Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
My worry about the stolen charms and the elves targeting my family settles inside me.
As I weave back through the tables, I struggle to remember her name.
It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t…
Who was I thinking of again? I shake my head, and the thought disappears like smoke as I’m greeted with a sight that makes my lips twitch—a cup of hot chocolate and an oozy chocolate cake.
The chocolate cake is almost as big as the plate—a massive slice covered in squirty cream.
Forrest has already eaten half of hers; her arms are covering the entire plate as if someone will dare to steal it away as she snatches little bites with a cake fork. I do not doubt that if Owen leaned forward in his seat a bit, she’d start growling.
“Wow, that’s impressive,” I say as I pull the chair out. “What a treat.”
Forrest hums.
I sit down, get the long-handled spoon, and start digging into the hot chocolate—it’s got a flake and pink and white marshmallows. There’s probably more stuff on top than hot chocolate in the mug. It’s a real meal.
The utter disappointment on Forrest’s face when she finishes her cake makes me want to lean across and pat her head, but I’d probably lose my hand. Her eyes glow a little as they lift from the squeaky-clean plate. Did she lick that without me noticing?
“Aren’t you eating that?” she says, pointing her spoon at my cake.
I feel like I’m feeding a giant predator as I nudge the plate towards her, and she snatches it, hunches over it, and goes to work. “Thank you,” she says after the second bite.
“No bother.” I grin at Owen.
“I don’t know why she didn’t buy two slices or the entire cake.”
Forrest gives him her middle finger mid-chew, and he chuckles.
It doesn’t take much to imagine Forrest dropping the fork and mashing her face into the cake. It must be her toothbrush-wielding mate who insists that she’s dainty with utensils.
I continue eating my hot chocolate and the never-ending whipped cream, and when I get to the liquid chocolate part, it’s thick and delicious. I’m not halfway through it before I begin to feel sick. I wouldn’t have been able to manage the chocolate cake as well.
The door opens, and they must jerk it a bit as the bell rings slightly off. I wouldn’t think anything of it, but Forrest and Owen stiffen. More worryingly, Forrest forgets about her remaining quarter of a cake and moves to stand in front of me in a guarding position.
I twist in my seat and see seven policemen spreading themselves around the café, and another two are outside the window.
Well, that’s odd. Human police don’t interfere with creature stuff.
Their job is to handle the humans. They use magic to protect themselves, but that’s as far as they go. They don’t get involved with creatures.
They aren’t looking at anybody else. No fugitive human is hidden under a table. Instead, I have their full attention. They are looking at me.
“This isn’t good,” Owen says under his breath. “I’ll keep them busy. You get her out the back.”
Forrest takes hold of my hand, and as if it’s rehearsed, the police officers whip out their guns. She freezes.
We don’t have guns in the UK except for the specialist police and the human armed forces.
You’re more likely to get your head chopped off with a sword or boiled alive with a nasty spell than shot.
Firearms are useless against most creatures, and you’d more than likely make the creature you’re shooting at angry than kill them.
But the guns aren’t pointing at Forrest.
No, they’re pointing them at me.
I wiggle in the chair and keep my hands where they can be seen. I have charms I can use to protect us. I could knock them out or throw up a ward, but I don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be. I don’t want to make this problem worse.
A policeman with brown hair and blue eyes walks up to the table. His tanned skin looks sweaty and pale. He nods to Forrest and Owen, then turns his attention to me. “Kricket Jones,” he says, “you’re under arrest.”
I blink a couple of times. “Pardon? Me?”
“Don’t say a word,” Forrest says out of the corner of her mouth.
The sweaty policeman ignores her and continues with his spiel. “For events that happened at the enclave four weeks ago, you’re wanted for questioning about the gargoyle deaths and the murder and abduction of the remaining protected dragon bloods.”
Are they blaming me? “Me?” I point at my chest and then, taking Forrest’s advice to heart, snap my mouth closed. There’s no point in talking or expressing innocence because innocence doesn’t mean shit when you’ve got police pointing guns at you.
“Hang on a minute. You can’t arrest her; she’s under the hellhound’s protection by order of the general,” Owen says with a snarl.
“We can. She’s human, and this is our jurisdiction.”
“She’s not human. She’s more creature than me. She’s…” Forrest pauses and looks at me. “Oh.”
Dragon bloods are classed as human, and we can’t advertise my magic to the human police.
“We know she’s of dragon blood and half witch, but the witches won’t claim her.
So according to the law, she’s human, and she’s coming with us.
” The chatty police officer puts his hands up in the air when Forrest narrows her eyes.
His hands shake. “Look, Warrior Hesketh, we don’t need any problems. We don’t want to mess around with you, the dragon, the hellhounds, or the fae.
All we want to do is take this girl in for questioning.
She’s been accused of murder and abduction.
Even if you believe the charges are false, they must be investigated.
You know this more than anybody. It’s the law.
We’ll be at Central Police Station.” He places a business card down on the table.
“Send her solicitor here, and you’ll probably have her out in a couple of hours. ”
Owen growls.
“I’m just doing my job, sir. I don’t want any trouble. I certainly don’t want trouble with hellhounds. Please.”
Forrest has lost that cutesy, crazy air, and I can see her assessing the situation.
She’s ready to take on the world for me.
I can see her cataloguing where everyone is: the older man in the corner who’s reading his book, the two ladies to the left who were chatting and joking, and one of them has a pram with a baby in it.
The mother is out of her seat and is shielding her child.
We all know what will happen. People are going to get hurt. The police are going to die, and I can’t have that. I can’t have other people dying for me. I’m still dealing with the guilt from the attacks.
The police officer said I’d be out in a couple of hours.
It will be easy to prove that none of the dragon bloods have been abducted, and the gargoyles more than likely have evidence proving my innocence.
Otherwise, they would have prevented Soren and Jeff from acting as my bodyguards, and they would have locked me up in a cosy prison cell.
Are a few hours of my time worth somebody’s life?
Of course not. Definitely not.
I rest my hand on hers. “I’m going to be okay,” I tell her. “I promise. It’ll be all right. Just let me go, and I’ll see you both later.” I smile. “Everything’s going to be fine, and anyway, you’ve taught me how to run. Block and run,” I say her mantra in a singsong voice.
“Block and run.” Forrest snorts, and her body relaxes—which is a good sign, right?—and she says, “Yeah, I’ve taught you how to roll around on the floor.”
“Yeah, but at least now I can roll around on the floor, and you can bend my finger backwards, and I’m not going to cry. I’ll be fine.”
The police are getting impatient. One guy with thin arms must be holding a heavy pistol as his hands shake. The hot chocolate sloshes in my stomach. “I’ll see you soon. It’ll be fine.” I get to my feet.
Owen gets on his phone. I’m sure he’s ringing Soren.
“Hands behind your back please, Miss Jones.”
Before I can move, his colleague grabs hold of me, spins me around and smashes me against the table. All the air comes out of my diaphragm with an oof, and everything on the table goes flying.
“Hey, careful. She’s not resisting.” Owen growls.
“Leave her alone. I know a gargoyle with a crush that will rip your head off if he finds out you’ve mistreated her, and as we said before, she’s under the general’s protection.
You’re making a mistake, officer. You will handle her with utmost care, or Soren and I will hunt you down. ” Forrest snarls.
What? Wait, does Soren like me?
“You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court,” the handsy police officer whispers in my ear while he twists my wrist and squeezes my arm.
I’ve seen a lot of internet programs and cop shows where people fight the police. Worse, they fight the Hunters Guild and hellhounds. There is no way you should fight people like that. You’re never going to win.
I don’t struggle and allow him to manipulate my hands behind my back, putting them in a backward prayer position so they don’t strain my wrists. The cuffs have some null runes, and I can feel the drain on my magic as soon as they’re snapped into place.
Why do the human police have rune cuffs? They’re nowhere near as bad as the null bands Soren slapped on me, but they’re strong enough that an ordinary creature would be unable to use magic or shift.
Handsy pats me down, checking my pockets thoroughly. “She has nothing on her, no magic, sir.”
No charms. Thank fate I stored them today. I test the cloud, and I can feel all my hidden charms. Phew, I can still use them.
I’m pulled up off the table, and as I’m dragged out of the café, Forrest pulls her phone out. As the door closes, I hear her saying, “Emma, we have a problem. We need Mr Brown.”
Then I’m forced into the rear of the police car. The chatty police officer buckles my seat belt. It’s awkward sitting with my hands behind my back, and the handcuffs hurt no matter what wrist and arm position I try.
We drive past the police station. Okay, that’s fine… I know I’m in trouble and begin to silently freak out when we get to the motorway.
Soren will be so mad, and today is his first day off in weeks.
With the cloud reassuringly floating above my head, I can sort myself out at any time. I hope I’m being paranoid and they’re taking me to another place—perhaps another town? I don’t know how human policing works.
After about twenty-five minutes, the car turns onto a service road and parks next to another vehicle. I sit in the back silently as the engine ticks. “I’m sorry about this, but it’s my family, Mike,” the chatty police officer says to his colleague. He pats his shoulder, and both get out.
That sounds reassuring. I need to watch what’s happening. I awkwardly lean forward, wedging my shoulder against the door and my cheek against the glass while trying not to think of the germs. I can’t see much as the headrest is in the way.
The police officers talk to two other people; the angle is wrong, and I can’t make out anything else. I think they’re both male.
I attempt to use my magical senses to determine what type of creature they are, but that comes to a grinding halt. I can’t pick anything up. I scowl at my hands; the blinking rune handcuffs are interfering.
They must reach an agreement as the police officers return to the car. The back door is opened, and the chatty police officer unbuckles the seat belt and uses my elbow to pull me out of the vehicle. We march towards the other car, he opens the back door, and I’m shoved inside.
“Lean forward,” he says to me. I do, and he undoes the handcuffs and removes them.
I bring my hands to the front and rub them.
I glare at him as he slams the door and walks away.
Now I haven’t got the cuffs on, so I can at least test the magical signatures, but before I do, the door is opened, and a new guy slaps a null band on my wrist.
I groan.
“Great, nice one, Kricket.” The null band doesn’t knock me out, but it makes my head throb, and for some reason, I can’t touch my charmed cloud. Someone knows about my magic.
There’s shouting, a flash of light, and then I see the chatty officer fall.
He falls back like a chopped tree, hitting the ground with an almighty thud.
I wince and cover my mouth with my hand at the sound his head makes as it strikes the concrete—even through the door, it makes the sound of a melon hitting the floor.
Oh fate. That’s horrible.
The front passenger door opens, and a man gets in. He leans around the front seat and waves. “Put your seat belt on, eh love?” He smiles his nasty smile.
I’m too shocked to react.
It’s Anton Bloody Hill.
Oh no. What is he doing here? I obediently put the seat belt on, and he gives me a nod of approval. “It’s nice to see you again, Gary.”