The Witches on BellaRow Street

Epilogue: Cree

[Detective Antonio Cree POV]

I'm exhausted.

My body aches near the left side of my waist, but I refuse to acknowledge the pain throbbing with each step I take towards my destination. If I do, it's over. I'm done. And I might as well, crumple in the streets and pass out.

But I have things to do.

Phone's ringing, pictures snapping, and inaudible whispers are all I hear as I step inside NIWP's precinct, a supernatural police station, disguised as a museum located in the District of Columbia-- Washington DC.

It's not home, but it's close.

After walking through a high-tech witch/warlock magical detector with build-in ultra-violet laser lights, an eye retina scanner, and a thermal body demodulator, a woman wearing M.A.C smudge-proof lipstick, awaits by her office.

"Welcome back from your little vacation, Detective Cree."

The woman who greets me tugs at her sleek black pencil dress, tapping her sexy heels against marbleized floors while collecting evidence, documents, and a recording from my hand. The sting in her salty voice seeps through my auditory tube, buried deep within my eardrum as we walk inside her office.

She's implying I must have enjoyed myself while away from the city. She's also revving up for a nonverbal debate, but I'm not in the mood, not after my failed New Orleans trip.

And not after an encounter with a Bellarow Witch.

The thought of her name creates an involuntary jaw clench, forcing me to glance out of the office window, peeking at my colleagues at the precinct. They're pretending, shuffling papers, making phone calls, and avoiding eye contact with the man of the hour--me.

When I can't find the second woman who's just as brilliant as I am, Detective Ann Wang, my partner, I glimpse back at Miss Salty Voice--the woman in black.

"Have a seat, Detective Cree."

The corners of my lips twitch upward, wondering if I should engage with her or stand down.

Fuck it. Let's play...

My eyes flicker at the woman, Lana Stone--NIWP's liaison and data collector--while watching her pale cheeks turn crimson red under my glare. "Thank you, Lana." I hope she hears the mockery in my voice. "And I had an amazing vacation. If only I spent it alone..."

Lana Stone takes a gulp, then draws her attention back to her computer screen, typing away. Miss Stone has something else on her mind as she performs her mandatory questionnaire for all out-of-state Undercover Detectives.

"Is there a reason why you stayed longer than expected?" Her question doesn't surprise me. She's prying on company time, fishing for unexplained answers, and more information on the Witches on Bellarow Street. Or one Witch in particular.

The Bellarow Witches have a fascinating past before joining together and forming a sister circle, making them one of the most powerful groups of women in the world. Thus, placing them at number five on NIWP's MOST DANGEROUS LIST. Back in New Orleans, I witness the Bellarow Witches take out the fourth most dangerous group at a leasing building as if they were a tiny fly on the wall.

I recorded it too; for reference.

Lana Stone taps on her keyboard, louder than usual. "Well...What's your answer?" There's an edge in her voice--it's still salty.

Unfortunately, Lana and I have a history together; a drunken night that led to a one night stand, and then another. After a few more wild nights, our co-worker with a benefits package went cold, giving me a new meaning to the phrase: do not eat where you shit.