Poor Kyle. Killed by a client and no one’s promising justice in his name. It was tough being a tattoo artist in Low Town.
“I’ve got a couple ideas. I can get back to you—”
“Nope. Ain’t gonna happen.” She poked my sternum a second time to emphasize her point. “Where that sample goes, I go.”
I hesitated, temptation gnawing at me. With magic, I could wipe her mind of this conversation. She’d forget and I’d be safe to pursue Kyle’s killer alone. But Serah could give me easy access to police information. Her memory could always be wiped after the killer was caught. And it wasn’t like I was bringing more danger into her life. She was enthusiastically seeking it out when she pursued this case.
“Fine,” I said and started for the door.
“Wait!” she called, following quickly on my heels. “That’s it? Fine?”
“Yep.”
“I’m beginning to understand why the vampires don’t like you,” she muttered, as we paused to pull off the little paper booties and we stepped back onto the sidewalk.
The ambulance and most of the police cruisers were gone. Muddy lamplight washed over the lot rather than rotating red and blue lights, allowing the shadows to return to their proper homes. Smoke curled up from the few cars idling, while people huddled before the heating vents and discussed Kyle’s gruesome death. Or maybe they were all talking about their holiday plans, eager to forget about one man’s violent death.
For a moment, I wondered if this very scene was waiting in my future. Between my dealings with the Towers, the local mafia, and the fact that I was a warlock trying to live among the people, my life hovered on the edge of a violent end. Were these same people going to be discussing my blood-splattered death scene over a mug of coffee while inwardly wishing they were already home with their spouses and kids? And what were the chances that it would just be my body lying there in pieces? Not good. I couldn’t stomach the idea of Trixie or Bronx being killed because of me.
“Why did you contact me?” I demanded a little sharper than I had meant to, as I tried to pull my thoughts back from that dark abyss.
“Because you’re one of the best tattoo artists in the area,” she quickly said, but refused to look up at me. She kept her eyes lowered and concentrated on pulling off her latex gloves and pulling on fleece winter gloves.
“One of. I can think of two damn good artists who live here on north side. You could have just gotten Bronx. He worked here and knew Kyle better than I did,” I pressed. “Do you have an axe to grind that I need to know about?”
“Of course not!” she nearly shouted.
I snorted, a blast of white fog jumping from my nose in the bitter cold. “Yeah. You ignore your mentors and every vamp at TAPSS when they tell you to stay away from me. What’s the deal?”
Serah glared up at me, her hands balled into fists at her side. I found myself cringing slightly as I waited for her to explode. “You have a sealed file at TAPSS!” Bumping me with her shoulder, she stomped toward the car, seeming to talk to herself. “No one has a sealed file. I can access basic things like training and certification, but all other information is locked up tight. And it’s not just that the vamps don’t like you. They seem . . . scared of you. And nothing scares them, except maybe the Towers.”
“So . . . what? You got something to prove?”
“Yes!” she hissed. She shoved her fists into the pockets of her coat and stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Turning back to me, she looked like she was struggling not to scream. “I spent five years on the Low Town police force and I was a damn good cop. But these fucking vampires treat me like some snot-nosed rookie who doesn’t know shit.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “And you’re building your street cred with me?”
Serah shrugged, some of the anger draining from her frame as she started for her car again. “Well, that and the cops have started whispering about you as well.”
Grabbing her shoulder, I spun Serah around, forcing her to look at me. “What about the cops?” The sealed file wasn’t a surprise. TAPSS knew some details about my past, but that was supposed to be locked down and kept secret from