Fused in Fire

“No, no. I got it. Don’t go to any trouble.” I pushed the door open. “I’m a lady of the modern era, after all. I can open doors myself.”

I shut the door behind me and watched the black town car pull away before turning toward my house. No Good Mikey was sitting on someone else’s porch step down the street from our places. No one ever complained when Mikey sat on their porch. They knew better.

“Hey,” I said, sauntering over and leaning against the banister. Paint flaked off and drifted to the ground.

“Hey,” he said, looking me over. “You’re clean. That’s new.”

I glanced down at my new hand-stitched leather pants and designer black tank top. Darius was predictable and ridiculous. “I took a shower.”

“I see. Still no eyebrows.”

“We can’t have everything.”

“And a larger, more noticeable fanny pack.”

“Are you into fashion all of a sudden? Since when do you notice what people are wearing?”

“Since you’ve been gone. All I’ve seen are normal people wearing normal clothes. The difference is staggering.”

I squeezed my lips together, half frowned, and did heavy eyes—all that to say I wasn’t impressed. He grunted and stood. Clearly he spoke Face.

“What’d I miss?” I asked, falling in step with him and heading toward our houses.

“Several break-ins, all to your house.”

“Well, at least you start with that. I usually get that news as an aside from Mince.”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Sorry.” I made a show of zipping my lips.

He huffed. “First came the usual: those people bringing groceries or whatever they do. Next came that old couple you always have hanging around. I didn’t know it was them, though. I heard the news from Shotgun Joe.”

“Who?”

“The neighbor in back of you.”

I hadn’t known his name. I kind of wanted to go back to that time, since something told me he hadn’t earned it by doing crafts.

“I kicked my way in there to see what the hell was going on,” he said. “Startled the old man. Didn’t startle the old woman. She hit me with something fierce before I could even get my gun up. Didn’t see it coming. Like a chokehold or some shit. I woke up at the bottom of the porch to Smokey arguing with them, telling them I was your neighbor.” He rolled his shoulders. “At least I didn’t piss myself. Chokeholds can do that.”

“Wow.” I didn’t mention that chokeholds also required touching. Physical choking, if you will. I was pretty sure he didn’t want to admit he’d been hit with magic. I was good with that.

“They were legit, so I tried to let them be, but the old woman forced me inside and practically poured whiskey down my throat.”

“She’s a bully at the best of times. She does it to everyone, don’t worry.” I felt a familiar pang of guilt. I needed to meet up with them. I couldn’t stall anymore. That would only make them madder.

“I’m not the type of guy who gets bullied. I do the bullying,” Mikey said.

“Well, it seems you’ve met your match.”

He huffed out a laugh but didn’t comment. I was pretty sure he now had a soft spot for Callie.

“Right, fine.” I stopped in front of my porch, newly swept and with the chairs placed just so. Darius’s people left no chair untampered with. “After that?”

“A suave-looking mamajama. Real sleek and easy-like.” He slid his hand through the air, like he was passing a bill over a saloon countertop.

“What are these words and weird body movements you’re using?”

“He came with another dude. Short and shifty-eyed. That second guy didn’t seem like nothin’ except for the high-dollar suit, but he had a messenger bag draped over his chest. That seemed out of place. High-dollar bag, but still, I’ve seen witches sneak into the cemetery with that kinda thing.”

Magical drifted out of his thoughts, and I gritted my teeth. I’d been practicing shutting out people’s thoughts, because while demons—and Darius—had figured out a way to keep their thoughts to themselves, non-demons didn’t know there was a need. I didn’t want to hear what people keep private. Too much baggage.

“So Mr. Suave and his well-dressed sidekick busted into my house?” I asked.

“No. Walked in. It was locked. Those other dudes always lock it. I’ve checked. But this guy just sauntered through.”

The small hairs rose on my arms. Clearly it was a vampire and a well-paid, and therefore high-powered, mage.

“Suave, you said? Debonair?” I already knew who it was, but needed to be sure before I thought about why he had come.

“Yeah.” He slid that imaginary dollar across the dusty bar again. “Real easy-like.”

I rolled my eyes. “What did they do?”

Mikey sat down on the second step and looked through the opening of the cemetery across the street. “I didn’t want to go in after them. After what happened with your older friend, I figured I should call someone.”

“I hope you didn’t call Smokey…”

“No. I called that old broad. She had given me her card.” He rubbed a spot on his cheek that I was sure had a scar at one point. “I figured she’d know what to do. I thought she’d come barreling down the street with her husband in tow talking placidly about killing things. That guy is nuts. Anyway, they rolled up real slow, stopping down the street where I usually hang out. She had me give her more information: appearance, dress, walk. Even after that, she didn’t burst in with guns blazing. She almost seemed timid.”

Crap. It was definitely Vlad. No one went in blazing where he was concerned. Not even me.

“Did you go in with her?”

“Are you kidding? She said not to in a very calm voice. I know that voice. That’s the voice of a woman about to cut a bitch. I’m not trying to mess with that, her shit”—he meant magic—“and that rich dude and his shit? Girl, you gotta screw loose.”

I held up a hand. “I’m not blaming you. So what happened?”

“Nothing I would have expected, as I said. She went in, no bangs or explosions happened, and then the suave dude came out.” Mikey scratched at his neck and shifted uncomfortably. “Here’s the thing. I was at the side of my porch in the shadows, staying real still and quiet. Nobody else noticed me. But this guy…he walked out like he did”—there was that hand gesture again—“and stopped. His shifty-eyed friend kept walking, but he stopped. Slowly, real fucking slowly, okay? He moved just his head until he was looking right at me. Right fucking at me.” Mikey half jumped and half shifted, then shivered and rolled his neck. I’d never seen him move so much.

Definitely Vlad.

“He stared at me for a moment, right at me, and gave me a little smile. Reagan, it was the worst fucking smile I have ever seen, and I’ve seen some shitty fucking smiles. Serial killers don’t smile like that.”

Vlad was the ultimate serial killer, so yes they did, but I didn’t want to tell Mikey that. He probably already had nightmares.

“And then he just kept on going. Walked down the stairs as if nothing had happened.” Heavy silence hung down on us for a moment. “He knew it was me who ratted him out.”

I nodded slowly. It made sense. The question was, would anything come of it? I’d have to ask Darius. Vlad picked and chose what he cared about. I had no idea how that selection process went. I also had no idea why he was wandering around my house with a mage. Trying to find out more about my secrets, no doubt.

“They got in their Honda and drove away. A second later, I was forced into your house by the old pair for more whiskey.”

I held up a hand. “Wait. A Honda?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t driving the kind of ride your guy likes. Gray Honda. Accord, I think.”

“And he was dressed nicely, with another nicely dressed guy with him?”

“Yeah. He stood out, know what I’m sayin’? But the Honda was plain.”