Wanted: Undead or Alive

If You're Going To Lose...

"That was me."

"You're really good."

"Ain't that the truth?" She gave a hearty laugh. "You gonna go post bail?"

Something halfway between laughter and sobbing burst out of me.

My companion cocked her head curiously.

"I'm a bounty hunter," I told her. "He's my boss. I'm pretty sure he was framed for murder."

"Damn, girl." She patted her hair. "What you gonna do about all that?"

"What would you do?" I asked.

"Me? I'd bust him out and run, but I have a long history of bad decisions, so it's a safe bet that's exactly the wrong thing to do." She patted my arm. "Maybe you should just go home and get some rest. Courts don't do nothing this time of night, anyway. Tomorrow you can look at it fresh and figure it out."

I thanked her for her kindness and went to Nick's car. He'd handed me the key before they took him away. I slipped inside and locked the doors. The scent of his cologne hung in the air and I spent a few seconds breathing it in and feeling terribly sorry for both of us.

Operating on autopilot, I pushed the start button and shifted into drive. It didn't take long to cross town. There was next to no traffic on the road so late at night. I pulled up in front of Mandrake's shop and looked inside the brightly lit Oasis.

Hawwa stood behind the counter, leaning against the glass case. Mandrake stood in front of her—really, really close, directly in front of her. His hands rested on the case on either side of her. As I watched, she reached up and tucked a loose strand of his long, wavy hair back behind his ear. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

What the...

How...

When...

No. No, no, no, no... I wasn't going to sit there like a voyeur. I got out of the car, took two steps, got back in, and drove away. I might have left a little rubber behind on the road in my haste to get away.

For a while, I drove around the city. I passed Chantelle's house, where everything was as dark and buttoned up as you'd expect it to be at that time of night. I even wound around to my grandparents' place. For what? I wasn't going to knock on their door and get them out of bed. After an hour or so, my eyes went from exceedingly wet to painfully dry and, at last, I went home, parked in the driveway, and trudged up the steps to my apartment.

A half-full quart of Mackinaw Island fudge ripple had my name all over it, so after changing out of the outfit I'd felt so pretty in, into the softest most shapeless clothes I could find, I settled onto my sofa to eat and think.

The first several thoughts were memories of Mandrake kissing Hawwa. My friend and occasional lover was making out with my boss and sort of boyfriend's mom. Too bad Jerry Springer didn't have his show anymore.

I shoveled a giant chocolatey bite into my mouth and forced my thoughts to the case. There was something. I knew something. I'd seen it. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"Dammit!" I stomped into the kitchen and shoved the ice cream back into the freezer.

All of my files, along with anything I possessed that was related to the supernatural, were in a specially warded safe Mx. Landry had given me. It wouldn't do to have Fred Jorgenson come into my apartment because he suspected a leaky toilet and find a file about banshees lying on the kitchen table. Maybe something among that info would pull the trigger on whatever thought had been loading for the past several hours.