Wanted: Undead or Alive

It's Not Nick's Style

"He don't do that."

"He almost did it for you when you got shot." I phrased my statement carefully to avoid the sticky point that I was the one who'd shot him. "And he did it for me."

"Nope. That kind of magic is highly illegal, Nowicki. You ought to know that by now. Nick don't do that. Not ever. Not for me. Not for you. You ain't never seen that kind of magic with your pretty little human eyes. You catch my drift?"

"Oh. Yeah. Got it. You're right. Nick definitely doesn't do that." I'd never asked for details, but it was becoming clear. The only reason The Organization let Nick carry on with any kind of regular life was because he didn't use any of his powers, ever, for any reason. On the rare occasion he was caught doing so, there was always a ton of red tape and pacification that had to take place. The next query drifted from my brain to my lips. "What's up with Hawwa getting involved?"

Moose shrugged his massive shoulders. It was like watching two boulders get pushed upward by an earthquake. "Your mama don't get involved when you're in trouble?"

I watched the passing landscape. The houses were slowly changing from fantastically enormous to marvelously oversized. "My mother is..."

"What?"

"Occupied with her own business."

"That's a damn shame."

I looked at him to see if he was teasing me, but saw nothing on his face but sincerity. "Agreed. My grandma would fight the devil for me, though."

He nodded. "Grannys be that way. Feisty. Gimmie a good old vampire fight over an argument with an old lady any day of the week. That's why I couldn't believe Mx. Landry wasn't spitting fire at that meeting with Price."

As I remembered, they were. They were just spitting it quietly. Still, I didn't follow. "What's Mx. Landry got to do with grannies?"

Sympathy changed to a more familiar face—one that asked if I really was as stupid as I sounded.

"What?"

"Nick is Mx. Landry's grandkid. Or great grandkid. Something like that."

It's not very often that life hands a person information that leaves them with their mouth literally hanging open, but there I was, sitting in Moose's car, catching flies.

"You didn't know?'

I continued gaping.

"Guess not. Well, now you know. So, you can imagine how they're going to react if we don't figure this out."

My mouth snapped shut, and I slapped both hands over my face. "We're so fucked."

For once, I wished he would argue with me, but he said, "It do seem that way."

To my horror, tears pricked my eyes. I pressed my fingers against my closed lids in an effort to stop the flow. "Have you ever done an investigation like this?"

"Nah. Not like this."

I let my hands fall into my lap and returned to staring out the window. We were all the way down to the upper middle-class homes that all looked exactly alike. "Okay, so The Organization has people who do this kind of work. Presumably, they're trained for it and have a certain aptitude. Price says that he doesn't want them on the case because Nick might kill them, right?"

"That's what he said," Moose agreed.

"That sound stupid to you?"

"Yup."

"I mean, if they're trained, and they investigate the supernatural community on the regular, they know how to handle dangerous situations, right?"

"You'd think."