CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jerry Braun was placed in the one remaining empty cell at the PK station, the others containing drunks and rowdies and pickpockets – all relatively harmless; Havenside peacekeepers didn’t deal with dangerous criminals every day.
The station’s holding cells would have to do for now, at least until they got a signed confession out of him.
Then they could ship him off to the penitentiary in New Savage, Hero’s old stomping ground.
She had to do everything to stop that from happening, having no doubt that he wouldn’t last a second there.
No one would spare the killer of a nun any mercy.
If the other prisoners didn’t get him, the guards would.
The adjoining cell held a despondent Father Kellan.
The priest had deteriorated considerably since coming to the station for protection.
Even though it was for his own safety, being locked in a cell wasn’t exactly a trip to the country.
The PKs treated him decently enough, providing the standard meals they’d give to any prisoner, but there was an undercurrent of disgust running through those tasked with his upkeep.
To them he was a fallen priest, a disgrace to his order and collar. A fornicator and a liar.
Hero spared Kellan a glance while the PKs opened the cage next to his.
The priest barely lifted his eyes while the female officer removed Jerry’s shackles and tossed Braun into the cell.
Only when they slammed the iron door closed did he react, jerking at the sound and pulling his knees up onto his cot to huddle like a child awaiting punishment.
Looking at him now, it was hard to believe she’d ever considered him a suspect.
“There, he’s all safe and sound,” the female officer said, giving Hero a grimace of distaste. “Just like we promised.”
“You’re dismissed, Officers,” Hero snarled, her lips pulling back from her teeth like a rabid dog’s.
The woman’s skin paled a shade or two and hustled her partner back down the hall, leaving them at the cages.
She and Keen had insisted on supervising Jerry’s transport, even though it was literally down the hallway.
This case was too volatile to take any chances on his safety, and he wouldn’t have been the first suspect to have had an “accident” on the way to his cell.
Neither PK could object; an inspector outranked any uniformed officer, even a lieutenant like Liam.
“Hang in there, Jerry,” Keen told his friend, now standing at the center of his cell, a stunned and pathetic-looking figure. “We’ll work this all out.”
Hero wasn’t so sure, but she said nothing.
Why make him feel any worse? She gave Kellan another glance before she and Keen headed back to the bullpen.
The priest was still huddled on his cot, knees up and his head down, looking no less pathetic than Jerry Braun.
She sighed. Love had gotten them into this, nothing more. Tragic, or tragically stupid?
Out front, Coates and Smith sat at their desk, all pleased smirks and puffed chests.
Coates was writing a report by hand, his pen scribbling furiously, and Smith lounged above him, supervising, perched on the edge of the desk, murmuring the occasional correction.
They were evidently crafting a confession for Braun to sign.
Fast work , thought Hero, a prickle in her spine tingling all the way to the top of her head.
“I don’t know why you took it upon yourselves to interview our witness, but job well done,” Smith said when they appeared.
He was a short, stocky man with years of service under his belt and an attitude to match.
Unlike Coates, in his PK uniform, he wore civvies: tailored tweed pants, blue broadcloth shirt and natty suspenders – a professional.
Hero didn’t know him well, or at all really, but she already didn’t like him. He played the bully PK all too easily.
“We had our reasons,” Keen said stiffly. Apparently, he didn’t like Smith much either. Who would have guessed she would see eye to eye so often with a Goddess-cursed demonhunter?
“Did you really buy all of his nonsense, or were you just steering him into a trap?”
“We steered him into nothing,” Hero snapped, feeling decidedly uncharitable toward the two officers. “You are taking his words out of context and you know it. The only nonsense here is that confession you’re fabricating.”
Smith scowled and slid off the edge of the desk, bristling like an angry bulldog. “What are you saying, Inspector? Are you calling us liars? You heard it out of his own Goddess-cursed mouth – it was his fault. He did it! It’s plain as day.”
“That’s not a confession, you incompetent lackwit.”
“How dare you say that to me, you demon-spawned harridan!” Smith growled, lifting his hands like a pugilist.
She hissed and showed her fangs. It would feel good to knock this bastard around a bit, but she had to let him throw the first punch. Self-defense was hard to justify when you struck first. “It was the nicest thing I could think to call you,” she spat back.
He sneered. “No one wants you here, hellspawn. We only tolerated you for your so-called skills , yet you’ve proven useless from the start.
I will suggest they put you back where you belong when I file the final report.
PKs don’t need demons in their ranks.” His eyes flicked to her partner.
“You’re a demonhunter, Keen. Surely you understand how little this one can be trusted?
She deserves to rot in a cell. Or better yet, tossed in a river with a concrete block around her neck. ”
His insults weren’t anything she hadn’t heard before, and Hero laughed them off inwardly, no matter how much she wanted to eviscerate this fool. She knew he was goading her into an attack and she wasn’t going to fall for it.
Unfortunately, her partner didn’t have her self-control.
Keen’s saber screeched from its sheath, the bare blade drawing every eye in the precinct.
The sharp point leapt to Smith’s chin, hovering a hair’s breadth from his skin.
He jerked back, eyes crossing to stare at the sword, eyes as wide as coins.
“Touch my partner and we’ll see who’s expendable here, Inspector Smith!
” Keen growled, his face red with fury and his gaze dark with menace.
No one witnessing the exchange doubted for a moment that he wouldn’t follow through on the threat.
There was a scrabble and general kerfuffle as every officer grabbed for their weapons.
The PK station had suddenly become a powder keg of impending violence.
And Hero and Keen were at the center of it, every hand there against them.
“How dare you draw on a fellow officer!” Coates cried, rising from the desk to defend the other man, papers scattering in his haste. “Stand down, DH Keen!”
Smith wasn’t nearly as formal. “Are you fucking mental?” he shrieked. “What kind of demonhunter are you, anyway?”
“The very successful kind,” Keen said, growing calmer. His blade didn’t waver, nor did his threatening posture, and his voice was even. “Apologize to Inspector Viridian. Threatening a superior officer is a serious offense.”
Smith grew apoplectic. No apology seemed forthcoming, so Hero stepped forward, raising her hands placatingly. “Here now,” she said, pitching her voice so everyone in the bullpen could hear her. “It was merely a joke, wasn’t it, Smith? You didn’t mean to threaten a superior, I’m sure.”
He glared at her, nostrils flared and brow furrowed, hands balled into angry fists. Keen, for his part, was a carved statue.
“You wouldn’t want anyone filing a report about this little incident, now would you?” Hero prompted. She narrowed her eyes. “I may be demon spawn, but I have friends in high places, PK Smith.”
That brought him around finally. He eased off, hands dropping, fists loosening. “Right,” he said, nodding. “Just a joke, Inspector. No harm meant.”
The tension broke. Sabers, pistols and bludgeons went away and relief rippled through the ranks. No officer had any real desire to tussle with a demonhunter – or her , more likely. They all had to know the stories of her capture. No one wanted to fuck with Inspector Death Speaker Hero Viridian.
“Why don’t we all go to our corners?” she suggested mildly. She didn’t smile; that would have just set everyone off again. “Keen? Sheathe your weapon, please. We have some work to do, remember?”
Her partner didn’t look at her, his eyes remaining locked on Smith, sharply suspicious. Finally, he returned his saber to its home. “Yes, Inspector. We’re done here, it seems.”
“That’s right, you’re done,” Smith muttered, returning to the desk with Coates, the two of them scowling and exchanging pointed looks.
“Let’s go,” Keen said. Glaring straight ahead, he stalked regally to the exit, his long legs eating the distance in a few strides. Hero gave the room of PKs a mocking salute and followed after him, catching up to him on the street.
“They don’t want to hear the truth,” he said.
“Bright Renewal Academy is at the center of this and no one wants to admit it. They’d rather an innocent man die than besmirch that place.
The entire town of Havenside seems complicit.
Nothing happens in this town without the approval of the council, the mayor and the PKs. They must know!”
Normally, Hero would have agreed. “Unless, of course, the entire town is under a spell,” she said. “We’ll know who’s actually complicit once we break it, and we can’t break it until we get inside that place.”
A heavy silence followed. She pulled at Keen’s arm, forcing him to face her. “What?”
“I’ve been offered an invitation,” he admitted, his eyes cutting away in embarrassment.
Her skin crawled. “By whom?” But she knew, even before he said it, by the way his ears turned pink and he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“Abigail Hollander.” He spoke her name almost defensively, as if he knew she would disapprove. Very perceptive of him.
She pressed her lips into a thin line. “You know her husband is afraid of her, don’t you? It was obvious to anyone paying attention the other night.”
He flushed and yanked his arm from her grasp. “That’s preposterous. She’s the one in danger from him . She as much as admitted it to me. How could you think any differently after he pulled that stunt with the pistol? Dirk is the threat, not Abby!”
“She controls him, I’m certain of it. And now she’s using your feelings toward her to draw you into a trap.
I already had my suspicions, but now I wonder if she’s part of this conspiracy too.
Do you even really know her, Keen? You two obviously ran in different circles at Clementine.
What’d they call you there? Charity, right? ”
His mouth gaped as he struggled to find a response.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” he managed to say, shaking his head angrily.
“Abby is good and decent. She was kind to me at Clem when everyone else treated me like something dragged in on their shoes. She thinks Bright Renewal is a good and decent place too, because that’s her nature.
It’s why she’s invited me inside to take a look and put my suspicions at ease.
There’s no way she knows what’s going on there.
She’s not involved. I don’t believe it.”
“You won’t believe it. There’s a difference.
” Hero sighed, suddenly exhausted after the events of the previous night and that afternoon.
She couldn’t handle arguing with her partner on top of everything else.
“Look, Keen,” she said wearily, “I want to make this abundantly clear: We are the only two people in Havenside who aren’t under this Fog spell.
And that means we must be careful who we trust. I trust you, Oleander Keen, when every experience I’ve had tells me I cannot trust demonhunters.
Nevertheless, I trust you .” She paused, holding his gaze, almost afraid to ask the question. “Do you trust me?”
His eyes cut away, but she caught the guilt within them, and the doubt. His hesitation made her stomach curl. When had she ever cared what someone thought of her? No one trusted a demon, and the fact she was only half demon made no difference.
She made a small sound, a weak attempt to laugh off his reaction. “I guess I have my answer,” she said wryly.
“No, don’t think that, really!” His denials came fast and furious, and were altogether empty. “I don’t not trust you. It’s just, I – I – it’s hard to overcome my training.”
“Training. Got it.” She turned away from him, a feeling of overwhelming loneliness engulfing her. Once again, she stood on the streets of Havenside completely and utterly on her own. She couldn’t even count on her own partner–
A deafening shriek split her eardrums. She clapped her hands over her ears, mouth open in agony. What the–?
Fearfearfearfear–
Painpainpainpain–
A blast. An ending. Darkness.
Silence.
“Viridian? What’s the matter? Hero!”
Keen. He had her by the arms, shaking her.
Her ears rang thunderously and her heart felt like it was trying to shatter her chest. She blinked, trying to clear away the dark spots speckling her vision and focus on her partner’s face, hovering just inches from hers – a blur, slowly resolving into familiar features creased with concern.
“Souls!” she gasped. “Crying out in agony.”
“Someone murdered?” His hands were tight on her arms. “You felt it?”
She nodded, her senses returning, at least enough to figure out where those soul-shrieks had originated. Behind them. Her gaze settled on the stationhouse and the blood drained from her face. “Shit.” She turned to Keen.
“Jerry,” he whispered, his eyes wide. He released her and tore down the sidewalk.