“Oh crap,” Nessa moaned as she pulled the front door closed. She was anxious to be gone before the Infernal Court team showed up.
Three fairies – one red, one blue, and one green – were gathered around the scooter. They were lightly built, fair-skinned, delicately featured, about four feet tall with gossamer dragonfly wings twice their size.
They had magical Nessa radar. They could find her anywhere.
Squealing “Taco, taco, taco,” in delight, they ran to her.
“Hey, girls.”
Nessa pushed them back a little to get a good look. She hadn’t seen them since rescuing the trio from the Queen of Air’s dungeon a couple of days ago. Well, a couple of days in the human world. Time in faerie did not always pass at the same frequency.
The poor things had been kidnapped by the Queens of Fire and Air, tortured, and imprisoned to force Nessa to capture the Soul Eater. The same one who got her into trouble with the Infernal Court.
Aside from some scabs and bruises on their pretty faces, they didn’t look too bad. They gave her wide smiles and Nessa flinched. All those sharp teeth were still in place.
They’d washed and mended their colorful flouncy dresses instead of replacing them. Maybe it wasn’t easy for fairies to get new clothes? They were her Bondmaidens now. A term the Queen of Air had used. Was it up to Nessa to provide new clothes? She was saving every spare penny for her transfer to Long Beach in another year. And where would she even get fairy dresses? Melrose, maybe? It would help if she could sew. Which she couldn’t. Not a stitch.
The gray parrot began wriggling. Muffled squawking erupted from inside the blanket.
The fairies’ enormous eyes got bigger. The green fairy unwrapped the top of the blanket before Nessa could stop her.
“Don’t let it out,” she squawked sounding disturbingly like the parrot. Her hands flew to grip the parrot’s neck as it struggled to escape.
“Poppy, Poppy. Help, help!” It screeched.
“Help, help,” the fairies shouted merrily. “Help, help, help.”
“Shhh. Shush, shush.” Nessa put her finger to her lips. “Quiet.”
“Poppy, daddy!” screeched the bird.
“Poppy daddy!” echoed the fairies just as loudly grinning like the maniacs they were.
Pim jumped onto the scooter seat and yowled louder than all of them.
The fairies closed their mouths to look at Pim.
The bird closed its beak to look at Pim. Nessa realized the parrot could see Pim. Guess Poppy really was magic.
Pim meowed an extended series of yowls.
All three fairies nodded as if they understood. Perhaps they did.
The green fairy pushed Nessa’s hands away from the parrot, cupping her own in their place. She spoke quietly in her own language to the bird.
“Poppy. Daddy,” it stated before making the fire engine noise again.
Green Fairy motioned to her sister in red. The red fairy skipped up the walk to open the door and peek inside. Skipping back, she spoke to the green fairy who spoke to the bird.
“No, no, no,” said the parrot. “No. Daddy, daddy, daddy,” it called plaintively, struggling to get out of the blanket.
Had they just told the bird its daddy wasn’t coming back? Like, ever.
The green fairy spoke to the parrot for a long time. It stopped squirming and began to moan like a heartbroken child.
Pim mewed. Having outlived two Chevalier witches, he had a soft-hearted streak when it came to orphans. Even feathered ones.
“I’m going,” she said to the fairies, making waving motions with both hands. “Come on.”
She kicked the scooter off its stand taking just a moment to send a quick text to Desiree.
‘ZOMBIES,’ she wrote in all caps followed by Brian’s address.
Zombies in this part of town meant Desiree’s cousin Cavalier was involved. Hopefully, Desiree would take the hint and show up.
Nessa met Desiree when the girl fired both barrels of a shotgun into her abusive boyfriend Darryl Fauvier right in front of Nessa. A double-barrel shotgun makes quite a hole.
Barracuda had sent Nessa to collect the bail-jumping Darryl and bring him to the Infernal Court. What he neglected to explain was he expected to bring Darryl in as a ghost. He also left out the fact Darryl was a Houngan Sorcerer of the nasty Voodoo Petro sect.
This was absolutely need-to-know information Nessa thought. Especially since Desiree demanded Nessa’s help in a ceremony to keep Dead Darryl’s spirit from calling the Loa of the Dead. Darryl would offer his soul for the energy to ride another body and come back for revenge. To keep this from happening, Desiree called the Guardian of the Crossroads, Papa Legba.
Legba and Baron Samedi fought over Daryl’s fate. Lucky for Desiree, Legba won and Dead Darryl stayed dead. Unluckily for Nessa, her dark angelic aura caught the eye of Baron Samedi. Caught and held it. They’d had several encounters since then, none of them pleasant.
Desiree had refrained from shooting anyone else in their subsequent encounters and Nessa knew she was trying to stop Cavalier from getting any more of the energy drink to create super-charged Zombies.
The map app guided Nessa and Pim to a faded-green two-story wooden house in an average if slightly shabby neighborhood in East Pasadena. The grass was brown. The raised beds weed-choked. An older model Honda Fit and Nissan Versa with a missing front bumper were parked in the driveway.
“Let me guess,” said Nessa to Pim, “Brian’s roommates are all guys.”
Pim gave what Nessa knew was a judgmental meow of disapproval.
Less than a minute after they arrived Desiree roared to the curb in an eye-popping drift. She was driving a sporty Honda Civic Hatchback in electric blue.
“Nice car,” Nessa said as Desiree hopped out of the driver’s side.
“My mom’s.”
“Your mom’s?” Nessa stared. “That color is fresh .”
“I know. She drives a BMW to work. This is just the grocery shopping car.”
“Hard life.” Nessa did not bother to hide the envy in her tone.
“She’s a management consultant and makes bank.”
“For reals? But your grandmother is a ghost whisperer. And you’re all about Voodoo. The good kind.”
Nessa realized she didn’t really know what Desiree did when she wasn’t murdering abusive boyfriends or helping Nessa fight off Zombies and Baron Samedi.
“Go figure. Skipped a generation I guess.”
Ouch. Desiree’s comment hit home. Air magic had skipped Nessa’s mother. The whole reason Nessa carried the curse of a Fallen Angel was her mother’s jealousy of the other Chevaliers.
“My clunker twelve-year-old Yaris needs the brake pads replaced for the low price of twelve hundred dollars,” Desiree moaned.
Nessa nodded knowingly. “L.A. driving. Hell on brakes.”
“For reals. I do not have twelve hundred dollars at the moment, so I am borrowing mom’s car. Zombies, you said?”
Nessa brought Desiree up to date on her assignment to bring in Reiko Sömmerhaulder, the dead guy, and the lab with two dead Zombies.
“You’re sure they were Zombies?”
“Pretty sure. And Zombies in Pasadena mean…”
“Freaking Cavalier. Little bastard. God, why does he have to be this way? His mom, my Aunt Bridget, is an arcane horticulturist. Works with magical plants. The nicest person you could hope to meet.”
They approached the front door. Nessa and Pim tread carefully, feeling for any magical wards.
Nothing here in front.
Desiree strode ahead, knocking sharply before Nessa could stop her.
After a short pause, a stocky young man opened the door. Fuzzy red curls dipped across his forehead almost covering his eyes. He had a baggy aloha shirt patterned in palm trees and board shorts on.
Pim slinked in on silent paws.
“Hey there,” Desiree said. “Brian asked us to pick up the stuff for Reiko.”
Nessa played along.
“Hey,” she said with a smile and a wave. “Brian. Reiko. Stuff.”
It was a gamble. A good one as it turned out. He stepped back and waved a hand to usher them in.
The house smelled like weed. Lots and lots of weed.
Nessa coughed. Desiree rolled her eyes.
The redhead went into the living room, not giving them a second glance. A bong sat on the coffee table in front of an oversized faux leather couch. He slouched into the cushions, put his feet up, and lit the bong.
Jeopardy was on a big screen TV at one end of the room.
“Admiral Nelson,” the guy said to the TV in answer to a question on the show.
Well, okay then. He must assume they knew where they were going.
Judging by the living room and dining room beyond, the bedrooms were probably all upstairs.
The carpet on the stairs was worn through, the colorful pink flower pattern faded to gray. No photos lined the dingy white walls. No furniture in the upstairs hall.
A typical sort of rental house for college students, Nessa thought. Economy, not aesthetics at the top of their list.
Upstairs held two doors on the left, two on the right, one at the end of the hall. Pim was facing the furthest door on the left, his tail straight up. Nessa narrowed her eyes, looking beyond the obvious.
Energy fizzed like a sparkler burning down on either side of the door.
Nessa held Desiree back as she started to move forward. “Don’t you see it?” Nessa asked.
“See what?”
Nessa pointed. “Personal wards on the door. Since the person is now dead, the wards are fizzling out.”
This common type of ward was linked to the individual who set them. These must have been Brian Samejima’s. Which meant he was not-coming-back-no-way-no-how dead. Really dead. Poor guy.
They approached warily keeping their distance until Pim and Nessa saw the energy jump once, twice, then fizzle out.
“They’re gone.”
She stuck her hand in and out of the doorway quickly to make sure. Nothing zapped her
Desiree opened the door. Pim slipped ahead of her.
The room was neat and clean. The bed made. Floors clear of dirty laundry. A large cage almost four feet tall dominated one corner. Newspapers were spread out beneath it in a large square. Assorted seeds were scattered around and crunched underfoot.
Nessa heard the parrot screeching all the way from the scooter basket outside. She’d locked it in as a precaution. Did the bird know where they were? Maybe she should put it back in its cage. Or was the cage only another death sentence? The Infernal Court might not even notify Brian’s family he was dead. And depending on his roommates, the bird could perish from neglect before anyone bothered to care for it.
Judging by the size of the bong downstairs and the state of the guy they’d met; Nessa didn’t think the late Brian’s roommates were very observant.
Dozens of cardboard boxes sat stacked up against one wall and at the foot of the bed. Desiree pulled out a bottle with the purple and yellow Bee Buzzed logo across the front.
“Empty?” Nessa asked.
Hefting several of the boxes in the stack, she nodded. “Feels like it.”
Wordlessly they both began searching through the drawers, desk, and closet.
Colorful cards and photos were tacked to an oversized bulletin board over the dresser. Nessa pulled them all off stuffing them in her backpack.
Pim scooted under the bed. He emerged pushing a shoe box. It was full of receipts and random sheets of paper.
Nessa emptied them into her backpack as well.
It never occurred to her not to take them. No police were going to investigate Brian’s death. The Infernal Court would sweep it under the rug. Their job was to keep the murders from coming to light as supernaturally suspicious. Justice was not the point.
Reiko Sömmerhaulder had only ended up where she had because of the wacky behavior the drink caused in supernaturals. Not because she and her partners were breaking federal food and beverage laws through unsanctioned test marketing.
Men’s voices drifted up from downstairs.
Nessa and Desiree froze.
The voices swiftly turned from conversation to shouts and a yell suddenly cut off.
“Shit, shit, shit,” chanted Desiree.
“Window,” Nessa said, already pulling up the sash. “Go.”
Desiree shimmied out first. Nessa heard her land with a crash in the bushes.
Pim leaped out.
Praying they weren’t rose bushes under the window; Nessa swung her legs out just as the door was thrown open.
She dropped only to be brought up short. Hands grabbed her by her ponytail and backpack and yanked her up. She was halfway back through the window before she could manage a yelp.
Nessa wrapped her hands around whoever had grabbed her. Throwing her body to the side, she pushed against the wall with both feet.
Unbalanced, the person leaning out the window fell forward, thumping against the ledge at hip level. Nessa looked up. A woman, fully as big and brawny as either of the La Rue sisters, held her.
Pim leaped onto her shoulders to launch himself at the woman. Cats are born knowing Parkour. He could get up to a second-story window with ease. Pim wrapped his claws around the woman’s face, all four paws scratching wildly. He might not be a werecat, but he was still armed and dangerous.
The woman howled, letting go of Nessa with one hand to grab at Pim. Nessa kicked at the wall again, pulling herself in a half circle, forcing the woman to let go as her wrist was wrenched unbearably far.
Nessa dropped like a stone.
She landed hard. For a second a roaring in her ears blotted everything out. Then Desiree was pulling her to her feet yelling “Run, run!”
Pim dropped to the ground beside her.
Shouting “Taco, taco, taco!” She ran for the scooter.
“Taco, taco, taco,” came a faint reply from overhead.
Looking up she saw the fairies lazily drifting down, wings fluttering.
Two big men in dark suits ran out the front door.
“Taco, taco, taco! Help!” Nessa shouted pointing at the front walk.
The fairies’ bright eyes zeroed in on the scene. Despite their air-headed ways, the girls were deadly predators when they chose to be.
“Help, help, help,” chorused the fairies in the opposite of their normally playful voices.
Sweeping their wings back, all three dived to the ground, talons out, teeth bared.
Nessa ran to her scooter. Desiree was already ahead of her, waiting only to make sure Nessa had made it out before jumping in her car.
Pim jumped into the scooter’s basket landing on top of Poppy the parrot.
“Help, help, help!” screamed the parrot. “Police! Fire!”
Nessa pulled away from the curb barely avoiding being run down as Simone’s car pealed out head of her, burning rubber.