“Don’t be a putz, Garret,” the captain said without inflection.
“That’s right, I get a bonus. And honors. And a write-up in our newsletter.” Garret smiled and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “I’m a hero. Hail to the king.”
My hands curled into fists. He had me. And now, in the eyes of the office, I was indebted to him.
“You’re welcome,” he said, flicking my last nerve with his smug, douchey smile.
Before my mind caught up with my body, my fist hit his nose. The crack made everyone blink in surprise. He staggered back and reached for his face. A moment later, blood gushed over his lips.
“Oops,” I said. I meant it.
“That’s a red flag,” the captain said nonchalantly, not looking up.
I sighed. That fifth red flag had probably been inevitable. I clearly wasn’t cut out for a routine-driven, normal life.
Clarissa hastened up, out of breath and clutching her satchel. “Reagan, are you hurt? Did it scratch you?”
“It scratched her leather pants. It didn’t pierce them.” Captain Lox closed his book and finally looked up. “I’ve half a mind to have everyone wear leather. It’s a good idea.”
“Maybe tum’one s’uld ass her why her face isn’t fried,” Garret said through his fingers, his eyes watering and half closed.
“Why her face isn’t fried?” Clarissa asked, squinting at him. “Is that what you said? Let me see your nose.”
“Reagan got blasted in the face with magical fire when Garret burned the aswang’s transformation bird,” the captain said, looking at the ashes on the ground.
“Oh my gosh!” Clarissa’s hand drifted to her chest. “Oh thank God, Garret. Quick thinking. I didn’t have a chance to tell her about that. She would’ve been a goner for sure. Oh wow, that must’ve been a close one.”
My nails dug into my palms.
“But…” Clarissa studied my face. “Oh, I see, your eyebrows are gone. But your face doesn’t look blistered or burned in any way. Was the spell old? It must’ve created a decent amount of heat if it burned your eyebrows. I’d think you’d have light blistering, at the very least. I can heal that, of course.”
“Oh. Uh…” I shrugged. Time to lie. “A cousin made a fire-retardant spell. You know, that cousin. The one I mentioned when I helped you with the case earlier today. He lives in Canada.” They couldn’t possibly know I had no living relatives. Except my dad, but he didn’t count.
“Da one you lost yer birginity to?” Garret asked. He wheezed out a laugh, still holding his face.
“Do you want a broken limb to accessorize with that nose?” I asked him. “But yeah, turns out the spell works on skin but not hair. I’ll, uh…have to tell him that.”
“I thought we had an understanding about experimental magic,” Clarissa said with disapproval.
“It saved my life, didn’t it?” I turned toward home.
“No, I taved yer life,” Garret yelled after me.
I was walking away when Garret asked Clarissa to see to his nose. Other MLE staffers were showing up as I exited the little side alley. Their response time was terrible. If I hadn’t acted when I did, prompting the captain and Garret to act with me, the creature would be long gone.
Something that would be overshadowed by Garret’s assumed heroics. What joy was mine…
Now to deal with Smokey. If he’d seen what I had, which was likely, given the text message and his many calls, he might be a little frantic. Not to mention that if he was dumb enough to talk to the cops, he might need to be bailed out. It was the day that wouldn’t end.
Chapter Five
I could finally afford a car, but I still hadn’t gotten around to buying one. Instead, I took cabs or one of the rideshare services that were like cabs, only nicer.
One of those services, Lyft, dropped me off down the street from my house so I could check in with the local neighborhood watch, which consisted of Smokey, No Good Mikey, and occasionally ex-boxer Mince.
It didn’t take long for Smokey to come hustling my way, his face drained of color and a trickle of blood down his neck.
Alarm rolled through me. I picked up my pace, yelling out, “It didn’t scratch you, did it?”
“Reagan,” he said as he neared, out of breath. “Thank God. That thing was disgusting. I didn’t get pictures, but I can describe it in detail. Where are your eyebrows?”
“They flew away with that creature you probably saw. Did it scratch you?” I pointed at the line of blood originating from a small dot on his neck.
He absently brushed at his skin. “No. Some idiot mugger thought I had money. But the bird claws scraped at me. They didn’t draw blood, but I felt them. Why? Is that bad?” He pushed in closer and stuck his cheek out for inspection.
“If you’re still alive, you’re probably fine.”
“Wait,” he said, shadowing me down the street toward my house. “There are a bunch of police down there. Maybe you should sneak in through the back. I’ve been avoiding them.”
I shrugged. “I’m not worried about police. I don’t have anything on me they’d be concerned about.”
“Except your gun.”
“I have a license.” Illegally obtained, but nonetheless real, just like the papers that had legitimized me in the supernatural world.
Darius was nothing if not thorough.
“The sword?”
“I’ll say it’s a Lord of the Rings sword. No one questions extreme nerd-dom. It’s crazy without equal.”
“You are crazy without equal.”
He had a point there.
“Fine,” he said, slouching beside me. “So anyway, first I saw a huge bunch of birds. Little black birds.” He cleared his shaking voice. “Wait. Let me just start from the beginning.”
I listened as I closed the distance to my house. Once there, I leaned against the railing beside the two steps that led up to my porch while looking at the cemetery opposite us. In a normal neighborhood, there’d probably be a cluster of people hanging out around the cemetery gates, trying to peek in and see what had happened. Not in this neighborhood. People minded their own business where cops were concerned.
Glaring lights glowed from behind the stone wall. Yellow police tape crossed off the opening, and I could just see someone within standing sentry.
“Did you tell the cops what you saw?” I asked Smokey.
“No way. How could I? First they’d want to know why I felt it was my duty to police the cemetery. Then they’d want to know how come I couldn’t ID the killer. To the first question, I couldn’t very well tell them that I was on the lookout for witches or other supernaturals. And the last…well, we both know I’d sound insane. I haven’t even told Mikey. I don’t know what to tell him, other than that something is going on in the cemetery and you know what it is. Sorry that I had to throw you under the bus, but…”
“It’s fine. So you didn’t talk to the cops at all?”