Poison Fruit

Scott and Dawn exchanged a glance. He shook his head. “No one I can think of. I’ve got family, but they’re in town.”

“A hotel?”

“We’re still waitin’ on the VA to approve Scott’s claim fer disability benefits,” Dawn murmured in an apologetic tone. “Yuh said a horseshoe would do, didn’t yuh?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a general precaution,” I warned her. “It might not be enough, and I need to do more digging to know exactly what we’re dealing with. As far as I know, there’s never been a Night Hag in Pemkowet before.”

Scott grimaced. “It’s probably my goddamn nightmares that brought her here.”

“It’s possible.” I didn’t want to lie to him. “Do you know the Sisters of Selene? The occult store?”

“By the coffee shop?” he asked. “I’ve seen it.”

I nodded. “It opens at eleven. I’ll call Casimir and give him a heads-up, tell him you need whatever he’s got to ward off a powerful fey predator.”

“A fey predator,” he repeated. “All right.”

“You should consult with your doctor, too,” Cody suggested gently. “You’re under a lot of stress.”

“Yeah.” Scott rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I know. There’s a reason the bitch came for me, right?” Dropping his hands, he glanced up at Cody. “So what the fuck are you?”

Cody missed a beat. “Excuse me?”

“I saw your face, man. When you caught me.” Beneath the afghan, Scott’s shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “Look, I owe you. I could have broken my neck. But either I’m crazy or I’m not, and either way, I’d like to know. I saw your face, and there were way too many goddamn pointy teeth in it. So what are you?”

A long silence stretched between them. I held my tongue and avoided meeting Dawn’s inquiring look.

A muscle twitched in Cody’s jaw. “Werewolf.”

Holy crap, Officer Down-low had actually admitted it, out loud, to an ordinary human being.

“No shit!” Scott sounded admiring. “Does it run in the family? I went to high school with your brother Caleb. I always wondered what the deal was with that guy.”

Cody didn’t answer.

“Ohh-kay,” I said. “Remember Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell? Stupid policy, I know. But the eldritch community has a code.”

“So it ain’t polite to ask questions,” Dawn observed. “And yuh don’t want us to say nuthin ’bout Officer Fairfax.”

“Right.”

Scott nodded. “No problem.”

After finishing with the Evanses, Cody and I retreated to the parking lot. A few residents of neighboring apartments came out to ask about the gunshot. After reassuring them it was an accidental discharge and no one had been harmed, we took the opportunity to ask if anyone had seen a strange elderly woman in the vicinity. Unfortunately, no one had. We went door-to-door throughout the rest of the apartment complex, accomplishing nothing more than annoying anyone who hadn’t been awakened by a stray gunshot at that hour.

“I’m not surprised,” Cody said when we sat in his squad car to compare notes, strategize, and pretend it wasn’t incredibly awkward to be working together this soon after he’d broken things off with me. “Whatever was in that bedroom, it didn’t leave a scent.” He glanced at me. “Are you sure about this, Daise?”

I shrugged. “Something was there. The chief’s watch has never been wrong. Do all eldritch have a scent?”

“So far, yeah.”

“Do I?” I couldn’t help but ask. “I mean, other than an ordinary human scent?”

Cody gave me another sidelong look. “Yeah. Yeah, you do. There’s sort of a . . . hint of brimstone.”

“Oh, yuck!” I made a face. “Like sulfur? Rotten eggs?”

“No, no!” He shook his head. “It’s not like that. You know how perfumes sometimes have those weird notes that might be unpleasant on their own, but—” I stared at him. He sighed. “You smell good, Daisy. Trust me.”

“Thanks.” Given the sort of odors that most dogs I knew found appealing, it occurred to me that Cody might not be the best judge. “I hope that’s your human side speaking.”

He flashed a grin at me. “Afraid you smell like something I might want to roll around in, Pixy Stix?”

“Something like that.” Dammit, teasing wasn’t fair! I managed to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Look, if no one in Beechwood Grove saw anything, I don’t think there’s any point in canvassing further, and your shift’s probably about over. Why don’t you let me do some research, and we’ll talk later?”

“Deal.”

I hesitated. “Hey, I’m proud of you for what you did in there.” I nodded toward the Evans apartment. “Owning it like that.”

“Thanks.” That muscle in Cody’s jaw gave another little twitch, but his gaze was steady and open. “Let me know what you find out.”

Back in my own trusty little Honda, I called Casimir, aka the Fabulous Casimir. In addition to being the owner and proprietor of the Sisters of Selene, Casimir was also the head of the local coven. Despite the early hour, he was already up. I could hear him puttering around in his kitchen as we spoke, probably clad in something like an exotic caftan. Casimir claims his cross-dressing is part of a shamanic tradition, which very well may be true, but he takes a lot of pride and pleasure in it, too.