“He’s possessed by a kitsune,” I explained, glancing back at the vehicle. “But someone is controlling him. I’d like to interrogate him in one of your zombie rooms. The only holding cells we have at the station that could contain him are closed up like that transport vehicle.”

  “I still don’t see why this is my problem,” Viktor said, tapping his finger against his chin thoughtfully. “But the necromancy containment room should hold the shifter.”

  Swift jogged over. “I got it,” she said, holding up a to-go bag.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Twenty-four. It was all they had,” Swift said, handing me the bag.

  I grinned at her. “That should be enough.”

  The werebear wrapped his meaty hands around the bars of the cell and shook them once before jerking his hands away with a pained hiss. Smoke drifted up from his palms, as the silver-infused bars had scorched his palms.

  “You hungry?” I asked, shaking the bag in my hand.

  The werebear paused. His nose twitched in a distinctly un-bear-like movement. “Depends on what you have,” he said, suddenly calm.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll show you,” I said, pointing at the stool in the center of the room.

  The bear narrowed his eyes at me, then strode over to the chair and plopped down. I opened the bag and pulled out the first container. I cracked it open and peered inside. The perfectly shaped rice balls sat in a neat row.

  The bear sniffed impatiently. “What is it?” he demanded.

  I turned the container around to face him, and he licked his lips eagerly. I slammed the container shut. “I have a few questions. Each one you answer truthfully earns you a snack.” In my experience, the way to a woman's heart is through food.

  The bear’s lip curled up in a sneer and he scoffed at me, but his eyes never strayed from the container.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Ringo,” he replied, smirking at me.

  “Not the bear, whoever is in his body,” I clarified. “I know you’re the kitsune that has been robbing places, then killing the supernaturals you used to do it.”

  “Oh? Is that a fact?” the bear asked, tilting his head to the side in a feminine gesture. “Sounds pretty farfetched.”

  “I also know that human somehow stole your ball,” I said stepping up to the bars. “How did he manage that? I thought kitsune were supposed to be the tricksters.”

  She snarled at my taunt. “I thought you already knew everything.”

  “I never said that. For example, I don’t know why you let me win that last hand of poker,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I assume he ordered you to make sure he won. How did you get around it?”

  “He only said that Frank and his men had to lose,” she snapped, before a self-satisfied smile spread across the bear’s face. “He should have been more specific.” It was odd to see the burly werebear make feminine gestures.

  I picked up a rice ball and tossed it through the bars. She caught it easily and popped the entire thing into the bear’s mouth, smacking her lips as she scarfed it down.

  “That’s why you had him win with a full house every time, too, wasn’t it?” I asked, smiling at her. It was crafty and made his cheating obvious.

  She shrugged and examined the bear’s nails. They had been chewed down to the quick. She grimaced and dropped the hand back to her lap. “I’m sure I’ll have to go soon. Why are you bothering to interrogate me, anyhow?” she asked.

  “Where is the man controlling you?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Never, never land,” she said in an obvious lie.

  “Is he in Japan?” Swift asked, stepping up beside me. She picked up a rice ball and took a bite. The kitsune narrowed her eyes unhappily.

  “Maybe,” the kitsune replied.

  “What about New York, is he there?” Swift asked again.

  “Maybe,” the kitsune repeated.

  Swift popped the rest of the rice ball in her mouth and chewed slowly. The kitsune’s eyes followed the movement of her lips. Swift swallowed noisily, then leaned in toward the bars. “Is he still in Seattle?”

  “No,” the kitsune said with a smile.

  That was smart. Once you knew she had to lie about his whereabouts, the lie became obvious.

  Swift grabbed two rice balls and tossed them to her. The kitsune caught one with each hand and shoved the first in her mouth.

  The bear’s body twitched and the other rice ball fell to the floor. He looked up with bright yellow eyes. “He’s not nearby, and he definitely won’t try to kill you,” she said, before falling face first onto the concrete and going still.

  Viktor walked up, stretching his hand out through the bars. “The kitsune is gone,” he said, turning back to face me.

  “We got what we needed,” I said, crossing my arms. She had told us everything she could.

  “What are we going to do with all these rice balls now?” Swift asked.

  Thirty-Two

  We knew he was in Seattle. We knew that he was nearby. And we knew that he was going to try to kill us, but we still didn’t know who he was. I thought of him as a kid, but he was over twenty, old enough to have graduated college. He had this look about him, though, that made me think he had grown up soft. He hadn’t lived around the mobsters all his life, but he was pissed at Frank, specifically. Who could lure a young guy like that into the seedy underbelly of Seattle?

  Swift stood in front of the System screen in the conference room we had taken over. She had changed out of her dress into a pair of jeans and a simple button-up shirt. I forced my eyes away from her backside and refocused on the board.

  She scrolled through a series of mugshots, searching through everyone connected to Frank who had been arrested in the last year. All those men had the tired eyes of someone who had been scrambling just to get by their entire lives. This kid had looked more like the rug had been jerked out from under him and he didn’t know how to handle it.

  “We’re getting nowhere with this,” I said, leaning back in my chair and putting my feet up on the table.

  “Don’t put your feet up there,” Swift said, frowning at me.

  I pushed my feet farther onto the table. “We’re looking in the wrong places,” I said, smirking at her annoyed expression.

  “Where should we be looking then?” she asked, crossing her arms.

  “I was trying to think of what would make a clean-cut kid like that show up at a gambling den,” I said, rubbing my hand against the stubble growing out on my jaw. It itched when it got to this length. I really needed to shave. “We have a college-aged guy, who most likely grew up middle class and suddenly needed money. The first victim was a well-known loan shark. We were looking at it as a strike by a rival, but what if it was something more straight-forward? What if this guy owed her money he couldn’t pay?”

  “He’d be able to pay her if he robbed the bank,” Swift argued. “Why would he kill her?”

  “Maybe she humiliated him, or hurt him or someone he cared about,” I said with a shrug. “You ever watch 21? They were mathematical geniuses – the type smart enough to trick a kitsune, but stupid enough to get into gambling with the mob.” When you gamble with the mob, the odds don't always play out like they should.

  “You’re thinking college dropout?” Swift asked, already swiping the mugshots away and typing the new search into the system. Names and faces popped up on the screen.

  “Narrow it down to the best universities, and the most expensive. He was desperate,” I said, pulling my feet off the table and walking over to join her at the board.

  Swift typed in the additional parameters, then added a few more detailing his approximate age, race, and hair color. The system popped up the results. There were four hundred and fifty-two people who fit the description.

  “I really thought that would narrow it down more,” Swift said, scrolling through the results.

  “Wait, scroll back up,” I said. One of the faces had caught my eye. Swift moved the list back up, and I clicked on the one I had recognized. He was a little younger in his picture, but I had no doubt it was our guy. Chad Murray, twenty-three. He had dropped out of school one semester before graduating with a bachelor’s degree in Mathematics.

  “That’s definitely him. I’d recognize that smug face anywhere,” Swift said, pulling up all his known addresses.

  “He’s going to be living in someone else’s house,” I said, halting her search. “Actually, we should look at Frank’s first.”

  “You’re right. He is taking everything away from the people that he feels victimized him,” Swift agreed. She pulled up Frank Castiglione’s addresses. He had three houses in Washington. Two were in remote areas, but only one was downtown.

  “Let’s go,” I said, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair. “We’ve got a dirtbag to bury.”

  Thirty-Three

  Downtown Seattle was a mix of tall buildings, hills, and pedestrians that clogged up the already narrow streets. I laid on my horn, which was as anemic as the engine, as a couple strolled into the crosswalk when I was trying to make a right turn.

  “Pick up the pace, people!” I shouted out of the window.

  Swift scowled at me from the passenger seat. “We should be waiting for backup.”

  “I’m not risking this guy getting away again,” I said, speeding around the turn once the pedestrians got out of my way.

  Frank lived within walking distance of Pike Place Market in some old lofts that had been there since the 1800s. The bright-red brick stood out from the grey stone buildings that rose up on either side. He had the corner penthouse with the best view of Elliott Bay. I parked in a no parking zone halfway on the curb and jumped out of the car.

  We flashed our badges at the security guard, who didn’t seem to care one way or the other, as we jogged inside. The building still had that old-world feel. The walls were lined with wood paneling and exposed brick. The floors still had the original, scuffed dark wood. Thankfully, the elevator was new.

  I followed Swift into it and pressed the button for the top floor. We zoomed upward. Magic crackled through the air as she summoned her mace.

  “This building is a historic landmark. Do not blow it up,” Swift warned.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, as we stepped out into the hall. “But I’m more worried about the holes you might leave in it.”

  Swift looked extremely unimpressed. “Unlike you, I generally manage to avoid collateral damage.”

  As the elevator opened, a woman stepped out of the apartment next door to the penthouse. Swift held up her badge with her free hand, then pressed her lips to her fingers, silencing the woman. Her eyes went wide, and she ran for the elevator.

  As we walked down the hall toward the apartment, information flooded my senses: the scent of old wood that made the whole building smell a little like the library Swift took me to the other day, Swift's slightly quickened breathing, and the quiet thump of our feet against the floor.

  Another woman was arguing on the phone with someone I assumed was her boyfriend. Her hushed, aggravated tones seeped out into the hallway. The mayhem magic inside of me reveled in the anticipation of the impending confrontation.

  The door to the apartment was nondescript. There was no welcome mat and no ominous sign that announced a mobster lived inside. I wondered if any of the people who lived on this floor realized that their former, and current, neighbor weren't exactly upstanding citizens.

  Swift stepped to the left of the door and pressed her back against the wall. She lifted the mace up, holding the wooden handle with both hands, her knuckles white. Smoky, pink magic leaked from her eyes as she met my gaze and signaled she was ready.

  I left my katana sheathed but drew a rune to create a barrier behind us. The magic sparked from my fingertip as I traced the intricate shape. As I completed it, bright lines burst from the edges of the rune, creating a cage around us and the door. No one was getting past it, especially not a human.

  I wasn’t sure how difficult it would be to fight the kitsune, if it came down to it; I had to ensure it couldn’t escape from the room. Neither of us had said it aloud, but we both knew there was a chance the kitsune might try to possess one of us.

  The door handle was cold to the touch. I was surprised when it turned without resistance. It was unlocked. Swift shifted into a crouch, and I pushed it open. The gruesome sight that met us made bile rise in the back of my throat.

  I swallowed it down and continued inside without hesitation. No matter what you saw when entering a hostile situation, you couldn’t stop. A mistake like that would get you killed.

  Frank hung from the beams that stretched across the kitchen and dining room. His face was purple and swollen, and his vacant eyes were bright red from the capillaries that had burst as the weight of his body had caused the rope to crush his trachea. He had died slowly and painfully.

  I ground my teeth together. Frank had probably done a lot of wrong in his life, but I doubted he deserved to die for his crimes. Even if he had, it should have been quick and painless. Life is shitty enough when we aren't killing each other like animals.

  Swift stepped into the room first. I followed and went left toward the living room, while she went right toward an open door that appeared to lead into a bedroom. The apartment was quiet, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t alone.

  As I walked carefully forward, I noted that Frank had kept his house clean and neat. The kitchen had been updated to include modern appliances, but it still had that old-world feel to it.

  A long table was set in front of the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. A single chair lay on the ground; it had been tipped over with enough force the arm had broken off. Frank had either been surprised by his attackers, or put up a fight.

  I edged around the wall, holding my breath. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as a familiar, and dangerous, magical signature prickled across my skin. Sitting perfectly still on the couch was the kitsune, her long black hair cascading over her shoulder.

  I could hear Swift’s careful steps coming up behind me as the kitsune turned her head. Her yellow eyes met mine, and I hesitated. She looked…sad.

  “Show me your hands,” I demanded, one hand wrapping around the hilt of my katana. I knew she wouldn’t, or couldn’t comply, but I didn’t want to hurt her. This wasn’t her fault; she was as much of a victim as Martina Bianchi or Antonio Ricci.

  “I’m disappointed,” the kitsune said, not making any move to show her hands.

  “Why?” I asked, dread already spreading through my gut.

  “The trap was so obvious.” She disappeared with a flash of bright orange flames that flew straight at me.

  I jerked out of the way, and the wave of heat rushed past me. I whipped around, but it was already too late. Swift’s body jerked, and when she looked up, the pink glow of her eyes flickered and faded into yellow.

  Thirty-Four

  Swift’s stern mouth softened, the corners lifting into a sultry smile. Her hips rolled as she took a step toward me, letting the mace drag on the ground behind her. The floor creaked under the weight of it. It was creepy to see Swift looking at me with that kind of expression. I decided that I preferred the honest glares over this fake flirtatiousness.

  "Did he order you to kill us?" I asked, stepping back with my hand on the hilt of the katana.

  Swift rolled her eyes, brushing her short hair away from her face. "Of course he did. He has no imagination."

  Her fingers tightening on the mace was the only warning I got before the runed hunk of metal was swinging toward my face. Pulling the sheath in the opposite direction of my draw, I ripped the katana free with blinding speed and parried the strike. The clash of runed weapons sent sparks flying, and, even though I was only deflecting the blow, the force of it jarred painfully up my arm. The sound it made was deafening – Swift was strong.

  Her mace crashed into the wall that divided the living room from the dining room, bashing through the sheetrock. Dust and splinters puffed into the air as she ripped it free, charging at me again. I skipped backward, not counter-attacking, just avoiding her offensive strikes. I wouldn't – couldn't – kill her. Either of them. I had lost one partner already; there was no way Swift was dying by my hands.

  I knew she, or the kitsune, was holding back. Berserker Mages weren't as common these days, but they had been plentiful during the wars. They had been heroes on the battlefield, famed for their insane power and unstoppable rages. I had to stop this fight before the kitsune unleashed the crazy. If I didn't, there would be no way to stop them without killing Swift. She’d become a risk to everyone at that point.

  I ducked under a swing of the mace and lunged forward, driving my shoulder into her stomach hard enough to lift her feet off the ground. The back of her legs hit the couch, and she toppled backward over it.

  "Take back control, Swift!" I shouted as I stalked around the couch.

  She stood slowly, using the mace to push herself back onto her feet. "Swift can't hear you right now," she said, baring her teeth at me like a wild animal. With a growl, she leapt forward, swung the mace over her head, and straight down.

  I jumped to the side as the mace crashed into the floor where I had been standing, splintering the wooden planks. She ripped it free and swung up at a diagonal that I was barely able to avoid. The momentum carried her around, and the end of the handle caught my thigh. My leg went numb from the force of the strike and I stumbled.

  With a speed I hadn't thought possible, she swung the mace back around. I got my katana between me and the head of the mace, but that couldn't protect me from the full impact of the blow. It lifted me off my feet and threw me back, jarring my insides as it hit.

 

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