IncuBUST

The Usual Suspects

"Gods, they really fucked up my paint job, didn't they?" Sissy muttered looking through the photos of her car that Thomasina's friend had sent.

"Really, Sis, that's what you're upset about?" Barapha snapped as all three of us descended the stairs. She ignored him and turned to me asking, "You're sure they were human?"

"Real sure," Barapha replied before I could even open my mouth. She gave him a withering glance and said, "Was I talking to you?" His eyes narrowed. I set my hand on his arm and looked at Sissy saying, "Yes, they were human."

"Could smell the filth pumping through their veins from a mile away," Barapha muttered as we reached the bottom floor. Sissy suddenly stopped and turned to look at Barapha saying, "Okay, maybe Chase and I should report this on our own."

"What?" he exclaimed and the temperature in the lobby dropped by several degrees.

"You are getting a little worked up," I murmured looking down at the floor. I felt his fingers under my chin tilting my face roughly upwards so that his eyes met mine.

"It is a situation that merits getting worked up," he said, and I was rendered temporarily speechless by the intensity of his gaze.

"Cops don't respond to 'worked up' they respond to subtlety," Sissy said.

"And what makes you such an expert?" Barapha asked, an edge to his voice. She gave him an incredulous look and retorted, "I graduated from law school, you ass, while we were dating."

"Really?" Barapha replied appearing genuinely confused. She scoffed and turned away from him saying, "Chase and I will talk to the police. You can go home." She began flouncing away towards the front entrance.

"Like hell!" Barapha said following after her. I rolled my eyes and made to join them when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I watched them disappear through the door still bickering and sighed retrieving my phone.

It was a text from Octavia.

OCTAVIA: Chase, are you okay?

I stared at the message for a second before replying.

ME: Yeah. Why?

I was about to put my phone away and join Sissy and Barapha outside when it buzzed again.

OCTAVIA: When I came home from school there were these boys biking around the guard house. I heard them talking about that ice rink your frost monster works at. They said something about sending a message and throwing something. Are you sure you're okay?

I blinked several times, not sure what to say. I stood there with my thumbs hovering over the keys wondering if I should tell her what had happened or just tell her I was fine and had no idea what she was talking about.

"Chase, come on," Barapha said, ducking back inside the apartment building. I didn't move. He walked over to me and asked, "What's wrong? Who're you talking to?" The phone chimed again.

OCTAVIA: These are their yearbook photos from last year. Do you recognize them?

Three media files. Three pictures of grimacing teenage boys in front of a boring blue backdrop. It was them. Barapha sighed and took the phone from my hand looking down at it.

"Son of a bitch," he mumbled, "She knows them."

"What on earth are you losers doing?" Sissy exclaimed shoving her way through the glass doors. She halted at Barapha's side and looked down at the phone.

"Shit, those little creeps live in Watermill," she said, and I began hyperventilating.

 "We-we have to get her out of there," I gasped grabbing onto Sissy's arm. "What if the Iron Lance really are in Watermill. She goes to a mixed school. She probably has friends who are Mythics. You know they don't differentiate between Light and Dark. We have to--"

Sissy clapped her hand over my mouth and said, "What we have to do is go to the police. I have pictures of the damage and now you have pictures of the suspects. We'll file a report and they'll--"

"What, Sis?" Barapha snapped, "Give them a slap on the wrist? A stern talking to? I doubt they'd even make them pay for a car wash." Sissy was silent for a moment before sighing.

"You're right, if we bring them to court for vandalism, they might be made to pay for having the car washed. Though if it isn't their first offense, they could be sent to a detention facility." She crossed her arms over her chest and began chewing on the inside of her cheek. After a moment she mumbled, "If we can prove assault, the chances they'll go to juvie are much higher." She looked at me and said, "Go get your sweater. We'll show it to the police."

I hesitated for a moment before taking my phone from Barapha and dashing back upstairs.