7. Does that really say cindercorn under species?
SEVEN
Does that really say cindercorn under species?
Cop cars filled our driveway and somewhat blocked my view of the house, but I could tell one important thing.
My favorite of the rose bushes, the one with beautiful big red blossoms, had been scorched to ash with a few straggler branches left.
I wanted to cry over its loss, and Quinn kissed my cheek.
“It’ll be okay. Yeah, the bush isn’t going to recover from that, and some of the others don’t look good, either, but the house is okay, and we’re going to be moving anyway.
We couldn’t realistically take the bush with us. I’ll get you new roses.”
“But that one was special.”
“I know. You looked like you wanted to eat every last blossom on it the first time you came home to me. I know what variant it is, and I even know who the grower is. I can probably get the same strain. It’ll just take some time to grow is all.
I’ll ask my grandfather to come over and see if he can do anything for it.
Maybe we can transplant what’s left of it in a pot and take it with us.
If anyone can help a rose plant survive that, it’s an angel. ”
Quinn parked in front of the cordon blocking part of our street to make sure the fire truck and cops had access without curious folks getting too close. Heaving a sigh, I got out of the car and strolled over to the blockade.
I didn’t recognize any of the cops barring the way to my house.
“Sorry, ma’am, nobody can come closer.”
I debated my options, grabbed my badge out of my pocket, and flipped it open, showing him my shiny new identification card. Then, as I could be a mature adult when I wanted, I waited.
The cop read my badge, and he raised a brow. “Does that really say cindercorn under species?”
I checked my card, and sure enough, I was listed as a cindercorn in addition to being human. “Oh, cool. Sam, Sam! Somebody put cindercorn on my badge.”
“Yes, Bailey. That’s because you’re a cindercorn.” My husband pulled the same trick I had with the badge.
“You’re both Chief Quinn?” the cop blurted.
I spotted Chief Barfield, stood on my toes, and waved at him. “Peter!”
He waved back. “Let them through, Benjamin. They’re the real deal. Mrs. Chief Quinn just joined the force. We nabbed her from the CDC, and she’s our new top bomb specialist.”
The cop held up the cordon tape. “Sorry about that, ma’am.”
“I have trouble believing it, too, so don’t worry about it.” I ducked beneath the tape and strolled to Chief Barfield, pocketing my badge before holding out my hand to shake with him. “See Quinn’s new jacket?”
“I do. It’s damned nice. I know because I helped buy it. I also contributed to your gift card.”
I laughed. “Bulletproof!”
“You get to be the guinea pigs on the leather jackets with the Kevlar and anti-theft stuff built in. Well, sort of. When we heard about them, we decided to check out what the civvies were getting. Those things are nigh indestructible, so it’s likely all of our undercover cops will be getting them.
We’re in talks with the company to have special designs for law enforcement. ”
“Did the commissioner put you up to that?”
“He really did.”
“Nice. I lost count of the number of them Quinn bought because once he realized they were bulletproof, I needed them all. I made him buy the same number for himself, hoping to deter him. That backfired. Thanks, though. It’s really nice.”
“You’re welcome. So, here’s what we know.
A white male, a little taller than you, dark hair and eyes, parked in your driveway, got out, and looked to knock at the door.
We aren’t sure if he actually knocked or if he was doing a ruse.
He splashed gasoline over the front of the house and the bushes, returned to his vehicle, and did the same with three more cans of gasoline.
Your neighbor noticed because she was coming home from grocery shopping.
She spotted him right as he lit a match and tossed it on.
He ran for it, and she blew through three fire extinguishers in the time it took the fire department to arrive. ”
I scowled, got out my phone, and hit the internet to pull out a picture of my human father. “Was it Valorie?”
I could see Valorie, a ripe seventy going on sixteen in her mind, diving right into trouble and handling the problem herself. Of all our neighbors, I liked her the most.
She always came over with a rose and an apple when she spotted me out and about as a cindercorn.
“Yes, it was Valorie.” Chief Barfield took my phone and whistled for one of his cops, who came over. “Run this over to Mrs. Valorie and ask if this is the man she spotted lighting the fire.”
The cop took my phone and headed for my neighbor’s house.
“When did the fire start?”
“Two hours ago. I opted to wait to notify you until I couldn’t push it off, as I knew you were enjoying your honeymoon.”
“Appreciated. Can we go into the house through the back door to retrieve some things while you check the front as a crime scene?”
“We’ve done all our evidence gathering, so you can use your front door if you’d like.”
My husband regarded the charring on the brick and the melted frame around the door, and he sighed. “I wonder if it’ll open like that.”
“Dowry brought the spare key over and disabled the alarm for us so it’d stop squealing, so yes. It still opens. He left an hour ago.”
“The commissioner has a copy of our house key?” I asked.
“He has a copy of all the police chiefs’ keys.
We’re targets, and it lets him investigate if something goes wrong.
” Quinn wrinkled his nose, retrieved his phone from his pocket, and dialed a number.
“Hey, Grandfather. Some asshole torched Bailey’s favorite roses.
Are you willing to check if the bush can be saved?
I’d rather my wife not start crying because her favorite rose bush can’t be saved today.
Yes, we’re at our house, and yes, somebody really did try to torch it.
The roses are the only real casualties.” Quinn hung up and returned his phone to his pocket.
A moment later, Sariel appeared, and for a headless being, he did an excellent job of clucking his tongue. “That was quite rude.”
“I know.” As the archangel might be able to save my precious roses, I trampled through the snow covering the yard, discovered the gasoline and fire had turned the sidewalk to ice, and landed on my ass. “Fuck.”
Quinn followed at a safer pace, kept his feet where it hadn’t been turned to ice, and hauled me to my feet, waiting until I caught my balance before brushing the snow off my clothes. “You all right?”
“If I had any pride, it would be destroyed and in need of CPR, but as I seem to embarrass myself daily, I appear to have emerged intact.”
“God, I love you so damned much.”
I stared at him with wide eyes.
“Try not to wrap your head around his adoration today, little granddaughter. You will give yourself a headache to go along with your chill.” Without any sign of there being ice on the sidewalk, the archangel crouched beside the roses, brushing away the charred ruins of the fabric Quinn had covered them with.
“I can save these, my little grandson. Do go get some pots. You have some in your basement for your project, do you not?”
“Pots? What pots?” I asked. “What project?”
“I was hiding pots in the basement so I could plant some new roses for you. I’ll be right back. How many do I need to bring?”
“Hmm. Six,” the archangel replied. He pointed at one of the bushes, which hadn’t taken much damage.
“That one should be covered, but it will recover without other intervention. The others will have to be put into pots for the winter and brought inside to be cared for. It could be transplanted as well, if you wish to keep all of your front rose bushes.”
“I’ll bring ten pots,” Quinn replied before skating to our front door. I giggled at the dance he did to stay on his feet while fighting with the keys, but unlike me, he made it inside without falling.
I counted bushes, frowning. “But there are sixteen bushes.”
“Six of those were planted when he was married to that other woman,” the archangel replied.
“The ten were planted before his marriage to her, and the one you like best is among those. He wants to take those bushes with him because they’re special to him.
The other six will look nice along the walkway as they are. ”
“Okay. That’s fair. The bushes will be okay?”
“I will help them heal from the damage. I will face the scolding for inappropriately using my magic, I am certain.”
I reached for my phone, sighing when I realized I’d given it to a cop to see if my asshole father had tried to burn my house down. “I’d call my uncle and start shit because I can if I hadn’t given my phone to a cop.”
The archangel held out his hand, and a cell phone appeared. “Here. I would be burdened with guilt if I were to bar you from starting trouble.”
I accepted the phone, scrolled through the contacts until I found Lucifer’s number, and tapped on the screen.
“Stealing from Sariel now, are you?” the Devil answered.
“I am. Some asshole burned our rose bushes trying to burn down our house, and I wish to stir some shit. Who is better at making sure my precious roses don’t die?
An archangel or the Devil?” Because hanging up tended to light fires under asses, especially under egotistical asses like the Devil’s, I did so and returned the phone to Sariel.
“I’m a very bad niece. And granddaughter. I’m sorry.”
“You have done nothing wrong. You didn’t steal anything, as I gave you my phone willingly, and you did nothing more than issue a challenge. It is my fault I will play the game.”
The Devil showed up, and he wore another one of his beautiful suits.
Smiling, I kissed his cheek, as I’d learned he liked affection almost as much as archangels, gorgons, and the other oddities in Quinn’s family.
“You need to stop wearing suits I want to see Sam wear. When you wear suits, I wonder if Sam will wear it better.”