Witchcraft and nasty little murders

Chapter Eight The operation

"Did the Chief of Police give you permission?" She raised an eyebrow.

"He doesn't need to know everything in advance," the detective shook his head.

"You've been given too much liberty," she said in disbelief. "But it doesn't matter whether they allow the operation or not, I'm not taking part in it."

"I decide when and why I risk my life. You are under contract to help me."

"I never thought it would come to this, that you would threaten me with a contract. But I won't consent to you walking to your death in exchange for a few grams of cocaine. So forget it."

"For once in your life you should trust yourself and your power," the detective shook his head. "I've seen what you are capable of. In order to interrogate Sanchez and get Detective Parker to hit the cartel, we need what I said; you'll hand me over to them and if I'm in trouble, you'll deflect the bullet."

"I'm not a fucking Houdini, you understand?" she snapped at him angrily. "I don't know my powers because I've never had to use them."

"It doesn't look like it to me," the detective pointed to Lia's tattooed skin peeking out from her robe, "I've seen the scars and I have a feeling they're connected to your abracadabra."

"Okay, you're a stubborn fanatic who lives for his job. I give up," she bowed her head in surrender. "After Alpha died, I didn't resign myself to the fact that fate had taken him away from me. I challenged the forces of nature; I tried to bring him back. Before I knew you, only euphoria or deep pain could increase my strength. I had little of the former, as I had not wanted to see a man for a long time after Alpha, but the latter was easily achievable. I was cutting myself. Not because I wanted to hurt myself, but because the physical pain increased my strength. I kept trying, inventing spells, but I couldn't bring him back to life. But the scars remained. I always wanted a tattoo, I had the first one done with Alpha, then the others covered the scars well. Once I was in hospital, Mum got fed up and that's when I moved to Gaxburn. The rest is history."

"I'm sorry you didn't get your love back, but you should understand, simple isn't always the right solution."

"You're a wise bastard," Lia snorted, "but I'm not going to let you drag me into a situation where you're going to be carried out in a body bag."

"Your only choice is whether or not to come with me. Thanks for the coffee," the detective stood up and headed for the exit. Ophelia shook her head and opened the door for him. But before he left, he turned back, a look of concern in his eyes. "If you want to cop out, I understand."

"Do I look like someone who would give up so easily?"

"Get a few hours' sleep, I'll be back for you at ten."

"I'll be waiting," a lopsided smile appeared on her face. Even though she bloody hated the thought of being alone, she couldn't ask the detective to stay with her for the rest of the night.

***

Ophelia's third coffee that day did nothing to help her mood or her tiredness. She stared at the people hurrying down the street bored, as Bradley kissed Lyra's lips for a long moment before he made his way out with great difficulty.

"Don't forget to get home early today. The boys are coming to play poker and they're dying for your guacamole. I've already bought tortillas."

"Okay, I'll be home soon," Lyra purred in his ear, as the disheveled, glasses-wearing, blond-haired, tall Bradley downed his coffee and reached for the redhead's lips again.

"Your girlfriend's the best," he hinted to Lia.

"Then I guess you've finally learned to appreciate her," Ophelia threw him these words.