Chapter 3
MONDAY
IN WHICH DESSA’S NEW COWORKER IS A MURDER SUSPECT
Monday came too quickly, as it always did.
Nerves fluttered in Dessa’s stomach when she walked into the tiny, converted office building on Market Street that served as AzRIO.
The golden, magic-touched bell on the door rang out with a melodic harmony as if welcoming her home, and she couldn’t resist giving it a smile.
An aching nostalgia flowed over her as she took in the four wooden desks in the open floor plan.
A man and a woman sat at the two in the rear, while the two in front were dusty and vacant.
Exposed brick walls and dangling overhead lighting gave the space a rustic feel, but one that also seemed bright and welcoming.
The small waiting area held worn, comfortable couches and a muted TV, while the back hall hid a meeting room across from her uncle’s office and the cozy break room kitchenette.
Since it was within walking distance of the high school, she’d often come here straight after class, especially on days when her parents had taken the food truck to special events in the city.
She’d plunked herself down at a desk while she did homework or scrolled the internet, pretending not to eavesdrop on all the juicy tidbits flowing in from the clients.
Her uncle would even let her and her friends use his meeting room to study if he wasn’t particularly busy.
So at sixteen, it had been natural for her after-school haunt to turn into an after-school job.
Through osmosis and natural curiosity, she’d already picked up on many of the common complaints and processes that clients came in for, and she’d made an immediate impact.
It had felt so right when many of the liaisons speculated that she’d take over the place one day when her uncle retired—affectionate praise she’d thrilled in.
But of course, after the funeral, all those winking remarks had shriveled away to uncertain sideways glances and awkward silences.
A joyous shriek interrupted Dessa’s downward spiral as Melba leapt from her desk. “Our girl is back!”
And strangely, it was Melba’s ecstatic charge through the office, rather than her parents’ camper-van-side welcome, that really felt like coming home.
“Dessa Blue!” Melba flung her arms around Dessa and lifted her off her feet with a strength that belied the old woman’s short frame. “I just knew you’d come back to us eventually. We missed you so much, girlie!”
Dessa’s eyes burned as she relaxed into Melba’s soft hug, breathing in the faint vanilla scent of her magic. “I missed you too.”
“Hold on, let me look at you.” Seizing Dessa’s shoulders, Melba pulled back, her gaze scrutinizing.
Internally, Dessa cringed under the inspection, sure Melba would see straight through her to the ugly scars hiding just beneath the surface, some not even close to healed.
Outwardly though, Dessa struck a pose, framing her face with two fingers and giving Melba a sassy glance. Fake it till you make it.
“Yep, same girl.” Melba’s wrinkled cheeks creased in a luminescent, whole-face smile that would’ve made the sun jealous. “Though I miss your old blue style.” She tugged on the green sleeve of Dessa’s blouse.
“Of course she’s the same girl,” Uncle Brad laughed as he walked in behind them, the bell greeting him with a mellower tone. “You think I would bring an impostor into our lair?”
Melba glanced at him over her glasses. “All I’m saying is it’s been known to happen.”
Dessa laughed too, their banter as familiar as the office itself.
Standing between them, she could almost believe the last six years never happened.
Melba looked exactly the same, with her rich brown skin and long black braids.
Though she had to be in her sixties, she had the warm glow of a much younger woman, and Dessa could’ve sworn she was wearing the same floor-length skirt, sandals, and floral sweater she had on when Dessa said goodbye to her.
Knowing Melba, she probably was. Melba Moreno was the type of person who loved a full-circle moment, and she forgot literally nothing.
Though she denied any Magicker gifts, both Dessa and Brad knew better.
Magickers could be notoriously secretive about their abilities, but as Uncannies, both Dessa and Brad agreed her sweet vanilla hint of magic was undeniable.
After years of prodding, however, they’d both given up trying to get her to tell them what her affinity was.
On paper, Melba was AzRIO’s tech savant, but she had a knack for getting people’s life story on impact, and filled many unofficial roles, like they all did.
“Richard!” Melba called. “If you’re skulking around here again, you might as well come say hello to our girl!”
The translucent, middle-aged man seemed to melt from the walls and the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees as his spiritual form leeched the warmth from the air.
The ghost gave Dessa a straight-faced wave, his resting-dour face matching his tone.
“I’ll be sure to tell the neighborhood you’ve returned after a catastrophic failure to launch. ”
“No, wait, don’t—” Dessa started, but Richard had already dissolved back into the brick. She groaned, running a hand over her face. “I guess Richard’s still Market Street’s worst gossip. You’d think he would’ve moved on by now.”
Melba propped her hands on her hips and shared a long-suffering glance. “Ha. I’ve been trying to sell him on the other side for fifteen years now, but no dice.”
“Well, I have to give it to him for resisting your charms.” Dessa smiled. “That’s quite the feat.”
“Oh, hardly.” Melba grinned, nudging her with an elbow. “You can bet if I ever find out what’s binding him to this ghastly earth, I’ll take care of that problem so fast, it’ll make your head spin.”
“But then how would we find out all the juicy neighborhood rumors?” Brad asked, lifting his chin toward the man typing away at his computer in the far corner. “Arthur back there loves it.”
The rail-thin man with some intense caterpillar eyebrows peeked over his monitor. His expression was almost defensive, like a badger glaring at them from the mouth of his den.
“Hi, I’m Dessa McKinney. I’m here to help with financial management and intermediary duties.” Dessa waved and the man popped his head back down to a storm of finger taps against a keyboard. Well, okay, then. She turned to the others with a frown, lowering her voice. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Nooo.” Melba crossed her arms with a rueful smile. “Arthur’s only been here for a few weeks, and he’s a bit of a strange duck.”
“But he’s an expert in everything there is to know about paranormal laws and regulations, and he’s a paperwork machine when it comes to writing up reports. Though he sits here full time, we share him with the regional enforcement office since we’re short on hands and funding these days.”
Huh. Well that certainly made him an asset.
Their last legal expert had been eighty-five years old and still relied on a two-finger hen-pecking technique on his keyboard.
He’d been kind though, and Dessa hoped he was enjoying his retirement somewhere.
Speaking of old men cashing in on their pension…
“What about the local enforcement station?” Dessa inclined her head down the street to the PC’s version of the sheriff’s office on the corner. “Who took over after Werach retired?”
Brad huffed. “He didn’t retire. These days, he spends most afternoons catching Z’s behind his desk while his secretary forwards his emails to us.” He grimaced as if he’d just tasted something sour. “Best not to count on any help from him. If you need enforcement, call regional.”
Another swell of guilt undulated through her.
After all, she’d known her disaster would mar AzRIO’s reputation; she just hadn’t realized the ripples would last this long.
Werach had always been unreliable—reluctant to leave his chair and taking the easy way out whenever possible.
But when Dessa was in high school, Werach had three deputies who respected Brad as a sheriff stand-in, and AzRIO had no fewer than six permanent employees.
Now, with the deputies and Brad gone, there was no way this skeleton crew could fill those shoes.
Dessa’s gaze caught on the corkboard behind one of the empty desks where a photo of Carly Jowett’s face stared back at her, the words “Have you seen me?” in bold letters across the bottom.
With her brown pixie cut, she looked so much like her older brother, Peter, that Dessa had to drop her gaze, the pain welling up all over again.
Of course, the effect was a little dampened by the adjacent sign that read: No Bloodshed Zone. You spill it, you clean it up.
“What about the other intern you recruited, Brad?” Melba asked. “You said he could do field work, right?”
“A field intermediary agent?” Dessa toggled between them with relieved hope.
“With what specialty?” Even one solid Magicker could be a huge help to them as they did the legwork of interfacing with the different neighborhoods, especially until she got a feel for the reins again.
And if Brad had gotten someone with a useful gift, they might just be able to survive until he got back.
“Right. The field work intern.” Uncle Brad cleared his throat, his thick fingers fiddling with the brim of his baseball hat. “While I did find someone, he was raised as Nescient, so I’ll be counting on you, Dess, to bring him up to speed.”
Dessa’s shoulders fell with the anvil of disappointment. A Nesci? That wasn’t help; that was just more work.
“He’s gotta lot of potential though,” Brad said. “You just need to give him a chance.”
Dessa snorted. “You cannot be serious right now. We’ve—”