Part 3 (2/2)
”Hex me,” Shelby muttered. I took another look at the gang sign and felt a familiar twist in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't a gang tag, it was a sigil-a blood witch marker indicating owners.h.i.+p of the territory.
”s.h.i.+t,” I muttered, too low for Shelby to catch. Shelby was a caster witch, their natural rival. The bloods would see her as an invader, badge or no.
”So how does a caster witch become a cop?” I asked her to take my mind off the fact that we might die horrible sacrificial deaths before the night was over.
Shelby looked at her feet and kicked a rusty toy fire engine away. ”When she's not a witch.”
I raised an eyebrow. ”You didn't get the blood?”
”No one in my family can figure it out,” she said. ”My father practically disowned me-said it must be my mother's fault.”
How well could I relate to that? The only were in a family of witches. The only child of the drunk father. The only woman in the academy.
”I can't believe I just told you that,” Shelby muttered. ”Forget it, okay? Suffice to say I don't enjoy my family's financial favor and I have to make my own way.”
Figuring it was a lost cause, I knocked on the door once more and then let the screen slap shut. ”Why Vice? That's a rough a.s.signment for a woman.”
”Imbalances of power bother me,” said Shelby simply.
”Let's go,” I said, and saw her shoulders relax. I hadn't seen anyone else on the street, but she was really fearful. I could smell it rolling off her underneath her deodorant and perfume, like fumes of molten copper. I suppose if I had been raised in a family of witches I might be paranoid too, but with my grandmother, I was more afraid of the magick that she'd showed me existed than of what might might be lurking out there in the unknown. be lurking out there in the unknown.
The door behind me swung open and Shelby jumped a mile. I turned fast, hand going inside my jacket to touch my gun.
The stringy-haired woman staring at us through the screen blinked once. ”What do you want?”
”Are you Mrs. Howard?” I asked, flas.h.i.+ng my s.h.i.+eld at her. She looked at it for a few seconds and then back at my face.
”I called in.”
Shelby fidgeted next to me, casting looks back at the street every few heartbeats. I shot her a glare as I said, ”Called who, ma'am?”
”Dirk Bukowski, my parole officer. He sent you, right? 'Cause he said I didn't call in?”
I didn't know anything about Bukowski, but it didn't surprise me that the dirty, skinny woman peering through the rusty door had a record. Her forearms were bruised with circular cl.u.s.ters from large-bore needles, and her ringers quivered where she held onto the door handle.
”Mrs. Howard, we're not here to violate your parole. I need to talk to you about Bryan.”
”Then stop calling me Mrs. Howard,” she sniffed. ”He's my brother.”
”Can we get this over with, please?” Shelby hissed at me.
”Excuse me,” I said to Not-Mrs.-Howard, turning on my unwanted partner. ”What the Hex is the matter with you?”
”I can't be here!” she said frantically. ”This is blood witch territory and she she is a blood donor!” Whatever that meant. is a blood donor!” Whatever that meant.
”I don't have room in my job for your bulls.h.i.+t,” I murmured to Shelby, pitching my voice low and dangerous so she got the message. ”Either you can handle Homicide or you can't. And if this bothers you that much, you can go wait in the car.”
She stiffened at that, and crossed her arms defiantly. ”Just hurry it up, Detective.”
”I'll do the best I can, Detective,” I told her with a wide fake smile. Flighty wench. As soon as I got the notification over with, Shelby O'Halloran and I were due for serious words.
”What happened to Bryan?” said the Howard woman from the door. ”He get picked up again?”
”I'm afraid...” I started, but a man's voice bellowed from inside the rotting house.
”Stella! Close the f.u.c.kin' door, it's freezing!”
”Cops are here, Dusty!” she screeched back. Dusty appeared a few seconds later, a lanky wastoid with a ponytail and yellowed skin that looked like moldy paper.
”What the Hex are you doing here?” he demanded. He saw Shelby and I were both of the female persuasion and curled his lip. ”I forget to pay a parking ticket? This the meter-maid patrol?”
I focused back on Stella Howard. ”Ma'am, I'm sorry to have to inform you that your brother Bryan was found dead last night.”
Stella folded at the knees, sinking down onto the linoleum floor with a wail. Dusty stepped back as if she might contaminate him.
”Not Bry!” Stella howled. ”Oh, Bry ...” She crumpled in a ball, shoulders heaving. I opened the screen door and reached out to touch her.
”Hey!” Dusty exclaimed. ”You can't come on private property! Get the f.u.c.k out! Stella, shut up!”
I pointed a finger at him. ”One more word and I will put my foot where your few remaining teeth currently reside.”
”I warned him,” Stella sobbed. ”I told him that junk would kill him.” She raised her face to me as I rubbed her back. She was bony and cold through her thin s.h.i.+rt.
Shelby stepped up to Dusty and asked, ”Are you also aware that Mr. Howard died of a heroin overdose, sir?”
Stella looked at me with a gla.s.sy gaze. ”That true?”
”It appears so,” I murmured. ”He was dead on the scene.” I left out the part about the unidentified drug and the petichial hemorrhages.
”Figures,” Dusty muttered. ”I told him that stuff would bring his dumb a.s.s to bad ends.”
”Stop talking about him like that!” Stella screamed. ”It wasn't his fault!”
”Woman, I am gonna smack your mouth if you don't shut it!” Dusty shouted.
”Shelby, get him out of here,” I snapped. ”And if he slips and falls I'll be inclined to look the other way.”
She put a hand on Dusty's elbow and escorted him into the next room with an iron grip.
”Do you need somewhere to stay the night?” I asked Stella gently. She shook her head.
”I gotta go to the free clinic tomorrow ... have to be there by six a.m. to stand in line.”
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