CHAPTER 5
I OWNED TWO CARS: AN OLD BEAT-UP SUBARU NAMED Betsi that ran during tech and a horrid nightmare of a truck called Karmelion. Karmelion took twenty minutes of intense chanting to warm up and made more noise than a gaggle of drunk teenage boys in a bar on a Saturday night, but it ran during magic.
Unfortunately the Beast Lord had condemned both vehicles as unsafe and instead I now leased a Pack Jeep I called Hector. Equipped with dual engines, Hector worked during magic or tech. He didn’t go very fast, especially during magic, but so far he hadn’t stalled on me either. As long as our high-speed chases stayed under forty-five miles an hour, we would be all set.
Andrea eyed Hector. “Where is Betsi?”
“She’s back at the Keep. His Furriness made me lease Hector from the Pack instead. Betsi didn’t meet with his exacting standards.” I climbed into the driver’s seat.
Andrea popped the passenger door open and Grendel bounded into the space behind it, where there once was a rear seat and now was space where I stored equipment. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I believe the exact words he used were ‘a deathtrap with four wheels.’ We had a glorious fight about it.”
She grinned and patted Hector’s dashboard. “You lost.”
“No, I chose to gracefully accept the Pack’s generous offer.”
“Aha. Keep telling yourself that.”
Careful, thin ice. “A third party explained to me in detail that when you’re running a business, people judge how successful you are based on your appearance. If you’re driving a shabby vehicle, they think you need money and your business is struggling.”
“That sounds like Raphael,” Andrea said.
And she nailed it. “Yep.”
She clamped her mouth shut. I started the engine and maneuvered Hector out of the parking lot.
One . . . two . . . three . . .
“So who is he hooked up with now?”
Three seconds. That was all she lasted. “Nobody that I know of.”
She stared straight through the windshield. “I find that hard to believe.”
Given that Raphael was a bouda and they viewed sex as a fun recreational activity that should be practiced vigorously and often, normally I would’ve agreed with her. But Raphael was a special case. He hounded Andrea for months until she finally gave him a chance. For a few blissful weeks they were in love and happy, but then Andrea had to pick between the Order and the Pack and it all fell apart.
“He hasn’t been with anybody since you had that fight,” I told her.
She snorted. “I’m sure some cute piece of ass will catch his attention sooner or later.”
“He’s too busy moping.”
Andrea glanced at me. “Moping?”
“Pining.” I made a wide curve around a large pothole filled with odd-looking blue goo. “If he starts singing sad Irish ballads, we’ll have to stage an intervention.”
“Oh please.” Andrea turned to her passenger window.
“He withdrew from the bouda clan.”
“What?”
“Not officially, of course.” I shrugged. “But he stopped doing whatever it is that the bouda alpha male does.” In the bouda clan, as in nature, females were dominant. Aunt B ran that clan with steel claws, and Raphael, being her son, served as the head of the males. “He killed Tara.”
Andrea’s blue eyes went big. “The third female?”
“Yeah. Aunt B mentioned it in passing the last time we spoke. He was in the bouda clan house for some sort of business-related thing and Tara came up and grabbed his balls. Apparently she wanted to check if they were still there. He punched her in the face. She shifted into a warrior form and went for his throat. From what Aunt B said, he didn’t just kill her, he ripped her to pieces. He hasn’t been to the clan house since.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said.” It was one of those idiotic things that could’ve been resolved in a split second. Tara had no right to touch Raphael, and once she did, he had every right to punch her.
She should’ve left it at that, and now she was dead because she didn’t. Bouda males voluntarily took the beta role, but in a fight they were vicious, and Raphael was the best of their lot. I wouldn’t fight him unless he left me no choice. I could take him, but he’d tear me up before I finished him.
“I keep thinking about the People thing,” Andrea said. “I think something went very wrong in the Casino.”
And we’d changed the subject. Andrea one, Kate the matchmaker zero. “How do you figure?”
“Two navigators fainted, both while piloting the same vampire.”
And one of these navigators was Ghastek, who could pilot a vampire through an obstacle course studded with rotating saw blades and pits of molten lava while carrying a full glass of water and not spilling a drop. If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say the People had stumbled onto something, some sort of magic that was too much for them, and it had somehow tainted the vampire. But getting to the bottom of this mystery would be impossible. And besides, nobody had hired us to resolve the People’s navigation issues.
“Of course, it could be a coincidence.” Andrea shrugged. “We don’t know anything about the woman who fainted, except that she was supposedly pregnant. We don’t know what relationship she and Ghastek had prior to this mess. Maybe they went to breakfast together and ordered a bad omelet.”
“That would be a hell of an omelet.”
“I don’t know, have you eaten at the Grease Trap lately? Their omelets are gray.”
Technically the place was called the Greek Wrap, but nobody called it by its real name. The Grease Trap served breakfast 24/7, offered token wraps that had nothing to do with Greek cuisine, and openly admitted to having rat meat on the menu. It was the kind of place you went when your earthly troubles became too much for you and you were looking for a creative way to commit suicide.
“Why the hell would anyone be eating at the Grease Trap? I’ve seen flies die from buzzing by that place.”
Andrea crossed her arms. “Oh, I don’t know, probably because your career just ended and you are depressed and don’t feel like breathing, let alone going out, but your body still needs food and that’s the closest place to your apartment and they don’t mind if you bring a giant dog with you.”
“What, you couldn’t find a Dumpster that was closer?”
Andrea glared at me. “What are you implying?”
“The Dumpster would have better food in it.”
“Well, excuse me, Miss Fine Dining.”
“Ghastek wouldn’t be caught dead at the Grease Trap.”
Andrea waved her arms. “It was just an example.”
I glanced into the rearview mirror at Grendel. “What kind of brave canine companion lets his human eat at the Grease Trap? You are so fired.”