Chapter 9
Clare lay in bed with her eyes closed, listening to the sounds outside her window.
She heard the footsteps of passers-by and tried to guess what monster species they belonged to.
She detected the low rumble of carts and the purr of hover cabs passing along the main drag.
The cry of morning food vendors on the corner, near Monster Bucks, brought back memories of yummy street food.
A smile shaped her lips.
She was back.
Back in the hurly-burly of Motham City.
And it felt sooo good.
By a stroke of luck, her old apartment had been up for grabs.
“A human left last week, which is good news for you. Went scurrying home to mommy and daddy,” Mrs. Bing had huffed when she arrived last night. The brownie who ran the apartments was a stout and rather nosy woman. “One little bit of trouble and they’re out of here. That’s herd mentality for you.”
“That’s why I’m back.” Clare had smiled, placing her case on the bed. “To help with the case.”
“Well, good luck,” Mrs. Bing said as she walked away. “At least I’m not losing rent.”
Wide awake now, Clare flung back the patchwork cover, padded over to the window, and pulled back the curtains.
Her nose twitched to the scent of baked goods from the elf-owned bakery three doors down. Her favorite was called shakta, a flaky pastry with a soft, savory cheese filling. Her mouth watered just thinking about it. Across the road, a sprite was carrying a bunch of flowers into the cemetery.
Clare stiffened. Seeing the cemetery brought back a wave of shame. Gods, she could almost make out the tombstone she’d… they’d…
She screwed up her eyes.
Nope. She wouldn’t dwell on the past, and she wouldn’t take a shortcut to work through Motham graveyard to be reminded of a certain someone, a certain event…
She’d be fine. Absolutely fine.
And at least she felt excited about going to work. For the first time in three years.
Quickly, she showered and dressed. There was no need to consider what to wear. It was always the same: her white shirt done up to the neck and a simple grey suit. She tied back her unruly waves, secured with pins to stop any tendrils escaping, and left her face devoid of make-up.
Finally, she gave a nod of approval to her reflection.
Clare Doyle, reporting for duty.
And then she took her purse and exited the room, her stomach grumbling with the anticipation of coffee and a yummy shakta pastry.
When she made it in to work half an hour later, her belly was satisfied, and she was brimming with excitement.
She strode confidently into the reception area of the police department, but didn’t recognize the pixie girl with a nose ring and purple streaks in her hair. The girl didn’t recognize her either.
“Did Salty leave?” Clare asked, missing the grumpy alligator shifter who used to always be at the desk fielding calls.
The pixie nodded. “Yeah, their mom got sick. They’re a carer now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. But it’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Misha,” the pixie replied, smiling.
“I’m Clare Doyle.”
“Oh, you’re that Clare. Wow, I’ve heard such good things about you.”
Clare felt herself blushing right up to her hair follicles. “From whom?”
“Saul, he said you were the best partner any detective could wish for. That you always had his back.”
“Oh, well, thank you. He always had mine too. Nice to meet you, Misha.”
Clare took a deep breath and walked into the open-plan office, then let out a little sigh, seeing that nothing much had changed. The place was still messy and disorganized, the desks piled high with papers and the phones buzzing with activity.
A second later, Saul came bounding over from one of the smaller, partitioned offices at the side, his big green face brimming with pleasure.
“Hey there, Clare, so good you’re back.”
Clare frowned. “Why aren’t you in the big office?”
Saul grinned. “I was, but I’ve given it to someone else for a while.”
“Why?”
“Part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
He tapped the side of his nose. “Have I got a surprise for you. It’s going to be just like old times around here. But first, I’ll show you to your office, it’s next to mine.”
“So I get my own space, as a senior DC?”
“It’s tiny, but yes, you do.”
He showed her into the partitioned office, which could barely house a desk, chair and filing cabinet. The view out the window was of a brick wall, she noted, but hey, she would be too busy to notice.
Meanwhile, Saul was shifting from one big foot to the other in the doorway.
“Put your things down and come with me.”
“You’re being weird, Saul.”
“Just excited. C’mon.” He turned and bounded ahead through the busy office, shouting out that this was senior detective Clare Doyle and she’d say hi properly in a minute. Heads raised, and hands and claws gave the odd wave. She smiled and waved back, then hurried after Saul’s burly frame.
They reached the door of the big office, the one the boss always got, the one where Oliver Hale used to pace. It was the best office in the building by far, with sweeping views over Motham.
The partition was smoked glass, the door closed.
Saul smirked as he knocked on the glass.
A voice called out gruffly, “Enter.”
Clare’s heart stopped.
She knew that voice.
As Saul swung the door open, her heart suddenly started beating again, so loud and so large in her chest, it felt like it was pressing on her vocal cords. Prickles of horror and excitement sped over her skin as the tall, silver-haired male stood up from his desk.
And she stared into the midnight eyes of Oliver Hale.
Holy fuck.
This could not be happening, he had to be hallucinating.
Because there in the doorway stood the woman he’d fantasized about for the past three years.
The one human whose face haunted his dreams—except in his dreams, she was all soft yielding flesh in his arms.
She certainly didn’t look soft and yielding right now.
She was wearing a grey suit and a buttoned-up white blouse, her hair scraped away from her defined bone structure, and her fascinating green/gold eyes were huge with shock.
Worse than shock. More like horror.
Oh gods, it was so tempting to put his fist through the glass picture window, shift form and fly away.
But that was not how senior detectives behaved.
Pull yourself together, Hale.
“Guess who I found lurking in the office.” Saul roared with jovial laughter. The guy thought he’d performed a coup, bringing them together. Gods, if he only knew the truth. “Can you believe she’s come back on the same day as you?!”
With superhuman effort, Oliver managed to drawl, “Hello, Clare.”
He watched her throat bob as she swallowed, and thought she might turn and flee. Finally, she said in a high, reedy voice, “Hello, sir.”
Sir. Gods, that took him back. He felt a twitch in his cock, and the root of his fangs started to ache.
“What were the odds I’d get you both back here working, just like old times,” Saul continued excitedly, missing every fucking nuance of what was going on. “When you both agreed to come back, I thought I’d keep it under wraps until today.”
“How touching,” Oliver drawled.
“Yeah, you and Clare are on secondment for three months.”
“What a coincidence.” Oliver willed himself not to scent her.
“Wow, yeah, totally,” Clare said in a voice more akin to a cheerleader than a police officer. In other circumstances, it would have amused him. But this was not other circumstances. This was fucking awful.
Clasping her hands, she turned to the orc. “I better get settled into my workspace. Great to see you again. Sir.” Her cheeks had turned blotchy white and pink, the tiny patch of skin at her neck also mottled.
His fangs tingled again.
Don’t you descend, you fuckers, not even a millimeter.
Saul called after her departing frame, “We’ll regroup in an hour, Hale is doing a case overview with the team.”
Oliver saw the tiny pause in her step, then she flung over her shoulder, “Sure,” and disappeared into her office, almost but not quite slamming the door.
Saul looked over at Oliver with an eyebrow waggle. “Wonder what got into her?” he mused. “She looked like she’d been bitten.”
Oliver narrowed his eyes, but Saul, being Saul was, yet again, oblivious to his faux pas. “Unfortunate turn of phrase,” Oliver remarked drily.
Saul flushed a darker shade of green. “Ah yeah, didn’t mean to make a pun. But she did look shaken up, don’t you reckon?” He scratched his head. “Hope she’s not disappointed she won’t be working with me on the case. She must know I haven’t got the time, or the expertise, for that matter.”
“You underestimate yourself, Saul,” Oliver purred, finally managing to get his pulse to slow. “You are an excellent detective.”
Saul grunted. “Drowning in paperwork these days. Don’t know how you got it all done when you were in charge.”
“I put in long hours. It will be a luxury to just have this case to focus on,” Oliver said. He drummed the desk with long fingers. “So, is your intention that Clare works with me on the case?”
“Under you, sir.”
Ye gods. Saul was putting his big orc foot in it right, left and center.
“I work better alone.”
“There’s too much to do for one person, even one of your caliber. She’ll answer to you. Give her paperwork if you must, but frankly, that would be a huge waste of her talents.”
Oliver silenced a groan. “What’s brought her back to Motham PD?”
Saul moved closer. “There’s a personal involvement.”
“In what way?”
“Natalie Spriggs, the last human to go missing, was an old friend of hers. She promised Natalie’s mom she’d help find her.”
“Fuck.” Oliver raked a hand through his hair. “Personal involvement often clouds an officer’s judgment.”
“She’s the only applicant we got, and she’s brilliant, you know that. I’ve lost so many staff lately, they’re all moving to jobs with better pay. I’m hoping she might stay on after this secondment.”
“Then give her something that will tempt her to stay. Put her in charge of feral gang management.” It was a last-ditch attempt to keep her away from him. It failed.
“That’s the one area I have covered. We’ll offer her more options later, but for the next few weeks, she’s all yours.”
Oliver ground his molars together. “Good to know. Now, if you don’t mind giving me half an hour, I’ll go over the files prior to my presentation.”
“Sure, let’s all convene at 10.30. I’ll get Misha to go buy some Bellamy’s cake.”
Oliver gave a cursory wave of the hand. Tea and cake, all genteel and civilized, with the woman he’d last seen naked, wet, and wanton in bed.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Sweet gods, he should be hightailing it out of here. But he could no more do that than he could fly to the moon.
As much as he tried to deny it, the truth was, he’d felt more alive since Clare walked into his office ten minutes ago than he had for a single moment these past three years.
Which rather screwed him, didn’t it?