Chapter 10 #3
The building was a small, double-story with blue-painted bricks and “Jenkin’s Contractors” emblazoned in big gold lettering across the front window. Underneath that, it said, “Rubbish taken, scrap removed, construction or home sites, no job too large or small.”
No mention of thugs or murderers also being supplied as needed, I thought, amused.
“Place looks closed,” Ginny commented. “You seeing any magic?”
“No, but there’re cameras on either side of the building, so if someone is home, they may well have already spotted us. I’ll take the front door—you want to fly around to the back and detain anyone who tries to run out?”
She nodded. “And if we hear screaming again?”
“Remember the demons love fresh hearts, and they’re not fussed if they’re human or bird.”
“I’m thinking a bird’s heart wouldn’t even rate as a snack to them.” She touched my shoulder lightly. “Be careful.”
I nodded, watched her shift shape and fly over, then flung my handbag over my shoulder and walked across the road. Atticus appeared beside me, gaze on the building ahead.
“Can you sense anyone inside?”
I am a cat, not a bloodhound.
“But your sense of smell is far stronger than mine, is it not?”
That doesn’t mean I’m capable of smelling humanity from a great distance or through walls. He paused. Though there are some very strange sounds coming out of that house of strumpets.
“I’m betting those sounds are nowhere near as weird as the ones mating cats make,” I said, amusement twitching my lips.
Hanna! Seriously? he said, in a mocking echo of my earlier outrage.
I laughed and hurried the last few steps across the dual highway as the lights to our left changed, and cars swept toward us.
The shades had been drawn down on the double windows that lined the front of the building—likely to keep the sun out, even if there wasn’t much of it about right now—but there was no Closed sign on the door, and it opened when I pushed lightly against it.
A small bell chimed as I entered, and deep inside the darker confines, a cheerful voice said, “Be with you in a minute.”
A second later came the sound of footsteps—retreating rather than coming toward us.
“I’m thinking she’s running,” I murmured.
I’m thinking you’re right, Atticus said. I will scout.
You take the stairs. I’ll take the back room.
He sauntered off. I took a quick look behind the plain wooden counter just to be sure there was nothing untoward hiding there, then hurried across to the door leading into the next area.
I pressed an ear against the wood, but the steps had fallen silent, and there was no other sound.
I took a deep breath, wound the ever-faithful repelling spell around my fingers, then thrust open the door and quickly stepped back.
Just as well I did, because a fucking arrow hurtled past me and thudded heavily into the door frame.
“Cathy Ryan? It’s Hanna Kang, Black Lantern Society. We need to talk about a recent contract you placed.”
There was a long pause, then, “Show me your badge.”
Her voice came from the back of the room, so she wasn’t going to see much in the way of detail, but I nevertheless dug my badge free from my handbag, flipped it open, and held it out.
“Don’t move,” she said. “Hold the badge right where it is.”
Footsteps came closer, but I resisted the urge to look around the doorframe. I had a bad feeling there was another arrow notched and ready to go.
Upstairs there is accommodation and a locked room I’m presuming is an office, Atticus said. You want me to smite her for you?
No. I can’t get information from a dead person.
I wasn’t going to smite her dead. Just cinder her a little.
The footsteps stopped several feet away from the door. I could have hit her with the repelling spell if I had wanted, but I decided to play it fair.
For now.
Atticus, can you tell Ginny what is happening? And warn her Cathy is armed with a bow.
Not just a bow and arrow, but a silver-tipped one.
And silver was deadly to shifters. It meant she had indeed seen our arrival and Ginny’s subsequent shift; why else would she be armed with such a weapon?
“You can lower the badge,” Cathy said. “What do you want?”
“I want the name of the person who contracted Grant Hopkins and a second man to enter the premises of Luke Marlowe and Monica Ashworth.”
“I don’t—”
“Yeah, you do know,” I cut in brusquely, “and the person who did the contracting intended them to be meals for the three demons she sent after Monica Ashworth. That makes you an accessory to murder, I’m thinking.”
“What? No, you can’t blame—”
“We can and will, but we’re the least of your problems right now, because the person behind the contract has a habit of erasing anything and anyone who could lead them to her or him.”
Presuming, of course, that person was indeed Lanie or Orion, and we weren’t as yet sure of that.
“I don’t believe—”
She stopped. A heartbeat later, I heard it too—a soft but insistent beeping.
“What’s that sound, Cathy?”
“Perimeter alarm. Come in—slowly, or I will shoot you.”
Atticus, check with Ginny.
Am. She’s not seeing anyone, which could mean magic is involved.
Damn. To Cathy, I said. “I’m a witch, not a shifter.”
“And this arrow will nevertheless kill you before you can cast a fucking spell.”
“Except, of course, if I’ve already formed one.”
I immediately spun the repelling spell around the corner. She grunted as it hit, her bow and arrow clattering to the floor as the spell threw her violently back. I ran in, scooped up her weapon, and continued on, placing one foot firmly on her gut and holding the arrow at her throat.
“If I let you up, you will behave. Understood?”
She scowled but nodded. I took a couple of steps back but held the silver-tipped arrow in front of me like a knife. Once she was on her feet, I said, “Now, let’s go investigate that alarm, because it’s not my partner causing it.”
Her scowl deepened but she turned and strode toward the far end of the long storeroom. I followed, silently creating a leash spell, because I did not trust the bitch one iota.
In the back corner were three desks that formed a U-shape, while a bank of screens lined the wall behind them.
They showed camera views of not only the front of the building—she had definitely seen us arrive—but also the rear parking area, the back lots of the buildings on either side, and views of the upper floor.
She walked around the desks and stood in front of the screens, scanning them quickly. “I’m not seeing anything unusual—maybe it was a rat. We have them around here.”
“If it was a rat, my partner would have seen it.” I frowned up at the screens for a few seconds and caught the faintest shimmer approaching the back door. Magic. Concealing magic.
Not one concealment, but three. Atticus paused. One crawls through the upstairs window.
Human or demon?
Smells human. Shall I smite? I really need to smite.
Not dead. To Cathy, I said, “You have visitors. Two are almost at the back door and the other is currently crawling through the upper back window.”
“What?” she said, her head snapping around, her eyes wide as she stared at me. “Why can’t I see anything?”
“Concealment magic. I suggest you hide under your desk and keep still. The minute you move, they’ll have you.”
Her face paled, and she scrambled to obey. She had no sooner gotten under when two things happened: One, a fierce storm of magic erupted from upstairs, Atticus and the man—witch—who’d crawled through the window doing battle, and two, the back door exploded inward.
There was little more than a faint shimmer to show the position of the two men who came through it, but that’s all I needed.
I flung my repelling spell and spread my fingers, casting it wider to take in both.
As the spell tumbled toward them, the shimmering fell away, revealing two thickset men who were, unfortunately, running in opposite directions.
I swore, flicked the spell at the nearest one, and started casting a containment shield for the other.
It was then I saw the gun.
Raised. Aimed at my heart.
Adrenaline surged, and I dove over the desk, falling awkwardly to the floor on the other side. Felt a sharp burn across my right calf, saw sparks fly as the bullet ricocheted off the wall directly ahead and ended up god only knows where.
Footsteps echoed, running toward us, barely audible over the furious caterwauling and blows of magic coming from upstairs.
I wanted to run up there and help, even though Atticus was more capable than I was of dealing with that sort of stuff.
Another bullet cut past me, sparking off the metal desktop one foot away, dragging my attention back to the more immediate danger.
I had to stop these men—now—and I had no time for finesse; no time for anything complicated.
I quickly created and then cast a shielding spell, encircling the entire desk.
It wouldn’t stop bullets—though these types of shields certainly could if the witch had a decent amount of construction time, and the benefit of spell stones to anchor it—but it would stop the men from getting too close, and it would give Ginny and Atticus time to get here.
There was a grunt as one of the men hit the shield, then as one, they began to fire. The metal desks were abnormally thick, suggesting Cathy might have used them for protection before, but the rapid, concentrated firing soon had the front desk’s metal skirt buckling and splitting.
Then one of the men screamed; another shot echoed, but this time it wasn’t aimed at us.
I risked poking my head up above the desk, saw one man writhing on the ground, face shredded and an eye hanging out of its socket, while the other slowly turned, trying to track Ginny with his gun as she swooped and soared around him.
She was fast, but even she could not outfly a bullet if he got a lock on her.