Even with the various clues the Devil had left us, I couldn’t figure out which divine could possibly be responsible for Alec’s curse. The puzzle vexed me, although I took care to keep my frustrations to myself. A call from our chiefs sent Jacobson back to the station, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and with a mystery of a man determined to make the most of his situation.
In some ways, Alec handled the burden of the investigation better than I did.
I wanted to free him of his anguish while he learned to cope and adapt to it.
When I thought about it, I admired his general resilience.
“It seems I have two choices,” Alec announced, startling me from my file review.
I put aside the latest of the cases, giving him my full attention. “What do you mean?”
“I was thinking about what Lucifer said, and I realized something.”
Well, at least one of us had realized something. I had a whole lot of nothing, although I thought I’d made some progress on a cold case. Nobody had questioned the victim’s family or co-workers, likely due to a staffing shortage. It wouldn’t help Alec’s case, but I could try to find closure for one of the murders.
Even the small steps mattered.
“What did you realize?”
“It’s really not my fault.”
I admired Alec for carrying the burden of guilt for something he held no responsibility for. Some of the murders had been years in the making, although others had been crimes of passion, committed due to an opportunity rather than malicious planning. “It’s not,” I confirmed. “But witnessing so much death is hard on a soul.”
“But what if I could make a difference for the victims? What if I did something like become a cop? If this curse is something that is going to happen no matter what I do, wouldn’t it put me in a place to better secure justice for the victims?”
I stared at him. When I’d decided to become a cop, similar thoughts had rattled about in my head. I’d wanted to make a difference. I had made a difference, from the very first day I’d put on my new uniform and my badge. It had burdened me, but I’d shouldered those burdens with as much pride as I could muster. Making a difference mattered.
Could he transform his curse into a blessing?
How would he react if I hooked up with a patrolling officer and dragged him along for the ride? Would the reality of the beat change his mind?
I wondered if my new chiefs would let me test him on a patrol to see if he took to the beat.
After several long, silent minutes, I said, “We could test that.”
“How?”
“I don’t know if it’s legal or possible, but perhaps you could accompany me and a partner on a patrol for a few days. We did that as cadets when learning the beat. A pair would take a cadet along for the ride to see what it was really like. It doesn’t take much to qualify as a cadet,” I admitted. “Perhaps it’s a little too easy, really. But I went out as a cadet my first day in the academy after hearing a long speech about expected conduct. The instructors wanted us to see the reality before we learned more about what it took to be a cop.”
“I thought it would have taken a lot longer.”
“Me, too. It was part of a pilot program to adjust how the academy trains cops. They wanted to sift through the washouts faster and get cadets promoted quicker. I think the washouts happening earlier did happen, but it didn’t really help get the cadets promoted quicker. There’s a lot to learn. Honestly, I don’t think the training is long enough. I had to learn a lot while on the job.”
Alec nodded. “So, you want me to accompany you while you work?”
“Ideally. If Lucifer is correct, all the curse does is put you where the crimes will happen—or draws the victim and the perp to where you are. I’m not sure which. I’m not sure it matters. We have to assume the curse is able to manipulate someone in this, otherwise is it actually a curse?”
“He could be lying about a curse,” Alec pointed out.
“While possible, I don’t think he’s lying,” I admitted. I eyed my laptop, which had evidence of my unsuccessful search for divines capable of creating such a curse without being involved with the Christians, Egyptians, and Greeks. I could only assume it meant some ancient divine held responsibility, one generally lost to history.
Without a few additional clues, which I suspected I’d have to wring out of the Devil, we returned right back to square one.
“Do you think my forensic accounting skills could translate well to police work?” Alec frowned. “I have a reputation of being a harbinger at work at this point, and there are a bunch of rumors spreading around.”
I bet. People expected cops to deal with death often, where accountants were expected to wage war with numbers without literal bloodshed being involved. “Having an idea of how many financial files I’ll be going through in my near future, if you otherwise qualify, I suspect your skills would be a good addition to the police force. We have interior officers, too. Not everyone works the streets, although it’s part of the job.”
“What sort of education do I need?”
“A high school diploma,” I informed him.
“That’s it?”
I understood; when I’d become a cop, I’d been horrified to learn I hadn’t even been required to take a single college-level legal course to be able to wear a badge and enforce the law. “That’s it. You go to the academy for a while to get your base education. I expanded my personal education so I had a better understanding of the laws I have to enforce. You’ll be an asset when it comes to the financials; you know what crimes can be committed legally. We just look for connections in how money flows.”
“That doesn’t seem comprehensive enough.”
It wasn’t, and all I could do was shrug. “If you want me to inquire with the chiefs, I can do that for you.”
“I think I would. My prospects aren’t all that good because of my circumstances. I mean, I could move to another city and possibly get work, but I would feel better about it if I could turn the tables and do some good, despite my misfortunes. If I am really cursed, and I can do something to bring justice for the victims of these supposedly inevitable crimes, that’s better than just bearing witness.”
I’d witnessed my share of death as part of my job, but his circumstances reminded me that witnessing the end of a life truly became a burden one had to carry, often for years before time did its slow work. I’d grown used to it, although some nights I’d gone home in tears from what I hadn’t been able to change.
There would be more of those days ahead of me without fail.
“Yes, working in the force would let you pursue justice, as would becoming an attorney. But you’d do more good in law enforcement. We give testimonies during the case and aren’t penalized should we have witnessed the crime. Attorneys can’t try cases where they are witnesses.”
“I think I would prefer trying to be a cop first. I deal with enough attorneys as part of my job as it is.”
He wouldn’t escape the attorneys; the detectives from my former precinct dealt with attorneys on a daily basis, depending on how active their cases were and what was involved with bringing a criminal to justice. I’d let him discover that for himself, however. Rather than drag out a needless conversation, I grabbed my cell and dialed Mr. Chief Quinn, as he was the one more likely to give me a sensible answer.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, rather than give a proper greeting.
Somehow, I’d been transferred into a precinct full of worrywarts. “Everything is fine, sir. Mr. Mortan would like to know if he might be able to pursue a career in law enforcement due to his current state. We haven’t been able to find any solid leads regarding the source of this curse.”
“And he’d rather make the most of a bad situation?” Mr. Chief Quinn guessed.
“Yes, Samuel, sir. More specifically, it might be wise to allow him to accompany a patrol and shadow officers so he can get a feel if it is a suitable career for him.”
“This is probably what my uncle wants. That’s just like him. He’ll give us just enough rope to hang ourselves with and expect us to do his bidding because he knows he’s right.” After heaving an exasperated sigh, my chief fell quiet.
“Does that mean we should pack up this hotel room and come to the station? You don’t think it’ll endanger anyone, do you?”
“No, I don’t think anyone who wasn’t already in danger will be endangered. My wife has been thinking about it, particularly about the predetermined fates element. I’ll warn you now, things get sketchy when my wife starts thinking.”
“I heard that!” Mrs. Chief Quinn complained in the background.
“You were supposed to. Now that I have your attention, go put your fur coat on. We’re going to pick up McMarin and her witness. We also need to retrieve the files, so arrange for some vehicles. McMarin, that room will still be yours until we deal with your housing situation, and I’d prefer if you kept your witness close at hand. If you’re comfortable splitting your time between investigating his cases and working on a patrol, I’ll talk with the commissioner about the legalities involved with having him accompany you. If he’s eligible to become a cadet, I might be able to sneak him into the current classes with an understanding he would not be graduating with the current batch unless he somehow manages to do the catch-up work. I can resolve some of the issues by having you babysit cadets through their on-patrol training. We’re due to get a few new bodies. Our precinct also has no rules about couples working together as long as they agree to weekly therapy sessions. The sessions last half an hour and evaluate if the couple can continue working as a pair on duty.”
“Do you attend these sessions?”
“Absolutely. The commissioner wanted Bailey in more therapy, so he concocted that. It works really well for us, so he’s trying it with other partners working in the same precinct. Cops tend to marry cops in our neck of the woods for some reason.”
I bet. “He’s a forensic accountant, Samuel, sir.”
My chief snickered. “You’ve been a detective all of a day, and you’ve already identified how useful he’ll be for your investigations. We have a few trios in our precinct, so I expect that’s what’ll happen with you and your witness should he join the force. We’ll be around to pick you up within an hour. I’ll test Mr. Mortan’s ability to cope with riding a cindercorn while Bailey delights in having a rider who won’t throw up on her. Fortunately for everyone, Bailey is adapting to having coffee again at an appreciable rate, so hopefully she won’t exhaust you through her general ability to bounce continuously.”
Judging from the exasperation in his tone, my chief had found the end of his rope and might come unraveled with a few tugs. “Is she normally this hyper?”
“The freedom has gotten to her, and I’m losing hope it’ll wear off anytime soon. She just ran into the wall in her hurry to go shift so she can run off some of that energy. I’ve been told it will be a week of this with intermittent periods of coma-induced quiet.”
I laughed at the thought of the woman running out of gas and passing out, finally giving her beleaguered husband and partner a needed break. “And your children?”
“Lucifer has taken them to the conservatory he operates to help teach them how to care for animals, so they think they’re on a glorious vacation rather than being evicted to spare my sanity. They also have several archangels as babysitters, along with an entire hive of gorgons, who have brought their fosters and children to get lessons. In reality, we’re trying not to scar our children due to their mother’s absolutely insane amount of energy. Apparently, it’s a cindercorn thing, and it’s good for her to have these episodes during a pregnancy. Something about the adaptive biology of hyperactive unicorns. Honestly, I stopped listening after I was told it’s fine for her to be this hyper. I have been informed that you have your very own cindercorn slave for the next week at a minimum, as you’ll be booked for CDC testing sometime in the future. Bailey has opinions about CDC testing, and she’s overwhelmed with guilt, once her caffeine high wears off enough for her to remember she’s a walking bundle of guilt and anxiety regarding general life and work performance.”
“Does that mean Lucifer won’t be bothering us for a while?”
“For at least ten minutes,” my chief replied. “I’m sorry if he bothered you. I haven’t figured out his ploy, although it probably involves your resilience to Bailey’s teleportation. As he is unreasonably fond of cindercorns, he probably wants you to have many children who have your resilience so they can become friends with our children. He also has a tendency to plan matches, which is where your witness comes into play. You’re likely compatible with him, and Lucifer does not joke around when he’s indulging in one of his matchmaking ploys.”
“Is this what a predetermined fate looks like?”
My chief sighed. “If you’re not careful and assertive about what you want, yes.”
I eyed Alec, who’d turned his attention back to his laptop. When honest with myself, getting naked and given more than an hour appealed, and I hadn’t uncovered any habits I loathed from the short time we’d been thrown together. “I see. So, we’ll have a ride in an hour?”
“Yes. I’ll go get my fur coat on and herd enough vehicles over to clean the files out of your hotel room so you can use it as a proper room rather than an office. I’ll make arrangements to ensure your witness can follow you around work. As Lucifer is the one creating all this trouble, I’ll make sure Mr. Mortan’s financial situation is not at all impaired due to this change of plans. By the time we pick you up, I should have an answer on your cadet questions, although I think it’s a good idea. Psychologically, it’ll be a great deal healthier for him if he’s able to do something about what he’s witnessed, and if he can’t break the curse, working with it might make a big difference. And his accounting skills will be useful around here.”
“I’ve seen those financial files. Useful is an understatement.”
“And to think you haven’t been a detective for long,” my chief teased. “Hold down the fort until we get there, and I’ll make certain everyone knows to be on guard. If his curse means we can get appropriate justice for victims, and he’s all right with us taking advantage of that, we’ll do just that. Lucifer told me these crimes would happen regardless, and I believe him.”
“You do?”
“I asked an angel about it. She reminded me Lucifer tells the truth with alarming frequency, and that I would be wise to listen to what my uncle has to say on this matter. In any case, attempt to avoid any disasters until we arrive.”
“It’s okay to have a disaster after you arrive?”
“The disaster might be more manageable with us there, although honestly? I expect Bailey will be the cause of the disaster. Only time will tell.”
Two cindercorns and three patrol cars turned the hotel into a circus. Determined to ignore the insanity erupting to life around me, I accompanied Alec and the bellhop, questioning everything about my current situation. No disasters happened, but if the gleam in the cindercorn’s bright eye was any indication, some form of disaster would happen soon.
Probably to me.
Rather than complain about my lot in life, I handed my purse over to one of my new co-workers, accepted I would be riding the hyperactive cindercorn, and waited until I could hold her attention for two consecutive seconds to get into the saddle. As expected, Bailey pranced in place, but my fledgling riding skills handled her restlessness.
Samuel stood with picture perfect patience while Alec struggled to figure out how to get into the saddle, and I coached him on how to make use of the stirrup, promising no cindercorns would be injured if he struggled to scramble into the saddle. While rough and lacking even a vestige of grace, Alec got into position. One of the cops helped situate his feet in the stirrups and offered some tips, including the recommendation to grab Samuel’s mane and hold on tight.
“No tele-port today,” Bailey promised, and she bobbed her head. I suspected she wanted to bounce around and buck like a demented goat, but she settled beneath me in an effort to contain herself. “Make coffee when back to station. Enjoy stay with wit-ness?”
“He’s good company,” I replied, keeping an eye on Alec as he got a brief lesson on staying astride a cindercorn. Judging from the street, it would take an hour to reach our destination. “Is traffic bad today?”
“It bad,” the cindercorn muttered. “If emergency we rider swap. I promise to be actual unicorn instead of trouble if we need to swap rider, but we can go fast in slow traffic if emergency. Otherwise, we plod with cruisers.”
Plodding would help make certain Alec reached our destination intact. “That sounds like a plan. Is today better than yesterday?”
From what I’d gleaned from Jacobson, yesterday had been pure chaos.
“Better, yes. People behave better, time to breathe. No breathing yesterday.” Bailey eyed her husband and turned her ears back. “Coma-inducing doohickey!”
“It’s not my fault you drank coffee.” Careful of his new rider, Samuel picked his way over to us and nipped his wife’s neck. “You can nap on the couch after you settle our cops in McMarin’s office and make them coffee.”
“Okay. Nap good, but only a few minutes this time, not all eternity.”
“I’ll do my best to make certain you don’t nap for too long. Just don’t leave me behind.”
Bailey snorted, and smoke burst from her nose. “Better go slow with new rider.”
“I should say the same to you, lawbreaker,” Samuel snorted back at her, and his included a few fingers of flame.
“Oh, feisty stallion. Me like feisty stallion.”
“Bailey, it’s not time to go home.”
The cindercorn lowered her head and heaved a sigh. “Work so rude.”
“You’re the one who wanted a salary.”
The gathered cops snickered before splitting up and heading for their cars. One cruiser took point in an effort to contain the cindercorns. To my amazement, it worked.
For a first-time rider, Alec handled himself well. After a few minutes of clutching the reins and Samuel’s mane, he relaxed in the saddle.
“It’s not bad when there’s traffic,” I commented, and to make it clear I wasn’t angry at my chief for being rambunctious, I patted her neck. “It’s safer to walk if they’re in a hurry, though.”
“I sad because true. Much safer. Much slower. Queeny make me behave until you get lessons. You impossible to replace, take much care.”
Queeny?
Samuel snorted and bobbed his head. “Yes. I am making you behave, because we’ve done how many test rides before finding one person who isn’t me who can handle your badassery?”
“Many, many sick cops. So many sick cops. Cops now quake in terror if asked to come to our office and I a most beautiful cindercorn. They know doom comes for them.”
“Or at least an upset stomach and a story to tell in the break room. You all right, Alec?”
“I’m fine,” Alec replied, and he stared down at his feet, probably making sure he kept his heels down. “Is this what mounted patrols are like?”
Both cindercorns whinnied their laughter before replying, “No.”
“This much worse than mounted patrol,” Bailey announced with pride. “Cindercorns obnoxious, stubborn, free-spirited. View cars as objects to be destroyed. Horses just shy at things. Like plastic bags that might rise up and eat them. But not gunfire or cars. Trained not to. But plastic bags? Those dangerous.”
“We’ve been working on the plastic bag issue,” Samuel added. “But we also don’t want to traumatize our patrol horses. Training them to not react to gunfire or cars is tough enough on them. Plastic bags might prove to be their greatest foe.”
“And buckets,” Bailey stated in a solemn tone.
“Leaves are also an interesting peril.” Samuel maintained a safe distance from the back of the lead cruiser, and Bailey matched his pace. At each light or halting of traffic, she pranced in place.
I considered myself fortunate she restrained from bucking, as I doubted I’d keep my seat if she decided to bounce around in earnest.
After the first few minutes, Alec rolled his shoulders and asked, “Is it true being a cop is pretty stressful?”
“Yes,” we answered, and I giggled at Bailey’s exasperated tone.
“It’s worth it, though,” I added, hoping we wouldn’t scare him off. “It’s hard work, and it’s sometimes thankless work, but it’s important, and we make a difference every day. To me, that’s worth the stress. We never know when a call might sour. We also never know when a call can lead to somebody’s death. It’s a part of the job, and I find it doesn’t get that much easier despite exposure. We don’t want anyone to die while we’re on duty.”
“You’d be a pretty bad cop if you did.”
I shook my head. “I mean, there are times I’ve considered shoving my gun up an abuser’s ass and firing, but I’m supposed to be one of the good guys, which means letting the abusers see their day in court.”
Samuel whinnied a laugh. “We all have days like that. The next time a bad case blows through the precinct, you’ll get to hear Bailey’s thoughts on that. It’s educational—and hilarious.”
“Why laugh at my suffering?” the cindercorn complained. “Stomp and squish like grape, solve problem.”
“Alas, we can’t stomp and squish the worst of the lot like grapes, no matter how tempting it might be.”
Alec stared at me with wide eyes. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to be recused, Josefina. Are you sure you’re going to be okay if left alone with them?”
“I should be okay.” I chuckled at his expression and shrugged. “You know that thing about cops and coffee and donuts?”
“I may have heard of such a thing.”
“I prefer cookies over donuts, but she really makes the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. It’s worth the risk.”
“Yes. My coffee is the best coffee. You, too, get best coffee if you join force. Queeny, make it so!”
“He does get a say in whether or not he wants to be a cop, Bailey,” Samuel replied.
“But why? I make best coffee, will give him best coffee, but he must live in our station on our floor.”
Samuel heaved a sigh, reached over, and nipped his wife’s neck. “We do not make cops live at work, Bailey.”
“Oh. Right. He work on our floor, we send home at appropriate intervals. Pay therapy bills for putting up with me.”
“You’re so paying for that comment when we get home,” Mr. Samuel Quinn warned, flicking an ear back.
Bailey lost hold of her little restraint and bucked like a bronco with a burr under her saddle. Somehow, I stuck onto her back, but after her third jump, I balled my hand into a fist and bonked her between her ears. “Bad cindercorn. Down!” I ordered.
It took three more smacks between her ears to get her to put her hooves on the asphalt where they belonged, and I somehow stayed on her back rather than crashing onto the ground.
Alec stared at me with wide eyes and his mouth open. Samuel’s ears pricked forward.
I realized I’d just assaulted my boss repeatedly, and I bowed my head and sighed, wondering if the end of my career would happen within seconds, minutes, or hours.
Bailey swung her head at her husband, and the whites of her eyes showed. After a moment, she blurted, “Did you see?”
Samuel bobbed his head and whinnied. “I saw.”
“I find best detective. I fight you to keep her.” To make it clear she meant business, Bailey snapped her teeth at her husband, although she didn’t land a bite.
“If you’re not careful, she’ll fight you, and you’ll lose,” Samuel replied. “Now, what have we learned here?”
“Buck at own risk.”
“Detective McMarin, should she buck, do what you just did again but harder. She’s got rocks in that head of hers, so she’ll be fine.”
Bailey whinnied. “Feel that burn long time. Encore, encore!”
“The last thing we need is you burning anything. Let’s try to make it back to work without you giving our detective gray hair. One bucking incident is enough for today. Pretend you’re trying to show an angel how they should behave.”
Having seen an archangel in action, I appreciated Samuel’s phrasing. “I swear I’ve never smacked a real horse like that,” I said, fidgeting in the saddle.
Bailey turned her head so she could regard me with an eye. “Real horse no have rocks in head, so that good thing. My head? Many rocks. Deserve smacked between ears. If I buck you off, it hurt extra. Cindercorns buck much harder and higher than mere horse. Cop horse better trained,” she confessed. “You stay on, you good rider.”
I was? “I guess I did okay during mounted patrol training, but I was passed over.”
“You pass over because captain idiot. Eat idiot captain.”
Samuel heaved a sigh. “We’ve been over this before, Bailey. You can’t eat the captains who annoy you.”
“Stupid rules. Captains should be grateful I can’t eat them when they annoy me.”
“If you could eat the captains when they annoy you, we’d have no captains left. We’d probably have to promote your new detective due to the shortage of captains,” Samuel stated in a neutral tone.
I marveled over how well he controlled his tone.
Bailey gasped and stomped a hoof. “Mine!”
“Not if you eat all the captains.”
The cindercorn snorted. “Fine. I won’t eat the captains. Or buck. Or prance much.”
“Much implies you’re going to prance.”
“Ree-uh-liss-tic. Much excited, some prance. But less prance?”
“How about this, Bailey. If you manage to make it to the station without bucking or prancing, we’ll leave work right at five.”
Bailey flicked her ears forward. “Right at five?”
“Right at five. The kids will be with Lucifer or other members of our family for the rest of the week, too.”
Somehow, I kept from laughing over the absurdity of the situation.
“House almost empty. Just doohickeys left.”
“I may have planned a field trip for them. They’re going to several museums and won’t be home for a few days. The CDC is using it as a training experiment.”
Bailey snorted flame. “No doohickeys, no children?”
“The house will be empty,” he promised.
“I show angels how to be angels,” Bailey announced, and she stood more like a statue than a living being. “I will be the best cindercorn.”
I glanced at Alec and grinned before saying, “How does this compare to accounting, Mr. Mortan?”
“It’s crazy, but I think I like it.”