Pure Blood Part 12

"Lucky isn't the word I'd use," I muttered, ignoring Shelby's mildly horrified expression. The witch had given us what we needed-I didn't have to pretend to be on my best behavior anymore. isn't the word I'd use," I muttered, ignoring Shelby's mildly horrified expression. The witch had given us what we needed-I didn't have to pretend to be on my best behavior anymore.

Vera swished through the door, long black pencil skirt and see-through blouse hugging her skeletal frame in all the right places. If I had been a necrophiliac I might have found her quite s.e.xy.

"Thank you, dear," said Patrick as he took the report, paged through it, and then handed the top sheet to Shelby. I leaned over to face tightly packed columns of information, mostly useless to us, unless we were going to pull an Elliot Ness and bust the owners of Bete Noire for delinquent taxes, of which there were many.

"Primary name on the deed to the property and the business records is the guy we already knew about," she said. "He didn't provide any of the personal information that the state requires, so that's a wash. But here, someone else co-signed a loan five years ago from my uncle's bank."

The name was Benny Joubert. The loan officer at the bank had attached a copy of a driver's license and the face that stared back was brick-jawed and aggressive, with a crew cut that would make a drill sergeant weep, and hostile little eyes.

"Gotcha," I muttered, folding the photocopy and shoving it into my jacket pocket.

"You can't-" Shelby started, but Patrick waved his hand.

"It's fine. Take it, if it helps."

"Thank you so much, Uncle Patrick," said Shelby, standing up. "We've taken up too much of your time."

"Don't be silly," he exclaimed. "After this, I'm taking you two ladies to lunch. I don't get to see you often enough, Shel."

"Oh, darn it, I'm meeting m.u.f.fy and Jody at the country club to play badminton in an hour," I said, snapping my fingers. "Maybe another time for me."

Shelby latched onto my arm with a strength that was impressive, for a human. "We're really swamped with this case, Uncle Patrick. Sorry."

He stood up, grabbing his suit jacket off a hanger behind his desk. "I won't hear it. Meet me downstairs at my car in ten minutes. I know a great little fish-and-chip bar down on the bay where we can all relax."

Shelby slumped. "Okay. We'll meet you downstairs."

CHAPTER 14.

In the elevator, she stripped off her blazer and crumpled it in a ball under her arm, looking like a deranged gun-toting librarian in her conservative blouse and waist rig. "Believe me, we're lucky to be getting off with lunch," she said. "The last time I introduced a boyfriend to Patrick, he took the guy duck hunting and plugged him in the shin with birdshot."

"Accidentally?" I asked.

"No one ever figured that out for sure," said Shelby. We rode the slow descent in silence for a few ticks and then she said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked. "Trust me, I'm used to people being jerkoffs about the were thing. And sure, your uncle is a little overbearing, but I've seen worse. Much worse."

"I'm not sorry for that," said Shelby. "I just... forget it."

I didn't know what to say back to her. Shelby was trying to say she was embarra.s.sed I'd seen her like this, the meek little good girl that hid inside the bossy detective. I knew it, because when I'd lived at home I'd been the same way. I was sorry for my father being a functioning alcoholic. I was sorry for my mother living deep within the mystical Land of Denial. Ashamed that I couldn't mold my life to normal, no matter how hard I tried.

The elevator stopped on the twenty-fifth floor and a man so tall and wide he made me feel delicate stepped in. The car creaked softly.

"Shelby!" the giant exclaimed when he saw her. "My girl, why didn't you tell me you were comin' down today?"

A split second of animal panic pa.s.sed across Shelby's face and then she smiled back. "I thought you were traveling, Uncle Seamus."

"No such luck for you, girl." He chuckled. "What brings you around? And I'm terribly rude," he said to me, extending his hand. "Seamus O'Halloran. They let me pretend I run this place."

"Luna Wilder, Shelby's partner at the Twenty-fourth." I shook his hand, expecting another politician's grip, and found my fingers nearly pulped in his enormous palm. I winced and tried to pull away, but he kept grinning and squeezing so I pressed back, letting him feel the were.

"Quite a grip!" he said, letting go of me. "Pleasure to meet one so lovely. You're quite an improvement over the average flatfoot, my dear."

I smiled, not meaning it at all, as I studied Seamus. I could see where Shelby got her almost Slavic looks from-Seamus had a shock of white-blond hair topping a powerful, florid face and blazing blue eyes. He was paunchy in the middle but still enormous, the kind of man that you wouldn't screw with physically or any other way.

"Patrick is taking Luna and me out to lunch," Shelby was explaining. Seamus laughed, a booming sound in the small s.p.a.ce.

"You watch your ring finger, missy," he told me. "Patrick's the only O'Halloran never to take the plunge, and someone as beautiful as you is like dangling a steak in front of a starvin' Doberman."

"I never get tired of being compared to meat," I said pleasantly. "Please, if you value your health, don't ever do it again."

Dead silence clamped down around us. Shelby looked like she might vomit on her ugly shoes. Seamus stared at me, color rising in his neck and face, those hard, hard eyes boring like drills.

I glared back. My head was hurting from being around so many witches and workings, I needed caffeine, and I'd had it with smart remarks directed at me. I figured if Seamus hauled off and smacked me, at least I'd get some paid time off and the satisfaction of handcuffing him.

A grin split Seamus's face, like a thunderstorm rolling back to admit a jolly sun. "My lords," he boomed, clapping me on the shoulder. "My lords, girl, you've got moxie. Good for you."

The elevator reached the lobby and opened to reveal a huddle of corporate drones waiting for a car. They all shrank back when they saw Seamus.

"Thank the G.o.ds," Shelby muttered, making a beeline for the stairs to the parking garage.

"No offense meant, Miss Wilder," said Seamus. "You're obviously a woman with her head on straight who would never be interested in my idiot little brother." He whipped out a business card and scribbled on the back with a gold pen. "If you ever need a.s.sistance- anything within my power-please call that private number."

"Yeah. Thanks," I said, and backed out of the car just before the doors rolled shut again. My skin p.r.i.c.kled with raw magick where he had touched my shoulder. Seamus O'Halloran was the most powerful caster I'd ever encountered, and he scared me. I so needed to get out of this d.a.m.ned office building.

A lobby cafe saccharinely named Koffe Kart caught my eye and I bought a large latte without my customary shot of hazelnut. I just wanted to wake up, shake the heavy feeling that being inside of so many workings and wardings gave my body and my mind.

My phone trilled. "Where are you?" Shelby demanded. "We're waiting in bay forty on the first level."

"G.o.ds, I'm coming," I said. "Blame your uncle. He gave me his number." I snapped the phone shut on Shelby's enraged squeak and grinned to myself. Maybe this day could be salvaged.

I pulled out Benny Joubert's photo again as I walked and called McAllister. "Mac, I need you to look at a guy named Benny Joubert-that's J-o-u-b-e-r-t."

"Do I wear a short skirt? Do I look like your secretary?" Mac asked.

"No, but thanks for the mental image all the same."

"Luna, you're not still working that junkie case, are you?" he said. "Morgan's all over my a.s.s to close it and move you on to other things."

"Such as what, the exciting world of collating and filing?" I grumbled.

"It beats losing your job, and costing me my best detective," said Mac shortly. "Here it is-Benny Joubert has had two arrests and one conviction for possession with intent. Charges were reduced from distribution of controlled substances. Must have rolled on someone... He looks like a mid-level dealer to me. You on to something?"

"Maybe," I murmured, looking at Joubert's face again. "I'm more interested in what he is than what he does."

"What in the seven h.e.l.ls does that mean?" Mac demanded.

"It means I know a were when I see one," I said. My phone hissed as I descended into the garage. "Forward the file to my in-box. I'll see you later, Mac."

He said something that might have been "be careful" before the call cut out.

"There you are!" Shelby called before I could ponder Benny Joubert's nonhuman status. Behind her, Patrick sat in a shiny Jaguar that didn't even pretend not to be compensating for something. you are!" Shelby called before I could ponder Benny Joubert's nonhuman status. Behind her, Patrick sat in a shiny Jaguar that didn't even pretend not to be compensating for something.

Shelby walked a couple of steps toward me and squinted. "Is that coffee? Couldn't you have waited?"

"No!" I snapped, taking a large sip for emphasis.

Shelby paced closer. "Just hurry it up!"

"Let's go, ladies!" Patrick called. "This train's leaving the station!" He turned the key in the Jaguar's ignition.

A roar filled my ears, and for a ridiculous half-second I thought it was the car's engine, but a hot hand made of air grabbed me and slammed me to the floor and a blinding white-orange flash filled my eyes as the Jaguar was engulfed in flames.

I hit the cement on my back, concrete and gla.s.s raining down. My jacket and jeans mostly protected my limbs, although I touched a stinging spot on my cheek and saw blood.

Ringing-no, screaming-was the only thing I heard as I managed to raise my head. I was deaf from the blast, totally incapacitated. The Jaguar was on fire, a twisted frame already turning black all that was left. In the driver's seat, I could see a charred shape that I didn't want to look too closely at. Shelby's uncle was toasted.

Shelby.

My legs worked when I tried to stand on them, although I could feel deep bruising starting everywhere from being hit by debris. "Shelby!" I screamed. I couldn't hear myself, but I sucked in toxic smoke, so screaming seemed like a good guess.

She had been so close to the car, so much closer to the blast radius than me ...

If she was dead, I didn't know what I'd do. Five minutes ago I hadn't even liked Shelby. Now, suddenly, the thought that she might be dead was almost too much to bear.

No one else got to leave me.

"Shelby!" That time, I could hear myself a little, but all of my senses were still overwhelmed by fire and smoke and debris.

Close to the car, the bomb had blown a huge chunk out of the garage wall and ceiling, rebar and concrete tiles lying in a rockslide around the car. Half under the biggest piece of ceiling, Shelby was lying unconscious.

She had had to be unconscious. to be unconscious.

I crouched and felt for a pulse, which was steady but faint. She had a bad cut on her temple that was steadily pumping blood, and there was the matter of the five-hundred-pound piece of concrete trapping the lower half of her body.

"Shelby!" I slapped her cheek. "Wake up!"

After the longest wait of my life, she choked and opened her eyes. "Oh G.o.ds."

"Stay still," I said, reading her expression and her lips more than hearing. "How hurt are you?"

"My leg." Tears sprouted in her eyes and she let out a mewl as the pain hit. "My left leg. It really hurts ..."

"That's good," I said.

"How in h.e.l.l h.e.l.l is this good?" Shelby screamed at me. is this good?" Shelby screamed at me.

"Pain means you're not going to spend the rest of your life blowing into a tube to move your wheelchair," I said. Black smoke began to billow from under the Jaguar's hood. The fire was getting hotter and smellier and louder. "We have to get out of here," I said. "The other cars are going to catch and then we'll have fifteen bombs instead of one."

"Oh G.o.ds," said Shelby, eyes dilating until they were almost black. Her breathing went shallow.

c.r.a.p. Of all the times for a person to go into shock. "Listen!" I snapped my fingers in her face. "I'm going to try to lift this block but you're gonna have to move fast because I can't hold it. Got that?"

"My f.u.c.king leg is crushed!" Shelby howled. "How am I supposed to move fast?" fast?"

"Figure it out, unless you want to get extra crispy," I snapped, grabbing the concrete by the smoothest edge and getting to my feet. I bent my knees and braced myself.

I didn't know how strong I really was. I had never tested the were strength-most of the time I was more interested in hiding it. I was fairly certain I couldn't go around tossing Volkswagens, but who knew for sure?

Bright lady, if we get out of this, I promise I'll stop being mean to Sunny and Shelby and that I'll really make an effort to make things work with Trevor. But I can't do that if I'm dead, and charred corpses are really unattractive, so please-don't fry me.

"Get ready!" I told Shelby, and then shoved at the block with every ounce of muscle in me. There was a rock-smashing screech as rebar tore free of masonry, and I felt the block start to slip no matter how hard I braced it. "Shelby, go!" I gasped as I pushed even harder, pulse screaming in my ears. I felt something give in my shoulder at the same time the block moved, and I fell back as it crashed to earth.

Shelby sat a few feet away, bleeding from a torn hole in her calf. "Hex me," I said reflexively. Rebar had punched right through muscle and bone.

The car next to the Jaguar was burning now, the upholstery giving off an acrid chemical smoke. Genuine all-leather interior, my a.s.s.

"We gotta go," I told Shelby, pulling her up and draping her right arm over my shoulder. My other arm wasn't working too well, hanging limply by my side and sending fierce jolts of pain through me if I jostled it.

Later. I could hurt later. Now we had to run.

Outside we were nearly flattened by a ladder truck and an ambulance, sirens screaming. Vaughn the parking attendant stood outside his booth, watching the whole sideshow with a fish-eyed expression.

Two EMTs came running to take Shelby off my hands and my body decided it would be a good time to collapse on the sidewalk. I can't say I disagreed with it.

CHAPTER 15.

Years later, or so it seemed, an EMT crouched next to me, shining a light in my eyes. "Were you inside, miss?"

"Ow! Turn off that d.a.m.n flashlight! Yes."

He took it away and strapped a portable pressure cuff on me, nodding at the gauge. He felt my pulse and said, "Your vitals are stable. Can you walk over to the ambulance with me?"

I nodded and attempted to stand. My vision swam and my knees buckled. The EMT caught me by the arm and I screeched at the resulting pain, having forgotten temporarily that I had damaged myself. Only you, Luna, could hurt yourself worse than a car bomb. Only you, Luna, could hurt yourself worse than a car bomb.

"Whoa!" said the EMT. His name badge said "Chen."