Shattered Spirits (13 page)

Miller’s navy Camaro pulled onto the street and parked behind Capri’s SUV. He got out of the vehicle and ran a hand through his dark locks.

Capri’s heart stuttered. He looked so much like Eric it hurt. Why the hell had she kissed him? It only made everything that much more difficult. She had no idea how she was going to concentrate now, knowing how his lips felt against hers. Just like Eric’s… better than Eric’s.

Heat swelled across her cheeks. She shouldn’t have kissed him, and she certainly shouldn’t have agreed to work with him. But while the first had been pure foolishness, a loss of her senses, the second was practical. He didn’t strike her as someone who gave up, and if he was determined to pursue this case—even if it was an illegal pursuit—it was better to keep him close than be constantly tripping over him.

“Hey,” he said, and jerked his chin toward the youth center’s steps. “Shall we?”

“Yeah.” But she couldn’t help feeling he was asking something else, something more intimate.

She bit back a growl. Foolish drake. Focus on the job. She needed to know what was going on, or at the very least, have an idea of what was going on, before Hiro told Tobias. A drake caught off guard was often a dead one, and she hadn’t survived this long by being caught flat-footed.

Miller tugged open the heavy front door and motioned for her to enter first. Eric used to do the same thing. Miller had more in common with Eric than just looks. And his lips—

No. Focus.

Hiro might think a fling with a human was a good idea, but Capri knew differently. The only thing to come from it was heartache. She couldn’t let herself forget that.

The old church’s small lobby appeared unchanged from its church days. The hardwood floor was worn in a track leading into the sanctuary. The aroma of dust and wood polish enveloped her. Beyond, the pews had been removed and replaced with folding chairs and tables. The place was quiet—which didn’t surprise her since it was mid-morning in the middle of a school day—and cold, which did surprise her… although maybe not. Heating an old church probably cost a lot, and she doubted the center had a lot of money.

A narrow door at the back opened, and a man stepped out. With a wide chest, muscular arms, and short hair, he looked like a cop or an army vet. Certainly the way he walked toward them and how he held his body said he had combat training of some kind, which was probably a good thing to have when dealing with potentially troubled youths.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone wary.

Capri pulled out her badge. “Special Agent Jones. This is Detective Miller. We’re following up on Andy Reynolds’s death.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “I’ve already talked with Detective Cooper about Andy.”

“We just have a few follow-up questions, Mr….?” She resisted the urge to use her earth magic. It would be better if Miller didn’t notice anyone acting strange—and Capri had a feeling Miller was attentive enough to notice someone conveniently spilling whatever information she needed as strange.

“Hastings. Sam Hastings, counselor, janitor, whatever else needs to be done.” He crossed his arms.

“But you’re not the administrator?” Capri asked.

The muscle in Sam’s jaw twitched. “No. That’s Ms. Mitchelle. From the Steele and Westwood Corporation.”

Interesting. Capri schooled her features. Steele and Westwood was owned by Nero, the doyen of the Major Black Coterie, and his Third in command was Raven Mitchelle. This was certainly a dragon connection to Andy Reynolds.

Ryan frowned. “So your youth center is run by a corporation?”

“And we’re grateful for whatever money we can get. What do you want?” Sam asked.

“We just have a few questions,” Capri said.

Sam glared at them for a moment then blew out a harsh breath. “It’s been a difficult few days.” He snorted. “A difficult couple of months, actually.”

“Months?” Miller asked.

“They say things happen in threes. I never believed it, but Andy makes three.” Sam turned back to the narrow door. “Let’s talk in the kitchen. It’s warmer down there.”

“Big corporation doesn’t pay the heat and upkeep?” Miller asked.

“I’m sure we’re just a tax write-off. They pay enough, just enough, and for the most part leave us alone.”

They followed Sam down a narrow, rickety staircase to a tired kitchen that was only marginally warmer than the empty sanctuary. Six youths, an even mix of boys and girls, huddled around a table at the back. Beside them, on another table, sat a makeshift shrine with three pictures, each with a small lit candle beside it. Two of the pictures were of kids; the third, on the end, was Andy Reynolds.

All six teens glanced up at them, their expressions hard. But Sam shook his head ever so slightly, and they turned back to their conversation.

Light wavered around two of the kids: a girl with spiky green hair and half a dozen piercings in her face, and a heavy-set boy with gorgeous chocolate eyes and a bad case of acne.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?” Sam asked.

Flickering halos enveloped the heads and torsos of the two teens. Capri blinked. It had to be a trick of the light. But the auras remained.

“Special Agent?”

“What?” She dragged her attention back to Sam. He didn’t have an aura.

“Coffee? Tea?”

“No, thank you.” The teens’ auras flickered at the edge of her vision.

Damn it. Things just got complicated. She’d seen that aura twice now in as many weeks. These kids were mages, humans with the ability to cast an earth magic spell or with enhanced physical abilities. The very thing dragon-kind feared. The very thing Diablo and the Asar Nergal were in the process of hunting down because of Zenobia, former doyen of the Major Green Coterie, and her attempted coup.

“Like I told Detective Cooper, I don’t think Andy’s murder is connected with my kids’ accidents,” Sam said.

The girl with spiky green hair shifted. Her aura rippled, and Capri struggled not to stare. If there were mages in this youth center and the Asar Nergal knew about it, perhaps that explained what Diablo had been doing in Reynolds’s house last night. Maybe this was the dragon connection to Reynolds.

Somehow, Reynolds had been connected to Zenobia and her coup. One of Zenobia’s drakes had been body-sharing with these kids until they’d developed a connection to the earth’s magic—since that was the only way they could have a mage’s aura—and because the coup had failed, someone had killed Reynolds, tying him up as a loose end.

Of course, Zenobia using Nero’s youth center was even more ballsy than Capri would have given the green drake credit for. There was no way Nero would have been involved in the coup. He was a Traditionalist and solidly aligned with Regis. If Zenobia had used Nero’s center, it was as a fuck you to Nero, and there was no telling what he would get Regis to do to Zenobia once he learned the truth.

“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?” Miller asked.

Sam sighed as if he’d been asked the question over and over again. “No one wanted to hurt Andy. Everyone liked him. He was dependable. A great guy. We could always count on him.”

Green Hair shifted again, the light from her aura flickering against her brow and lip rings. That girl knew something. But of course she did. She was a mage. Although using children was a new low, and from an army perspective, not particularly advantageous—and if Zenobia was anything, she was a drake who took full advantage of every possible situation.

Capri turned to the table of teens. “Can you think of anything?”

The heavy-set boy with the aura dropped his gaze and shook his head. A brunette girl, not much bigger than Capri, stood and glared. “Stop pretending like you care. Come on.”

The others at the table stood, their chairs squealing on the linoleum floor, and they shoved past Capri. She grabbed Green Hair’s elbow, subvocalized her power word, and slid a thread of magic into the girl’s mind.

“What do you think?” Capri had to be careful that Miller didn’t notice anything.

Green Hair jerked her arm free of Capri’s grasp. “You don’t really care about what I think.”

“Sure I do, and it’s clear you have an opinion.” Capri slid more magic, just a little bit more, into the girl. She was dying to share, to show up the cops who knew nothing, prove how smart she was.

“Do you know something, Vicky?” Sam asked.

“All I know is that Andy had a fight with Mr. Pimm last month at Tyler’s funeral. Then last week, I saw Mr. Pimm and Andy arguing in the parking lot. Mr. Pimm was really upset.”

“About?” Miller asked.

Vicky glanced at the memorial, and Capri drew on more magic, but didn’t push it into the girl, hoping she wouldn’t need it.

“Tyler Pimm died in a warehouse fire last month,” Sam said. “Howard Pimm and his son hadn’t gotten along in the last year or so. Every couple of months they’d have a fight. Last month, Andy found out Tyler had been squatting in a warehouse on Second Avenue, but hadn’t been able to convince him to go back home.”

“His dad was a freak. I wouldn’t have gone home, either.” Vicky flicked her lip ring with her tongue. “But I don’t know why he was at the warehouse. He could have crashed with Kevin.”

“Kevin?” Capri asked, forcing her attention away from Vicky’s aura. She didn’t want to believe there was something diabolical about this kid, and Capri couldn’t ask with Miller and Sam there. She would have to track down this girl later. There were days when she really hated Court politics.

“Kevin’s a graduate of our program,” Sam said. “Sometimes he lets the younger kids stay at his apartment when things get rough at home.”

“Which is where Tyler should have been,” Vicky said.

“Which one is Tyler?” Capri nodded at the pictures on the shrine.

“The one on the right,” Sam said.

The kid on the right looked about sixteen and didn’t fit the stereotype of a troubled youth—at least as far as appearances went. He had clean-cut looks with short blond hair spiked at the front, a clean-shaven jaw, and soulful brown eyes. He looked more like a teenage heartthrob or the star quarterback or something.

“Thank you for your time.” Capri held out her hand, subvocalized her power word, and slid a thread of magic into Sam’s mind. She and Ryan were never there. Sam had never talked to them about Andy. “If you think of anything else, please tell Detective Cooper.”

Ryan tensed beside her for a second then relaxed. “Yes, thank you.”

Sam shook their hands and they climbed the stairs back to the sanctuary. Ryan held the door for her again, and she stepped into a brisk wind that stung her cheeks.

“What was that?” Miller asked, his voice dark.

“What was what?”

“If you think of anything tell Cooper?”

“Detective Cooper is the lead detective on the case.” And she couldn’t risk leaving her card with Sam and have Cooper discover she’d been investigating his case. “If Sam calls him, I’ll know about it.” The lie twisted her gut. Good grief. This was ridiculous. She lied to humans all the time. She’d spent years lying to Eric. Lying to Miller shouldn’t bother her.

“Right.” Miller ran a hand through his hair, mussing it, making him look even sexier.

Mother of All. She wasn’t going to last another day with him, let alone another minute.

His gaze fell to her lips, and his pupils dilated. He wanted to kiss her again. The desire was clear in his eyes.

Her earth magic billowed to life without her summoning it and slipped toward him.

He leaned closer, and his hand brushed her arm, drawing sizzling fire from deep within her.

Her magic snaked into his mind. His breath fluttered across her cheek. Somehow they’d drawn even closer, nose to nose. Magic caressed between them, swirling in her head. She was weightless and heavy, dizzy and swollen, all at the same time.

A growl bubbled in her throat, and her lips curled back in invitation. A challenge to a potential lover. Who would be the first to present meat? Who would find the best shiny? How could she add to his hoard and—

Oh, God!

She jerked away, wrenching her magic back. What the hell was she thinking? She was losing her mind. He was human. He didn’t have a hoard. He wouldn’t understand the real her. She’d never even shown Eric the real her.

Miller cleared his throat, his brows furrowed. “So, ah… what now?”

“Now I—” Grab you and kiss you.

For the love of—

He was not her lover. She lived forever, he didn’t. Humans and drakes just couldn’t have relationships. Focus on work. Work—

“Oh, crap.” She glanced at her watch. She’d forgotten she had to check in with Swipe and Gig about the mages. She had ten minutes to get across town. “I have something I have to do.”

“Sure. Yeah.” He pursed his lips. She couldn’t read his expression. He’d closed himself off to her. Never a good sign. This was such a mess.

“Let’s meet up later. I’ll call when I’m done,” she said.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I’ve got things I need to do, too.”

“Okay.” Now she felt awkward, like a hatchling first reborn.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She forced herself down the youth center’s steps to her SUV and got in. This was such a complete mess.

CHAPTER 16

Ryan got into his car and watched Capri drive away. He should have just grabbed her and kissed her. He had no idea why he hadn’t. She’d radiated ferocious passion, a desire that threatened to drown him. He’d never met anyone like Capri before, and he wanted more. He wanted all of her.

It wasn’t just infatuation, or the allure of danger—because an FBI agent with a disgraced cop was dangerous on so many levels. No, there was something more, something primal igniting within his very cells.

He’d never believed in love at first sight. Lust, maybe. But never love. And maybe it was just lust, and he’d convinced himself, because he really did want a lasting relationship, that his irrational attraction to Capri was more than just that.

God, he was back to using her first name, too. She obviously wanted him. Their kiss yesterday and their almost kiss just now was proof of that. But she had more sense than he did by stopping them. He was lying to her about everything. That didn’t make a good foundation for a relationship. And what relationship could they really have? He couldn’t come back to Newgate and she couldn’t move to Elmsville.