her voice as if she wasn’t sure she should be telling me this. She probably shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t about to help her reach that decision. “Schuler wanted this done immediately.”

“Will he be there?”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Mahla didn’t reply immediately, but when she did I could hear the clear hint of warning. “Schuler is a powerful man with a small mind. He doesn’t like you, and nothing will ever change that.”

“Exactly,” I replied, “nothing I do will ever be good enough. I’d rather try to succeed and get kicked out than do nothing at all and eventually color the station with my brains.”

“Don’t say that, Azadana.”

“It’s true, and you know it. I can’t stand another day behind a desk,” I replied. “So will Schuler be there or not?”

Mahla released a deep breath. “Not this early, but be careful, Azadana. I would hate to lose you.”

“You keep saying it like I’m about to die. Please, I can handle myself,” I said. “I’ll be at the medical examiner’s place in an hour.”

Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the shower with warm trails of steam rising from my honey-colored flesh. It followed logically to stand for a while and stare in the mirror for no apparent reason other than to admire myself. Sometimes, I wished I was older than my twenty-four years. I was coltish and awkward, which made most think I was much younger than I actually was. Put that with an oval face, great big eyes, and dimples and you have a recipe for being underestimated and dismissed at every turn.

However, there were always the scars to make me look tough—scars and vivid tattoos. The only people who ever saw those were the ones with bedroom privileges or anyone who was standing behind me when I fell over. I was marked across the chest, back and belly with knotted wounds, long healed and slightly disconcerting. Two gunshot scars marked the area above my right breast, left there when a gangbanger stepped out of an alley and shot me dead center.

Then there were the knife wounds, silvery and long. They’d taught me to fight like a man—hard and dirty. I didn’t pull punches; I kicked when my target was down; I hammered, stabbed and gouged out whatever I could. It was better than lying on the sidewalk, trying to push your guts back into a torn belly. Not a pretty sight, I’ll tell you. Except if you’re the one who did the cutting.

What I was most fond of however, were the tattoos that overlaid all that history of violence. If I’d stayed on my path, I might’ve had full sleeves one day, but my ink stopped at the elbows. Good thing too, considering my chosen profession. My right bicep was decorated by a giant, winding dragon whose head rested on my shoulder, eating its own tale in the classical Ouroboros myth. My right arm was covered in street-style graffiti, homage to my time in Deadtown.

Out of all my tattoos—even the M.C. Escher and Salvatore Dali style ink across my back and sides, and the colorful half-sleeves—one meant more than all the others. It rested between my shoulder blades, a large ‘V’. Blood red and decorated with roses and vines. It represented the loyalty I’d had to a man of great power, and one whom I might’ve served for all my life if the Puppet Master hadn’t pulled me away at the very last moment. Tyrus Vanhain, one of the most powerful leaders in Deadtown and man to fear with all your heart. V for Vanhain. Shit, I missed the guy despite all the shit he made me do over the years.

Good times, those.

Working quickly, I slipped on a white, cotton blouse and fitted the FN Five-Seven into a shoulder holster. I threw a leather jacket over both, checked whether the gun was showing—it was—then proceeded to hide my S&W 442 at my ankle. It was stupid to leave you house without a backup weapon in case you lost the primary. I’d learned that long before I joined the CID.

Now for the hard part. Calling my nemesis.

The phone rang twice before Kaiten Elzoran picked. “Hello.” He sounded perfectly alert, an early bird. I hated this guy.

“Oh, Kaiten,” I purred against the receiver, curling my leg around and running a finger along it. “I…I missed you so much last night. It was so lonely in my great, big bed.”

“Azadana,” he replied stiffly, rolling my name off his tongue like it was an insult. “What do I owe this early call and blatant attempt at sexual harassment? Have you decided to tell me the truth about what happened between you and the victim?”

Man, this guy was persistent. Nothing distracted him, not even my best husky voice. Clearly a punishable offense. I had it on good authority that my voice could initiate micro-orgasms that registered a sold eight on the Richter scale. Either this guy was married and in love—disgusting as that was—or he was made of ice. I couldn’t imagine anyone marrying the bastard, and he obviously wasn’t made of ice. That left one option: impotence. I heard men in positions of power have that problem, so they overcompensate by acting pissed off and all masculine.

Schuler, case and point. Kaiten Elzoran, case and point.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Iceman,” I said. “You promised me a ride. Remember, my cars impounded? Considering all my unpaid tickets, we might have a problem on that front.”

“I never promised you a ride.”

“Uhmm, yes you did,” I replied matter-of-factly. “Stop arguing like you know something about something. Come over to my apartment and pick me up; I promise it’ll be worth your time.”

“Really? Explain.”

“Can’t, sorry.”

“Why not?”

“The phones are bugged. Didn’t you know?”

“They aren’t. Explain or I’ll hang up.”

“No, seriously. I heard you were under investigation for being an asshole,” I replied. “They have all the warrants—everything.”

There was an angry silence from the other end. “I’ll be there in ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Five minutes?” I exclaimed. “Damn, you’re fast. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Merchant of Dreams 1.02

Kaiten, not that we were on a first name basis, was trying to force his way into the alley where it appeared as if the crime had taken place. Murder? Probably, judging by the number of people hanging around. Two faeyr policemen blocked his path, broad chested and mean. They were stonekin, the wrestlers and enforcers of the faeyr. Detective Elzoran probably had no idea he was trying to push past a pair prenaturals who had the combined strength of six men between them. After all, I was one of the few people who could see through their human façades.

With a sigh, I quick-legged it over to him and jerked at his shirt insistently. “Can I help you, Detective Elzoran?” I asked as neutrally as I possibly could, considering the outcome of our previous exchange.

“You again!” he cursed, when he turned to see who it was. “I thought we were going to stay away from each other.”

“Charming as always,” I replied with a smile, but no dimples this time. Bad boys didn’t get dimples. “I’m afraid that’s not happening. I’ve been appointed the liaison. If you insist on poking around our crime scene, you and I will be seeing a great deal of each other.”

The detective’s stark features tightened in annoyance. “Your crime scene, detective?”

“This falls under the jurisdiction of the Prenatural Branch,” I replied, immediately switching to professional-speak. “Your division can only assume a backseat role in this investigation and provide support where asked. Any access to evidence is entirely voluntary on my part.”

He towered over me, gray eyes filling with that same coldness I’d noticed earlier. “So what, I’m stuck with you now?”

“Or I’m stuck with you,” I replied. All things considered, he was quite calm. I’d seen people throw punches when they were denied access to evidence. “What the hell did you do to get this job? I thought you guys hated working with us.”

“We do,” snapped Kaiten. “I drew the short straw. Prenaturals are dragging this city to hell, and now you’re throwing red tape in my way out of spite. I won’t take this from you or anyone else.”

My eyebrows went up. His hate wasn’t ordinary. He had something against us, but I couldn’t figure out what exactly. Dead family? A brother or a sister dating a prenatural? You could never know with these people. All it took was a little mistake and they treated you like the goddamned plague.

“I’m going to have to ask you to calm down and let our people do their job,” I replied, unsmiling and suddenly cold. They’d taught us these infuriating lines at the academy, and I was going to throw them at him until he burst like a rocket. “Would you like to contact my supervisor and report my behavior? I can provide you with refreshments if it helps.”

Kaiten let out an incredulous laugh. “You want me to lose it, don’t you?” he demanded. “It will give you an excuse to have me thrown off the case. That’s it, isn’t it?”

I shrugged. “I just need you calm, Sir. This isn’t an attempt to undermine you.”

“I disagree.”

“You’re allowed an opinion, Sir.” Suck on that, bitch.

The detective closed in one me until our noses were almost touching. It was made all that much easier since I stood almost as tall as him. If I flinched now, he’d never learn to respect me. I knew I wouldn’t. This wasn’t enough to scare me. Not after I’d stared down men holding automatic rifles at my chest—more than once.

“I think I liked you more when you were acting like a spoiled child,” he said under his breath so no one else could hear. “You’re a fool if you think I’m going to let you pull this shit with me.”

“I think I never liked you,” I replied. “Now that we’ve established what we feel about each other, you might want to get the fuck out of my face.”

I fixed my black eyes on his grays, pinning him with my stare. Good thing I’d been practicing in the mirror or I’d be screwed right about now. We stayed like that for a good twenty seconds, neither looking away, until someone shouted out from behind me.

“Kiss her!”

The detective scowled and looked back over my shoulder. “Shut your mouth or I’ll break it, Constable Mavis.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

I gathered a deep breath, trying to hide the flush that colored my cheeks. “That wasn’t necessary. I can handle my own problems.”

“Please, there’s no need to delude yourself. I did that for the sake of my reputation,” he replied. “It would do me no good to have rumors of an affair with a monster flying around.”

That hit hard and deep. It took every, last inch of me to school my features. I wasn’t afraid of showing anger but rather of showing the pain his careless comment had caused. I wouldn’t be weak. I wasn’t weak. I knew that after years of surviving in Deadtown, unarguably the worst place in Ashen City. If I could live through a storm of bullets and magic, gangs and street wars, then I could survive a few harsh words and pointless politics.

“I think I might hate you,” I said with a sweet smile. “Don’t bother talking to me.”

I stepped around him, maintaining an expression of nonchalance, and walked over to the dark alley. The stonekin officers guarding the entrance glanced at me then shrugged and stepped aside. Kaiten tried to follow me in, but I whirled around just in time.

“Not him!” I barked. “He stays outside until I say otherwise.”

The wall of flesh moved back into position.

“You can’t do this!” called the detective from behind the line. “I’m going to file a complaint against you!”

I ignored him and moved into the mouth of the alley. Schuler and Syba were already there, watching as a pair of paramedics hauled a body onto a stretcher. I stopped and stared. Paramedics? Why were paramedics removing a body? Unless, of course, it wasn’t a body. Did that mean there was no murder? Why all the people then? That’s me. Questions and no answers. A summary of my short existence.

“What’re you doing here, Rohin?” demanded Schuler. “You’re supposed to stay by the human.”

I wasn’t listening to him. In fact, the world had faded into a mass of endless gray. Blood rushed into my ears, and my heart fluttered with a thunderous staccato as panic set in. This wasn’t happening. Not now, and not here. Not when I was finally free of my dark past.

The woman on the stretcher had milky eyes. It was almost like a liquid swirled under the surface, injected by a needle too small to leave a mark. The scene was all too familiar. The rigid body, white eyes, pale flesh and shallow breathing. I’d seen it before, but it’d been my handiwork back then and not someone else’s. I’d done this—this exactly—to people who couldn’t defend themselves against my power. Even now, after all these years, I could still remember the feeling of invading their minds and leaving them dead in their dreams.

She was in her thirties. Slanted eyes, beautiful and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. There was nothing remarkable about her, or at least nothing that stood out immediately. I tried to remember every detail of what I was seeing, brand it in my mind to look over later. Whoever did this was like me; a glamourist or with gifts similar to mine. Everything matched, and despite my urge to deny it and move on, I just couldn’t look away.

“I’m talking to you, Rohin!”

Reality snapped back into focus, and I turned my black eyes on him. For a moment—just a moment—I wanted to drive my fear into him. I could do it, too. Give my emotions shape, mold the cold malice like a white hot knife and drive it into him. Would it be worth it, though? The human mind was a construct of fragile glass. I’d broken the will of men without meaning to, leaving them shadows of what they once were. I knew if I did that here, all my secrets would be revealed.

Somehow, I managed to swallow my anger with a deep inhalation of winter air. “Sorry, sir. I’ll keep him company.”

Striding quickly, I came abreast of the stretcher and looked the woman over. My eyes slid across her face intently, but there was nothing to see there that I hadn’t in the past. With a quick thrust of my mind, I tried to break through the cage of her thoughts and into that roiling mass of emotion and memories that formed the human essence. I found myself pressed against a solid barrier of confusion, placed there by whatever destruction had been wrought over her mind.

It was irreparably damaged. If I tried to force my way in, I could just as easily leave her dead as the person who did this to her. I was determined to see this through, but not at the cost of an innocent life, even if that life was beyond saving. There was a time when I might’ve not cared, but that person was long gone, driven out by sanity and logic.

I realized I’d followed the stretcher right up to the ambulance and quickly tore myself away before anyone noticed my interest. For once, I appreciated the cold. It reminded me to stay calm. Stay calm and gather my thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t what I thought it was. Just my overactive imagination picking out details that reminded me of my past. That could be it, couldn’t it? There was nothing at all to worry about.

“Is something wrong?”

I looked around sharply to find Detective Elzoran close behind me. “No,” I replied. “Why would you care anyways?”

“So something is wrong?”

“No!”

He watched me for a long moment, perfectly still. Inhumanly still. There was an edge to this man that I couldn’t understand. Did he practice in the mirror? It’s pretty hard to pull off dark, tall and mysterious, but this guy had it down to the letter. Oscar-worthy performance. Just smack a Sean Connery accent on his lips and we’re done. I just wished he hadn’t opened his mouth and ruined the image. Things could’ve been so much better.

“You reacted to her.”

My stomach clenched. “What’re you yammering about? Off your meds again?”

“You know exactly what,” he replied, jerking his head towards the ambulance. It was already pulling out, lights flashing blue and red. “I saw it in your eyes. You knew her, didn’t you?”

Sometimes, fools dug their own graves. “Maybe,” I said, sighing. “She looks so much like someone I used to know, but it could be anyone.”

“Liar.”

“What do you want from me?”

Kaiten thrust his hands into his pockets, pushing his coat back. It was an intimidating stance, and one I assumed he reserved for interrogating suspects. “Most people would say they weren’t lying. You didn’t.”

“My father says I’m special. He even bought me sticker that says so,” I replied. “Wanna see it?”

“You were afraid. In fact, your hand is still shaking.”

Shit. My brilliant strategy to distract him wasn’t working. Merlin’s beard, but was this guy sharp or what? “You’re really throwing a Sherlock vibe there, detective. Sure all that cigar smoke hasn’t gotten to your head?”

“You tried to hide your hands when I said they were shaking. I couldn’t see, not in this light,” he continued. “The fact that you felt the need to do it means I was right. What does the woman mean to you?”

This wasn’t like me. Not one bit. The shock of seeing my own handiwork had thrown me off. Thrown me off enough to ignore every instinct I’d honed over years on the street, running with the hardest, most brutal gangs of Deadtown. Now this fool walked in and had me over a spit like I was some weak-willed bimbo who couldn’t stand a grilling. Hell, I’d been shot and stabbed and not budged an inch. I needed to get my head back in the game, and I needed to it fast.

“Looks like they’re clearing out,” I said, gesturing at the crime scene. “The evidence is bagged and the pictures are all take. Everything’s in place.”

“And?”

“And that means I don’t have to tolerate your shit anymore, detective,” I replied. “This is where I clock out. You can eat my brains tomorrow.”

Without waiting for his reply, I turned on heel and hightailed it back toward my car. When I reached the road, I found myself faced with a much more immediate issue than some mysterious kill. My car was being towed. Was nothing scared in this city? I was a detective constable on the job, and they wouldn’t even leave my car be?

“Hey!” I shouted, running over. “Don’t you dare. I’m a detective!”

The driver leaned out of the driver seat window. “Step out of the way, miss. You parked wrong.”

“Detective!” I corrected. “I’m a detective!”

“Not my problem,” he replied. “That one there—the oily son-of-a-bitch—told me I had to tow the car. He threatened to have me fired if I didn’t.”

I looked around to see who the ‘oily son-of-a-bitch’ was and found myself staring at Syba’s fanged face. Lamia’s were quick as whips. They were dirty in a fight, skilled in martial arts and entirely ruthless. Their scales acted like an armor that almost entirely dissipated the force of a punch. At this moment, with the world crashing down around me, I was an inch away from whipping my pistol out and putting a bullet in his head. Even with his skills and rapid healing, he wouldn’t survive.

“Syba, you worm!” I snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”

The lamia’s lipless mouth turned up in a vicious smile. “You should take care where you park, Azadana,” he replied. “Just because you’re uncle is the commissioner doesn’t mean you can break the rules.”

I pointed at the Bluebird, with its red, chipped paint and broken side mirrors. “This isn’t breaking the rules! I parked in the wrong place!”

“Tch. Same difference.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” I exclaimed.

The tow truck driver honked the horn. “Out of the way! I’m on the clock.”

I stamped my foot down in fury and wrung my hands. “Not my car!” I pleaded. “I have guns in the trunk. If someone gets their hands on them, I’ll be screwed.”

“Won’t happen,” replied the driver. “They’ll remove that at impound.”

Seething and seconds away from running away in a huff, I shuffled to the side and let him roar past, my Bluebird followed close behind. “You slimy bastard,” I cursed, looking at Syba. “I swear I’ll never forget this.”

The snake grinned. “Have fun, Rohin. I’m going to drive away now…in my car.”

And just like that, he slid off into the darkness like the slimy piece of shit that he was. I stood there for a brief moment, tempted to chase after him and teach the lizard a lesson. My plans for revenge went out the window when Kaiten loomed at my side, smelling of manly musk and something else. Molten chocolate? Molten chocolate and almonds? Molten chocolate, almonds and coffee?

Coffee? Where the hell was my coffee? Oh shit, it was still in car. “My coffee!” I groaned. “No, my coffee.”

“You seem more disappointed to have lost your coffee than the car.”

I turned on him. “Give it to me,” I demanded, holding my hand out. “Right now.”

“I don’t have your coffee.”

“Not the coffee. The chocolate. I can smell it on you.”

For a moment, he was actually amused. Now that our initial exchange of hateful remarks was over, I think we were moving to a more even playing field. We both knew we wouldn’t be friends, but there was an understanding in place. I didn’t like him, and he didn’t like me. With that firmly set in mind, I didn’t have to try very hard to resist his cold charm, which was like an icy wind on a winter night.

“You can smell chocolate on me?”

I nodded eagerly. “Man-musk, chocolate, almonds and coffee.”

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Man-musk?”

I frowned at him. “You obviously want something from me, because you went from psycho witch-hunt mode to flirty in thirty seconds,” I replied. “Spit it out, Iceman. I’m freezing my ass off out here, and I really like my ass. Heard some great things about it.”

“I think you’re lying to me, Ms. Rohin,” he said, not reacting to the ass comment. How frigid was this guy?

“Detective Rohin or Aza. Nothing else.”

“Fine, Aza. You know something about that woman no one else does. Your colleagues especially,” he said. “From what I could tell, they would give anything to be rid of you. Most of them think you are nothing more than eye candy to appreciate from a distance and never take seriously”

“Here’s my chest. Want to rip my heart out?” I asked pleasantly. “You’ve already destroyed my pride.”

“Once again, you avoid my accusation instead of defending yourself. You aren’t helping your case.”

I sighed and looked up, giving him my best pout with dimples thrown in for perks. “I’ve been at this for two years and most of that time has been spent behind a desk,” I replied honestly. “What could I know that you and everyone else at the crime scene don’t already?”

“You are a prenatural. It could mean you have more knowledge than I do about what happened in that alley.”

Nothing happened in that alley, I thought. It happened somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Instead of saying what was on my mind, I shrugged as casually as I could. “You know what I am? A glamourist. You probably haven’t even heard of-”

“You weave illusions with lifelike quality,” said Kaiten. “Don’t look so startled. I know more than you imagine. It’s my job to research the other side.”

“Then you should know I’m not remarkable. I can’t work spells like warlocks, call spirits like shamans, do whatever the hell the faeyr do or take advantage of some distant, mythological heritage,” I replied, letting a note of self-pity creep into my tone. If he thought I was nothing, then there was a chance he would leave me alone. “I honestly thought I recognized her. I’m sorry if it doesn’t fit with your theory.”

Kaiten’s lips inched up with a ghostly smile. “I know you’re lying, but I’ll let it go for tonight. It doesn’t happen often with me, but I think I’m beginning to pity you.”

“Why, thank you,” I replied. “I’m always in need of some good, hard pity.”

He stopped, and I noticed a dark flush spread across his face. The detective coughed in his hand, suddenly uncomfortable, and I wondered whether he had much experience with the opposite sex. If you could see past his glaring personality, there was a possibility of something more to him, but was it enough that women actually bothered with the trouble? I knew I wouldn’t; not if he was such an asshole all the time.

“I came here to offer you a ride back to your house,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. “We might be seeing more of each other for a while, considering we work together now and that you’re hiding something from me.”

“Did you miss God’s class on social skills? You don’t offer help while accusing someone of lying. Not a good way to convince them of your intentions.”

Kaiten shrugged his muscled shoulders, and I watched the motion with avid interest. “I’m not a liar, detective. My intentions are entirely dishonorable, and I intend to wheedle my way into your inner circle until you spill your secrets,” he replied, and I think he was being genuinely honest with me. “Of course, this would all be much easier if I didn’t have an aversion to your kind.”

“My kind?” I asked, far too amused to be offended. “How would this be easier, then?”

“Why, I’d just seduce you, wouldn’t I? You do appreciate good, hard things, or was that a lie as well?”

I grinned. “Touché, curly hair. Let’s just be glad we despise each other. You can drop me off, but any funny business and I reacquaint myself with the feeling of fists battering flesh. You wouldn’t like that.”

“I won’t bother. You make my skin crawl.”

“You say the sweetest things, don’t you?” I replied. “Oh, and by the way: this is my real form. No illusion. Nothing. This is how I am in real life. See what you lost by calling me a monster?”

In that name of all that was coffee, I needed some sleep.

Merchant of Dreams 1.01

“Aza.”

My eyelids fluttered.

“Wake up, Aza.”

I groaned aloud and tasted my mouth. It was dry and thick with an unpleasant taste I couldn’t immediate identify. What was that? Onions? Garlic? Man, I must have bad breath. Blame it on the endless stakeouts and my nonexistent sex-life (maintained by sleek battery-powered tools).

“Azadana Rohin! Up! Wake up!”

I struggled with my eyelids, each which weighed a ton or more, and listened to someone prattle on in a meaningless lecture. None of it made any sense, so I mumbled an incoherent reply laced with profanity and fell back into my dreams. Sweet dreams, really. I was part of an office that appreciated my skills, with a boss who wasn’t half-troll and half-cyclops, and the sex was just—

“Azadana!” snapped a woman’s voice for the fourth time, and it seemed to come from far, far away. Through wormholes and across galaxies, all the way down to little old me. “This is an office, not your bedroom! Everyone is staring.”

Everyone?

Everyone.

I jerked my head off the desk and licked, elegant-like, at the trail of drool along the corner of my mouth. “Huh? W-what did-? Where the hell am I?”

A rush of light crashed down over my world, and I blinked away the sharp sting of tears. Florescent rods were a bitch, with their flaring whiteness and humming-bird flutters. A yawn hit me faster than I could hold it back, and my mouth opened wide in a close copy of the scene from Jurassic Park where the man gets eaten in the public bathrooms. I’m the t-rex, by the way.

I winced as a woman’s nails dug into my shoulder. “Wake. Up.”

“Oww,” I whined massaging myself and barely managing to shake off the blanket of sleep. “Go easy on me, Mahla. I’ve been here since last night.”

My coworkers, men and women carrying guns, watched with faint expressions of amusement and pity. They were officers of the law, these monsters. And I call them monsters in an entirely scientific sense. Most of them, in another age, and even in this one, would be considered monsters of some kind or another. Ever wondered what the inquisition was about? Look no further. Want to know why serial killers do what they do? Well, because they’re not humans. They’re something more and, in a manner of speaking, something less.

A few of my fellow monsters managed to snap photos of my t-rex impersonation with their nifty, little phones. Quick-like, so as to preserve whatever respect I still had, I wiped my chin with the back of my hand and tried to seem as professional as possible. Hopefully, they’d catch that on camera too.

Fingers crossed.

“Azadana,” chided the squat, motherly woman standing over me. “You’re hanging onto your job by a thread as it is. Don’t give them an excuse to toss you out. What would your father think?”

My brilliant stepfather, Danthir Rohin, who I truly loved but was perpetually frustrated with. Police Commissioner and Man of the Goddamned Year (century). Gather ‘round. Come get an autograph.

A day didn’t go by when his name wasn’t thrown in my face, cementing everyone’s opinion of the fallen star (that would be me). I had a brother whose talent was matched by none and a father whose meteoric rise through the hell of government bureaucracy was spoken of only in hushed whispers. Truly, it was the stuff of legends.

But then they all looked at me. Let’s not forget Azadana Rohin, they said to one another. Let’s smear her name whenever the opportunity arises, since it’s pretty much all she’s good for. Let’s take snapshots with nifty, little phones while she sleeps at her desk—a desk she’s warmed for six months. Let’s thoroughly amuse ourselves until the day she blows her goddamned head off or performs a rendition from the scene in that movie (you know which one I’m talking about) where the crazy chick shoots the other guy and then proceeds to massacre all her colleagues.

Yeah, that’s how I felt. Welcome to my world.

“My father would throw a banquet if they kicked me out,” I huffed in reply, although I knew it was absolute shit. He was too kind for that. A little shindig, maybe, but never a banquet “You need me to file something, Mahla? Photocopy someone’s ass? Maybe a whooha? I could clean out your drawers if you like, because that’s all I’ve been doing these days. You know, I think someone mistook me for the cleaning woman last night. Told me to clean the toilet.”

The mother-hen and in-house Godzilla of our police station looked down on me with stern disapproval. Mahla had that face. You know, the one that makes you want to curl up, pout and whine some nonsensical excuse for a mistake you haven’t even made? She was the embodiment of all of Meryl Streep’s characters rolled into one.. It probably had to do with the bow in her hair. Maybe it had something to do with how she always smelled like baked cookies. That motherly scent you never forget. Scared you at a primal level, she did.

“Azadana,” Mahla repeated for the hundredth or so time, smiling down at me like I was something that needed fixing. “They want you at a crime scene. Schuler called specifically for you. Congratulations.”

Everyone in the office stopped working and turned to look. Even the lady working in the copy room stuck her head out curiously. Now this…this moment would be talked about for many years to come. Bastards, all of them. At least they could act moderately surprised instead of so blatantly horrified. You’d think they were handing me missile launch codes.

I put on my best expression of hurt but couldn’t help but grin like a child. “Hey, don’t act so surprised,” I replied, dimples appearing in my cheeks. “But really? I mean, really. What madness is this? Why would they want me out in the field?”

The woman patted my head of black hair. “Detective Inspector Schuler called on your phone, but your sleeping habits seem to be interfering with the job,” Mahla replied, but it lacked the harshness that often accompanied her reprimands. “I sent the address to your phone. Go before he fires you for being late.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” she snapped. “Quickly, Azadana.”

I scrambled for my drawer, jerked it open and lifted my service weapon out from the bottom where it was gathering dust. The FN Five-Seven worked better for me than most other handguns, and I’d tried out a great many considering my history as a part of one of the most vicious gangs in Ashen City. Good days, I tell you. Except the part where I got shot, stabbed, beaten and almost killed by hookers looking to steal my things. Oh, don’t forget the little children with Desert Eagles, bellies bulging like mini-tyrants on a kill-fest.

I clipped the Five-Seven to my waist, jumped up, knocked a stack of files off my table and then scrambled to save them. They spilled under desks and chairs, skittering off into dark corners of the office never to be found again. So long…suckers.

Mahla sighed, a beautiful little sound, and steadied me with a hand to the shoulder. “Leave it,” she ordered firmly. “Here, drink some coffee; it’s just how you like it.”

I snatched the cup away from her, suddenly territorial, took a deep gulp and then hopped on one foot as it burned a fiery trail down my throat. “Hot! Hot!” I gasped, fanning at my open mouth. “Shit, where are my car keys? My keys, Mahla! Schuler is going to kill me for this.”

The woman held an Inuyasha keychain out in front of my nose, and I grabbed it in my mouth, one hand occupied with my coffee while the other grasped in vain for my leather jacket. Mahla helped me into it, tugging my waterfall of midnight-black hair out from under the collar. She made soft clucking sounds that reinforced my theory she was a hen during her previous life, and then I was scrambling through the office with a stunned silence ushering me out.

Why were they so surprised? I was a good cop, wasn’t I?

♦ ♦ ♦

Now, there’re a few essentials to cover before we jump in. I, Azadana Rohin, am an upstanding officer of the Ashen Police Department. The CID, really. Criminal Investigation Division, if you couldn’t guess. Get with the program, idiot. I entered the service two and a half years ago as a greenhorn constable, smelling of freshly mown grass and childish excitement.

Also, I was covered in enough tattoos and scars to make most think I’d walked through every battlefield in the world and then stumbled in a tattoo parlor. Once I’d carried out my mandatory probation period as a Constable, I was accepted into the CID as a detective constable under the power of the Spook Squad. What’s the Spook Squad, you ask? Good question. I’ll let you know when they tell me.

What I do know is that we investigate whatever the hell the public doesn’t want to see, or at least what our government doesn’t want them to see. Dead banshee? Call the Spook Squad. Murder by the way of werewolf? Call the Spook Squad. Harpies scaring the shit out of humans who had no business knowing monsters existed? Call the Spook Squad. Sighting of a rampaging demon? Well, you get the idea.

Why am I here? Long story, but the short version is that I’m not entirely human. The magic 8-ball—wildcard—mystical power that makes some of us what we are picked me to be a glamourist. I’m like a stage magician. Only difference is that my illusions are real. My magic is just that. Magic. I don’t use props or a misdirecting assistant in a thong. I shape reality and bend perception, twist light and manipulate emotion, creating whatever my mind can imagine. Hence, a glamourist.

What’s that I hear? A standing ovation? This is too much. Everyone sit down. Please, you are all too kind. Enough with the applause. No, really. You’re too kind. Really. Stop. Stop.

Do you think I’m impressive? Well, I’m not. At least not in the crime solving business. What do you want with girl who can create crisp images out of thin air? Not much. That’s why I’ve been relegated to a desk for the past six months. My social skills are nil. First time out on police business, I told a grieving wife her husband had been torn from groin to neck in a most brutal fashion. That didn’t do much to assure my superiors.

You’d think my second name—the famous Rohin name—would push me up the ladder, but it doesn’t help at all. Family dinners have always been a bitch, especially when siblings are career driven sociopaths who would eat their own children if it meant a promotion up the ranks. Brilliant, pyrotechnic brother. High-powered, lawyer sister. Celebrity father on the path to becoming one of the most powerful men in Ashen City. What was I but a mark on the family name?

To top it all off, they were so goddamned supportive. They never criticized my decisions, looked down on me or did anything otherwise to make me feel inferior. What I would give for a good, hateful family. A family that was ashamed and disappointed by my mere existence. Oh, but no. God, Buddha, Yahweh, Innana, Allah (you pick) had decided to stick me with a soppy, caring father and two siblings who thought sunlight shined out of my ass, and a mother who wanted nothing more than to care for me. Did I need a psychologist, or what?

Alright, back to real world.

♦ ♦ ♦

I smacked into someone on my way out, knocking him into the wall. I heard the dull thud of his head striking concrete, but I hurried away with a shouted apology. Donuts for him—sprinkles and all—just not right now. I arrived at my battered Nissan Bluebird and struggled with the door until it burst open and spilled empty coffee cups into the parking lot. It was a pigsty in there; the accumulated garbage of four years. The four years since I left my previous life of service to a dark master. All my attempts to clean it out ended with a hazmat crew and flame throwers.

I ignored a pair of laughing uniforms rolling by in their squad car and jumped right into the mess. By some miracle, I managed to stick the key in the ignition and start the engine by begging and begging until it took pity on me and sputtered to life. I was gunning it along the Ashen City streets twenty seconds later with the cold, winter wind whipping across my face.

This was Old Quarter, the center of the city. The Ashen Police Department’s headquarters along with the city council building sat at its core and around it orbited most of what kept the city on its feet. Government stuff, really. From this point onward, Ashen’s depravity increased exponentially until you had fifteen year-olds with AK-47s running through the streets. That was Deadtown for you, the armpit of crime. Of course, half those fifteen year-olds were once my friends and now led gangs of their own. A few had graduated to a full-blown kingpin status. Kudos to them.

“Watch where you’re going, woman!” shouted a red-faced cabdriver.

His cry was echoed all around, and I flipped him off before overtaking an eighteen-wheeler and barely managing to squeeze back into my lane before a wall of oncoming headlights roared past me. Don’t worry; everything’s fine. This is how I always drive. With my foot set firmly on the accelerator, I followed the twisting streets out of Old Quarter and into Codo, the business district of our fair city. This place was all flash and smoke, women in stilettos and men with private jets.

I spotted a cluster of flashing lights up head and only just managed to hit the brakes before I overshot my mark. The Bluebird’s wheels locked suddenly, sending the car into a screeching slide that ended with me pinned against the steering wheel. With the engine coughing to stay alive, I pulled off a skillful parallel parking and stopped between a squad car and tow truck. Got here in one piece, didn’t I?

Now, how to get out?

I managed to free my long legs from the driver’s seat and then spilled out onto the sidewalk without making a complete fool of myself. A hand caught my arm before I landed flat on my face, and I looked up to find a dashing, ol’ fellow standing over me. Fine, he wasn’t old, but his gaze seemed to carry a thousand years of pain and weighed down on me like an anvil. His hands were large, made for crushing and brute work rather than shaping a crystal dolphin from molten silicate. No idea why I thought of that.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed, always the eloquent one, “do bench-press much?”

He pulled me up, gray eyes swimming with the color of a storm. Now that I looked at him—head on—he wasn’t all that handsome. He might have been if he wanted to, but there was a cold edge to him that threw me off. Angled features, hawk-like nose and square jaw that screamed displeasure. Oh, my God. Did I have daddy issues? Naw.

I gave him a dimpled smile that would dazzle anything from a corpse to a Greek god, and tried not to make a fool of myself. “Thank you for the save, mister…?”

His expression was enough to tell me I wasn’t about to get the answer I wanted. “This is a crime scene,” he replied, not caring to share his name. “You’re not allowed here, ma’am.”

Ma’am? For a second, I ignored him and searched in my pockets. There was supposed to be a little pill bottle somewhere. “Uhmm, couldn’t I just stay for a while? I have to work as well.”

“No, you can’t just stay for a while,” he replied tersely. “If you have no business here, I advise you leave, ma’am.”

Ma’am again. If he hadn’t opened his mouth, we might even have been friends. “Ma’am, my ass,” I muttered under my breath, searching desperately in my pockets. Where the hell was that pill bottle? I could already feel the pain building in my chest, a dull throb that would only worsen. “My pretty little ass.”

“Pardon me?” he asked, his voice dropped an octave. “You do realize I’m with the police?”

“Sure I do,” I replied with an easy smile. It wasn’t his fault he was an asshole. “You have a Walther PPK in your jacket.”

The man frowned, and I could see him wondering who I was. I didn’t bother helping him out as my fingers wrapped around a cylindrical object, and I drew it out of my pocket with a relieved sigh. I wasn’t usually this careless. If nothing else, I always made sure my pills were with me. An addict’s nightmare.

Things start to get weird—dangerously weird—if I’m not careful with my doses. It was an orange pill bottle, and I went nowhere without it. Danthir, my brother and my sister would kill me if I did.

“Are you listening to me?” His drawl was laced with boredom.

I glanced up at him. Oh, he was cold. He had the bad boy, dangerous vibe going for him, but it wasn’t exactly working due to his úber-professionalism. Some people couldn’t stick to one personality. It had to do with the dichotomies between who they were, who they wanted to be and what society expected of them. Why wasn’t everyone else as practical as I was? Flip your middle finger and just don’t give a damn. If this guy bought himself a leather jacket and a Harley, well I might’ve even given him a smile, because it would’ve worked well for him.

Instead, I did a little trick I shouldn’t have. Bad, bad girl.

I reached out with my mind and felt the edges of his aura, a shimmering mass of colors that swam and danced in circles around him. Nothing particularly remarkable. He was human. A black-and-white human or at least he appeared to be. There was a shadow to his aura that I couldn’t place, but it was likely an imprint of his past. Traumas that hadn’t healed. Memories that would never go away. It must have been something horrific to leave such a clear mark on him.

An iron-hard finger prodded my arm, jerking me out of my observation. “Stop trying to read me!” he snapped, and I felt him push back with his mind. It was expertly done, especially for a human. Shit, he had training. “Who the hell are you?”

I needed to swallow my pill. No time to play around. “Hey, cool your balls,” I replied, holding my hands up in defense. “Detective Constable Rohin. Who the hell are you?”

“Detective Inspector Elzoran of the Criminal Investigations Division,” he countered almost immediately. “I’m with the humans.”

Alright, shit just got serious. I’d pissed off a superior. Good thing he wasn’t working with us or I’d have to answer some rather probing questions. “I’m CID as well; I work for the other side, though. Spook Squad.”

“You’re a prenatural?” he demanded, taking a step back as if I was something disgusting. “Aren’t there enough of you here already?”

Very mature. This guy was really heaping on the charm. He was one of those. The ones who believed we—prenaturals, that is—ought to be lined up and shot by a firing squad. Almost all humans who knew we existed were afraid of us, and that made them hate us all the more. You tend to despise that which you can’t understand. If this Elzoran character wanted to play a game of who’s the bigger asshole, I was more than willing.

“Prenatural is a racist term, Detective Elzoran,” I replied, uncapping my pill bottle and looking inside. Oh, shit. Only twelve pills left. It would last me six days. “We prefer monster or boogeyman. If you find either offensive, just call us ugly beasts. It doesn’t matter whether we’re ugly or not. Just use it.”

I think he was too surprised to come up with witty reply—not that he seemed the witty type—because he watched as I shook a pill onto my palm. It was tiny and blue, marked with a small ‘A’ for ‘Azadana’ on both sides. They were custom made just for me. Dangerous little things, these. Suppressed most of my natural power and left me a shadow of who I really was.

“Water?” I asked. “Got some? It’s bitch swallowing these dry. Burns all the way down.”

The detective inspector frowned. “What are those for?”

“Birth control,” I replied sweetly, flashing him my dimples and swallowing the pill dry. “In case you and I hit it off tonight.”

His anger flared, spreading streams of red through his aura. What was it with this guy? He was wound as tight as a steel cord, ready to snap and tear me in half. Even someone as good looking as him didn’t have the right to be this unstable. I wasn’t sure whether to distance myself from the man or recommend a therapist. The APD had an excellent deal.

“You’re being highly inappropriate.”

“So screw me—sue me, I mean. Tongue slip, begging your pardon.”

“You’re bordering on sexual harassment,” he said through gritted teeth. “Should I file a complaint?”

Really? Why did I have to be stuck with idiots? Why? My first time alone on a crime scene, and this is what I got?

“Oh, no. Not one of those babies,” I replied in mock horror. “My father would blow a gasket. Imagine the rumors: innocent, little Aza Rohin sexually harassing the big, bad wolf. So scary.”

Fine. Maybe I was acting like a bitch, but I think six months behind a desk gave me the right to turn up the heat. I was here, here at an actual crime scene, and some super-cop was playing mine’s-bigger-than-yours games before I even stepped out of the car. Goddamned misogynists. They’re the ones who belonged in a kitchen.

“Rohin?” he asked, suddenly taking a step back. “Are you related-?”

“To Danthir and Talus Rohin? Father and brother—bring out the trumpets,” I replied. “Look, I know I’ve got a disgusting car, my hair is all wrong and I think I have Cheetos stuck to my ass, but I’m just here to see the crime scene. My boss is going to kill me if I don’t report to him in the next twenty seconds. Can we table our little soap opera, fascinating as it is?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. It was gone before I could fix it in my memory, and the scowl was back in place. “I’ve been dealing with your people since dawn. Don’t cause any trouble.”

“Hey,” I replied, acting hurt. “Me? Trouble? Puh-lease.”

Detective Elzoran shook his head, which made his dark curls bounce around, and led me toward the yellow tape. Crime scene technicians in white coats scrambled about, snapping photos of everything from cigarette butts to yesterday’s dinner tossed into a dark alley. The dark alley in question was surrounded by uniforms and stern-faced men with thick jowls. They were classic, old-time coppers with a penchant to smoke cigars and fondle that-which-shall-not-be-fondled. In other words, their testicles.

“Lechers,” I muttered under my breath. “They have nothing better to do than stare at my chest.”

The detective glanced back. Sharp ears on this one. “You think this is bad? You ought to take a drive through Deadtown. It’s possibly the worst place in world,” he replied. “A girl like you wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.”

A girl like me? Were my dimples getting to his head? “Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s funny, because I lived in Deadtown for five years,” I replied. My annoyance made me say stupid things. Things others weren’t supposed to know. “Survived just fine. Flourished even. Maybe it’s just you.”

A mix of curiosity and anger sparked in his eyes, but he said nothing. Instead, he drew his badge out and presented it to the officer guarding the tape. “Who’s at the scene, Constable Mavis?”

Mavis was a small man who sported an elegant mustache and expertly shaped sideburns. Real Casanova, this one. “DI Marrin Schuler of the Spook Squad, Sir. He’s got that worm Syba with him. Real charmers, those two.”

Real charmers. Real bastards, more like. Syba and Schuler made it their mission to ruin my day, and their barely veiled innuendo was not even remotely amusing. “The Schuler,” I said. “That’s what we call him at the station. Not to his face, of course. It’s a hanging offense where we come from.”

The detective turned slowly to look at me. “I would appreciate it if you kept the comments to a minimum,” he replied.. “In fact, don’t talk at all.”

I cocked a hip. “What’s your full name?”

“Why? You intend on reporting me to your uncle?”

“I don’t need my father for anything. I’ve never needed him for anything.”

“Fine,” he replied. “Kaiten Elzoran; DI Elzoran to you.”

I nodded. “Alright, Kaiten,” I said. “You hate me, and I can’t figure out why. I don’t even care, but I’m under the purview of the Prenatural Branch. You might rank higher than me, but I don’t take orders from anyone but my fellow monsters. Got that?”

“If I say yes, would that stop you from talking?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. We’re in agreement,” he replied. “You stay on your side of the fence; I’ll stay on mine.”

The detective slipped under the tape and strode toward the throng of uniforms near the mouth of the alley. I watched the sway of his body and the way hard muscles rippled under his jacket. He was tall, a little over six feet, and had broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. The good ones were all assholes.

I shook myself out of the carnal stupor and tried to follow, but Constable Mavis blocked my path with an outstretched hand. “Badge first, miss. Have to check who you are.”

“That’s detective to you, constable.”

“Sorry, detective,” he muttered back, as if it hurt him to say it. “Still have to check your badge.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s standard procedure. First time on a crime scene?”

First time alone. Rub it in, why don’t you? I reached into my leather jacket with a sigh and just barely managed to extricate my wallet. I bought it at thrift store. Two-for-ones are my favorite. I flipped it to him upside-down, letting him get a brief look at my badge number. He scribbled it on a pad and then motioned me through with obvious contempt.

Floodlights pointed out toward the street, blinding anyone who tried to get a look at the crime scene. It was standard police trickery. If you messed with someone’s night vision, no way in hell they were talking to any reporters. Can’t report on something you can’t see. I picked my way toward alley, catching several curious looks. They hadn’t seen me before. Black-haired thing looking all lost and innocent. Maybe they could save me.

“There you are, Rohin!” roared a figure silhouetted by the floodlights. “Get your ass over here!”

Everyone in earshot turned to look, and that meant half the city’s population. Thank you, DI Schuler. Why not stick a sign to my head saying ‘look here, I’m going to humiliate her’. Arrogant prick. He’d spent more years on the job than almost anyone still alive, but he was stuck as a detective inspector due to his crap attitude. Some people were strict; others were cold but professional. Schuler was thoroughly inappropriate and took pleasure in tormenting others. Schuler the Sadist. Sadistic Schuler. Shitty Schuler. The SS.

He was a mixed-blood. His mother was faeyr. Faeyr, not fairy. A troll, I think. His father was a cyclops and one of the best metal workers in Ashen City. The dual heritage made him as strong as an ox and gave him the temperament of a pissed off child on steroids. If he didn’t get what he wanted, the Schuler went nuts.

♦ ♦ ♦

This might be a little annoying, but there’re a few more things you need to know. Most of us prenaturals don’t look remotely like humans. I do. So do my sister, brother and uncle. We’re the lucky ones, though. Then there are others, like Detective Inspector Schuler, but he’s by no means the weirdest of them all.

The bastard has one eye. One, perfectly round eye, courtesy of his cyclops blood, and it’s centered above the bridge of his nose. His skin is an odd, brownish hue and it’s covered in sharp ridges, which I guess he owes to his mother. Trolls have traits like that, although they’re not all identical. Besides that, Schuler is five feet tall and strong enough to crush a man with his bare hands, a fact he’s happy to boast about when humans aren’t around.

So how does he walk around without being noticed? I think there’d be a city-wide manhunt if anything remotely resembling him walked down the street. Simple and straightforward, Schuler, like every other prenatural, uses illusions to conceal his true form. Glamour, some would call it, and it’s the secret to our continued survival. With seven billion humans on earth, even the gods wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

Anyone who looks at Schuler sees an average height man with a flat nose and eyes that scream get-the-hell-away. Even prenaturals have trouble knowing what their fellow monsters are. The fact that I’m a glamourist lets me see through almost every illusion except the most powerful, and even those aren’t entirely reliable. That’s why he can hide himself from anyone but me, and I’m not about to share that little fact. Glamourists are few enough that most don’t know how clearly magnificent I am.

If the knowledge of my ability was widespread, I think I’d have been popped a long time ago simply on the principle of it. Back to what was happening by the alley before Schuler’s ugly face ruined everything.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tagging close behind Detective Inspector Schuler was a taller man with rippling, green scales covering his body. He had slit eyes, no hair, and two curved fangs stretched out from under his lips. Lamia, a child of the snake bitches. Deadly in a fight, fast as a striking cobra and treacherous as a knife in the back. They could grow back anything but their heads, which made them very difficult to kill. Syba was Schuler’s bitch and a forked tongue bastard if I’d ever seen one, and the fact that he slithered about whispering lies about me didn’t help my opinion of him.

Why was he here, anyways? Call me suspicious, but when there are this many detectives on a crime scene, calling one more doesn’t really help. It just crowds the place and forces everyone to whip out their penises to figure who has the biggest one and thus who will lead the case. Syba was a detective constable, just like me. It was pointless having two of us at a scene. Unless…unless this was all a practical joke and I was about to be sent back to the station

No way. Please. Please, don’t do this to me.

“Good evening, boss,” I said, giving Schuler the standard head-nod unique to our little group. My eyes drifted to pet snake-man, and it took several thousand calories to keep utter revulsion from showing on my face. “You too, Syba. Looking good, all green and polished. What is that shine? Lube?”

The lamia’s mouth thinned to a narrow line, and he gave me a derisive stare while Schuler thrust his single, blue eye up in my face. “You’re late, Rohin,” he snapped. “I don’t pay you to be lazy.”

I stood my ground, deadpan and steady. “Sorry, boss,” I said. No point making excuses. Not that I had an excuse. “I was sleeping” isn’t exactly the best way to defend your behavior. “Won’t happen again.”

“Of course it won’t,” said Syba with an oily smile. “You may never see a crime scene after tonight. This is the closest you’ll ever come to real police work.”

Crawl into a corner and die, I thought. Instead, I gave him a brittle smile and ignored the comment. “What can I do, boss?”

“Not a damned thing,” replied Schuler. “You’re here to liaise between us and the humans. The schmuck who usually does it died last night. Got himself ran over by a car. Splat, dead.”

I looked properly startled; no reason to show how happy I was. It wasn’t good form to rejoice in the death of your colleague, even if it did further your career plans. “Is he alright?”

They both gave me flat stares.

“Of course not,” I deadpanned—stupidly. “He’s dead. What am I saying?”

“When you figure that out, send me a fucking memo,” replied Schuler. “Now make sure you liaise your pretty, little ass off. Don’t let the humans anywhere near my crime scene, Rohin. I won’t take it well.”

Besides the ‘pretty, little ass’ comment, Schuler was quite tame tonight. It probably had to do with the fact that we were in public and as unlikable the troll was, he knew a thing or two about optics. Don’t shit on your employees where people can see you doing it. Privately, it’s fine. It might even be fun, if you’re an especially sadistic gutter-worm.

It was quickly becoming clear the only reason I had this job was because the last person got himself killed. Great way to boost self-esteem, I tell you. Matters were finally beginning to turn in my favor, but there were more pressing concerns at the moment. I was here to liaise; why didn’t I see that coming? With my luck, it shouldn’t even have surprised me.

Liaising involved keeping the humans off the Prenatural Branch’s ass. I was there to distract them, annoy them, and do anything in my goddamned power to keep them interfering in our business. I think I was authorized all means short of a crime. There was nothing worse than this job, because it meant hanging around people who hated your guts.

“What’s with your goddamned face, Rohin? Are you refusing the job?” demanded Schuler, whirling on me. Even if he did look like a human, he wasn’t actually one. His turn was a little too fast, and I noticed several human officers eye him uncomfortably. “I don’t care who your relatives are, but you’re going to liaise with humans or I’ll have you thrown out of the CID and sitting in evidence faster than you can get on your knees and beg for mercy.”

I was a kind girl. Wasn’t I kind? Why did I have to be treated like shit because of my name? Also, it was becoming clear Schuler had fantasies of me on my knees, and I didn’t want to know what happened in them. If he ever tried to bring those fantasies to life…well, he’d find himself missing all three of his testicles plus the appendage that hangs above. Yes, the appendage.

“I never said I didn’t want the job, boss,” I replied quickly with a smile. “Just tell me what to do.”

“You’re here to distract the humans” he said. “Pop a button or two and get that man away from my crime scene. He’s already seen too much!”

I was about to ask what man he was referring to, but my eyes fell on Detective Inspector Elzoran. Great. The prenatural hating human. I was going to babysit a bastard. Here’s to popping a button or two and showing some cleavage.