A Little Street Magic (11 page)

I groaned, and pushed myself into sitting position. Unable to see his face, I scooted around to sit tailor-style. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t let fly with too many F-bombs.”

“All I’m gonna say is, don’t plan on a rap career. Most of your songs would be bleeped out when played on the radio.”

I cringed. “What else did I say?”

Logan’s grin left the premises. “You told me how awful you’ve been feeling about not meeting all of your responsibilities, and swore that you were trying to do better.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t meant to publicize it. That frigging pain remedy apparently did double duty as a truth serum. “Well, yeah. I’ve been slacking on some things.”

“I think you’re doing fine, under the circumstances.” Logan made a face. “We had a little argument about it.”

Our first argument, and I didn’t remember a word of it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel how you want to about things. But I do think you’re too hard on yourself, and I’m allowed to have that opinion. I’m just going to be more careful about sharing it, because you gave me an earful.” He patted my knee.

Ouch. I could only imagine myself ranting without filters, and it definitely sounded like none of mine had been working last night. “I’m really sorry.”

Logan reached for my hand, and I gave it to him with a flutter of relief. Still wanting to hold hands was a good sign I hadn’t blown it between us. “Honesty’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Being ugly is.”

He chuckled. “You weren’t ugly, just adamant.”

“Well, that’s a relief. How else did I embarrass myself?”

His grin flickered back to life. “Well, the subject of sex did come up.”

I covered my eyes with my free hand and groaned again. “Oh God. I didn’t.”

“Does that mean you don’t want particulars?”

Did I? Not really, but then again, I kind of needed to know what the hell I’d said to him. “What did I say?”

“You informed me that you’re on birth control, and haven’t had sex without using condoms, too.”

That wasn’t so bad, and happened to be completely true. Bonus: Now I didn’t have to have that conversation while sober and tripping all over myself in embarrassment. I dropped my hand from my eyes. “Okay, true.”

Logan’s expression was serious. Maybe I’d uncovered my eyes too soon. “You also pointed out that since I’m sterile and a shifter, condoms weren’t necessary now.”

Oh, holy crap on toast. “That was a terrible thing to say. I’m...”

“I told you that I was sterile. It’s a fact. Don’t apologize for repeating a fact.” He lightly squeezed my hand. “And now I also know that you’re not keen on the idea of having children.”

Boy, drugged Cordi was a giant blabbermouth. I needed to stick to my mom’s headache tea from now on. “Oh.”

“It’s fine. Not an issue.”

“But you...”

“Yeah, we talked about that too. Finding out the cause of my sterility doesn’t mean it can be reversed. I don’t expect to father children, Cordi.”

“But if you could, you’d want them.”

He shook his head. “It’s not my choice. I don’t have to go through growing a new person, labor, and delivery.”

Good night, he was making my little heart go pitter-pattering all over the place. “It wouldn’t be fair though.”

“Relationships are about compromising, and sometimes, sacrificing. I don’t think anything’s going to change on that front, so it’s not either of those. If it did happen to change, well, I’ve never expected kids anyway.”

Logan sounded really certain, but I had to be sure, and so far, was amazed at how well I was handling such a serious conversation. I was maintaining eye contact and everything. “You may feel differently, if it did change.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I’m not going to throw away whatever we have going at that point. You may feel differently then, too. If you don’t, that’s fine. I know where you stand on the subject, and it’s not a deal-breaker for me.”

The wall I’d felt between us was gone, just like that. I realized that I’d probably put it there. “Is it okay if I feel really relieved right now?”

Logan smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Good, because I think I love you, and I was scared the kid thing would mean no more us.” I paused, lips parted, and replayed what I’d just said. “Oh, that was...”

“Honest.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “I think I love you too.”

My lips curved into a huge smile. Maybe, just maybe, being an adult wasn’t so hard all the time.

“S
orry we’re late,” I said to Damian, who hugged me.

“You forgot to text me last night. You look fine though.”

My blistering was completely gone. “I am, and sorry for forgetting. Alleryn gave me something for my headache, and I kind of went loopy before passing out.”

“I apologize too. I should’ve let you know she was okay,” Logan said.

“All good now.” Damian grinned. “Actually, you look really good, Cordi. Rested and unstressed. That’s a first in a long time.”

Truthfully, I felt rather amazing. Ready to take on the world, or at least, every bad guy in town. “I’m in a great head space today.”

“Fantastic.” Damian squeezed my shoulders before dropping his hands.

Noticing Dodson leaning against a file cabinet, watching us, I walked over. “Thank you for helping me last night. I’d like to pay for the dry cleaning for your clothes.”

“Don’t worry about it. Not the first time I’ve gotten blood on me, won’t be the last.” He straightened and surprised me by holding out his hand. “We got off on the wrong foot, and that’s my fault. I’m sorry, Miss Jones.”

Talk about unexpected. I smiled and shook his hand. “Apology accepted.”

His return smile looked a bit stiff, but it was probably the first time he’d apologized to a supe. Turning back to Damian, I took a second to think about how easily that word, supe, had come to mind. My day was rapidly approaching “Best Day Ever” status, and it somehow wasn’t hard to accept being a supe anymore. I’d been one since the Melding dropped me into a coma.

Part of doing better was accepting who and what I was, and owning it. Still smiling, I said, “Let’s get to work.”

“O
nly two items today. After last night, I fully understand if you prefer not to touch either.” Damian gestured at the table, where a piece of rope and a bit of scorched gray material waited in evidence bags.

“We have wet wipes and a couple of towels though, just in case,” Dodson said.

I didn’t look at the two-way mirror, though I could sense the viewing room filling with curious people. Word of last night had spread. “I’m game.”

An extra chair was brought in, allowing Dane and Logan to flank me on my side of the table. Since Damian and Dodson didn’t sit right next to each other, I was left in full view of the mirror.

The new protocols were becoming habit already, but I made a change when my turn came. “Discord Jones. I’m a natural mage, which is the correct title for people with psychic abilities. I’ll be attempting psychometry today.”

Damian turned off the recording device, his eyebrows crawling upward. “I thought you didn’t like that term?”

Though not cozy with the “children of the gods” association, I shrugged. “I’m okay with it now.”

“Alright.” He began recording again, letting the guys state their names. “They’re both present as support for Miss Jones. Cordi, if you please?”

Hm, rope or cloth first? I chose the rope. Surely, it had had a view of the killer at some point. “The rope.”

Dodson slid the evidence bag to me. There were smudges of Mr. Pettigrew stuck to the fibers. I opened the bag, did my abbreviated countdown, and stuck my hand inside.

Bright light and the impression of many people immediately filled my head. “I think it’s showing me the store it was in.”

Darkness. A rumbling sound. “And now it’s in the trunk of a car.”

Voices, pressure, and a screeching sound. The rope was being helpful. Mr. Pettigrew’s storeroom flashed across my mind, clear for the briefest of instances. “Okay, it was just carried onto the scene, and I heard voices.”

“Voices?”

“Yes, definitely more than one. Ooh.” My stomach dropped in reaction to a flying sensation. “I’m not seeing anything now, just feeling it. I think the rope was thrown over that beam.”

The next sensation was slithering, before weight dragged at the rope. “The victim was just hung.”

“Maybe you’d better stop now,” Damian said, and I pulled my hand free.

“I didn’t see any faces. I didn’t see much at all.” The feel of something trickling from the top of my head was my first warning. “Not touching doesn’t mean that I’m done.”

Dane grabbed one of the waiting towels. He put it around my shoulders and pulled my hair out from under it. Liquid slid down my forehead, and scarlet dripped from my left eyebrow, some of it sticking to my eyelashes. I pulled the towel closed in front, noticing that my hands looked fine. “Okay, I...”

Searing pain struck, and I screamed. More blood spilled down, covering my face, and before either shifter could grab hold, I went flying backward and up. My chair thunked to the floor before my back slammed against the wall.

Red and gold and black.
Who’ll take care of Rufus?

That errant thought, whispered in a quavering voice, filled my eyes with tears and momentarily cleared my vision. Logan and Dane were below me, reaching for my dangling hands.

They made contact, the vision ended, and I slid down the wall. My knees buckled when my boots hit the floor, but a quick grab by Logan kept me from going all the way down. “Ow. Am I burned again?”

“Yes, but the bright side is, there’s less blood this time,” he said.

Raising my head, I grinned, not caring how gory it might look. “It worked.”

In the viewing room, someone lost their lunch.

T
he station had its own small gym in the basement, which meant there were a few showers available. Damian loaned me an STPD T-shirt, because the shoulders of my navy blue sweater were purple from blood that had soaked through the towel.

You’d think another bout of being burned by psychic vision would’ve dampened my mood, but nope. The only dark spot was that single, clear thought I’d heard:
Who’ll take care of Rufus?

In spite of the agony of his final moments, Mr. Pettigrew’s last thought had been worrying about his dog. It saddened me that he’d never know Rufus was safe and okay. The Rottweiler would be, at least to the best of my ability, but I wished there was a way to tell his former owner that.

I rinsed my hair and turned off the water. Maybe there was. It wasn’t as though the world lacked magic now. “I’ll ask Moira.”

“Ask Moira what?” Logan was waiting in the locker room beyond the showers.

“Heh, you caught me talking to myself again.” I stuck a hand out to grab the towel waiting on a hook. “Mr. Pettigrew died worrying about Rufus. I’m wondering if there’s a way to let him know the dog’s being taken care of.”

“Have I told you how much I love that you have a good heart?”

“Yes, and then reminded me that hearts are considered a delicacy.”

His laugh echoed. “I was a little off that night.”

“Yapped your head off. I guess we’re even now, huh?” I finished drying and wrapped the towel around my hair. Opening the shower curtain a few inches, I peeked out. “All clear?”