Stolen Trinkets Read online

  With my left hand, I drew the rune needed to cancel the gravity loop and dropped to the ground. Blondie fell in a heap, and I left her there. This was not my mess to clean up.

  I flicked my blade sharply, and the blood coating it splattered onto the pavement. I knelt beside Goatee and wiped it clean on his shoulder. He groaned in pain, glaring at me with a mix of fear and rage. The wound was bad, but he was a mage. He’d heal the injury in a couple of days at most.

  I stood and re-sheathed the katana, then texted one of the sergeants in my division. They’d know what I meant, I had to send these texts often enough.

  Clean up on level 12, near Edge, 30th and Border St.

  These particular assassins were second-rate. It was almost as if whoever sent them didn’t actually want me dead. Shaking my head, I texted the individual I was fairly certain was responsible. It was almost always the same, persistent asshole.

  If you miss me, you could just call or send flowers. No need to send assassins.

  Three

  I strolled into my department twenty minutes late and headed toward my office, which was nothing more than a large desk in a small room with no door. Most detectives shared an office with their partner, but I was fortunate enough to work alone.

  IMIB, the International Magical Investigations Bureau, was located in Moira. It was run by a cooperative council made up of the Mage's Guild and representatives of the other supernatural races. The IMIB offices were on the thirty-second level – a few floors below the swanky, over-priced condos where the rich and powerful lived – but above the Rune Rail, busy stores, and the entertainment district.

  “Blackwell,” Chief Bradley shouted, stepping out of his office with a thick red folder in his hand. His name was fitting since I was almost certain the tank was named after him. He was stocky and wide, though not all of his bulk was muscle these days.

  Standing in front of him was possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and perhaps the most eccentric. A blood-red trench coat hung down to the top of her knee-high leather boots – but that wasn’t the eccentric part. She had bright pink hair that hung around her face in a sleek bob. Her eyes were the same color, though a deeper shade that bordered on purple.

  “Yes, sir?” I asked, pausing in the walkway. If he knew about the fight, I was about to get chewed out. Probably in front of the whole department.

  “Why are you late?” Bradley asked, his mustache bristling in expectation of needing to yell at me.

  “Slept through my alarm clock,” I lied with a smile. The less he knew, the better. There wasn’t any serious damage this time anyhow.

  “I want to talk to you in my office in ten minutes. Don’t sleep through your alarm on the way here,” Bradley snarked, obviously suspicious of my weak excuse, before heaving his bulk through the door.

  The pink-haired beauty barely looked at me before following him inside. I, however, couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

  Hot coffee splashed against my chest and I jumped back with a yelp. My recently healed ribs twinged as the hot liquid stung my chest.

  “Dammit, Blackwell, watch where you’re going,” Peterson snapped. Coffee dripped from his chin and the file he was holding.

  “I wasn’t the one walking,” I muttered, pulling my soaked shirt away from my skin. I’d have to get that stain out; I didn’t want to have to send yet another suit to my dry cleaner. It had been necessary to find someone with talent after the incident with the blood and…well, the rest was better left unremembered.

  Chief Bradley towered over his oak desk. It was cluttered with pictures of his family and at least three coffee mugs, all proclaiming him World’s Best Grandpa. Behind him was a screen built into the wall that showed all the active cases in his division – murders, robberies, and organized crime, all committed by supernaturals. The room smelled faintly of cigars.

  “A vampire walked out in broad daylight and blew up,” Bradley said, tossing the picture of the graphic crime scene down on a thick folder. “The morning after robbing a bank in Seattle.”

  “A bank? That’s odd,” I commented, grimacing as I looked at the picture. One of her legs had managed to land in a trash can, her heeled foot sticking up like a demented candlestick.

  Vampires weren’t vulnerable to much, but they could not tolerate sunlight. An old prosaic myth was that they burned in the sun. I wish that was all they did. Instead, they exploded. The pieces would smolder and burn into ash eventually, but it was a messy way to go.

  “This is a PR disaster,” Bradley continued, his voice growing in volume. “The Vampire Guild is up in arms, the Mayor of Seattle is stirring the prosaics up about the supposed supernatural threat, and I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”

  He stood with his fists on his hips waiting for our reaction. The pink-haired woman was sitting in the chair next to me, but Bradley hadn’t bothered introducing her.

  I still wondered what her purpose was here. She couldn’t be a detective with that hair. Besides, I’d never seen her before. If I had, I would already have her number. Maybe I could get it after this and arrange a different kind of meeting. One that involved drinks and less clothes.

  I leaned forward and grabbed the file off the table. “No signs of aggression or blood psychosis, but the ME’s initial ruling is still just suicide,” I commented as I flipped through the file. “If she robbed a bank this was probably a less painful death. The Vampire Guild would have killed her slow for pulling a stunt like that.”

  “Perhaps, but there’s always a reason when a supernatural dies,” the pink-haired woman stated, turning to look at me. “Especially a vampire over two hundred years old. It’s lazy to assume it’s a suicide without investigating it at all.”

  A muscle in my jaw twitched as I clenched my teeth tightly together. “I’ve been accused of a lot of things, lady, but lazy is never one of them,” I drawled, trying not to let on to the extent of my irritation. “Why is she even in here? This is a police matter, not fashion week.” I gestured at her outfit, just in case Bradley had somehow missed it. She might be hot, but she was getting on my nerves. I had my issues, but I was a good detective.

  “Ah, that brings me to the other reason I asked you in here,” Bradley said, a smug look settling on his face.

  I didn’t like it. Any reason Bradley had to look smug always meant pain and annoyance for me. I narrowed my eyes at him threateningly, but that just made his smug smile grow.

  “This is your new partner, Detective Lexi Swift,” Bradley said, hooking his thumbs into his waistband.

  “My what?” I demanded, slamming my hands down on his desk and rising to my feet.

  “You heard me,” Bradley said, full-on grinning now. “After last week’s fiasco, I was forced to find a solution for you. You’re the best detective we have, but you leave a trail of destruction and chaos behind you. Frankly, the department can’t take it anymore.”

  “I do what I have to in order to get the job done—”

  Bradley lifted his hand, cutting me off. “No more excuses, Blackwell. You’re working with Swift. She was the best detective they had in Magical Artifacts, but more importantly, she had no complaints last year.”

  That explained never meeting her; those agents were often posted in places other than Moira. That whole division was made up of nerds who fancied themselves a cross between librarian and archeologist.

  I turned my glare on her and she stared back impassively. I seriously regretted even considering buying her a drink at this point. Talk about dodging a bullet. “I work alone,” I snapped. “And all those complaints were crap and you know it!”

  “You blew up the front of the Met! You’ve been banned from New York City for a year!” Bradley yelled, his patience finally cracking. “And that was after you led a high-speed chase through three cities and Moira! There was over five million dollars in property damage! You’re getting a damn partner, and if I get one more damn complaint about you, you’re suspended! Without pay!” Bradley said, s
lamming his hands down on the desk and matching my glare.

  “I paid for the damages,” I said, grinding my teeth together. “And you know I don’t give a crap about the paycheck!”

  “Suspended means no cases,” Bradley said, jabbing a finger in my face.

  I pressed my lips into a thin line, and Bradley leaned back, self-satisfied. He knew he had won. There was a reason I worked when I had more money than I could ever spend, even in my extended lifetime – interest is a beautiful thing. My parents had been murdered over one hundred and thirty years ago. I needed this job if I ever hoped to catch the people responsible. Political assassinations were convoluted and messy affairs, but supernaturals had long memories; and we could hold a grudge better than anyone. The contacts and the skills I had gained brought me one step closer to that goal every day.

  Swift uncurled from her chair, her eyes sparking with anger. Literally. “I knew you had a reputation, Blackwell, but you’re even worse than I expected,” she said, those pretty lips dripping with disdain. She turned to Bradley and a mask of professionalism fell over her features. “I’m sure Detective Blackwell and I will have an effective partnership, even if I have to do all the work myself.”

  “Like hell, we will,” I muttered, snatching the folder off the desk. “This conversation isn’t over, Chief.”

  “You better not be in my office in the morning trying to complain,” Bradley threatened as I turned and shoved the door open.

  A whiff of Swift’s perfume tickled my nose as I brushed past her. The scent followed me as I strode through the department. The other detectives were used to my moods and my temper; they stayed out of my way and kept quiet.

  Swift followed me out of Bradley’s office and out of the station. In fact, she followed me all the way down to the Rune Ride rental office. Maybe if I ignored her long enough she would take the hint and go away.

  “Hey, Billy,” I said, nodding at the kid behind the rental desk.

  Rune Ride was one small part of MR, Incorporated, the massive international company that owned and operated Moira. Lucky for me, MR, Inc. had worked out a deal with IMIB that let us travel for free, even off duty. That included rental vehicles. You picked up the keys in Moira for the car available in the region you were traveling to, then just found it in the garage. It streamlined the process and allowed them to keep minimal staff in the many cities the Rune Rail reached.

  “Hey, Blackwell,” Billy said, grinning and waving his tablet at me. “The usual?”

  “Absolutely,” I said with a nod.

  Bobby grabbed the key he hid under the counter for me and handed it over. I slid my company card across the desk, but instead of taking it, he was staring slack-jawed over my shoulder. At Swift.

  I snapped my fingers in front of his face and he startled out of it. “Dude, don’t ogle the enemy,” I chastised him.

  “The enemy?” Bobby whispered, his eyes going wide.

  “Yeah, she’s an evil parasite I can’t get rid of,” I explained, shoving my card at him. “Let’s hurry it up, kid.”

  Swift snorted behind me. The first reaction I’d gotten out of her. “What is the usual?” she asked, stepping up beside me and grabbing the key off the counter.

  I snatched it out of her hands before she could get a good look. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be driving,” I said, slipping the key Bobby kept hidden for me in my pocket. I’m a particular guy. I like certain cars, my suits to be impeccable, and always getting my way. That’s why I work alone.

  Swift rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you manage to get anything done with that attitude.”

  “I get plenty done,” I said, striding off toward the platform that would take us to Seattle. The vampires favored that area because of its severe lack of sunlight.

  Moira had forty levels, counting from the bottom up like a high-rise building. The Rune Rail system took up the lower eight, and was divided up by the region it serviced. North America was on level seven.

  There’s an old saying about Moira, the higher you go, the more it costs. The top few levels were filled with mansions for the rich, famous, and powerful. In between, Moira was filled with shopping and entertainment.

  Swift kept up with me easily despite my quick pace and longer legs. “Do you have any contacts in Seattle?” Swift asked. “Because if not, I know some people we can speak with to get some more information on the local vampire activity.”

  “How about we figure out if this is a suicide first,” I said drily. “And I know plenty of people in Seattle we can get information from, if we need to, and that’s a big if.”

  Swift grabbed my arm and forced me to a stop. She was stronger than she looked, but most of our kind were. “Look, I didn’t want to get stuck with you any more than you wanted to be stuck with me. But we’re partners now and it's stupid to work against each other, when we can be more effective as a team.”

  I jerked my arm out of her grip. “You’re going to get in my way,” I said, looking directly into her creepy, glowing eyes. “In fact, you already have.”

  I’m sure she was competent, and even smart, but having a partner was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. The assassins who had come for me this morning had been crappy; but if someone else had been there, I might not have been able to protect them. I hadn’t been able to last time I had a partner.

  She pursed her lips and looked at me thoughtfully. “How about a wager then, to prove who is the better detective.”

  “And how are we going to prove who is better?” I asked, raising my brow.

  “If this turns out to be a suicide, you win, and I’ll ask for a transfer,” Swift said. “If it’s murder, then you have to dye your hair pink until we solve the case.”

  There was no way in hell I would ever dye my hair pink; but there was also no way I was backing down from this wager, even if it was dumb and risky. “Fine, you have a deal, Swift.”

  She stuck out her hand with a glint in her eyes. I wrapped my fingers around hers, and the magic from our pact bound our hands together in golden threads that shone brightly before disappearing with a snap.

  Magic was a finicky thing. When two supernaturals made an important agreement, it bound them to it. The consequences for going back on your word were unpredictable. I hadn’t expected our magic to bind a silly wager like this.

  A bad feeling settled in my gut. I didn’t like the smug look in her eyes anymore than I liked seeing it on Bradley. Our train popped up next to the platform, a puff of air rushing past us.

  “Ladies first,” I mocked, waving her ahead of me with a bow.

  She snorted and brushed past me. “You’re going to look ridiculous with pink hair,” she said over her shoulder.

  Four

  The alarm beeped twice as I unlocked the matte-black Nissan GT-R I always drove. It had a V6, six hundred horsepower engine, and a six-speed transmission. The little beauty did 0 to 100 km/h in 3.4 seconds. But my runetech model did double that. It was a dream car. A technological marvel. And as far as I was concerned, it was mine.

  “Seriously?” Swift asked. “That car is tiny.”

  “Don’t insult my baby,” I objected. “She’s fast, and the trunk is runed to be five times bigger on the inside.”

  Swift still looked skeptical, but she climbed in the passenger seat without further complaint. The engine roared to life, a sound that never failed to put a grin on my face. This car was the only partner I needed.

  “We should go see the coroner,” Swift said. “It’s on Third and Main.”

  “No,” I said, throwing the car into first gear. “I always start at the crime scene.”

  “Do you always have to be in control?” Swift snapped in annoyance.

  “I just like things done a certain way. My way.” I winked at her, which prompted another eye roll. She was going to sprain something before the day was over.

  “I see your reputation is well-deserved,” she muttered.

  I just grinned and screeched through the parking g
arage, enjoying a little speed while I could. It was evening rush hour in Seattle. It was also raining, but no surprise there.

  “So, what kind of mage are you?” I asked, watching her in my periphery. The colorful pink eyes would normally indicate mage, but there were all sorts of weird cosmetic enhancements available these days.

  “I read in your file that you’re also a mage,” Swift replied instead of answering the question.

  “Who the hell gave you my file?” I demanded.

  “Unlike you, I’m pleasant to people. That makes them more inclined to give answers when I ask questions,” she said with a mocking smile.

  I huffed and drifted through the next turn. Her shoulder bumped against the window and she glared at me.

  The bank was in the middle of downtown. It was an old, three-story building. Next door was one of those high-class clothing stores that never had anyone in them but could sell one dress and stay open for three months.

  A parking spot opened up right in front of the bank. I backed in; the day might have started off crappy, but my luck was improving.

  We walked through the newly replaced glass doors of the bank. They had the air conditioning on full blast; if I hadn’t been wearing a suit jacket, I would have been cold.

  The bank wasn’t exactly bustling with activity. A few customers were inside, but they were all being directed to a single teller far away from the damaged area.

  Swift headed straight for the vault, but I trailed behind her, taking in the locations of the cameras. The place was covered in them. I’d bet there wasn’t a single square inch that wasn’t monitored twenty-four seven.

  A man who was almost as wide as he was tall hurried across the floor. Swift slowed when she saw him, but almost walked past when he stopped in front of her. I picked up my pace and walked up behind them to listen in to their conversation.

  The little metal nametag pinned to his suit read Howard E. Barnes, with Bank Manager in all caps underneath.