Burned (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 1) (12 page)

I gestured to the makeshift armory.

To his credit, the Protector stood and moved away from the bear. He picked up his sword but didn't sheath it.

The red fox morphed back into Farah and the black bear morphed into Flynn. He rubbed his jaw. "You pack a mean punch."

I sighed inwardly in relief as Reed sheathed his sword.

"What were you doing?" he asked us.

"I'm training," I replied. "Flynn is an old friend and he agreed to help."

"By mauling you to death?" Reed asked. He seemed to notice Farah for the first time. "And you agreed to this? I thought you had more sense."

"I don't know what would have given you that impression," Farah said.

Flynn rose to his feet. "What are you doing here? We figured this place was safe to play in now."

Reed glanced at the back of the warehouse and I knew he was remembering the night we met. Lieutenant Adams' mangled body.

"I'm still investigating the murders," he replied. "I visit the crime scenes multiple times in case I missed anything. Sometimes I pick up something that I hadn't noticed before. A scent or an emotional imprint."

"An emotional imprint?" Flynn repeated. "What kind of bullshit is that?"

"It's not bull," Reed said. I guessed 'shit' wasn't in his angelic vocabulary. "Our senses are heightened, and that includes our emotional senses."

"It's more like a residue than an imprint," I explained to Flynn. "He can sense any lingering emotions of the beings that were present at the time of the murder." The Shadow Elite had a stable of Nephilim whose only job was to visit crime scenes and report the emotions left behind. They weren't able to conjure up a name, but their work often provided valuable clues.

Farah seemed to eye Captain Reed with newfound respect. "So you feel all the pain, too?" she asked. "The victim's feelings?"

He nodded solemnly. "I'm experienced enough to block it out, unless I think I need to channel it. I try to focus on any other emotions. When I was last here, for example, I felt Lieutenant Adams' pain." He closed his eyes, willing the memory away. "But I also felt a heightened level of excitement. Almost a state of sexual arousal."

"That wasn't me," I said quickly. I didn't need anyone to think I got off on violent encounters.

A smile tugged at Reed's lips.

"So the killer gets his rocks off by murdering innocents," Flynn said. "Not exactly new or helpful."

"But it wasn't the only other emotion in the room," Reed said. "There was also fear and it didn't belong to Adams."

"A witness?" I asked.

"Maybe. Or an accomplice who wasn't as keen on committing the murder."

I pondered this revelation. "What about Girard Avenue Bridge? Did you feel anything there?"

"Detective Thompson and I went back together. It was more difficult because it was outdoors and because of the number of people who passed by that day. There was one particular imprint that I noted."

"Which was?" I prompted.

"One of pure irritability." He looked straight at me. "I could only assume that was you."

Instinctively, I punched him in the arm and was rewarded with a painful reminder. The guy was solid muscle.

"Have you been to all the murder scenes?" Farah asked.

Reed nodded. "Similar emotions at each location. The pain, the excitement and the fear. It was interesting, though. The earlier crime scenes, the third emotion was mixed with repulsion and disgust. At the more recent crime scenes, though, it had calmed to a mild fear."

"So the killer or the accomplice is getting desensitized," I said. I'd seen it happen with new recruits. The first time they killed a Ghul or an Ifrit, they were horrified by what they'd done. Extinguishing a life was no small thing, no matter how necessary it was. If they did it long enough, however, the horrified feeling eventually faded. At least, that had been my experience.

"Seems so," Reed agreed. "I think we're dealing with someone who had never killed before, never been around it. The other one, though, the excited one...I definitely get the sense that murder isn't new for him."

"Can you tell if they're djinn?" Farah asked.

"I haven't sensed a djinni at the crime scenes if that's what you're really asking."

"Is that why you ruled me out as a suspect?" I asked.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Who said I've ruled you out?"

"But we had coffee," I sputtered. I guess I was right. He was still on the fence about me.

Flynn looked from me to Captain Reed. "You had coffee with a Protector?"

I shrugged. "He paid."

"And I went, too," Farah added.

"To be honest," Reed said, "your imprint is confusing in your current state."

"No argument there," Flynn said.

Even my emotional imprint was stunted. What a crock.

"Sorry for the intrusion. I should let you get back to your playmate," Reed said with a wary glance at Flynn.

"He's not my playmate," I said quickly. I didn't want anyone identifying Flynn as my playmate. Ever.

Reed glanced at my arm, still cradling my rib. "We have a healer on call if you're interested."

I waved him off. "I'll be fine. The one thing I get to keep along with these gorgeous fashion accessories is my ability to heal. It's not as quick as it used to be, but it'll do. Djinni magic still flows through my veins. They can't stop that."

"Good to know. If you find yourself in need of another training partner," Reed said, "I'm pretty good in that department. I train new recruits."

"Thanks," I said. I wasn't sure what to make of the invitation. Was it another attempt to rule me out as a suspect?

"No thanks," Flynn said. "She has a perfectly good training partner right here."

I shot Flynn a death glare before turning back to Reed with a smile.

"Thanks for trying to save me from him, by the way." The truth was that if Reed hadn't come along when he did, I didn't know how I would have stopped Bear Flynn. It was a lesson I needed to learn on my own though, without divine intervention.

Reed took his strength, his speed and his sword straight out of the warehouse. As soon as he was out of earshot, Flynn cast a disappointed look in my direction.

"Really, Winters? A Naphil?"

I raised my palms. "I didn't ask him to come here."

"You didn't seem to mind," he said in an accusing tone.

"And I'm not sure why you do." Flynn had no claim on me. Besides, wasn't his yoga-tastic domestic goddess girlfriend enough for him? I sighed inwardly. Knowing Flynn, she probably wasn't.

Despite my sore back and rib, I wasn't ready to call it a day.

I plucked a spear from the pile and twirled it like a baton. "What do you say, Care Bear? Ready to go again?"

He didn't have to answer. I saw the flash of jealousy in his blue eyes and knew that he was.

M
y phone rang
and I eyed it warily. If it was a mobster, a psycho ex-boyfriend or a Protector, I wasn't available. When Mix's name flashed on the screen, I grabbed it.

"He lives," I said, smiling into the phone. "I'm finally in town after years away, but somebody's too busy living a normal human life to give me the time of day."

"Hey, I hung out with you at The Night Owl," he said. "Besides, I hear you've managed to keep yourself busy."

"You know what they say about idle hands."

"Paulette and I are going to Viper Pit tonight. Are you and Farah up for it?"

"What's Viper Pit?" I asked.

He whistled. "You really have been away. Only the hottest nightclub in the city."

"I thought that was Desert Moon."

Mix laughed. "That place was shut down two years ago after a group of Shaitans turned it into their own personal funhouse. It was like a major acid trip for everyone there that night."

"Why shut them down?" I asked. "People pay good money for that kind of experience."

"PTF didn't like it much when some of the afflicted began killing each other. They thought they were being attacked by Ghuls."

"Ouch."

"So are you in?"

I twisted my torso a little to see how my body reacted. No pain. "We'll meet you there at ten."

Farah stuck her head in the doorway. "Meet who where?"

I told her. "I don't have anything to wear to a nightclub, though. I bought practical clothes."

"Don't worry," Farah said. "You can wear one of my summer dresses."

"Thanks, Farah, but you're many, many inches shorter than me."

"And you like showing off those long, toned legs. It's perfect."

I examined my bare legs. She had a point. "Okay, but no strapless." I hated strapless.

"Deal," she said.

V
iper Pit reminded
me of an Eastern European dance club. The building was an old shoe factory on the outskirts of the city and the interior had been turned into three distinct rooms, each large enough to accommodate at least a couple hundred people. Each room had its own vibe, too, so if you were unhappy with the first room you entered, you could move onto the next one for a completely different experience.

Mix texted us to meet them in the White Room. I had no trouble identifying it -- the decor was all white tiles. It was more artsy than sterile, though. I liked it.

Farah pushed through the gyrating bodies in search of Mix and Paulette and I followed closely behind. The energy in the club was overwhelming. Even with my dulled senses, I could feel it thrumming under my skin. Djinn auras were in abundance here.

As we passed by the crowded bar, I leaned down and shouted in Farah's ear. "I'll get us drinks first." Who knew how long it would take us to get back to this point once we found them?

She nodded and continued on while I turned and squeezed past the throng of people. At least, some of them were people. I spotted one Shaitan with his animal part clearly visible to anyone with a Third Eye. They usually try to keep their animal parts hidden so as not to frighten off potential mates. This guy had no such reservations. His handsome face and thick head of hair were adorned with two mule ears. It didn't seem to dissuade his bevy of admirers. He had girls bumping and grinding every available inch of his real estate. I suspected a little magic was at work, too.

I finally made it to the bar and breathed a sigh of relief -- until I saw the guy standing next to me.

"Are you following me again?" I asked. It only took a moment to know I was mistaken.

Flynn leaned against the bar, his eyelids half-closed. Judging from his drunken state, he'd arrived long before I did and had the empty shot glasses to prove it.

"How's your eye?" I asked. I'd managed to blacken it in the final minutes of our training session. Didn't even use a weapon. Just a good, old-fashioned elbow. I could see that it had already healed.

"Fine," he mumbled.

Someone on my left side knocked against me. I turned to say something, but didn't bother. The guy and girl were practically swallowing each other whole. I turned back to drunk Flynn.

"PDA is so repulsive," I said.

Flynn smirked. "I'm enjoying it."

"I think you'd enjoy anything in your current condition."

"Are you offering?"

I shot him a dirty look. "Are you here with Tessa?" Somehow, I couldn't imagine Tessa in a place like this.

"She kicked me out," he slurred.

"Why?" Personally, I would quickly run out of fingers counting the reasons why it was a good idea, but Tessa wasn't me. For one thing, she could touch her damn toes.

"I didn't get home until late," he paused, his head bobbing and unfocused. "After we trained. She accused me of being out with another woman."

"Well, you kinda were."

"But it wasn't like that," he said in exasperation.

I studied his broken demeanor. I had to admit, it was convincing. On the other hand, I knew Flynn more than I cared to. If I'd wanted to pack on the PDA with him right now, he'd be game. He was simply upset because he was being accused of a crime he didn't commit. It didn't make him less willing to commit the crime though.

"So getting shitfaced in a club full of horny women is your way of convincing her she was wrong?" I asked. "You're just asking for trouble."

"And thus you appear," he said, his blue eyes glinting.

The bartender finally made his way to me.

"A vodka tonic and whatever's on tap." I nodded toward Flynn. "And nothing else for him."

The bartender swept away the empties and moved down the bar to prepare my drinks.

"You should go home," I told Flynn. "There's a murderer on the loose, remember? You're a sitting duck like this."

He buried his face in his hands. "I don't have a home anymore."

I started to feel a twinge of guilt. After all, if he hadn't offered to train with me, he wouldn't be in trouble with Tessa. "Why don't you stay on Farah's sofa?"

"She won't mind?" he asked.

"Of course she'll mind. She hates you, but we can't leave you on the street. Not like this, anyway."

The bartender set down the drinks and I reached into my pocket, producing one of the twenty-dollar bills that Farah had given me before we left. The bill felt dirty in my hands and not in the germ-infested sense. I'd been dependent on no one for years and that was the way I liked it. Every time I accepted Farah's generosity, I hated myself a little bit more.

I picked up the drinks and nudged my head toward the back of the room. "Come on, Flynn. Stay with us until you sober up. We'll go back to Farah's together."

I cringed inwardly. I hated my weakness for him. He wanted to be better than he was, but he always managed to get in his own way.

I located Mix, Farah and Paulette near the edge of the dance floor. Farah was already sandwiched between two bare-chested guys and Mix and Paulette were in a world of their own, foreheads pressed together. They swayed to a much slower beat than the one that was playing.

I handed Farah her beer and took a long sip of my vodka tonic before I started to move. No point wasting alcohol on the floor.

"What took you so long?" Mix asked. "We thought you'd be here ages ago."

I rolled my eyes at Flynn. "I hit a roadblock."

Mix's eyes narrowed. Like Farah, he wasn't a Flynn fan.

"Who's that?" Paulette asked.

"The illustrious Flynn," Mix told her. "Alyse's ex."

"He's not here with me," I said. "But I couldn't leave him like this."

"I can see why," Mix said dryly. "He seems in dire straits."

I followed Mix's gaze. Flynn's moves were attracting both male and female attention on the dance floor. He was dancing like no one was watching, completely immersed in the music. I'd forgotten how smooth his moves could be when he wasn't busy being an ass.

"What's that area up there?" I asked. Behind us was a terraced area that overlooked the dance floor.

"VIP lounge," Mix shouted over the music.

I wasn't sure who was considered a VIP in a place like this. Athletes and celebrities? Mobsters? The hottest people in the room? Probably all of the above. There was only one guy up there now, nursing a beer while he watched the dance floor. He definitely checked the hot guy box. He didn't look like a mobster. Too gorgeous.

"I need the ladies room," Paulette said. "Anyone else need to go?"

Mix shook his head.

"Not me," I said. "It usually takes at least two drinks before my bladder complains."

She didn't bother asking Farah. Her red hair was getting tossed left and right as she flirted shamelessly with her hip-thrusting dance partners. They were Hinns, judging by their bulging muscles and primal moves.

"If the line to the bathroom is anything like the line to get in, I'll probably be back in an hour," Paulette said.

"Good luck," I called. It didn't seem necessary to tell her that Farah and I were ushered right through the front door. Bouncers were no match for Farah's boobs. Her bouncers won every time.

"Do you two come here a lot?" I asked Mix.

He took a swig of beer. "A few times. Paulette likes to dance."

"Well, I certainly didn't think it was your suggestion." Mix had always been too self-conscious to dance in public. He was more of a living room rock star.

"I dance," Mix said, a tad defensively.

"Let's go then, Mr. Disco," I urged. I raised his hand and twirled underneath it.

For a few songs, it felt like old times. We were three happy-go-lucky djinn tearing up the dance floor. A small part of me missed those days.

I could see why the club was popular. It was packed and fully charged with sexual energy. A sea of half naked bodies flooded my vision. Men and women writhing to the beat. Sometimes alone, sometimes against each other. The music was so loud, I felt the bass reverberating inside my body. I'd forgotten how it felt to be in a club for the fun of it. Usually my visits involved a club owner with intel.

I enjoyed watching Mix strut his stuff. He had more confidence than when I'd left here. It was a nice change.

When Paulette finally returned, she seemed mildly annoyed that I'd displaced her. I didn't want her to get the wrong idea, so I quickly made room for her.

"Anyone need a drink?" I asked. I desperately needed water. My full-time human body craved water more than it ever had before.

They shook their heads. I was about to tap Farah on the shoulder when I spotted trouble headed my way. Captain Reed was pushing his way through the crowd and he didn't look too happy about it.

"Uh oh," I said, to no one in particular.

Reed halted when he saw me. His expression seemed to say 'again?' That look could mean only one thing.

Somewhere in the club was a dead body.