39. Wren

CHAPTER 39

Wren

V ee’s Porsche was a definite step up from Blane’s car. If I ever won the lottery, it might even be at the top of my list. Lola was sitting in the passenger seat with cat-Myrtle on her lap, pointing out things that began with G. We’d already done A through F. Caria was lolling sideways in the back seat, carefully belted in, and with the sun peeping over the horizon, Vee was curled up alongside with a blanket covering her. The last thing she needed today was more UV damage, especially since Blane wasn’t with us.

He’d stayed behind with Joseph to handle the cleanup at Laurent’s mansion. Rumours of werewolves were best left to conspiracy websites and kooks, and if Laurent’s corpse remained in the pool, it would end up on the front page of the National Inquisitor . Nobody except Voltaire wanted that.

And Vee was right about the cops. As I drove steadily toward Club Dead, making sure to stick to the speed limit, I heard the sirens in the distance, heading toward the edge of the desert. My job was to get us back safely, and I wasn’t going to mess it up .

But somebody else already had.

As we neared the Medical District, traffic backed up, and I saw flashing lights ahead. A car accident. A black Mercedes crumpled into the side of a dump truck, blocking the roadway. Cops were directing the traffic, sending people off down a side street, but everyone was slowing to look at the wreck.

Including me.

Because I thought that maybe I recognised the car.

I’d ridden in one remarkably similar earlier this evening.

“What’s happening?” Vee asked. “Why are we going so slowly?”

“There’s a car crash ahead. I think it might be Voltaire.”

“What?” She sat up, the blanket still on her head, like a dark ghost in a funhouse. “No, no, no, it’s a trap.”

“It might not be him. It’s just that the car looks similar.”

“Turn around.” Her voice rose an octave. “Turn around right now!”

“Turn around, turn around, turn around,” Lola sang. Why wasn’t she tired yet?

“He didn’t even know we’d be coming this way,” I told Vee. “And it’s daylight now. Doesn’t he have to stay inside in daylight?”

“Yes, but he could have another accomplice. He always thinks ten steps ahead. Please, I can’t be here.”

“Okay, okay.” I spotted a gap in the traffic and made a U-turn. “We’ll go the long way.”

I should have looked behind me.

Dom had always told me to use my mirrors more, and maybe, just maybe, he’d been right about that one tiny thing.

The siren made me jump, and I prayed it was for someone else, but then the flashing lights lit up the inside of the car, and my guts clenched in fear. Laurent had cop friends. What if Voltaire was cosy with them too? Was Vee right? Was this all a setup?

“Don’t stop,” Vee said.

For a long second, I considered trying to outrun the police. In Blane’s car, it would have been impossible, but this was a Porsche, and I had a quarter tank of gas left. Would that be enough? What if a helicopter joined the chase?

Then I saw more traffic ahead and realised I had no choice.

“I have to. Just stay quiet and let me handle it.”

There were witnesses, drivers crawling along in their cars and folks out walking their dogs before it got too warm. And I wasn’t alone. A corrupt cop might have been able to abduct Caria, but he wouldn’t be able to snatch four people, especially when one of them had the belligerence of a toddler.

I slowed.

Rolled down the window.

Waited.

“Ma’am, do you know why I pulled you over?”

“Uh, no?”

“You made an illegal U-turn.” Then he peered past me. “And it isn’t safe to have a cat riding loose in your vehicle. It should be in a carrier.”

“C is for cat,” Lola announced proudly.

“I’m aware of that, miss.” The officer turned back to me. “I’m going to need to see your driver’s licence.”

Shit. “I… Uh, I do have a licence, but I left in a hurry this morning, and my purse is at home.”

I mean, probably? It might have burned up in the fire.

“Driving without a licence in your possession is a misdemeanour, ma’am.”

“I know that, and I swear, this is the first time I’ve forgotten it.”

“If I had a buck for every time I’ve heard that line… Gimme your full name and date of birth.”

“Wren Margaret Gillebrand, and I was born on August ninth—” The groan from the back seat made the cop’s head snap up and my heart sink. Dammit, Caria! “That’s my friend. She’s not feeling so good.”

Now the cop had his face pressed to the rear window, squinting through the tinted glass. Uh-oh.

“What the…?” His radio crackled, but he ignored it as he backed up and drew his gun. “Ma’am, step out of the car.”

Once more, I considered trying to run, but a crowd was gathering now. More police were heading our way. My pulse ratcheted up as I unlocked the door and climbed out, and the cop looked me up and down, eyes wide. Yes, okay, I was an absolute mess. Thank goodness I’d fallen into the pool, or the blood would have been all too obvious.

“Hands where I can see them.”

“I don’t have any weapons.”

The gun was back at Laurent’s home, thank goodness. The only weapon in the car was Vee, and I had no idea what she would do if she was cornered. Run? Fight? Dissolve into a pile of smoking flesh again?

“What’s under the blanket?” the cop asked, ignoring the blip of his radio for the second time.

“My friend. She’s tired.”

“Your friend is sitting up.”

“There are two people in there.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Lola chipped in.

“What’s up with her?” the cop asked, his brows pinching together.

“She has some difficulties.”

The main one being that her four-year-old soul had been dumped into a thirty-something body, but I’d be committed if I told the cop that.

“Ah,” he said and pulled open the rear door. My heart leapt into my throat as he aimed his gun at Vee. “You under the blanket. Sit up.”

Caria was blocking the sun, but Vee couldn’t see that.

“It’s all right,” I told her. “You’re in shadow.”

The cop gave me a funny look, and I glared at him. What? It wasn’t illegal to tell somebody where the sun was.

Vee slid the blanket off her head and sat up, squashed against Caria. “I wasn’t driving.”

“No, but you were riding in a moving vehicle without wearing a seat belt. The fine for that is twenty-five bucks, and I’ll have to issue a citation.”

“Thatsh mean,” Caria slurred, and this was the moment she chose to wake up? I was beyond happy to hear her voice, don’t get me wrong, but a few more minutes of silence would have been good.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” the cop asked.

“She’s drunk.” The last thing I needed was for him to take a closer look.

“Drunk? Ma’am, have you taken any illegal substances?”

“Like, probably?”

His grip on the gun tightened. “Everyone, get out of the vehicle.”

Oh, hell. “I was the one who made the illegal U-turn. Can’t you just give me a ticket and let us go?”

A female cop was approaching, plus another squad car had pulled up. Running wasn’t an option anymore. From the corner of my eye, I saw Myrtle jump off Lola’s lap, and what was she planning to do? Scarper? Claw the cop? She’d get herself picked up by animal control, and couldn’t just one thing go right today? The urge to sit and rock was almost unbearable, and a tear slipped down my cheek .

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I ever came to this freaking city.”

“Wren said a bad word.” Lola managed to get her seat belt undone and scrambled out of the car. “You’re not supposed to say bad words.”

“‘Freaking’ isn’t a bad word.”

“It isn’t?”

“You can say ‘freaking,’” the female cop on the other side of the Porsche agreed. She came across as more chill than the guy with the gun, and an amused smile played across her face. “It’s the other F-word that’s the problem.”

“Fox?” Lola asked, puzzled.

“Something like that.”

The sound of retching came from the back seat. Oh no. Good Cop had fast reflexes as well as a sense of humour, and she yanked the door open. Caria staggered out, and the female cop jumped sideways just in time to avoid Caria puking on her shiny black shoes.

But my attention was on Vee. She fell backward, and sunlight splashed across her face. I waited for the sizzle or the smoke or whatever happened when she faced her nemesis, but…nothing. Her skin stayed smooth and milky.

And she seemed as surprised as I was, if her frown was anything to go by.

“Out of the car,” Bad Cop said again, and gingerly, Vee stepped into the daylight, looking ready to run at any moment. The sequins on her borrowed cocktail dress sparkled—it was the first item of clothing we’d happened upon that fit. “Ma’am, I need your name.”

“Genevieve—”

“Stubbs, you got a problem with your radio?” The next newcomer wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I could tell he was a cop. His bearing and attitude gave the game away, as did the gun at his hip .

Bad Cop snapped his head around. “I’m in the middle of a stop here.”

“There’s a serious incident out past Iron Mountain. The captain wants you over there.”

“He does?”

“Right away.”

“I can handle the stop,” Good Cop offered. “You know Captain Lindsay hates ditherers.”

Getting into the captain’s good graces was clearly more important than a traffic violation, because Stubbs climbed back into his car and took off toward Iron Mountain. I only hoped Blane had successfully disposed of Laurent’s corpse, or I could be charged with considerably more than a moving violation. What was the penalty for killing a werewolf in Nevada?

“You okay?” the newcomer asked Vee, and there was a familiarity in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“I’m okay. It’s been a long night, is all. Wren, this is Shep. He’s a friend of Jack’s.” She nodded toward Good Cop. “And this is Jack’s partner, Daphne.”

Daphne grinned as she passed Caria a tissue. “Stubbs is such an asshole. But don’t make any more U-turns, okay?”

“I swear I won’t. What happened up there?”

“Some douche in a Mercedes was speeding, and bam . He came out of nowhere and hit the dump truck.”

“Was the driver injured?” Vee asked.

“Who knows? He ran off, so I guess he wasn’t hurt too bad. What happened at Iron Mountain?”

“A fire,” Shep said. “From the way the place went up, the CSIs suspect there might’ve been a meth lab at the property. Folks are travelling out there to watch and getting in the way.”

Blane had incinerated the mansion? Laurent’s house of horrors had also been his funeral pyre? That was…brilliant. Nothing less than he deserved.

“I should head to the station and meet Callahan,” Daphne said. “I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“And you should head indoors,” Shep said to Vee. “Don’t you get a rash if you stay outside too long?”

“The photosensitivity is a little better at the moment.”

The words seemed to stick in her throat, and I knew why. Not only why they stuck, but why she wasn’t burning up. Blane’s blood had changed Vee on some fundamental level. Whatever she’d been before, that wasn’t what she was now.

Shep studied her for a long moment before offering a smile. “Good, that’s good. Daphne, the car is registered to a Raphael Laurent. Probably stolen. The address is out near Iron Mountain.”

“It’s all happening over there today. You want Callahan and me to pay him a visit?”

“You mind? My shift finished an hour ago.”

“We’ll go.”

Huh. Might be tricky.

“Well, we should get out of your way,” I tried. “It looks as if you have a lot to deal with this morning.”

Shep looked from me to Vee, and then his gaze fell on Lola, and Caria, and Myrtle, who’d ambled back to the Porsche and jumped onto the hood.

“That your cat?”

“It’s Blane’s cat.” Vee smiled brightly. “She escaped again. So, uh, good luck with the accident investigation.”