I hadn’t realized how much I needed a hug until he offered one to me, and I clung to him. “Me too.”

  Though, if this was the work of our killer, he would have saved us all a lot of hassle by dropping in on me while I was home and letting me lop off his head.

  Maybe it ought to worry me that decapitation as a punishment fit most any capital offense among paranormals, but I had learned from the best, and he was really into the neck-and-head-separation deal.

  “Do you need anything?” Bishop released me, making a point to ignore the corgi. “Clothes? Toothbrush? Deodorant? Woman stuff?”

  “They’ll need to process all that, and I don’t want to hang around to watch. I’ll just borrow sweats from HQ for today. I can make do with samples from the shelter supply cabinet for the rest.”

  “What about that?” Bishop recoiled when Bonnie wagged her butt at him. “Does it need anything?”

  “The shelter kitchens are always stocked, so she’s good to go.”

  On our way out, we ran into Ford waiting for the elevator we were exiting.

  “Lee.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “You all right, darlin’?”

  News traveled fast when you lived in a building run by pack. No doubt the doorman had dialed up Midas for clearance when the cleaners showed up on the Faraday’s doorstep. Ford would have been his next logical call.

  “I’m not great,” I admitted, “but it comes with the territory.”

  “We’ll find out who did this,” he said, keeping up with us as we crossed the lobby. “We’ll find out how they did it.”

  “Keep me updated on anything you spot on the security feeds.” I lifted a hand. “Later, Ford.”

  The doorman was on his phone, but he spared me and then Bonnie a lingering glance as we passed him. Probably updating Midas. Bishop led me to the ride he must have ordered for my sake on the way down.

  After we got settled, Bishop gave me a look. “You were joking back there, right?”

  “About the security feeds?” I snorted. “I have to at least pretend we don’t have access to the entire city’s network.”

  “Reece will have the footage ready for viewing by the time we get where we’re going.”

  A thought occurred to me, and I was only half teasing when I asked, “Who will send us fifty-billion strings of text to guide us through the city without you there?”

  “It’s automated,” he said blandly. “I’m a genius, but the evil part is debatable.”

  “That’s not evil, that’s lazy. Automated? Really?”

  “Do you know how old it gets passing those codes back and forth manually?”

  “Um, yeah.” I cuddled Bonnie on my lap. “I do.”

  Scooching closer to the door, he gave me plenty of space. “You shouldn’t cuddle that thing.”

  “It’s not a thing.” I scratched her pointy ears. “Besides, she’s adorable.”

  “Until she bites your face off,” he muttered, then noticed the car slowing. “This is our stop.”

  “You sure you want to get out here?” The driver frowned at us in his rearview mirror. “This ain’t exactly a safe place to go walking at night.”

  “It’s all right,” I assured him. “I brought my dog with me.”

  His expression told me what he thought about that, but I was only a fare, and he was ready to move on to the next one.

  Once Bishop and I were alone, we started following the automated codes to HQ. I wanted to shake him, point out since he was here, he could lead me there, but he was big on protocol, and protocol demanded we jump through hoops until our knees wobbled before we got where we were going.

  Ten minutes later, I spotted the parking garage that led to Base Six.

  About the time I cleared the first landing, I got a text from Midas.

  >>Sorry about your apartment.

  Me too.

  >>I’m overseeing the cleaners personally.

  The fact he was there in an official capacity, not as the heir, but as building security, meant he could rifle through my things without anyone batting an eye since he had a vested interest in bringing the culprit to justice.

  You don’t have to do that.

  >> Where are you staying tonight?

  At one of our shelters.

  >>Do you need anything?

  We keep them stocked. I’ll be fine for a day.

  >>Tell me where to meet you at dusk. We’ll talk to Bonnie and get your answers.

  My apartment. I’ll kill two birds with one stone. You’ll talk to her, I’ll start cleaning.

  What a truly depressing thought. I wasn’t out much money for the trashed décor, but it had taken me hours and hours and hours to do that much sewing and crafting, enough to style a cohesive look.

  Bishop waited for me on the landing. “Midas?”

  Throttling a flush before it surfaced, I did my best to sound casual. “How could you tell?”

  “He called me when he heard the news about your apartment. I expected he would reach out to you eventually.”

  After glaring at it, I pocketed the phone. “Why call you and not me in the first place?”

  “I got the impression he wanted to know if you were okay, and he wanted an answer other than I’m fine.” He entered the code to access the base. “He must have figured I would rat you out.”

  The door opened, and I followed him inside. “Did you?”

  “I told him, and I quote, ‘She’s fine.’” His chuckles did, now that I thought about it, sound a bit evil. “He’s an ally, but that doesn’t make him one of us. He’s not entitled to stick his nose in your business. If he’s got a question for you or about you, he’s got your number.”

  A warm, fuzzy sensation spread through my limbs as he locked us in. “I didn’t think you cared.”

  “You’re too busy pretending you don’t care about anyone to think anyone else might care about you.”

  “I care about plenty of people,” I protested. “A whole city’s worth of them.”

  “They’re numbers, Hadley. They’re not friends. That sounds harsh, but there you go. You can’t know or protect every one of them. All you can do is try. But me? Our team? We’re rooting for you, not waiting on you to screw up and get sent home.”

  The room wavered behind a sheen of tears. “Why is everyone hitting me over the head with a friendship stick lately?”

  “This job will chew you up and spit you out if you go it alone, that’s true for all of us. That’s why the POA created a team. He knew it, and he planned ahead to avoid burnout. You think we’re loyal to him, and we are, but the office comes first. You’re on track to become the next POA, and that means our loyalty—and friendship—belongs to you too.”

  “Thanks,” I said thickly, then cleared my throat before facing the monitors. “Reece, what have you got for me?”

  “A blur,” he mumbled, distracted. “I can’t get the stills I took any clearer than this.”

  A series of photos lined up on the lower screens, but they didn’t illuminate the killer’s identity.

  “Tall, male, and a para of some kind is all I can promise you.” Reece highlighted a portion of footage. “Magic and technology don’t always play nice, but this is one of two things. A charm that’s covering his tracks, or a power that’s covering his tracks. Either way, his tracks are covered. I’ve dug through footage taken at the Faraday as well. Same problem. Our MARTA murderer, or someone like him, was in your apartment.”

  “Any idea how he got in?”

  “He didn’t walk in through the front door or use the fire escape.” Intrigue mingled with frustration in his voice. “He stepped out from a blind spot.”

  “Meaning he knew the location of the cameras.” Bishop worked his jaw. “The last breach at the Faraday was an inside job. Stands to reason this one was too. The previous leak has since been plugged. This is an all-new drip.”

  “Great.” I blew out a tired breath. “I’m living in a sinking ship.”

  Reece grumbled about rats, and his screen went dark.

  “We’ll keep digging,” Bishop promised me. “Get some rest.”

  “A girl can dream.”

  I let myself into a large room stacked with enough bunk beds to sleep a dozen people. One en suite bathroom opened off to the right, but it was meant for sharing, with two enclosed toilet stalls. A kitchen meant no one staying here ever went hungry. The dining area had fold-down tables, and it doubled as a living room. The only TV in the space was mounted on the back wall so anyone eating could watch.

  Each of our bases contained the exact same housing facilities, and sadly, most were kept full.

  This job wasn’t all hunting serial killers and visiting nudist colonies. Most nights I saw no action. Others I busted up drunken/drugged brawls or domestic disputes. The latter often required additional resources to prevent recurrence. That’s when we stepped in and provided for the victims. It was safer for them, and humans, for supernaturals to be kept separate while they healed.

  Cornered predators lashed out, and a warning that another supernatural could shrug off might kill a human.

  When a base had guests, we partitioned off its adjacent command center, containing them in the residence area. That gave them access to the bunkroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, and the dining room while keeping them out of HQ itself. There was a lockbox Bishop could activate for remote entry as well. That way, we didn’t see them, and they didn’t see us.

  “Do you need anything?” Bishop lingered in the doorway. “I’ll leave the seal unlocked for you in case you need computer access.”

  “I’m good.” I chose a cot at random and climbed in. “I’m too tired for a shower. I’ll grab one tomorrow and do laundry on my way out.”

  “These sheets have seen worse. Trust me.”

  “Believe it or not, that’s not the most comforting thing you can tell a person who’s too tired to worry about fleas, ticks, or bedbugs.”

  “Sweet dreams.” He flipped off the light. “There was one weird thing. Midas asked me the brand name of your sewing machine. Yours had rubbed off.”

  “That is weird. What does my sewing machine have to do with anything?” May it rest in peace. “It was a thrift store find. Ten bucks. It paid for itself ten times over.”

  “That’s more or less what I told him.”

  While I turned the odd question over in my mind, Bishop left, his footsteps tapering into silence.

  I wasn’t sure what he was, or how he traveled the city so quickly without transportation, or why he managed the bases, or much of anything else, honestly. I hadn’t noticed the creeping burnout until he mentioned it, but I was tired, and I had been for a long time before coming to Atlanta.

  Maybe I had gotten it wrong, and a social life was just what the doctor ordered.

  Twelve

  I woke at dusk, thanks to Bonnie’s snoring, and hit the kitchen to whip us up breakfast. We kept staples in all the pantries, so I was able to treat myself to a double café mocha made with a couple pieces of bribery chocolate, along with eggs, bacon, and toast. I made her a plate of the same and left it on the floor for her while I took a quick shower then dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a white tee. We kept a ton of them, in all sizes, in the closet for guests who left their homes with only the clothes on their backs.

  Most people respected the system and only used or took what they needed, which was fine, but one time a full set showed up on eBay with the POA’s forged signature…

  Sadly, we didn’t provide hair goop, so I had to leave my curls to their own devices.

  “Ready?” I called to Bonnie as I exited the bunkroom with our dirties balled up for the laundry service. “Midas is expecting us at the Faraday.” I dumped the sheets down the chute then prayed she wasn’t not answering because she’d had an accident she didn’t want me to find. “Bonnie?”

  A faint squeak perked my ears, and I jumped as a mouse ran over my foot.

  A white mouse.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  As I watched, she scurried from corner to corner, searching for a way out. I could have told her there was none.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Midas. He must have said something last night that spooked her. Too bad for her, fear and guilt provoked similar fight-or-flight responses. The former was regrettable. No one wanted to further traumatize a victim. The latter was inescapable. I had to do my job, even when it meant adorable creatures and/or potential friends took their turn in the hot seat.

  “This is for your own good.” I caught her in my cupped hands and dumped her into a tall glass before slapping a coaster over the top. “You can’t run away from this. Lives are at stake.”

  Too many of them had already been lost.

  I had a theory, based on nothing much, that she couldn’t change glamour from mouse to dog again unless she had room for the dog to fit. She would shatter the glass if she tried, which she could shrug off, but I got the feeling there was more to it. That her projected mass required appropriate space to manifest, not just the will to change.

  Basically, I had a mouse in a cup. A corgi wouldn’t fit in a cup. Therefore, she was stuck as a mouse until I let her out, giving her room to glamour herself into a larger form.

  Thanks to her escape attempt, I didn’t feel too bad about holding her hostage. I would, however, need a ride if I wanted to keep her from giving me the slip before I was ready. I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the Swyft icon, but I dialed Ford in the end.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey back,” I said briskly. “Can you give me a lift to my place?”

  “Sure thing.” The tick-tick-tick of his blinker told me he was already in his truck. “Where are you?”

  “Head to Dickerson’s Seafood. I’ll meet you out front.”

  Onto my tricks, he pressed his luck. “Sure you don’t want me to take the direct route?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, darlin’.” I hung up with his laughter in my ear. “You heard the man.” Mouse-sized or not, gwyllgi senses were superb. “Let’s go.”

  Balancing my hostage, I backed out the exit door then locked up behind us. I got a few weird looks from folks on the street. Okay, I got a lot of weird looks, carrying a mouse around in a glass in the city. Most people trapped them or tossed them, but here I was, taking mine for a walk.

  The corgi glamour had definitely been less conspicuous, even if it still got us noticed because who didn’t love corgis? People would remember exactly that—they saw a super-cute doggo. They wouldn’t remember me. I was just the person at the other end of the leash. With a mouse? I was transformed into That Crazy Lady with a Mouse in a Cup. The mouse was overlooked, except for the initial double take to see if they really saw what they thought the first time, but I got noticed in a way that told me people were measuring me for a straitjacket.

  Mr. Dickerson himself came out carrying a broom when he spotted me loitering in his parking lot.

  “Girl, what you doing?” He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “That a mouse in a cup?”

  “I caught it in my apartment.”

  “Didn’t have no heart to kill it?” He clucked his tongue. “Dump it here, right here. I’ll do it for you.”

  Thankfully, I was saved by Ford pulling in the spot beside me.

  “That’s my boyfriend,” I lied to the nice old man. “I called him to kill it for me.”

  “That’s fine.” He lowered his broom. “Next time, maybe have him come to your place? Don’t look good for me to have a mouse near my store. People get ideas about raisins in their food.”

  “I apologize.” I held up the mouse. “It scared me is all. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You have a good night now.” He pointed the broom at me. “Remember, don’t run no more after dark.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Dickerson let himself back in his store, and I passed the hostage to Ford through the window he had lowered to better hear me lying like a rug.

  “Do I want to know?” He took a sniff, and his eyes widened. “Snowball?”

  “Yes, indeed.” I rounded the truck and hauled myself onto the seat. “She’s in time-out.”

  “I guess so.” He handed her back. “I’m your boyfriend, huh?”

  “Don’t get a big head.” I settled in for the short ride. “Mr. Dickerson is human. He caught me on patrol one night and offered me a ride home. I told him I run this neighborhood for exercise, and he almost had a heart attack. I make a point to swing by once a week so he knows I’m still alive.”

  “You figured it would put his mind at ease if you had a big, strong, handsome man in your life.”

  “As old-fashioned as he is, only one part of that sentence matters.”

  “Ouch.”

  “It’s just a flesh wound.” I patted his arm. “Your ego will survive. You apparently go around telling people you’re big, strong, and handsome. Pretty sure that means you’ve got plenty to spare.”

  “I try, and I try.” He nosed the truck up to the curb in front of the Faraday. “You shoot me down at every opportunity.”

  “I’m not actually your girlfriend, Ford. I don’t have to stroke your ego.”

  The mottled red blossoming in his cheeks inspired pity in me, and I didn’t tack on or anything else.

  But I was thinking it.

  “The cleaners finished up three hours after you left. There’s a log of all the personal items they took for testing. If you’re missing anything that’s not listed, let the Faraday know, and they will arrange for replacements.”

  “I have renter’s insurance.”

  “The Faraday has only been breached once since our pack took over security,” he told me. “It happened almost two years ago. To Linus.” He threw the truck in park and got out with me. “It sets a bad precedent, makes it look like we can’t protect high-profile clients. Our alpha will not be pleased about this.”

  “These things happen.” I led the way past the doorman, who was too busy perfecting his statue impersonation to notice what I held. “Hazards of the job.”

  I had used that line more in the past twelve hours than in the past twelve months.

  “It’s okay to be upset,” he said once the elevator doors closed behind us. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

 

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