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Mike had no time to remember my instructions.
Nothing grants instant post-vision sobriety like the sensation of having a grown man projectile vomit down your arms and into your lap. I closed my eyes and shuddered. “Gods, Mike!”
The scale collected a few spatters, but Mike had pretty much vomited in the circle of my arms.
He let go of the scale and wiped his mouth and chin with a sleeve. “Zoë, I’m so sorry. I just... you told me, I heard you, we got here, and yeah, all this.” He pushed his chair back and edged around the mess. “I’m going to get some help.”
“I’ll be here.” I could only lower my arms at this point anyway. Focusing on the evidence in my hands kept my mind off the warm-yet-cooling bits of Mike’s breakfast seeping into my clothing. Or not. Vomit, after all, was a singular experience, and my stomach twisted in response, making me grateful that I hadn’t eaten with Sera this morning.
Focus on anything else, Zoë. Like the nagas. Focus on them. I closed my eyes, did a slow count to ten, and exhaled. Nagas were new. Part of me wasn’t surprised they existed, since technically they could be considered a type of lycanthropy, but the sheer exoticness of the species.... In my research after I’d kept my curse—like I had a choice in the matter—I’d found no mention of non-mammalian lycanthropes.
The most exotic I’d seen were swanmanes, and that entire subset inherited the ability; they alone couldn’t turn you with a bite or scratch. While not technically full mammals, they definitely weren’t reptiles. It felt like taking two steps forward and three steps back.
Witnessing not one but two nagas in that clearing, with an established hierarchy and the acknowledgement of human involvement, had piqued my interest. Add in the odd paternal way the boss viewed Claudia’s remains, and I was at a loss.
We had suspects, but was that their only form? Scaly Chippendale? Surely they had a full-human form, or someone in this nosey country would’ve noticed them. In that form, did he still stand eight feet tall? Did they still have serpentine eyes, or telltale scales somewhere on their bodies that identified them?
The door opened, and Mike returned with Bob the janitor and his push cart.
I liked Bob, a polite, older gentleman from Chicago who had moved out to our area when he was in his thirties to follow the love of his life. Ethel had passed a couple of years back from cancer, but Bob had stayed on at the precinct, keeping the place shiny.
“Ms. Zoë!”
“Yeah, I know, Bob.”
He contemplated me for a minute and then started to drag a long cord out of his cart. “We’re going to need a Shop-Vac, ma’am. It’ll be a little loud, and....” He looked away and I swore he blushed. “There may be parts that you’re going to have to help me with. Wouldn’t want to be indecent, Ms. Zoë.”
Any other man, I’d probably crack something naughty, but Bob was an old-school gentleman. “Thank you, Bob.”
He walked away to find an outlet, and Mike reached out to me. “Let me take the evidence from you.”
I handed it to him with the cleaner edge. “Feeling better, I hope.”
Mike laid the scale out on a towel and stripped off his vomit-spattered button-down. “I keep a spare shirt in the locker room. Always handy. Let’s not do that again any time soon, okay? I’m a huge fan of rollercoasters, but hell, Zoë, how aren’t you throwing up every time?”
I shrugged. “I’m used to it. I’ve been doing this since I was a single digit.”
Bob returned with towels and handed one to me. “For whatever we don’t get, Ms. Zoë. Could you please stand up?”
I obliged him and wiped my hands clean while he vacuumed Mike’s stomach contents off my legs and chair. The sound of the Shop-Vac took away any chance to discuss the case with Mike, but in a weird way it was calming, like white noise. It brought me down after the vision. With so much jumbling information floating around in my head and competing with the information already there, it really was a miracle I’d stayed out of an asylum.
A few minutes later, Bob gathered the extra towels I used, leaving Mike and me in the room alone again.
Though grateful not to be covered in puke, I couldn’t work in this condition, so I grabbed my cell phone from my purse and dialed Lucy.
“Hey, you, feeling better?”
I put her on speakerphone. “Sort of? You still have my go bag in your car?”
“Exorcism or bad date?”
Mike gave me a curious look.
I waved him off and
chuckled. “Bad date. I’m covered in vomit. Well, in the vestiges of vomit, anyway.”
Lucy gasped. “Are you still at the precinct? Did Daniel throw up on you?”
“Um, no, Luce, it was Mike.”
“Mike? No way! Why’d he do that?”
“Too much to get into over the phone. Can you bring my bag?”
“Yes. Right now. I’m at Star Gazers. Be there in... ten?”
“Thanks, Lucy. You’re the bestest bestie ever.”
“You owe me a drink tonight and a story.”
“Will do. See you soon.”
“Bad date, huh?” Mike asked once I hung up.
“All Lucy’s idea. She saw it in a magazine once. The idea is that if you go on a date where you don’t drive yourself, and it goes badly enough, you might need a change of clothes. You know, the wine tipper, or the food share gone wrong? Not only do you need to get out of whatever you’re wearing, you need a girlfriend to vent to and maybe a shoulder to cry on.
“And since, according to the known universe, I suck horribly at asking for help, this was her masterful plan to give me practice.”
“The exorcism bag?”
I smirked. “Yeah, after last year’s fiasco with Weeping Willow, Lucy keeps a satchel of magickal aids in her car, in case I need to cast a spell on the fly or fight monsters.”
“Speaking of monsters—”
I raised a hand. “You’re in clean clothes. Let me get into some, too, before we get all dirty again with our new monster pals. Until then, did the ME find anything interesting with Claudia’s body?”
“Yeah, actually.” He walked around the table, looking at the displayed reports. “Here. I think we know what they were using her for.” He handed me the report.
“He found cocaine residue inside her body?”
“Drug mule.”
I looked up from the report. “Are you serious? Like that urban legend about the woman doing that with a baby? That’s a slow as hell way to transport coke. I mean, people are going to notice.”
He shrugged. “Would they? Cross borders with a ‘sleeping baby’ in your arms, who’s really going to bother you? While they didn’t transport a significant amount in Baby Claudia, Narcotics said the residue is superior grade cocaine cut with something they couldn’t identify. They aren’t shipping this for low-level buyers and dealers. This is special order by white collar clientele.”
I frowned. “Great. Just effin’ great.” Drugs meant cartels, cartels meant thugs, and thugs meant.... A nasty little thought popped into my head. “Mike, I have to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t even involve you if I thought I could manage it alone.”
“Am I going to be happy about it?”
I shook my head. “No, you’re really not. I think I have a break in the case, and it’s ugly.”
