“My lady?”

Charlotte looked up from her cup of tea at her bodyguard.  Short, petite, and dressed into beige tunic and loose trousers, Mualinde looked like a companion or a young governess, the last person one would expect to thrust herself in front of an attacker.  But she came from an old bloodline and her flash, the pure burst of her magic, would kill most assassins in a fraction of a second.

Mualinde’s hands held a heavy envelope.  “This came for you.”

A sudden pain pierced Charlotte’s chest, as if something vital had broken inside her.  She felt cold and jittery.  It was bad news.  If it was good news, she would’ve gotten a scryer call.

“Thank you,” she made herself say.

Mualinde lingered, concern stamped on her face.  “Can I get you anything, my lady?”

Charlotte shook her head.

The bodyguard studied her for a long moment, reluctantly crossed the balcony to the door, and went inside.

The envelope lay in front of Charlotte.  She forced herself to raise her cup of tea to her lips.  The rim of the cup shuddered.  Her fingers were shaking.

She focused on that rim, calling on years of practicing control over her emotions.  Calm and collected, that was the mantra of the healer.  An effective healer is neither callous, nor tender-hearted, her memory whispered in her mind.  She doesn’t permit herself to succumb to passion or despair, and she never allows her craft to be compromised by her emotions.

She had lived by this creed for twenty years.  It never failed her.

Calm above all things.

Calm.

Charlotte took a deep breath, counting each rise and fall of her chest.  One, two, three, four… ten. The cup in her hands was motionless.  Charlotte drank from it, set it down, and tore the envelope open.  Her fingertips had gone numb.  The ornate seal of the Adrianglian Academy of Physicians marked the top of the paper.  We regret to inform you…

Charlotte forced herself to read it, every last word, and then stared at the garden below.  Down there, a sand-colored brick path ran to the distant tress.  Short silvery grass trailed the path on both sides, flanked by a row of low emerald hedges, beyond which flowers bloomed: roses in a dozen shades, their heavy blossoms perfect; constellation shrubs with bunches of star-shaped flowers in crimson, pink, and white; yellow knight spears, their delicate flowerets shaped like tiny bells…

She would not be blooming.  The last door had slammed in her face.  Charlotte hugged herself.  She was barren. She would never feel a life grow inside her.  She would never pass on her gift or see the shadow of her features in her baby’s face.  The irony was so thick, she laughed, a bitter brittle sound.

Her family was neither old nor wealthy.  In the country of Adrianglia two things mattered most: one’s name and one’s magic.  Her name was ordinary.  Her magic was anything but.  At four years old she had healed an injured kitten, and her life took a sharp turn in an unexpected direction.

Medical talents were rare and highly prized by the realm.  When she was seven, her parents explained the situation to her:  she would leave them to study at the Ganer College of Medicinal Arts.  Adrianglia would house her,  educate her, nurture her magic, and in return upon completion of her education, Charlotte would give the realm ten years of civil service.   At the end of that decade, she would be granted a noble title and a small estate. Her parents, in turn, would receive a lump sum of money to soothe their grief at losing a child.  Even at that age, she realized she had been sold. Three months later she left for the college and never returned.

At ten she was a child-wonder, at fourteen, a rising star, and at seventeen, when her service officially began, Charlotte was the best the College had to offer.  They called her the Healer and guarded her like a treasure. By the time she emerged, now Charlotte de Ney, Baroness of Ney and owner of a small manor and a ten square mile estate, she had healed thousands.

But she could never heal herself.

Neither could anyone else.  After eighteen months of treatments, experts, and magic, she held the final verdict in her hand.  She was barren.

Barren.  Like a desert.  Like a wasteland.

Charlotte rose.  Elvei would have to be told.  He would be crushed.  Children meant so much to her husband.

She took stairs down to the garden, heading down to the northern patio.  The old house sprawled in the garden like a lazy white beast.  She had to do a few renovations when she’d moved in, and the western suite and staircase were still being worked on.  It was faster to just go through the garden.

She had just been settling into her new life, when Elvei Leremine came to her with a proposal.  She was twenty eight at the time and lonely.  The life of a Healer didn’t leave much time for romantic pursuits.  The idea of being married, of sharing her life with another human being, suddenly seemed so appealing.  Baron Leremine was considerate, gracious, and attractive.  His means were modest, but he was a true blue-blood and he stood to inherit the family estate.  He wanted a family and so did she. It seemed like a good match.  When a year had passed with no children, she underwent an examination, taking the first step on the grueling eighteen month journey.

A week ago, exhausted from months of treatments, tests, and waiting, she had gone back to the College to speak with Lady Augustine.  During her years there, the Lady was her mentor and often her surrogate parent.  She hadn’t changed much: her poise was still regal, her features were elegant, and her magic, which could soothe a most violent psychotic in a breath, still as potent as ever.  They had walked through the gardens together.

“Do you think this is a punishment?” Charlotte had asked.

“Punishment?  For what?”

Charlotte clenched her jaw.

“You can tell me anything,” Lady Augustine murmured.  “I will not betray your confidence, child.  You know this.”

“I carry something dark in me.  Something vicious.  Sometimes I feel an edge of it, looking through my eyes from inside of me.”

“Pardon you for being human.”

Charlotte glanced at her, shocked.

A smile curved the older woman’s lips.  “My dear, do you think you’re the first to have these thoughts?  Our talents provide us with means to both heal and to harm.  It’s in our nature to do both.  Yet we’re not permitted to do harm.  We’re asked to shut half of ourselves off and heal for years and years.  This creates an imbalance.  Do you think I haven’t imagined what I could do if I unleashed my power?  I could walk into a room full of diplomats and plunge the country into war.  I could incite riots.”

Charlotte stared at her.

“It is natural,” Lady Augustine said.  “What you feel is normal.  It’s not a cause for punishment. Unless you act on these urges and turn into a walking plague, and then, my dear, I’ll personally come after you and take you down.  The power of healing is a terrible thing when used in reverse. Do not become an abomination.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Charlotte said.

The older woman shrugged.  “Why do you think the realm takes us from our families so young?  To indoctrinate us.  And even with all the careful upbringing, they ask only ten years, because what we do wears us out.  We give so much of ourselves.  We are the last hope and we’re exposed to horrible things: wounds of violence, dying children, families torn by grief.  It is a heavy burden to bear and it has an effect on you, on me, on all of us.”

They walked in silence for a few moments.

“Let us imagine the worst,” Lady Augustine said.  “You’re infertile.”

Charlotte’s heart had skipped a beat.  “Yes.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to be childless.  There are hundreds of children waiting to be loved.  You can’t give birth, Charlotte.  That’s only a small part of being a parent.  You can still be a mother and know all the joys  and torture of raising a child.  We get too hung up on bloodlines and family names and our own stupid notions of aristocracy.  If someone dropped a basket with a baby on your doorstep, would you really hesitate to pick it up, because the baby wasn’t of your blood?  It’s a baby, a tiny life just waiting to be nurtured.  Think on it.”

“I don’t have to.  I would take the baby,” Charlotte said.  There really wasn’t any choice.

“Of course you would.  You are my daughter in everything but blood and I know you.  I think you’ll make an excellent mother.”

The words sunk in, shocking, but she had practiced for years to hold her emotions in check.  Nobody wanted to see a weeping Healer.  No matter what horrors she saw, she met it all with a calm face.   “Thank you.”

“What does your husband think of all of this?”

“Children are very important to him.  His inheritance depends on producing an heir.”

Lady Augustine studied her.  “If he truly cares for you, he’ll deal with it.”

They took another step.  The mix of worry and anxiety exploded inside Charlotte.  Heat rose behind her eyes and she clamped her hand over her mouth.

Lady Augustine opened her arms.

The last defenses snapped inside Charlotte with a quiet crunch.  She stepped into the welcoming embrace and cried..

“It will be alright,” Lady Augustine soothed, holding her.  “It will be alright.  Let it all out.”

But it wasn’t alright and now Charlotte had to tell Elvei about it.

He was always kind to her.  Considerate.  Genteel.  She could use some of that kindness now.  She felt weak and helpless.  So helpless.

The path brought her to the northern patio.  Her husband sat in a chair, drinking his morning tea and peering over papers.  Of average height and muscular build, Elvei was handsome in that particular way the bluebloods sometimes were: precise features, carved with perfection that seemed a touch distant, square jaw, narrow nose, blue eyes, brown hair with a hint of red.  When she woke up next to him, with the morning light playing on his face, she often thought he was beautiful.

Charlotte came up the steps.  Elvei rose and held out the chair for her.  She sat and passed him the letter.

He read it, impassive, his pleasant face calm.  She had expected more of a reaction.

“This is unfortunate,” Elvei said.

That’s it?  Unfortunate?  Her instincts told her something was seriously wrong with that placid expression on his face.

“I truly care for you,” Elvei said.  “Very deeply.”  He reached over the table and took her hand in his.  “Being married to you is effortless, Charlotte.  I have nothing but admiration for what you do and who you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Please don’t be.” He leaned back.  “It’s not your fault or mine.  It’s just an accident of chance.”

“We can adopt,” she said.

“I’m sure you could.”

Alarm blared in her head.  “You said you.  Not we.”

He pushed a piece of pare across the table to her.  “I thought that things might turn out this way, so I took the liberty of preparing this.”

She glanced at the paper.  “Annulment?”  Her composure shattered.  “After two and half years, you want to annul our marriage?  Are you out of your mind?”

Elvei grimaced.  “We’ve been over this before: I have three years from the beginning of marriage to produce an heir.  My brother is engaged, Charlotte.  I told you about this.  He’ll have three years to have a child.  If I divorce you and remarry, I’ll have six months before becoming ineligible to inherit.  You can’t make a baby in six months. I need an annulment, so my three years can restart, or Kalin will get there before me.  He still might, all things considered, as marriage takes time…”

This wasn’t happening.  “So you’re just going to pretend that everything we shared in these years doesn’t exist and discard me?  Like trash?”

He sighed.  “I told you, I have a great deal of admiration for you.  But the purpose of this marriage was to have a family.”

“We are a family.  You and I.”

“That’s not the kind of family I require.  I can’t lose the house, Charlotte.”

She was cold and hot at the same time, hurt and anger iced over by shock.  “Is it money? You do realize that I can make us as much money as we need.”

He sighed.  “You’re so flawless most of the time that occasionally I forget you’re not a blueblood by birth.  No, of course, it’s not the money.  Whoever owns the house rules the family.  It’s my inheritance; I was born first, I studied most of my life to take care of our family interests, and I won’t let it slip away.”

“It’s just a bloody house!” Her voice snapped.

“It’s my childhood home!” he yelled back.  “My family goes back sixteen generations!  Do you have any idea what Kalin will do to our legacy if he gets the upper hand?  He can’t walk and talk at the same time.  So I’m supposed to just let my idiot brother get it while you and I pretend to play house here, in this decrepit ruin?  No thanks.  I have higher ambitions in life.”

The words burned.  “Is that what we were doing?” she asked quietly.  “When you and I made love in our bedroom, we were playing house?”

“Don’t be melodramatic.  We both enjoyed it, but now we’re done.  I’ve gone with you to all the tests and treatments.  I listened patiently while you got excited over this specialist and that, I sat in the waiting rooms, and I gave it as much time as I could.  There are no more treatments left.  I just want to have a child, like a normal healthy adult.”

Every time she thought she reached the limit of hurt, he twisted the knife a little more, digging deeper and deeper inside her.

“So I’m abnormal?”

He spread his arms.  “Can you conceive?  No.”

“I’m curious, what’s the next word you’ll reach for.  How cruel can you get, Elvei?”

“You cost me two and a half years.” He surged to his feet and leaned over the table. “Had I married someone else, I would’ve inherited by now. I tried to end this with as much civility as possible, but you’re decided to cause a scene. I need an heir, Charlotte, and you can’t give me one.  What’s so complicated about this? I’m done letting you waste my time.”

He finally done it.  He’d pushed the blade so far into the wound that he reached the darkness she hid deep inside and it poured out.  “You will sit down now and apologize to me.” Menace suffused her voice.

He stared at her.  “You’re hardly in the position to give me orders.”

Her magic slid out of her and wrapped around her arms, curving around her body in rivulets of dark colored back lit with deep, intense red. She had never seen it red before. Pale gold of healing, yes.  Furious terrible red?  No.

“I can blight your entire family, you moron. I am the Healer.  Pick a plague, and your sixteen generations will end right now.”

“Oh my God, seriously?”

Jim wiped his hands one against each other and showed them to me.

“Is that you washing your hands off?”

“Yes.”

“Really?  So what,  you’re going to retire and open that flower shop you always wanted?”

Jim’s eyes went completely green.

“Enough,” Curran said.  An unmistakable command saturated his voice.  Jim clicked his mouth shut.

I crossed my arms.  “I’m sorry, this the part where I fall to my knees and shiver in fear, Your Furriness?  Silly me, I didn’t get the memo.”

At least it’s not on the tips of the fingers, because I need to type and finish this book. It’s due today.

If Andrea seems really grimly determined by the end of this book, you will know why.

::shakes left fist::  I will still finish it.  Screw it.

Now then, I will boast.  Guess who got highlighted in Eloisa James’s column on BN?

Click here to read the whole article.

I was terribly flattered, especially because I’m an Eloisa’s fan.  THE DUKE IS MINE is coming out later in the month and I am buying it for my Kindle.  Because I will have finished the book by then and I can get a treat.

Okay.  So.  My hand hurts.  I think it’s going to blister.  Damn it all to hell.

This whole weekend did not go as planned.  We were supposed to have gone to buy Christmas decorations and prettify the house.  Instead at this point we’re just in survival mode. But Kid 2 went to school and Gordon was able to hold down toast, so I have hope.  Kid 1 worries me, but she is drinking Pedialyte and heroically trying to nibble on things.

Tiny non-spoilery snippet (Gordon hasn’t edited it yet, so there might be mistakes):

The rage of Beast Lord was a terrible thing to behold.  Some people stormed, some punched things, but Curran slipped into this icy, bone-chilling calm.  His face hardened into a flat mask, and his eyes turned into molten inferno of pure gold.  If you looked at it for longer than two seconds, your muscles locked, your knees shook, and you had to fight to keep from cringing.  It was easier to look on the floor, but I didn’t.  Besides, he wasn’t angry with me.  He wasn’t even angry with Kate.  He was angry with *redacted.  I had no doubt that if he could’ve gotten a hold of the god at that moment, he would break him in a half.

“It’s only broken ribs,” Kate told him.  “And they’re not even broken.  They are fractured.”

“And the hip,” Doolittle said.  “And the knee.”

There you go.  Don’t expect mercy from a honey badger.

“How long do you need to keep her?” Curran looked to Doolittle.

“She can go to her quarters, provided she doesn’t leave them,” Doolittle said.  “I can’t do anything else with the magic down and I have bigger problems right now.”  He gave a significant glance in my direction.  “The Consort must stay down until I can patch her up.”

“She will.”  Curran reached for Kate.  “Hey baby.  Ready?”

She nodded.  Curran slid his hands under her and picked her up, gently, as if she weighed nothing.

“Good?” he asked.

She put her arm around him.  “Never better.”

And he took her away.

So what sort of decorations do you put up for Christmas if you celebrate it?  I am hoping to do this fake pine branch runner down the stairway rail, but I might chicken out and just wrap it in something shiny.

LITERAL ADDICTION Web Event

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I have new hair! It has red in it!  I wasn’t going to do it, because ti was pricy, but the whole family told me to go, so I did.  On the plus side as I was laying in the chair, with gloss setting on my hair, lights off and soothing music playing, I realized the reason why I was having trouble with my word count in the past couple of days.  I need to write a character out of these last three scenes.  On a minus side, I need to rewrite the last 3K.  Grrr!

I promised you a snippet.

Barabas stepped into his place and leaned against my desk, his arms folded over his chest.  “As your attorney, I am forced to advise you to stay away from that crime scene.  We both know you won’t, but if you get caught, there will be repercussions.”

“Thank you for the warning.” Now I had advice from both doctor and a lawyer. “I’ll definitely take it under consideration.”

I had to go back to the scene.  Everyone in the room knew it.

“Also, you won’t like hearing this, but as a lawyer, I’m used to that.  Your position with the Pack is muddy.  This makes things a hell of a lot more complicated than they have to be.  Sort yourself out.”

He was right.  I needed to carve out some time and settle things with Aunt B.

Barabas looked at Julie.  “Please get your bag.  We’re going back to the Keep.”

Julie crossed her arms.  “But…”

“Julia,” Barabas said calmly.  “Please get your bag.”

Julie stomped to the kitchen and returned with her backpack.

“Take Ascanio with you, too,” I told him.

Ascanio heaved a heavy sigh and went to stand by the door.  Julie stomped on his foot as she passed him and he elbowed her in the ribs.

“Call me if anything,” Barabas told me.

“Sure.”

A moment and both the lawyer and the doctor were gone and I was left alone in the office.  I barred the door, locked it, and pondered whether it was worth it to force myself upstairs to the bed or if I should just lay down on the nice comfortable wooden floor.  My dignity won.  I was a hardass, God damn it.  I could deal with nine stairs.  I would kick their ass.

I dragged myself to the upstairs cot and collapsed face down.  I meant to take off my shoes, but the world slipped through my fingers before I had a chance to lift my head from my pillow.

“Did Kate check in?”

Ascanio shook his head.  “She and Curran are out doing something.”

Well, my back-up was right out. I looked at Ascanio.  On one hand, he was a child.  On other hand, he was a child who could turn into a giant monster and the scene would be reasonably safe after the PAD crawled over every square inch of it.  “How do you fancy a bit of adventure tonight?”

“You’re going to break into the crime scene,” Julie said.

“Exactly.  And I will need backup.”

Ascanio raised his hand.

“We might get bitten or jailed.”

“Ad utrumque paratus,” he said.

Prepared for either.  Excellent.

***

Sometimes being a kid is very difficult.  The adults are supposed to feed you and keep you safe, but they want you to deal with the world according to their view and not your own.  They encourage you to have opinions, and if you express them, they will listen but they won’t hear.  And when they give you a choice, it is a choice of the hand-picked possibilities they had already prescreened.  No matter what you decide, the core choice had been made, and you weren’t involved in it.

That’s how Kate and I ended up in the office of the director of Seven Star Academy.  I said I didn’t want to go to school.  She gave me a list of ten schools and said to pick one.  I wrote the names of the schools on little bits of paper, pinned them to the cork board, and threw my knife at them for a while.  After half and hour, Seven Stars was the only name I could still read.  Choice made.

Now we were sitting in soft chairs in a nice office, waiting for the school director, and Kate was exercising her willpower.  Before I met Kate, I heard people say it, but I didn’t know what it meant.  Now I knew.  Kate was the Beast Lord’s mate, which meant that Curran and she were in charge of Atlanta’s Shapeshifter Pack.  Shapeshifters were kind of like bombs: things frequently set them off and they exploded with violent force.  To keep from exploding, they made up elaborate rules and Kate had to exercise her willpower a lot.

She was doing it now: from outside she looked very calm and composed.  But I could tell by the way she sat.  When Kate was relaxed, she fidgeted.  She’d shift in the chair, throw one leg over the other, lean to the side, then lean back.  She was very still now, legs in jeans together, holding Slayer, her magic saber, on her lap, one hand on the hilt, the other on the scabbard.  Her face was relaxed, almost serene.  I could totally picture her leaping straight onto the table from the chair and slicing the director’s head off with her saber.

Kate usually dealt with things by talking, and when didn’t work, chopping obstacles into tiny pieces and frying them with magic so they didn’t get back up.  Her philosophy was if it had a pulse, it could be killed.  The sword was her talisman, because she believed in it.  She held it like some people held crosses or the star-and-crescent.  I didn’t really have a philosophy, but I could see how talking with the school director would be difficult for her.  If he said something she didn’t like, chopping him to tiny pieces wouldn’t exactly help me get into the school.

“What if when the director comes in, I take my underwear off, put them on my head, and dance around?  Do you think it would help?”

Kate looked at me.  It was her hard-ass stare.  Kate could be really scary.

“It doesn’t work on me,” I told her.  “I know you won’t hurt me.”

***

We followed him up a tall grey and brown staircase.  “Do you come here often?” I asked.

He rolled his dark eyes.  “I live in this bloody place.  Dad’s making me track down some obscure legend.  The Witch Oracle has foreseen some things a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been digging in ever since.”

“Could you just tell him no?” Ascanio asked from behind.

Roman glanced at him and heaved a dramatic sigh.  “My father is the Black Volhv.  My mother is one of the Witch Oracles.  In my place, you have to ask yourself, is saying no worth the problems, the nagging, the accusations of not being a good son, the lectures from both parents, and the story of how my mother was in labor for forty hours, which I can now recite from memory.  It is easier to just do what they want.  Besides, if the prophecy is the sign of something dreadful happening, we might as well be prepared.”

“What sort of prophecy was it?” Ascanio asked.

“That’s classified.”  Roman winked at him.  “I could tell you, of course.  But then I would have to kill you and chain your soul, so you would be my shadow servant for all eternity.  Come on, it’s right this way.”

Roman turned left, between the bookcases, going deeper into the library’s second floor.

Ascanio’s eyes widened.  He turned to me.  “Can he do that?”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “I have no idea.”

Me: Do you think I should post a chunk of Andrea’s book?

Gordon: Yep.

Me: What scene?

Gordon: Give them Andrea and Raphael in the office.

Me: That might be too spoilery.  Of course I thought the scene where Curran stands Kate up was too spoilery, but people got really worked up over it.  So maybe I am wrong.

Gordon: I am always willing to entertain the possibility that you are wrong.  The merest hint of it, the slightest chance.  Since you are unable to do so, I am able to latch on to it.  Terrier-like.

Me: ::deep long-suffering sigh::

And people ask, how do you come up with witty banter?  How indeed.  What a great mystery.  Why, I must have some sort of smartass generator handy.

 Snippet

[hr]

Work in progress, blah-blah-blah.  First draft, not final, blah-blah-blah.  If you send me fifty million emails pointing out every typo, I might just explode, and that’s a promise.

Emotionally taxing and slightly spoilery.  Read at your own risk

Background: Jim asked Andrea to investigate murders of four shapeshifters at the reclamation site owned by Medrano Reclamations.  Andrea had visited the site and processed the scene, but she couldn’t interview Raphael at the time, so she left him a nice message, asking him to come to her office and admitting that some things she had done were wrong and she would like a chance to discuss them.

Chapter Two

The morning brought light and magic.  I took a few extra minutes to decide what to wear.  Not that it would make any difference, but I put on my pale blue shirt.  It matched my eyes and looked nice.  I put on my favorite jeans and looked at myself in the mirror.

Full on makeup would be too much.  I brushed some mascara on and styled my blond hair, which was doing its best to grow out of its shorter hairdo.

Like a kid before the prom: gussying up and shaking with nerves. I crossed my arms and glared at myself in the mirror.  Sniper, death, kill, tough, hooah.  Okay, that was better.

Raphael always brought out a strange side of me.  The wild side, the one that was knitted from pure emotions.  The wild crazy Andrea loved him completely and did irrational things, like sitting by the phone with her heart beating too fast, waiting for him to call, or running headfirst into danger against overwhelming odds to fight by his side. That wild Andrea once got arrested. We had gone away for a romantic retreat and while I left the hot tub in the courtyard of the hotel to use the bathroom, some floozy had attached herself to Raphael, not taking no for an answer.  When I returned, instead of beating retreat she suggested we should all have fun together.  I had dunked her a couple of times.  Unfortunately I was pointing a gun at the hotel security at the time, and the sheriffs showed up.

Raphael ate it up.  I was finally acting like a mated shapeshifter: irrational, possessive, and head over heels in love.

I didn’t know if it was my hyena side or just that uncompromising fifteen year old girl that lives inside every woman, but now wasn’t time to let her out.  I had to stay rational, so I could apologize and try to mend things between us.

Cutting Edge occupied a sturdy building on the northern edge of Atlanta, about an hour from the Keep.  The Beast Lord, also known as Kate’s sugarwoogams, had chosen the location, and he pretty much picked the closest place to the Keep that was still within city limits.  Curran didn’t like to be without Kate and Kate didn’t like to be without Curran.

The door was unlocked.  Great.  I walked in.  Ascanio looked up from his broom.

Despite having very few clients, Cutting Edge had an excess of employees, partially because Kate kept hiring them.  According to her Ascanio Ferara was an intern.  In reality nobody with a drop of sense would hire him as intern or anything else, except maybe as a traffic jam generator.  If you stood him on a street corner, sooner or later some female driver would wreck.

Fifteen going on thirty, with glossy black hair and green eyes, Ascanio was beautiful.  Not just pretty, not just attractive, beautiful.  He had that whole fallen angel thing going – there was a devious, sly mind behind that innocent face and pretty eyes.

Like most male children of the Bouda Clan, he was treasured and babied, more so because he was lost for most of his life and his mother had just found him a few months ago.  In this short period he had gotten into every possible trouble imaginable, culminating with being arrested for having a threesome on the courthouse steps.  The boy did not understand how the Pack worked, and finally Aunt B foisted him off on Kate.  It was that or kill him.  Kate’s solution was to make this raging ball of problems and hormones into our intern.  How her mind worked, I would never understand.  It was a mystery.

Ascanio snapped to attention and saluted me, holding the broom like a rifle.

I pointed at the broom.  “No.”

“Why not?”

Because it would’ve made every ex-military instructor I ever had foam at the mouth.  “You salute with your weapon as a sign of respect.”

He presented me with expression of puzzled innocence. “I don’t have a rifle or a sword.  The broom is my weapon.”

Smartass. “Kid, you make my head explode.”

“Ave Andrea! Ianitori te salutant!” 

Hail, Andrea, those who janitor salute you.  Kate was forcing Ascanio and Julie, her ward, to learn latin, because a lot of historical magical texts were written in it and apparently it was an essential part of their education.  Since the lessons were conducted in the office during our copious spare time,   I was learning the language along with them.

I pointed at Ascanio with my finger.  “Not another word. Latin is a dead language, but that doesn’t mean you get to molest its corpse.  Finish sweeping, ianitor.”

He spun the broom with the dexterity of a Marine on a Silent Drill team, planted the handle into the ground, jumped, spinning around it, his legs straight out, and landed on one knee, his head bowed, his right hand extended, holding the broom in his  fist parallel to the floor.

“You had coffee this morning, didn’t you?”

He looked up at me and nodded, a big grin plastered on his face.

Teenage boudas.  Enough said.

I sat down and tried my best to concentrate on going through my case.  The survey of the evidence only confirmed what I had already realized last night: I didn’t find any smoking guns.  Most of what I had picked up looked just like common trash.  Now, that didn’t mean it was trash, but its significance wasn’t immediately apparent.  I cataloged it anyway.  Crimes weren’t always cracked by the super-brilliant. Most of them were solved by the patient and the meticulous.

The roar of a water engine thundered outside of our door and died.  Raphael.  Had to be.  Kate would have parked in the far corner of the parking lot on the side, because she had trouble backing out.

I pretended to be absorbed in my likely worthless evidence.  I’d spent the entire drive to the office trying to figure out what to say, how to say it.  I wanted to apologize.  I wanted to tell him I loved him.  I had tried to prepare myself for the possibility that he would tell me off, but most of me hoped with desperate naive hope that he would forgive me and we would go home together.

A knock sounded through our absurdly reinforced door.

“Periculo tuo ingredere!” Ascanio proclaimed.

What the hell did he just say?  Ingredere… Enter… Enter at your own risk.  “If it’s a client, I will shoot you,” I told him.

The door swung open.  A new scent swirled around me, a heavy scent  rose, patchouli, and coriander – an expensive perfume.  A tall woman stepped inside.  She was close to six feet tall and her shimmering golden heels added another four inches to her height.  Her hair, the color of luminous white gold, fell down over her shoulders past her butt.  She wore a really short black dress or a long T-shirt, I couldn’t quite decide.  Whatever it was, it was cinched to her improbably narrow waist by a white belt with golden studs.  Her face, pretty and painted with makeup to near perfection, had that slightly vapid expression sometimes seen on models: she was either sleepy, horny, or just badly needed to sneeze.

A dark figure stepped into the office behind her.  Six foot three, lean, wearing a black leather jacket and faded jeans…  He stepped into the light.  Dark blue eyes looked at me and the world fell apart around us.  His face, framed by soft black hair, wasn’t perfect in the way Ascanio’s was, but it was masculine and handsome, and his eyes communicated a kind of sexual intensity, a promise and a challenge, that made women lose all of their self-respect and try to proposition him in plain view of their dates. The familiar scent washed over me like a pain-filled perfume.

Raphael.

As if in a dream I saw him put his hand on the woman’s butt, gently pushing her toward the two chairs by my desk.

Oh sweet Jesus.

He’d replaced me.

He replaced me with a better version of me.

And he brought her to the office.  To rub it in.

The planet snapped back into place with an agonizing crunch.  I stood up, I saw myself extend a hand, and I heard myself say, “Good morning.”

“Rebecca,” The woman shook my hand.

I concentrated so I wouldn’t crush her finger bones into broken shards.

“I got your message.” Raphael said.

And I’ve got yours, loud and clear.  Inside me the other me, the one that grew claws and fangs, howled in helpless fury.  He replaced me and he brought his new girl to the office to taunt me, after he heard my message asking for a chance to apologize.  Moving on was one thing.  Moving on I could understand.  It would break my heart, but I would understand it.  This was a giant “Fuck You” spelled out in glowing letters.

“Please sit down.”

They sat.  Behind them Ascanio stared at us, his jaw hanging down.

“Ascanio, would you mind getting our guests some coffee.”

“Black please,” Raphael said, his voice pounding a sharp spike into me.  “Cream and sugar separate.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Rebecca informed us.  “It stains your teeth.”

“Did you have any trouble with the cops?” I asked, my control so tight, if I let myself go a hair, I would snap.

He looked directly at me.  “Just minor formalities.  Did you have any trouble at the dig site?”

“None at all.  Stefan helped me.”

“He is a good man, Stefan.”

“Yes, he is.  Who is your lovely associate?” I unleashed my best smile in Rebecca’s direction.  Raphael leaned forward, sliding left arm along the back of Rebecca’s chair, his body half turned to shield her.  He recognized the smile – it was the kind that meant someone was about to get shot.

“I’m his fiance,” Rebecca said.

Fiancé?  Fiancé.

Raphael’s eyes widened a fraction.

“How lovely,” I said, sweetness dripping from my voice.  “I haven’t heard the announcement.”

“We’re engaged to be engaged,” Rebecca said.  “We’re waiting until the end of the physical year to officially announce.”

“You mean fiscal year?”  Dear God, she was a moron.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.”

Raphael slid his hand over Rebecca’s fingers tipped with hot pink acrylic nails.

I closed my eyes for a long second.

“Congratulations to the happy couple.”

“Thank you,” Rebecca said.

Raphael toyed with the lock of her hair.

That does it.

“I see you’ve upgraded to the deluxe model,” I said.  “Must’ve set you back quite a bit.”

“Worth every penny,” he said.

“You always had expensive tastes.”

“Oh I don’t know.”  He shrugged his muscular shoulders.  “I’ve been known to slum on occasion.”

Aaargh.  I will kill you where you sit, you wretched bastard.

“Be careful with that.  Sometimes slumming can be dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself,” he said and winked at me.

“What are you talking about?” Rebecca asked.

“My car, doll.”  Raphael picked up her hand.

No.  No, he wouldn’t.

He kissed her fingers.

Every nerve in my body burst on fire.

“You seem like such a well-matched couple.”  I smiled at them.  “Physically and intellectually.  Rebecca is so stunning.”

“Don’t forget loyal,” Raphael said.  “And loving.”

So is a dog.  “I’m sure your mother is delighted with you both.”

A muscle in Raphael’s face jerked.  My goodness gracious, I hit a sore spot.

“My mother’s approval isn’t necessary.”

Ascanio approached, carrying a platter of coffee, with a small jar of sugar and a cup of cream.

“She is a terrible woman,” Rebecca said.

Ascanio froze.

I stared at Raphael.  Are you going to let it slide?  Honestly? Aunt B was his mother, but she was also his alpha and Ascanio was a member of the clan.

Raphael leaned toward Rebecca, his voice intimate but firm like steel wrapped in velvet.  “Sweetheart, never insult my mother in public.”

“She insults me.  And you don’t do anything about it.”

Ascanio focused on Raphael, waiting for a clue.  Aunt B ruled the clan, but Raphael was the male alpha.

Raphael leveled a warning star on Rebecca, but it had no effect.

“She’s rude and spiteful—“

Ascanio picked up the jar of sugar and emptied it over Rebecca’s head.  The white powder spilled over her hair and dress.

She gasped and jumped off the chair.

“Oh no!” I opened my eyes wide.  “I am so sorry.  Teenage boys are such a clumsy lot.”

“Raph!”

Raph? What was he, her poodle?

“Why don’t you go outside and wait for me in the car,” Raphael said.

“But—“

“Go outside, Rebecca.”

She marched out of the office.  Raphael’s eyes sparked with deep ruby glow.  He looked at Ascanio, as if deciding what he should do about him.  The boy ducked his head and stared at the floor.

Ascanio was a talented shapeshifter, but I had fought beside Raphael.  He could go through a room full of Ascanios in seconds and leave none of them alive.

“Ascanio,” I’d sunk so much quiet menace into the word, the boy froze, as if petrified.

“Did your alpha look like he needed help?”

Ascanio’s voice was clipped.  “No, ma’am.”

“Go outside and wait until I come to get you.”

Ascanio opened his mouth.

“Outside.”

He clamped his jaw shut and took off.  A moment later the back door shut closed.

I forced myself to look back at Raphael.  He had shattered my heart into tiny little shards and they were hurting me.  Never in all of our time together he so much as mentioned engagement.  And now he found a pretty empty headed idiot and he was going to marry her.  Why her?  What was she giving him that I didn’t?

The answer came to me in a painful burst.  She was there for him.  I was not.  I shut him out.  My own damn fault.

“Your sex-kitten is beautiful,” I told him.  “Very nice.”

“Yes, she is,” Raphael said, his voice quiet.

I leaned forward.  “Are you high?”

“What?”

“Did you smoke something before you decided it was a good idea to flaunt her in front of me?  Maybe you ate some weird-looking mushrooms?”

He smiled at me.  It was a brilliant Raphael grin, sharp like the edge of his knives.

“Did you forget the dunking episode?  What if I snap? You know I could kill her before you could stop me.”

“No danger of that,” he said.  “That would mean you’d act like a shapeshifter and we all know that’s not going to happen.”

Ouch.  “My memory must be malfunctioning.  I don’t remember you being that cruel.”

“People change,” he said.  “Did you expect everyone to pause their lives while you were having your little pity party?  Was I supposed to sit there and wait like a good boy, until you were ‘in a good place?’”

It hurt so much, I was beginning to go numb.  “I didn’t bar my door.  My phone still worked.  If you wanted to get in touch, you could have.”

“Please!  You think I have no pride?  I loved you, I cared for you, I offered you a place in the Pack beside me and you betrayed everything that was important to me.  How did that turn out for you, Andrea?  Was it worth it?”

I winced.  “No.  It wasn’t.”

“My door wasn’t barred either.”

He had saved it all up since the that night we fought.  Now it was all coming out.

“You betrayed me, you let the Order treat you like shit, and then you hid in your apartment.  That wasn’t Andrea I knew.  I thought I could count on you.  I thought you had my back.”  His face was a furious mask.  “I would’ve done anything for you.”

I would have done anything for him, too.  If it had been him in that house, I would’ve ran there so fast, the entire Order wouldn’t have been able to stop me.  Inside me my other self was howling, loud, so, so loud…

“You spat on everything I am.  You picked the knights over my people, which means you picked your precious Order over me.”

I was shaking, straining to contain myself.  My body struggled to counteract the stress, betraying me.

“Anything to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Too little, too late.  I’m tired of waiting for you to stop running away from who you are.  You want to know what the best thing about Rebecca is?”

His eyes were pure ruby and they burned.  I was hanging on by a thread.

“She isn’t you.”

My humanity tore and the other me spilled out.

Raphael stared at me, suddenly silent.

The shreds of my clothes fluttered around me.  I had this curious feeling that I was watching it all from some point above my head.  My arms still rested on the table, but now soft sandy fur with a scattering of brown spots covered the hard muscle.  I knew what my face looked like: a meld of human and hyena, with a dark muzzle and my blue, human eyes above it.

Most shapeshifters had two shapes, human and animal.  The more talented of us could maintain a warrior form, half-way between animal and beast.  I didn’t have an animal form.  There were only two choices: my human self and my other me, neither human, nor hyena, but an odd creature in between.

I examined myself sitting there.  I’ve held back for so long.  I’ve been good for so long.  I always did as expected.  I followed rules and regulations.  Look where it got me.  Being good hurt.

“I didn’t mean that,” Raphael said.

Why did I waste all my time pretending to be someone I wasn’t?  I was tired, so very, very tired of standing on my own brakes.  I haven’t felt this good since I lost control and slapped Aunt B.  She had backhanded me right down two flights of stairs, but it was worth it.  It was so worth it.

What did I have to lose anyway?

I took a deep breath and let the old good Andrea go.  Magic coursed through me, making me stronger, sharper.  Scents filled my nose, stole through my mouth, and expanded my lungs.

“Andrea?”

I tilted my head and looked at him.  He brought another woman into my office.  Whatever made him think I would stand for that?

I opened my mouth and showed him my sharp teeth.  Most shapeshfiters couldn’t speak in a half-form, but then I wasn’t most shapeshifters.

“You meant every word.  I told you I was sorry.  I took responsibility for my actions.  It is over now.”

My voice was deeper, permeated with rough notes of a growl.

“This office is my territory.  If you bring your woman here again, I will consider it a challenge.”

He leaned forward, inhaling my scent.  His upper lip trembled, betraying a flash of his teeth.  “Been studying Pack’s laws?”

I laughed and heard an eerie hyena cackle in my voice.  “I don’t have to study.  I know all the laws.”

“Then you know you can’t attack a human.”

“Who said anything about attacking a human?  If you bring her here again, it will be your fault.  I will beat your ass and not even your mommy will be able to stop me.”

Raphael leaned closer, his eyes glowing.  “Promises, promises, little girl.”

I snapped my teeth at him.  “Be polite.”

A beginning of a snarl reverberated in his throat, but his eyes were puzzled.  He wasn’t sure what to make of me.

I picked up the pen with my clawed hand.  “Your scent is bugging me.  Let’s finish this up so I can air the place out and get you and your girl candy out of my life.  The Blue Heron building.  How did you buy it?”

He stared at me.

“We have four dead people.  Your people.  Do try to answer my questions.”

Raphael leaned back, studying me. “Sealed bid auction.”

“Were there any other potential buyers?”

“Yes.  It was a very valuable building.”

“Do you know who they were?”  Sealed bid auction meant that each of the participants submitted a confidential bid for the building, but Raphael would’ve done his homework to know how much he would bid against other buyers.

“I can give you top three,” he said.

“I am all ears.”

“Bell Recovery.  Kyle Bell has been in the business for a long time.  He does decent work, but he’s expensive and slow.  I can usually outbid him.”

I wrote it down.  “What’s your relationship with him?”

Raphael shrugged.  “We don’t like each other.”

“Was he bitter that you outbid him?”

“Kyle exists in a state of bitter.”

“In your opinion, would he stoop to murder?”

Raphael shook his head.  “No.  Kyle makes a lot of noise and stomps around.  He might get his people to rough someone up, but he wouldn’t get into anything that required outside help, like magic snakes.  He doesn’t trust anyone.”

So Stefan already told him about my visit.  “Got it.  Next.”

“Then there is Jack Anapa of Input Enterprises.” Raphael leaned forward, resting his forearm on the table.  His scent was scraping against me like fine-grain sandpaper.  “Anapa is an ass.  He has mountains of money and he plays with it.”

I squinted at him.  “Don’t like him much?”

Raphael grimaced. “He dabbles.  He dabbled in construction, he dabbled in shipping, now he’s dabbling in reclamation.  He will get bored and move on; for him it’s a game.  For us it’s business.”

“Was he upset at losing the bid?”

“Initially he won it, but his permits weren’t filed properly, so they went to me as the second highest bidder.  A skyscraper has a lot of mercury.  It’s in the thermostats.  When a building crashes, mercury drips to the bottom.  Before you can reclaim a building, you have to prove to the city—“

“That you’re qualified to safely remove it,” I finished.  “I remember.”  I was with Raphael when he filed for the permit.  “Would you say Anapa is capable of murderer?”

“Yes.  I don’t think he’d would murder my people.  He doesn’t seem to have the motivation.  I was there when he lost the bid.  He was looking over some papers his assistant shoved under his nose.  He waved his hand and said, ‘Yes, yes. C’est la vie.’ Oh and he invited me to his birthday bash before he left.”

Interesting.  “The third bidder?”

“Garcia Construction.  I’ve known Garcias for a long time.  They were in business for about ten years before I started.  It’s a family operated business.  They mostly took medium-sized reclamation jobs and didn’t get very ambitious until about two years ago, when Ellis took over the company from his father.  They went real big real fast, too fast, and bought rights to a huge apartment complex.”  Raphael grimaced again.  “It was a monster of a building.  I wouldn’t have taken it.”

“Too expensive?”

“Not too expensive to buy, but too expensive to reclaim.  The way it felt, you’d have to shift a shit ton of rubble before you got to anything decent.    Too many man-hours.  Ellis started it that May and last February the Garcias were still digging in it, when a section of it collapsed.  Killed seven workers.   Apparently Ellis had sunk all his resources into the building and let the insurance lapse.  The insurance companies hate us.  The premiums are through the roof.  The Garcias did the right thing and paid out the death benefits anyway, out of their own pocket.  The company was finished after that.”

“So how can they afford to bid on Blue Heron?” I asked.

“Word is, they got a substantial investment.  This was their comeback attempt.  They are decent, hardworking people, Andrea.  They wouldn’t kill my people.”

“Somebody did, Raphael.  What about the seller?”

“City of Atlanta.”

That was a dead end for sure. “Did you know about the vault?”

“No.” He scowled.  “Rianna, one of the guards, just had her baby three month ago,” he said.  “It was her second day back on the job.  Nick is her husband.”

“Nick the carpenter?  The one that redid our, no, I’m sorry, your kitchen?”

Raphael nodded. “Yes.”

I liked Nick.  He was nice and funny and he worked hard.  He was owed some vengeance and I would make sure he got it.  “I will inform you when I have a lead.”

“Do that.”

Raphael rose and left.

Work is the only thing I had left.  Everything else was gone now.  I would find the murderers.  I would find them if it was the last thing I did.  I had to do it to prevent them from killing anyone else, to offer their victims vengeance and solace, and most of all I had to do it to prove to myself that I was still worth something.

 ***

I pulled out a phone book and tracked down the three addresses of the bidders.

His scent was still here, but he was gone out of my office and out of my life.  Hurt and frustration bubbled in me.  I was keyed up too high, my skin was on too tight, and I wanted to shoot something just to let out the frustration.

So Raphael replaced me with a seven foot tall dimwit, so what?  Good riddance.  I was better off on my own.

The back door opened with a faint creak.  Ascanio walked into the office and froze.

“What?” I asked.

He opened his mouth, his eyes wide.

“Speak!”

“Breasts,” he said.

Female shapeshifters didn’t have breasts in warrior form.  There was no need for them.  They were either flat-chested or sported rows of tits.  I had breasts.  They were covered with fur, but they were recognizable female boobs.

“It’s not your first time seeing a pair, is it?”

“Um.  No.”

“Then do act like you’ve been around the block before.”

Ascanio closed his mouth with a click.

“Don’t test Raphael,” I told him.  “If you do, he will cut you into itsy bitsy pieces and leave them in a pretty pile on the floor.”  I decided I liked my beastkin voice.  It was deeper, more powerful, and sounded better.  In an attractive female monster kind of way.

“Oh I don’t know.”  He gave me a look suffused with teenage arrogance.  “I think he might find it difficult.”

“No, he won’t.  We once fought a dog the size of two-story house.  Raphael ripped one of its heads off.”

Ascanio blinked.  “One?”

“It had three.”  I got up and pulled a change of clothes from my bag.  My other me was about twenty five percent larger, but my long-sleeved shirt had a lot of stretch in it.  I pulled it on and put on my pants.  They were more like capris now and they were tight on my calves.  “I’m going out.”

“Like that?”

I pulled out my knife and sliced the hems of my pants.  Much better. “Who’s going to stop me?”

“But you’re… not in human shape.”

Yes, and I was sick of being ashamed of who I was.  I looked at him for a long moment.  “If I change back into a human, I’ll need a nap.  I don’t have time for naps.  If someone has a problem with the way I look, fuck them.”

“Uhh…”

“And stop looking so scandalized.  I covered my boobs, didn’t I?”

“But I still know they are there.  I saw them.”

“Treasure the memory.”  I grabbed my bag off the table.

Ascanio jumped in front of the door.  “Can I come with you?”

“No.”

He fluttered his eyelashes at me.  “I’ll be very quiet.”

“No.”

“Andrea, I’m sick of being stuck here by myself.  Please, please, please can I come with you?  I’ll be good.”

He’d been cooped up in the office for the last few weeks, at first because he was injured, then because he wasn’t and we wanted to keep him that way.

“I’m going to look for a murderer.  If you come with me, you’ll get hurt when we run into trouble on the way.  And then I will have to have a very unpleasant conversation with Aunt B, which will go like this, ‘You won’t join Clan Bouda, you broke up with my son, and you let that sweet precious boy get hurt.’”

Ascanio picked my desk up with one hand and held it four feet off the ground.

“It’s not your muscle I’m concerned about.  It’s your brains.  Or lack of them.”

He sat the desk down.  “Please, Andrea.”

He was going stir-crazy and doing broom drills.  I could relate.  I’d been there.

“Can you drive?”  If I put my seat all the way back, I’d fit into the Jeep but driving with my size twelve feet and three inch claws would be a challenge.

“Do the People navigate vampires?  Of course I can drive.”

“Alright.”

He jumped three feet in the air.

“Now, while you’re with me, you will be acting a representative of our firm.  That means you will be respectful and polite. If some jerk calls you an asshole, you’ll call him sir.  Even if you have to throw him on the ground and break his arms off, you will still call him sir while doing it.  You follow my lead and you follow my orders.  That means not taking the initiative and starting fights without my express command.  Do you get me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent.  Go get your knife.”

He ran into the supply room and came out with a tactical Bowie knife in a sheath on his belt.  The Bowie, a “Mercenary Guild” model, boasted a sixteen inch black blade and weighed almost two pounds.  You could chop small trees down with it.

We loaded the Jeep, Ascanio chanted at the water engine for about ten minutes until it decided to start, and we were off.

]]> http://www.ilona-andrews.com/2011/09/21/andreas-snippet/feed/ 232 http://www.ilona-andrews.com/2011/09/07/snippet-and-fire-update/ http://www.ilona-andrews.com/2011/09/07/snippet-and-fire-update/#comments Wed, 07 Sep 2011 19:51:21 +0000 Ilona http://www.ilona-andrews.com/?p=10003 Well, we almost evacuated last night.  Some apartments burned down about a mile away.  We packed our bags and chased the cat inside for easy apprehension.  But so far so good. Knock-knock-knock, thpew-thpew-thpew.

Gordon says I should share a small chunk of Andrea book. Blah-blah work in progress, blah-blah subject to change.  Also the Latin is supposed to have been mangled. 

#

The morning brought light and magic.  I took a few extra minutes to decide what to wear.  Not that it would make any difference, but I put on my pale blue shirt.  It matched my eyes and looked nice.  I put on my favorite jeans and looked at myself in the mirror.
Full on makeup would be too much.  I brushed some mascara on and styled my blond hair, which was doing its best to grow out of its shorter hairdo.

Like a kid before the prom: gussying up and shaking with nerves. I crossed my arms and glared at myself in the mirror.  Sniper, death, kill, tough, hooah.  Okay, that was better.

Raphael always brought out a strange side of me.  The wild side, the one that was knitted from pure emotions.  The wild crazy Andrea loved him completely and did irrational things, like sitting by the phone with her heart beating too fast, waiting for him to call, or running headfirst into danger against overwhelming odds to fight by his side. That wild Andrea once got arrested. We had gone away for a romantic retreat and while I left the hot tub in the courtyard of the hotel to use the bathroom, some floozy had attached herself to Raphael, not taking no for an answer.  When I returned, instead of beating retreat she suggested we should all have fun together.  I had dunked her a couple of times.  Unfortunately I was pointing a gun at the hotel security at the time, and the sheriffs showed up.

Raphael had eaten it up.  I was finally acting like a mated shapeshifter: irrational, possessive, and head over heels in love.

I didn’t know if it was my hyena side or just that uncompromising fifteen year old girl that lives inside every woman, but now wasn’t a good time to let her out.  I had to stay rational, so I could apologize and try to mend things between us.

Cutting Edge occupied a sturdy building on the northern edge of Atlanta, about an hour from the Keep.  The Beast Lord, also known as Kate’s sugarwoogams, had chosen the location, and he pretty much picked the closest place to the Keep that was still within city limits.  Curran didn’t like to be without Kate and Kate didn’t like to be without Curran.

The door was unlocked.  Great.  I walked in.  Ascanio looked up from his broom.

Despite having very few clients, Cutting Edge had an excess of employees, partially because Kate kept hiring them.  According to her Ascanio Ferara was an intern.  In reality nobody with a drop of sense would hire him as intern or anything else, except maybe as a traffic jam generator.  If you stood him on a street corner, sooner or later some female driver would wreck.

Fifteen going on thirty, with glossy black hair and green eyes, Ascanio was beautiful.  Not just pretty, not just attractive, beautiful.  He had that whole fallen angel thing going – there was a devious, sly mind behind that innocent face and pretty eyes.

Like most male children of the Bouda Clan, he was treasured and babied, more so because he was lost for most of his life and his mother had just found him a few months ago.  In this short period he had gotten into every possible trouble imaginable, culminating with being arrested for having a threesome on the morgue (see fixed now) steps.  The boy did not understand how the Pack worked, and finally Aunt B foisted him off on Kate.  It was that or kill him.  Kate’s solution was to make this raging ball of problems and hormones into our intern.  How her mind worked, I would never understand.  It was a mystery.

Ascanio snapped to attention and saluted me, holding the broom like a rifle.

I pointed at the broom.  “No.”

“Why not?”

Because it would’ve made every ex-military instructor I ever had foam at the mouth.  “You salute with your weapon as a sign of respect.”

He presented me with expression of puzzled innocence. “I don’t have a rifle or a sword.  The broom is my weapon.”

Smartass. “Kid, you make my head explode.”

“Ave Andrea! Ianitori te salutant!”

Hail, Andrea, those who janitor salute you.  Kate was forcing Ascanio and Julie, her ward, to learn Latin, because a lot of historical magical texts were written in it and apparently it was an essential part of their education.  Since the lessons were conducted in the office during our copious spare time, I was learning the language along with them.

I pointed at Ascanio with my finger.  “Not another word. Latin is a dead language, but that doesn’t mean you get to molest its corpse.  Finish sweeping, ianitor.”

He spun the broom with the dexterity of a Marine on a Silent Drill team, planted the handle into the ground, jumped, spinning around it, his legs straight out, and landed on one knee, his head bowed, his right hand extended, holding the broom in his  fist parallel to the floor.

“You had coffee this morning, didn’t you?”

He looked up at me and nodded, a big grin plastered on his face.

Teenage boudas.  Enough said.

I sat down and tried my best to concentrate on going through my case.  The survey of the evidence only confirmed what I had already realized last night: I didn’t find any smoking guns.  Most of what I had picked up looked just like common trash.  Now, that didn’t mean it was trash, but its significance wasn’t immediately apparent.  I cataloged it anyway.  Crimes weren’t always cracked by the super-brilliant. Most of them were solved by the patient and the meticulous.

The roar of a water engine thundered outside of our door and died.  Raphael.  Had to be.  Kate would have parked in the far corner of the parking lot on the side, because she had trouble backing out.

I pretended to be absorbed in my likely worthless evidence.

A knock sounded through our absurdly reinforced door.

“Periculo tuo ingredere!” Ascanio proclaimed.

What the hell did he just say?  Ingredere… Enter… Enter at your own risk.  “If it’s a client, I will shoot you,” I told him.