“They’re likely calling to get access to all the city’s traffic cameras right now,” Maxine said. “Where did you two go?”
“We took Superior into Cleveland Heights to The Dirty Dog.” I watched the two men stride to their very plain, government-tagged Impala.
“East.” She paced a few steps, took out her phone again, and made a call. She told someone to get a couple tech geeks to the Blood Culture, pull video surveillance, and doctor in an arrival and departure of two women who could pass for the two of us, with me in the ceremonial outfit. She gave them times and the proper date. When she shut the phone, she grinned. “Now we’ll have corroborating evidence if he needs it.”
“It can’t be that easy.”
“For the tech geeks it is.”
“Women who could pass for you and me?”
“The Boss knows a lot of women, my lady. A lot of size sixes. Me in shades, you with the hood up. Easy.”
Nana and Zhan had been listening, and joined us in the living room. Though apprehension radiated from her, Nana didn’t speak.
“You said we were together and gave him your address,” I said to Maxine.
“I said you came to see me. I didn’t say where. He asked for my address because he assumed that’s where we were.”
Good point. “Still, I didn’t kill Xerxadrea. Fairies did.”
“With magic,” Nana said. “Hard to prove you did it, hard to prove you didn’t.”
“I have no motive!”
“She kicked you out of the lucusi before witnesses, Persephone.”
I swallowed hard. My stomach iced over.
“Don’t worry about it,” Maxine said reassuringly. “Now you weren’t even there.” She nodded toward the door to indicate we needed to get moving. “Boss won’t allow them to make a media martyr of you.”
There were many who bore me ill will for various reasons. Some of them were in the Witch Elders Council. Using the angle that someone was setting me up was viable, but having to lie to protect my innocence was a kick in the gut to my notions of justice.
Johnny and Maxine were waiting for me in the car.
As I stepped off the porch I noticed an empty bucket in front of the garage, the one I used for dog food. Thunderbird had brought it up for a refill. I grabbed it and hurried to the car.
Though Johnny had his phone to his ear, at my approach he revved the engine happily and grinned at me through the windshield. My blond sentinel had taken the passenger front, leaving me to get in the back. I tapped the driver’s window and Johnny lowered it. After only a few words I realized he was telling Theo about our visitor, and requesting that she see what she could find out about SSTIX.
“Pop the trunk,” I asked. Maxine had to tell him where the lever was. After my bags were in the trunk, he’d put the window up again so I mimed filling the bucket followed by flapping wings. I doubt either understood it to mean, “I’m going to feed the griffon.”
I hurried to the grove with the dog food, stopping at the edge and holding out the bucket. Thunderbird stretched, rose to his feet, shakily, then settled his feathers and ambled weakly toward me. I set the bucket between my feet. Thunderbird stopped and cocked his head. He made his trademark sound, but it lacked force.
I reached down and scooped dog food into my palm and held it out.
He puffed his neck feathers up and kicked one of his hind legs, tail swishing. He’d seemed weak and was acting tough now. I was sure it cost him. “C’mon.”
Slowly, he continued forward and snuffled at my hands.
“They’re clean,” I said softly.
A long moment later, with his sharp beak hovering over my offering—and me hoping his aim wasn’t impaired by his lacking vision—his beak opened and the odd bird tongue licked up a few pieces of kibble.
“At least they were clean,” I added.
As he continued to eat from my hands, I studied his wound. Runny pus and goop. He needed Dr. Lincoln.
Gently, I closed my grip around his beak, not blocking his nostrils.
He stilled, except for rolling his remaining eye up at me.
“You have to let the doc treat you, Thunderbird.”
My fingers loosened, and he reared his head up regally. It reminded me of a man, standing tall and declaring he was fine and didn’t need a doctor.
I bent to pick up the bucket and quickly examined his injured talons. Standing straight, I offered him the handle. “Let the doc do his job and help you heal.”
His craned neck twisted away and he snuffled again. Now he seemed like a child who’d stuffed fingers in his ears and declared he wasn’t listening.
With those glossy feathers and that sleek tiger body, he was a gorgeous creature. Griffons were symbolic of nobility for centuries, though not exactly shown in tiger form. Tigers were enigmatic and powerful. He was mysterious nobility. I didn’t want him to die.
I placed the bucket on the ground before him. “I don’t want to lose you, Thunderbird.”
He thundered again and spread his wings as if to prove his might.
Reaching up, I stroked him gently from the neck to shoulder. He was so soft. He hadn’t resisted, so I did it again, ending in a reassuring pat. Then I jogged back to the driveway.
As soon as my car door shut, Johnny backed up the driveway. I momentarily got over the smooth leather seats and asked Maxine, “Who answered at the number Agent Brent gave you?”
“Department of Homeland Security.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The idea of this government task force ruled my thoughts as Johnny drove us to town. One of their agents using the derogatory word “nonsters” signaled a lack of good intentions. They’d even coined a new word for offenses: xenocrime.
“As in crimes committed by those members of society deemed … strange,” Agent Brent had said. They were drawing the lines. Since SSTIX fell under DHS jurisdiction— under Homeland Security; Goddess, it sounds so possessive— this could turn into a firestorm.
Fire.
I didn’t pack a lighter for the candles. The thought hit me as we arrived at the edge of town. “Will anyone have a lighter at this meeting?”
“I don’t know,” Johnny answered.
“Make a stop at the drugstore up here, will you? I didn’t pack one.” Doing rituals away from home was new for me.
Maxine led me into the drugstore, and we walked briskly to the far side of the building where the candle section was located. After I selected a butane candle lighter, we headed to the register. On the way, I caught sight of the endcap display of Hallowe’en items, marked seventy-five percent off. I stared at a frog costume and a pair of fake cow’s horns.
Johnny suggested I wear a disguise to Beverley’s party …
While these wouldn’t work, maybe there was something here that would. I crept down the aisle where the Hallowe’en items and candy had been gathered.
A man stepped into the aisle next to me, and the urge to hide overwhelmed me. The guy’s aura exuded hostility. I kept my focus on the items before me while mentally reinforcing my own aural shielding. Then, from the corner of my eye, I checked him out. He was staring down the aisle—right at me.
Maxine pushed past him. “There you are.”
Her arrival caused the man’s attention to shift onto the sale items and that gave me an opportunity to make a quick assessment of him. I decided that this guy had no real business here. Though he scrutinized the cheesy plastic vampire teeth and ladies’ fake fingernails with spiders on the tips, his fancy suit, gold watch, and alligator shoes made me certain he wasn’t buying either item.
“What are you looking for?” Maxine asked.
“Just checking out the sale,” I murmured. Rotating on my heels, I checked the items on the opposite side of the aisle. The brief spin allowed me a second hasty appraisal of him. As tall as Johnny, with a military high-and-tight haircut, this man’s shoulders made Agent Brent’s broad frame seem comparatively narrow. The slight bump under his jacket—similar to the one Zhan had from her shoulder holster—told me the most.