a buff-colored wolf was their problem.
The door creaked as it opened. Nick spotted the two guards from before, and there was a third man, but not the driver. It was Martin Rossi or Irwin, or whatever his name was today. He sported the same yellow stripe in his hair as his nephew Drake had. Nick didn’t give them even a split second to realize they were dealing with a new animal and adjust their strategy.
He rushed at them, leaped into the air, and heard gasps as he took off running across the lawn. Suddenly a shot rang out.
Nick felt a hot poker stab him in the butt, and he yelped. He couldn’t afford to stop or even slow down. He dashed toward the tall hedge that separated the dragon’s property from the one next door. Instead of leaping over it, he dove for the small opening near the roots. Even with a few more scratches and throbbing hindquarters, he kept going—pressing on to the relative safety of the nearest Long Island police station.
Getting shot was no picnic, but now he had rock-solid evidence of an attempted murder. That should get Martin behind bars, at least temporarily.
***
Kurt and Tory sat at one of the tables, drinking frosty mugs of beer. Brandee chatted with Malcolm and waited until the back booth was open before approaching them. When the couple who’d been sitting in the desired booth finally got up to leave, she strode over to the wizard and shapeshifter.
“Can I talk to you two?” she asked.
“Of course. Have a seat,” Tory said.
“I’d prefer the back booth, if you don’t mind moving.”
“Whatever the lady wants,” Kurt said.
When the three of them were settled in the booth, Brandee waved away Wendy, who was about to come over. “I’ve got it,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. She picked up a cocktail napkin and wiped off the table.
Wendy gave her an appreciative smile and practically skipped off to another table.
“Guys, have either of you heard from Nick recently?”
The two paranormals glanced at each other, then gave her their full attention. “No. Why? Haven’t you?”
“No, and I’m afraid something is wrong.”
At that moment, Sadie strode into the bar. Her booth was occupied, so as she stood surveying the place, Brandee waved her over.
She smiled and approached their booth.
Brandee scooted over so the psychic could join them.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Sadie asked immediately.
“Is it written on my face or did you pick up something psychically?” Brandee asked.
“Both,” Sadie answered.
“I usually hear from Nick a couple times a day. But today…nothing. I know he went to New York on a case, and I’m afraid something’s happened to him.”
Sadie nodded and drew out the velvet pouch she always carried her tarot cards in.
“You’re going to do a reading?” Brandee asked incredulously.
“Sometimes just drawing a single card will speak to me, and I can follow the psychic energy from there.”
Brandee remembered the time Sadie drew a single card for her, and up came The Lovers. The card had sparked her prediction that Brandee was about to embark on a relationship, and immediately Nick walked into her life. Maybe the cards really did speak to Sadie. In that case, Brandee hoped the cards were talkative today.
Sadie shuffled while the group waited in silent anticipation. Finally she fanned out the cards in a neat arc. “Form a question and then draw a card.”
Brandee thought about how to word the question so that she’d get the greatest amount of information. She didn’t just want to know that he was safe, because if the answer was “no,” she needed to know how to help him.
“Can I make it a two-part question?”
“Depends. Are the questions related?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Let’s hear it.”
“You don’t usually ask people to voice their questions. I’ve heard you tell them to think of one, but not to ask it aloud.”
Sadie smiled. “That’s to impress the tourists. They’re always thrilled when I answer the question and they didn’t have to tell me what it was. You and I can cut through the bull.”
That was the first time Brandee had ever heard Sadie refer to what she did in a semi-derogatory way. She might have been concerned, but she knew Sadie was simply referring to her process, not to her psychic gift.
“I need to know if Nick’s in trouble, and if so, how we can help.” Her finger circled the air to include the others at the table. They seemed to understand—at least no one interrupted and said to leave them out of it.
Sadie nodded