It took Isaac an hour and a half to feed, and he left me shaking from blood loss and barely conscious.
I really needed to have a talk to my boss about Isaac’s feeding schedule soon.
Luke sighed and checked my pulse for the third time in five minutes. “Ray, you’re on babysitting duty. You get to check her pulse and blood pressure every ten minutes. I’ll leave a reading chart for you; if she drops below threshold, call me. I’ll give you directions, but you’ll probably have to call for an ambulance. We’ve been through this rodeo before. They’ll bring bags of her type over, top her up, and she’ll sleep it off. She’ll whine about being cold, and if you take your eyes off her, she’ll sneak off and find the nearest heat source. Give her a few hours to rest. When she gets up, order her steak and make certain she stays hydrated.”
“How did I go from investigative work to babysitting?”
Eddy giggled. “You’re a lucky, lucky man. That’s how. At least she’s pretty, right?”
“How is someone like you in the FBI?”
Poor Detective Davis. Did he realize he faced off against a dragoness who operated on pure spunk? Eddy’s grin revealed her teeth and her unusually pointy canines. “I’m so badass they feel the need to leash me.”
Detective Davis sighed. “Try to bring the files promptly. While you’re at it, bring steak if that’s what you want me to feed her. Assuming Special Agent Abrams owns a frying pan, I can cook.”
“Keep him, Olivia! He’s not useless.”
I wouldn’t mind keeping him; I’d tolerate a lot in exchange for admiring him on my whim. “Chief Kirkland wouldn’t like if I stole his cop, Eddy.”
“He’d love it. He’d beg Detective Davis to get your help on tricky cases using his prowess.”
There was no way I’d admit I could be talked into a lot with a hunk of a man and some inappropriate usage of his prowess. I almost pitied the next man who came my way with even a hint of mutual interest. Thanks to work, it’d been months since I’d even tried to go on a date, blind or otherwise.
“Eddy, you didn’t donate. You have no excuse for any dumb ideas today. I’m sorry, Detective Davis. Please ignore her.”
The cop took the discussion better than I anticipated, chuckling and waving his hand to dismiss the issue. “She’s always been addled. I’ve learned I have bad days when she shows up. How often do you have to deal with her?”
I stifled a yawn. “I consider it a good week if I only see her three times.”
Eddy scowled, and she faked a hurt sniffle. “I see how this is. Go on. Join forces against me. I’ll just go with Luke and make certain they give you both extra paperwork.”
She would, and going with her flow would mitigate the worst of her ambitions to make us suffer for our teasing. “You go ahead and do that. We’ll be here waiting.”
Within ten minutes, Luke’s quad cleared out of my apartment, leaving me alone with Detective Davis. “Sorry about this. When Isaac’s that hungry, it’s safest for me to feed him. My magic helps speed my recovery. After I get some rest, I’ll take a bath or head down to the bay for some time in the water.”
I expected my bathtub would have to do; if I got too absorbed in recharging, it would take Luke’s quad to drag me out of the water, and it might cost us valuable hours.
I wouldn’t tell him it would take a week for my wrist to fully heal even with help. Jamie’s first wave of treatment had stopped the bleeding and closed the wounds. After I got some rest, he’d work on healing the bruising and encourage tissue recovery. I could use my hand, but it would hurt.
“You’re pale.”
I forced a smile as most people took me at face value. “I’ll be fine in a few hours. My magic helps. As long as I don’t stop breathing, don’t worry about it. It’s just minor bruising and some lingering damage left, and Jamie will take care of that after I get some rest.” Moving to my bedroom took more work than I was willing to invest, so I stretched out on my couch, propped my feet up on the arm, and closed my eyes.
Sleep would sucker punch me within a few minutes, but until then, I wanted to discover how Detective Davis handled the situation.
What he did when he believed I wasn’t watching would tell me a lot about him. I listened to his footsteps, which retreated in the direction of my bathroom and bedroom. I peeked through my lashes. His explorations took him to my bedroom, but he didn’t linger long, emerging with my comforter.
I expected that sort of thing from Luke, his quad, or Eddy, but I wasn’t going to complain about just about anyone tucking me in before a well-earned nap. I blamed my father.
He’d never stopped tucking me in even as an adult, and I’d never complained. Forget never complaining, I deliberately went out of my way to nap on my father’s couch so he could indulge.
Detective Davis scored full points for consideration, and I drifted off, content with my first real look at the man.
Either Isaac had drained me far worse than I thought or someone had slipped me sleeping pills, but I was down and out for almost an entire day according to my alarm clock. In my sleep, I’d taken a hostage, and if Detective Davis wanted to escape, he’d need to take off his shirt.
To complicate matters, I’d dragged the poor man to the middle of my bed, and I’d curled around him like a dragoness protecting her hoard.
Blackmail would come, and Eddy would lead that charge. The poor man probably hated me, especially as I’d treated him like a living pillow for my enjoyment.
A faint memory of a ghostly fish invading my dreams taunted me.
“Well, this is different,” I observed. A better woman would’ve let the cop go, but I was warm and didn’t want to move. “I don’t usually take Eddy’s suggestions seriously.”
Detective Davis sighed. “Good morning. How much of yesterday do you remember?”
Yesterday had happened? I took a few minutes trying to remember what yesterday was, when it had happened, and drew nothing but blanks beyond feeding Isaac so he wouldn’t chew on Ethan, his second favorite flavor of blood and magic. “Zip, zilch, nada. I think I dreamed about a ghost fish because of you and that statuette.”
“You dreamed of a ghost fish? What do you remember?”
“Ghost fish. That’s it. I don’t remember most of what I dream anyway, so I’m impressed I remembered that much. What have I missed?” I really needed to let go of Detective Davis, but he was so warm and wasn’t putting up a fight. I should’ve released his shirt at a minimum.
“A blood transfusion.” The cop sighed again, and in the sound, I heard the worn patience of someone nearing the end of his rope. “Luke neglected to mention you are clingy in your sleep.”
“He did? Huh. Usually the first thing he does is mention I go for the nearest heat sources. I’m sorry. It’s complicated.”
“He had told me you seek heat sources. He neglected to mention you consider people heat sources. Let me guess. Water-based abilities create a general heat loss and lower your body temperature?”
I wouldn’t tell him I just liked attention and physical contact, a trait nurtured by my father more than my mother. “Something like that? Aside from a blood transfusion, what else did I miss?”
I wrote off the blood transfusion as a necessary evil; Isaac usually didn’t drink so much I needed one, but it happened, and I was grateful no one had woken me up for that part of my day.
I was also grateful they hadn’t opted to cart me to the hospital, which meant Jamie had either handled it himself or he’d called for backup from one of the other quads.
“Not much,” he admitted. “There’s been no new incidents, no changes in the vics, and no sign of the statuette. To make matters worse, the forensics labs haven’t found anything useful. In good news, they’ve eliminated mundane chemical or biological warfare as the cause of unconsciousness, so it’s been officially flagged as a supernatural terrorism event.”
The official flagging would give me full jurisdiction over the entirety of California for the case, and crossing state lines would be a simple matter of notifying the FBI I was on the move and needed jurisdiction. I could even wrangle country-wide jurisdiction with a single phone call and no real effort on my part.
It would make things easier later, especially if I needed to take the investigation on the road. Getting Detective Davis jurisdiction would be interesting, however.
“Have any witnesses come forward?”
“The few who weren’t dropped into a coma don’t remember anything suspicious. They barely remember the event at all. One of the doctors called in suggested we look into mass hypnosis for possibilities.”
“Mass what?”
“Hypnosis. You know those magicians who put people under and get crowds to do what they want? That, except someone has found a way to do it on unwilling suspects. They don’t remember anything, which is making investigating complicated at best.”
“What sort of ability can cause that? Empaths can, but not on that level!”
“I have a few theories.”
“Hit me with your favorite.” Since Detective Davis wasn’t complaining about my handling of his person, I relaxed and enjoyed the situation.
“I agree with the doctor; hypnosis seems the most likely candidate, and with the right magical ability, it can be used to suppress memories—or temporarily erase them. I believe they’ve been erased. If the magic is strong enough, perhaps permanently. Someone did use magic on them, though.”
“Radiation signatures?”
“Chief Kirkland brought out his most sensitive scanner, but there is a minimal signature. His scanner wasn’t sensitive enough to register the signature. The FBI is trying to secure a better one. The signature is likely going to be our only clue, and until we can get it registered, we’re stuck.”
“Have all vics been confirmed to have the same type of radioactive signature?”
“As far as Chief Kirkland can tell, yes.”
“One culprit, then.” I hummed, wondering how it would change the investigation—if it changed the investigation. I doubted it would. It would crank the perpetrator’s threat rating through the roof, however.
“It’s looking that way.”
It took me a solid minute to convince my fingers to relinquish their hold on his shirt. “I need to take a bath and get changed. I’ve cost us enough time as it is.”
He chuckled and scooted so he could escape my bed. “We have no new leads, so it’s not a big deal. While they were handling your transfusion, I set up a board in your living room, and I’ve populated it with as many connections as I could. It’s not looking promising so far.”
“What’re the best connections you’ve found so far?”
“Seventy percent of the vics are fringe survivors of the Bay nuke. That’s the best one we have, and it only goes downhill from there.”
Almost half the local population held that dubious honor; as far as nukes went, the Bay bomb had killed few and offered survivors little magic. Its detonation off the coast of San Francisco had been one of the final but weakest volleys of World War III.
My parents had both survived the Bay nuke with enough magic to withstand most scrutiny.
For months, they had believed I’d died in New York’s death zone, and I’d returned to the west coast a changed woman.
So many had died, and my friends and classmates had vaporized around me while I stood still and shocked, untouched by the flames, destruction, and ash. When all that had remained were the shadows of the lost, I’d been left behind.
I remembered little of the month following the bomb’s detonation.
Detective Davis stood, and he stared at me. He frowned, and I wondered what he saw in my expression.
I’d sworn one day I’d tell someone of what I’d experienced. Despite the long years, that day had not yet come. Sometimes, I wondered if it ever would.
“That’s not much of a connection. The other thirty percent?”
“Mostly survivors of varying degrees but tourists.”
“Any pures?” I doubted it; those not exposed to radiation possessing non-mutated genes were closely guarded. Some escaped such scrutiny, but they’d either donated DNA samples or had agreed to government testing and experimentation to dodge being secluded from the rest of society.
“No.”
“That’s something. Less paperwork.” I sighed and stretched. “I should soak for an hour. It’ll help with recovery.”
“A shower or bath is on your agenda. I’m under strict instructions from Luke and Eddy. First, you take your shower or bath. Your choice on that one. I’ll make you breakfast while you do that, and when it’s done, I’m to put the food out for you and get out of the way. Once you’ve eaten, I leave you with the morning briefing papers and wait until you’re fully awake. I’ve already been warned that you might not even remember this conversation because you’re technically functioning on autopilot.”
No wonder he hadn’t freaked out about me snuggling with him. “Sounds about right. In case they didn’t mention this, coffee is a basic part of breakfast.”
His mouth twitched, he smiled, and then coughed to mask his expression. “According to Luke, you require two to three cups to become functional. Fortunately for you, I do know how to make coffee.”
“You’re one of those teetotaler tea drinkers, aren’t you?”
“Only during business hours.”
“And after work?”
“I make a mean margarita when I’m in the mood.”
In the mood could mean several things, and I’d enjoy investigating Detective Davis’s dark, dirty little secrets. “If you want a shower, it’s a good way to hide while I’m vanquishing breakfast.”
“I’ll take you up on that offer. Thanks.”
There was hope for the cop after all. “We have a plan, then. I’ll see you post breakfast.”
Someone had filled Detective Davis’s head with nonsense. Enough food for three waited on my kitchen table, and an offensive amount of orange juice kept my coffee company. As I had no doubt Luke would interrogate the poor bastard, I chugged it to make everyone happy. The inclusion of perfectly crisp bacon to go with my eggs and pancakes decided me.
My father could ground me for life if he wanted, but I would somehow convince Chief Kirkland to loan me his cop for breakfast-making duties for the rest of my life. The chief would find some way to make me regret my decision, but I’d cope easier having a good meal to start every day.
I’d polished off the bacon and eggs and was facing off against the pancakes when my new live-in chef emerged from the bathroom in a pair of navy slacks and a slightly damp white shirt.
Hello, Officer. I raised a brow. “Your application to be my live-in breakfast chef has been accepted, and I’m prepared to offer you free rent as compensation.”
Detective Hunk didn’t seem impressed with my offer. “I’m concerned.”
I pointed my fork at him. “Ask Eddy. I have a bad relationship with food. I treat food like I do blind dates.”
“You skip them, often. You don’t need a live-in chef. You need a babysitter.”
I scowled and shoved a bite of pancake into my mouth. I swallowed, and in an act of defiance, kept chomping until one pancake remained. Then I looked him in the eyes and ate that one, too.
“I have no idea what just happened, but okay. If you could wait until after we deal with the morning work to pass out from gorging, I’d appreciate it.”
Damn. Obviously, exposure had solidified Detective Hunk’s general courage and resolve. “I’ll try to refrain from adding any additional delays to the schedule. Let’s talk statistics. Outside of my quad, what’s the highest-ranked survivor?”
“One low-grade death zone survivor from San Diego.”
“Former Marine?” I guessed. Most were—or from some other department of the military.
“Correct.”
“Abilities?”
“Empathic drainer, negative alignment. He currently works as a physical therapist for trauma patients.”
Negatively aligned empaths often got a bad rap; they thrived on negative emotions and pain. However, a strong one could drain pain from someone else, turn off their pain receptors, and push them through physical therapy and general medical recovery in half the time.
Pain often hampered healing, and they could circumvent the body’s ability to register pain.
“And he’s the highest?”
“Most were really low-grade on the magic scale, and the survivors are middle of the road at best. Your quad’s the most likely targets, but they were hit near the end of the attack. In good news, three of the team have fully recovered. There’s one thing: they’ve been dreaming of a ghost fish, too.”
That worried me. I rarely had an overactive imagination, and I hadn’t been targeted with whatever had forced so many into a comatose state. “And Adrianna?”
“No change. All victims are on IVs, and feeding tubes will be inserted tonight if there are no signs of recovery.”
“Any connections between the victims?”
“Nothing concrete; some are friends and family with each other, some aren’t. It’s what you’d expect from a crowd mid-day. A few were co-workers, and they were found together. We’ve been running criminal records, and the only hits we’ve had are petty crimes and one illegal immigrant.”
“Tell me about the illegal.”
“He’s Korean, and it looks like he’s been in the country since World War III.”
Illegals happened; Australians took the top prize for sneaking into the United States; they’d fled their home in the final days before the complete destruction of Australia. No one even visited the irradiated continent, which served one purpose: to destroy nuclear weapons through detonation.
Koreans came in second, as they’d escaped a harsh regime and human experimentation with nuclear radiation to create a superhuman army. “He has no motivation to toss his status as a refugee, and most Koreans fear incarceration. We register them as refugees and settle them. Any actual convictions on him? I’ll register him as a refugee myself if the process hasn’t been started yet.”
“Luke said you’d say that. He’s clean and is being processed as a refugee. He’ll get a light slap on the wrist at worst once he’s conscious. The other vics don’t have anything relevant as far as I can tell. It’s a fairly equal mix of genders and ages. We’re pretty sure your quad leader was a case of bad luck.”
“Great. That’s not useful. What do we have on the signature?”
“As you like to say, zip, zilch, nada.”
Detective Hunk wasn’t supposed to have a sense of humor. He needed to go back to being dour. Dour was a lot less dangerous than humorous and handsome. I could work with dour while tweaking his nose. Humorous and handsome would test my peace of mind. “How about the statuette’s owner?”
“No word yet.”
“Put in for a search warrant of her property along with a questioning warrant.”
“That’s a pain in the ass, Olivia.”
My name and his mouth needed to terminate their relationship. “The questioning warrant means we can’t touch her stuff but can access her property. Just get me the damned warrant. You know where she lives and can put together just cause easier than I can. Do we have anything useful?”
If we didn’t, I’d be tempted to go right back to bed for another day.
“Zip, zilch, nada.”
“Damn it. You get the warrant, head to her place, and talk to the owner. I’ll start groundwork for expanding our investigation.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take a hike down memory lane armed with the best sensors the FBI has and see if I can find anything.”
“Alone?”
The skepticism in his voice annoyed me into glaring at him. “I’m sending you to some woman’s house alone. I’ll cut you a deal: you stay out of trouble, I’ll stay out of trouble. I’m taking a walk with a hundred thousand dollar scanner. What could possibly go wrong?”
He smirked. “Let me count the ways. I’ll start with the obvious. You’re a woman alone with a hundred thousand dollar scanner. Do I need to elaborate?”
“Oh, please. Do I look like a damsel-in-distress here?”
“Yes, you do.”
What an asshole. I flipped him off and went to get dressed for a day of work.
My newly created shit list had one name: Detective Raymond Davis. I swore payback would be swift and harsh. Not only had he called me a damsel-in-distress right to my face, he’d called Luke to make certain I stayed out of trouble. In the thirty minutes it took for me to get dressed and ready to face the day, Luke and his quad showed up.
With my fucking scanner.
A smug detective got into his patrol car, waved, and drove away.
“I hate that man!” I howled, and I snatched my scanner out of Luke’s hands. “Any of you say a single word—even one—and I’ll make you wish I’d drown you. I. Am. Not. A. Damsel. In. Distress.”
“Whatever you say, Sleeping Beauty,” Luke muttered.
Why couldn’t I kill members of my quads? “I am perfectly capable of handling a walk without an audience, just like Detective Hunk can handle going to a woman’s house without my supervision.”
There. I could treat the cop like the eye candy he was. That’d teach him a thing or two.
Luke stared at me. “You call Ray Detective Hunk?”
“Try to be at least a little gay for once in your life,” I complained. “He’s delicious. Definitely worth adding to the menu of a high-classed establishment. He’s not just delicious. He’s male perfection.”
“Are you feeling all right, Olivia?”
“No, I’m not. My shower saw him naked and I didn’t. I’m jealous of my shower. I’m concerned I tried to violate him in my sleep. If I did, I can’t even blame myself. Why are all the hunks insufferable assholes? He’s the chief of the hunk assholes. He called me a damsel-in-distress!”
Luke bowed his head, and Ethan came up and patted my shoulder. “You’re a beautiful woman with a hundred thousand dollar scanner. Add in your rating, your rank, and that your father happens to be the police commissioner, and you’re a walking target.”
“Don’t you bring my daddy into this, Ethan.”
“Your daddy will kick our asses when he finds out Isaac drank you down to needing a transfusion.”
I scowled and pointed at the drainer. “Go ahead. Try me, Sucky McSuckyface.”
“Thank you for not drowning me today,” he replied.
“You’re welcome.”
Luke heaved a sigh. “You’re not going alone, Olivia. First, you might faint. And don’t feed me any shit about how tough you are. You were down and out for too long.”
Every member of Luke’s quad glared at me until I surrendered, holding my hands up. “Fine.”
Luke relaxed and grinned. “Get into the SUV, bitch and moan over our cruel damseling of your person, and tell me where we’re going.”
“We’re following the incident path looking for unusual signatures, and if we can’t register the event signature, we’re going to visit a victim to register the signature.”
“The mall first, then. Let’s get this show on the road.”