Deon

FAY

Islam my ass into my chair, dig in my bag for my phone, and begin texting this idiot.

Bear

8:21 am

Thks 4 my badge.

You're welcome

Thks 4 the key.

You're welcome.

8:23 am

Are you serious?!

I said don't give it back.

Don't call me again!

Mets?

Keep the ticket. Bye.

Dinner?

2nite?

8:25 am

Can't. I've got a date.

8:30 am

Who?

Rules are rules. Friday through Sunday, no questions asked.

Give me his name.

BYE.

Got to wrap my mind around something else...

I glance at my heavily loaded in-tray—I swear, this box terrifies me—and notice a brown A4 letter lying on top.

What's this?

There's a big red circular stamp on the envelope with the word 'confidential' in bold.

Confidential?

Since when are coroner cases confidential?

I peel off the yellow sticky note that reads: 'Priority report to be filled. Red section, File 1FG67.' My finger runs under the gap and delicately separates the sealing band.

Careful, Fay. Don't tear it.

I might have graduated as a Police Identification and Record Officer to work in the field, yet my father still managed to downgrade that one for me into a desk job...

My mother says he's over-protective, but I say he's a control freak.

Anyway, I've had time to grind my teeth over it. But the fact remains: I'm just a records clerk, and what I'm doing is a breach of protocol that can get me in a lot of trouble.

NOPD Lead Investigation

Assigned Case: Spellitova - Central Arc Murder

Status: Open

Leading Department: NOPD Intelligence Bureau

Section: CIS

Supporting/Assigned Unit: Special Operations

Team: ESU (Emergency Service Unit)

Victim

Name: Marissa

Surname: Spellitova

Monster Classification: Wishing Fairy, C5

Damn... A Class-5 fairy, that's some magic right there. A royal bloodline, maybe.

What a shame...

Won't be me, though. I'm a useless C1...

Sex: Female

Age: 24

Crime location: 5th Street, Blue station, Central Arc, New Orc

Cause of death: Unknown

Profiling: In progress

I skim the rest before looking at the photo stapled to the upper right corner.

This girl's face is contused beyond a simple beating.

That can't be right.

I scurry my eyes back to the cause of death.

Unknown...

The fuck it's not!

"Opening sealed documents now?"

"I... The... Just double-checking signature lines!" My chair goes wild on me and spins me to the left, my legs flipping my waste basket over.

This deadly voice... always so full of grit.

Deon.

My eyes whiz up my pinned documents and other ridiculous amounts of sticky notes plastering the board across from me.

Two muscular forearms are resting flat over my soundproof panel.

Up further, a throat artery, one of an athlete, throbbing nicely. Skin redder than dark blood, a sexy square jawline, the smirk that goes with it, sharky. "Is that so?"

"It sure is!" I grin.

"Little fibber..."

"Deon, don't sneak up like that. I was nearing a pixie dust outbreak."

With a chuckle, he lowers his devilish head. The laughter leaves him, not the smirk, marking a brief but playful pause. "Still up for tonight?" he whispers.

My eyes linger over his horns. Temple-born, these very thick wonders, smoothly waving in length, can, without a doubt, gut the strongest of orcs.

A trail of light courses up those black arcing marvels as he glances downward, their curve dangerously nearing my forehead.

Deon doesn't only have massive ox horns, but he's got the bullish temper to match.

Sliding the document back into its sleeve, my throat tightens into a raspy, "Yes, yes." My nerves sure are jangled today. "Sure, can't wait."

This gargoyle sniggers in such a salacious way that heat begins radiating from my thighs.

I hook a nervous thread behind my ear. When I'm around Deon, it's like I become nothing but a static charge.

And as I smooth my hair, one of my rings grips and pulls out some threads, ruining my ponytail.

Fay, dearest, buck up some dignity!

I remove my hair tie and free my strands, and Deon's lips part.

"You like 'em long?"

Deon stares at my hair sprawling down beyond my chair, and I snap my fingers in his face.

Lightly nodding, he says, "I sure do, Rapunzel... Want to have some fun on the fifth floor again?"

This imp!

"No can do. I've got to bust a nut today. See this pile here? It's for yesterday."

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel..." he growls sweetly.

"Tonight, everything you want. But only if you say, 'Fay, Fay... let down your hair.'"

His long, sharp ears perk down on me. "My place or yours?"

Last time I brought someone other than Tyke home, Donna threw a fit, barking, 'My flat isn't a spring break hostel you can fuck around in!' Sulked for a few days, but I got the message in the end...

"Why don't we stop atHell's Gardens? I need a drink."

"It's already that kind of day?"

"Yeah."

"The chief?"

I pinch my lips in confirmation.

Deon's wings shrug. "Hell's Gardens, let's say around seven?"

"Six."

"Such eagerness..." Deon muses.

His whip-like tail runs under my chin as he leaves, and my wings tingle.

Deon...