The Undead Pool

Map in one hand, he gestured with the other for me to head to the hall. “I’m taking names and will make a call. The rest is up to them. Not everyone with a badge is an Inderland bigot.”

Edden’s eyes were pinched as I fell into step beside him. I knew he missed Glenn, and not just because the Inderlander Relations division that Glenn had been in charge of had tanked when he’d quit the FIB. “I read your report,” he said. “Why was Kalamack with you last night?”

Wow, word gets around fast. “His girls come back tomorrow. It was a thank-you dinner.”

Edden’s eyebrows rose knowingly. “At a bowling bar?”

I smiled as we made our way to the front of the building. “They have great burgers.”

“Yeah?” Edden tapped the rolled map on his chin. “And he stood back and let you work.”

“Yup,” I lied cheerfully. I’d thought Trent had been trying to stop me, but he’d only wanted to borrow my gun. Not that he was a slouch with the elven magic, but he didn’t have a license to throw charms around as I did. Magic could be traced back to its maker, even a ley line charm, and if the FIB thought I’d shot the vampires, then Trent’s name wouldn’t even make the papers. He had surprised me, and I liked being surprised.

And the kiss . . . A tingle raced through me. Slowly my smile faded. Ellasbeth didn’t know what she had.

The noise in the reception hall swelled as we entered, and Edden sighed at the angry people at the front desk, none of them listening to the officers trying to get them to take a form and go sit in the chairs to fill it out. I could understand why they were upset, seeing as all the chairs were occupied and the take-a-number dispenser they’d put up was only six numbers different from when I’d come through about an hour ago.

“Thanks for this, Rachel.” Edden halted before the glass doors. “You got your car?”

I carefully opened my shoulder bag, easily finding my keys by the light of a snoring pixy. “Thanks, Edden,” I said, shaking the pixy dust off them so they wouldn’t short out my ignition. “It was worth the early morning. Speaking of which, you need to go home.”

Hands in his pockets, he looked out uneasily at the sunny street, the lack of cars obvious. “Maybe next year.” He again scrubbed a hand over his face, dead tired, and I remembered that he didn’t really have anyone to go home to. “We might find something good in this mess.”

Smiling, I put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to give him a professional kiss on the cheek and making him redden. I knew he was talking about Inderlanders and humans working together, and I hoped he was right. “Let me know if something changes.”

He nodded, pushing the door open for me, and my hair blew back in the draft. “You too.”

It was almost eleven, right about the time I usually got up, and feeling a faint sense of rejuvenation, I strode into the sun. “You want some coffee, Jenks?” I said loudly, knowing he wouldn’t be up for at least ten more minutes. Junior’s was only a couple of blocks away, and a grande, skinny double espresso, with a shot of raspberry, extra hot with no foam, would have a much-appreciated dose of fat and calories in it. “Yeah, me too,” I said, taking the stairs with an extra bounce to pull a tiny groan from my bag. My car could stay at impound a few minutes more.

But as I took to the sidewalk, my fast pace quickly faltered. The streets were more empty than usual, and the people who were out moved with a fast, furtive pace, very unlike the angry frustration inside the security of the FIB. Pamphlets skated down the gutters, and new graffiti was everywhere. Some of it I couldn’t match to a Were pack, making me wonder if it might be vampire, as odd as it would be. The scent of oil-based smoke was a haze between Cincinnati’s buildings, visible now that the sun was up, and I tugged my shoulder bag higher, uneasy.

No one was meeting my eyes, and the obnoxious men who usually refused to shift an inch out of their way so we could actually—I don’t know—share the sidewalk maybe, were quick to make room as if afraid I might touch them. It wasn’t just me, though. Everyone was getting the extra space. Tempers were short, and there were lots of quick accelerations when the lights turned green. Most telling, the usual sign-toting beggars were off the streets.

The wind lifted through my hair, sending the escaping strands of my braid to tickle my neck, and realizing I’d been out of touch for almost an hour, I turned my phone back on. “Oh,” I said, pace faltering as I saw all the missed numbers. David.