Silent Doll (13 page)

I reached into my bag, pulling out the piece of paper that Truth had given me, and smoothed it out on top of his desk. Rourke’s avid gaze ran over the image, hungrily searching out the elements of the picture that could be deemed mystical.

“I found a spell–”

“There! Proof that I’m right…” Rourke began.

I slammed my hand on the desk. I was abruptly tired of both of their attitudes.

“I don’t really give a flying fuck which one of you stops these murders from happening; I really don’t as long as they get stopped. Now can I please finish sharing what I know so I can get the hell on with my day?”

Rourke, struck mute, nodded. I glanced at Hamilton to see if he was going to interrupt me; he motioned for me to continue.

“Now, as I was saying. I found a spell. It’s nasty black magic of the worst kind. Seven hearts are used to restore the youth of a coven. I know you think we’ve seen this before, with those cannibalistic witches before Christmas, but this spell, I’m told, focuses less on the strength of youth, more on the appearance.”

“So, you’re saying that some witches have moved into town and are killing young girls as some sort of anti-wrinkle cream.” Rourke looked stunned and sickened.

“Vanity is a deadly sin, Rourke.”

“How do we go about tracking them down?” Hamilton asked.

“In all honesty, in a city this size, with no commonality between victims or location, I don’t know. I can’t even for proof positive say this is what’s happening. There have been no rumors circulating about a new coven in town, and you can’t hide a fair sized coven like that without someone hearing about it.”

“So, what the hell do we do with this information?” Rourke threw her hands up, frustrated. I looked at her sideways.

“Do you honestly want my opinion, or are you just having another hissy?”

Rourke glared at me.

“I want your opinion,” Hamilton said, chiming in before Rourke could say anything to the contrary. I looked at the drawing, straightened my back and looked between the two of them.

“I would suggest you talk to the Enforcer offices and see what they can do to help.”

Enforcers were essentially magical police. They only dealt with cases that were related to the misuse of magic or perpetrated by wizards. They were highly trained and could be absolutely ruthless. They also had a tendency to act as the Wizarding Council’s lap dogs.

“I suppose that means you are staying on to arrange all that and liaise,” Rourke said sarcastically.

“No.”

Rourke’s mouth flapped open. I’d surprised her twice in one night.

“I’ve given you my opinion and my information. What you chose to do with it is your business. I want as little to do with the Wizarding Council as possible.”

“Cassandra,” said Hamilton. He looked more worried than shocked. “Is everything all right?”

“Honestly, I’m tired. I am tired of this routine. I work my ass off to bring you something, I offer to help, and then I watch you two bicker like children while you insist I’m on the case,” I said, pointing to Hamilton, then swinging my finger around to Rourke, “and you insist I’m not. I’d rather not do this right now. I brushed off another case because I thought you were going to need me. You can wire me my consultation fee.”

I shifted my bag up onto my shoulder, switched my jacket to the other arm, and turned to go.

“That’s it,” said Rourke, seeming even more puzzled. “You’re not going to fight to be on this. You’re just going to walk out and leave us to it.”

“Yup. I was not born to be your referee. Work together, don’t work together. I will come if you call, but only if you call. I’m not going to stick my nose in only to get it bitten off.”

“Where are you going?”

“To dinner.”

Chapter Fourteen

The guilt of having walked out of the police station had left me by the time I reached the werewolf community and had been let in by the guard on duty. I gave him a thorough evaluation–after all, the last guy that had guard duty had turned out to be part of a bitten-were coup. I wondered if this guy had heard the story of what had happened to his predecessor and the other conspirators. I wondered if he was giving me the same kind of evaluation.

I walked toward Simian’s house, thinking happy non-thoughts. I was trying to keep my mind blank so that I could enjoy my evening. Sometimes, that was a very hard thing to do. I had so many thoughts that pushing them all down took some work. I was so immersed in the bottling process that it took me a minute to notice a familiar voice calling my name.

I looked up to see DJ Tanner coming up the street toward Simian’s from the opposite direction. I gave him a little smile. He was dressed in a pale blue shirt, the top two buttons undone, and pressed black pants. He looked very nice.

“What brings you back here so soon?” he asked cheerily.

I nodded my head in the direction of Simian’s house. “Simian made me promise to come to dinner tonight.”

“Huh? Me too. Told me to dress nice,” he said, extending his arms to demonstrate his outfit. As DJ was a jeans and T-shirt kind of man, I certainly appreciated the difference. “You did it far better than I did.”

I smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. Do you want to knock?”

DJ bounded up the steps ahead of me and banged his fist on the door; it opened, but instead of letting us in, Simian stepped outside. He did not look ready to go out.

“Simian? What’s the matter?” I asked, worried by the creases that were forming in his brow.

His mouth twisted into an apologetic smile. “It’s Sophie. She’s not feeling very good; in fact, she’s in the bathroom being sick right now. I don’t think she’ll be able to go out.”

“Is it serious?” I was concerned. Sophie, despite the fact that she was not a werewolf who had the ability to stave off most illnesses like they were nothing, rarely got sick.

“Just something she had at lunch, I think. She should be okay once it’s out of her system. I’m really sorry–but would you two be okay going to dinner without us?”

I looked between Simian and DJ, lines beginning to furrow in my own brow.

“Why don’t you call the restaurant and cancel tonight? We can always do this another time.” I said.

Simian was quick with his answer; a little too quick. “I tried but I couldn’t get through. You two are already dressed up, you might as well go and have a nice meal.”

“What do you say?” DJ asked, looking at me as if the entire weight of this decision was on me.

I looked between the two wolves. Simian looked genuinely contrite and DJ merely looked hopeful.

“Look,” DJ added, “we can walk over there and when we get there, if you just want to cancel, we can, and I’ll walk you home.”

I sighed. Defeated by logic and reason once again. “All right.”

Simian smiled, patted DJ on the shoulder, and slipped back inside his house. DJ gave me a very soft and sincere smile.

“I think we’re being set up.”

“Did you get that feeling too?”

We walked to the restaurant. It was a nice place down by the river named Browns. By the time we had reached the doors, my stomach was growling so much that it seemed silly to be at a restaurant and not eat. DJ held the door for me, and I went inside. The room was decorated in warm, rich colors that made the place feel quaint and homey. The maître de bustled over to the podium while DJ helped me hang my coat on the nearby rack.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, table in the name of Urquhart.” He scanned a list that was mounted on the podium in front of him. He tapped a finger on a line.

“Ah yes, table for two, this way please.”

DJ and I exchanged a look, then shrugged and followed the maître de to the table. He pulled out a chair for me, handed us a menu each, and retreated. I pushed my chair out.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to go leave a slightly threatening voice mail.”

DJ chuckled, and I darted into the ladies room. I took out my phone, deciding to call Simian’s mobile because I didn’t want to swear on his answering machine where his kids heard it. The call went straight to his voice mail, as I’d expected.

“Simian. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, but I do not fucking appreciate it. You have no right, and I doubt it ever occurred to you that you have no right, to mess in my love life. You planned this out, you sneaky son of a bitch, and when I get my hands on you there will be pain. I do not now and never will need you to set me up with a nice wolf boy. I am a grown woman…”

I was cut off by the sound of a beep, signaling I had filled the entire message. I called him back twice more, my language becoming slightly more varied and colorful each time. Finally, I felt I had vented enough, so I looked at myself in the mirror and took deep breaths to calm down, then stiffened my spine and went back to the table.

DJ had his menu down, a napkin in his lap and an unsure look on his face as though worried that I’d left him there. He smiled when he saw me coming back to the table, and it was all bright white teeth, full lipped and dazzling.

“Hey. I took the liberty of ordering some wine. I hope you don’t mind. I chose a white zinfandel.”

“That’s fine,” I said, taking the seat and picking up the menu.

“Are you done threatening Simian and his various body parts for this?”

I glared at him over the top of the menu.

“Not that I knew about it, I swear. I didn’t even know when he asked me that you were coming.”

I was satisfied that he wasn’t lying to me. Werewolves were a little like dogs in a way; unless they practiced really hard, you could usually see their true emotions in their eyes. DJ had the look of an honest man.

“Yes, I’m quite finished with the threatening part of my evening.”

“Good.” He smiled, picking his menu up once more.

It was no surprise to me when he ordered steak, the 12 ounce one, no less. Werewolves had to eat a lot because of their increased metabolism. It was why most of them knew how to cook. In fact, werewolves were some of the best chefs in the world. I mean, come on, Gordon Ramsey, there had be a supernatural reason behind all that aggression. It was obvious when you thought about it.

I ordered the butternut squash ravioli, and watched DJ’s nose wrinkle because it had no meat in it. I didn’t need to scarf down calories in order to maintain myself. Since my change, my appetite had stayed the same. I hadn’t felt a sudden yen for bird seed either—which I was greatly thankful for. Once we’d ordered and the wine was with us, I sipped liberally from mine—still a little mad over the situation. DJ attempted to start conversation up again.

“So, what are you working on now?”

“Not much. I just finished supplying the police with information, and I have another client who wishes me to break a spell on her. That one is going to take some research.”

“What kind of spell is it?” DJ seemed genuinely curious. A lot of shape shifters—usually those with canine based lycanthropy—didn’t really like magic; it sort of rankled them. So, they didn’t seek to learn much about it. Cats, on the other hand, were completely fine with it, which is probably why they’ve been chosen as familiars throughout history. You rarely saw a witch who owned a dog.

“It’s a silencing spell. It literally means that she can’t tell anyone a certain fact. Every time she tries it, her throat closes up. It’s a really severe way to keep a secret.”

“That must be awful. Especially if it was something bad,” DJ said, swirling the wine in his glass and trying to look thoughtful.. He liked sports, rarely read anything more complex than the odd paperback mystery and thought the primary use for his bathtub was to hold overused and muddy sports equipment.

“What about you?” I said, endeavoring to change the subject to something not about my business. “How’s the bar?”

“Same old, people come in, drink some, pay up and go home. We’re having an after-moon party this Monday night, give everyone the weekend to recover from the last few nights.”

“Speaking of, how did LeBron fare?”

“He did good. First run with a pack can be tough; you got all the shitheads who think they need to beat on the guy to show they’re dominant to him.” He seemed to rethink what he was saying when he saw my expression. “Not that LeBron got beaten up badly or anything. In fact, he’s quite a strong wolf; beat down a few of those that tried their luck. I think last night he spent most of his time chasing Brie through the woods.”

I got an amusing image of a shape-shifted Brie up a tree, hissing in her catty way, while LeBron barked up at her and wagged his tail.

“She seems quite fond of LeBron.”

“Yeah, and she’s also the last single girl in her family and she’s nearly thirty. Her biological clock is ticking at her something fierce.”

I sniggered. Some women went absolutely nuts about hitting thirty and still being unmarried and childless.

“I take it you don’t worry about that.”

“Not in the slightest. I could live for a really long time, DJ, and from what I’ve gathered about my mother, she could have been about three hundred when she had me, so I think I have time.”