“Crap on toast, this week?” I said, squinting at him. But that explained the new, excessive vamp graffiti blotting out the traditional Were territory signs.
“Are you sure?” Jenks asked, his wing pitch lowering in worry.
Edden gestured to the building. “So far she’s been smart and is harassing only Inderlanders.”
“So why are you down here slumming in the Hollows?” Jenks asked for both of us, and Edden inclined his head, a new smile on his face. He had made it his goal to make a path for Inderlanders to come to the human-run FIB for help, but tradition was hard to break. Clearly someone finally had.
“Could you . . . She’s over here,” Edden said in answer. Hands in my jacket pockets, I followed him across the lawn to where a woman in hospital scrubs was trying to organize her things into a sad pile. My interest piqued at the candles and chalk. She was probably a witch since an elf wouldn’t be living in a middle-class neighborhood.
“Stephanie came to me about a week ago,” he said as we walked, and I hustled to catch up with his long strides. “The entire building filed a complaint at the I.S., but when their paperwork landed on a carousel of death, she got desperate enough to try the FIB.” He frowned at the open windows, his mustache bunching up. “This might be my fault. I was close to having the eviction notice declared illegal, so they moved it up.”
I glanced at Edden, wondering how a witch coming to him for help had gone down with his superiors, but there was a good chance that no one in the system had known she was there until it was almost done—the I.S. handled Inderland matters, the FIB everything else.
Jenks landed on my shoulder as Edden stopped beside the woman, now staring up at the top floor as a slew of books began shooting out like cannon fodder.
“Would you just let me come up there and get my stuff?” she shouted, then snatched up one of the thick medical textbooks and brushed the grass clippings off it. “This cost me eight hundred bucks, you pathetic, cowardly, chip-fanged excuse of a bloodsucking mosquito!”
Jenks made an impressed sound, adding, “I think I like her.”
Edden cleared his throat. “Stephanie? I want you to meet Rachel Morgan,” he said, and the woman looked up, clearly not seeing me.
“Nice to meet you,” she said by rote, then turned to drop the book on the others already assembled. Her straight auburn hair was darker than mine, framing her long face in a professional cut. She stood about my height. Her curves were ample and she was an attractive early-thirty-something. Her nose wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big, either, and she wore no makeup and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that probably saw through spells. A veritable plethora of tiny ring piercings down the arch of her left ear gave her a witchy vibe, the black ringlets looking like a charm of some sort. There was a smallish, silvery black stone embedded in her earlobe as well. Metal was the go-to for ley line amulets, but stone could be used if it had a high enough metal content, and something about it said magic. Where did she get a stone amulet? I wondered.
A hospital badge hung around her neck and a radiation card was clipped to her lapel. I guessed nurse or tech by her angry, no-nonsense look combined with the obvious strength in her arms and a little extra weight from sitting in a chair too many hours in the day. And she was a witch. The slight scent of redwood lifting from her confirmed it if her piercings and that stone in her earlobe weren’t enough. It wasn’t much, though, so maybe she was just a warlock, able to invoke a charm or spell, but lacking the know-how to make one.
Feeling for her, I scooped up one of her books, brushing it off before handing it to her. She blinked, the small show of kindness hitting her hard as she held it close, clearly struggling to keep it together. “Ah, everyone calls me Stef,” she said, eyes going to Jenks on my shoulder. “Edden,” she complained as she set the book—on skin fungi and charms to eliminate them—on the pile. “Can’t you do something? I’ve got two more weeks. We all do.”
But Edden shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s been signed by a judge. By the time we get it revoked, they will have taken possession.”
“One on Constance’s payroll, I bet,” Stef muttered, then jumped when her TV came crashing down. “What the hell is wrong with you! Let me up there so I can get my stuff!”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” I said before Edden could do more than take a reluctant breath.
“Why not?” she blurted aggressively, and I pointed to the three big I.S. agents at the complex’s door.
“The entire building is full of vampires hyped up on themselves and the joy of I.S.-sanctioned illegalities,” I said. “Even if you could get past them, you’d be hard-pressed to get back out without a bite, much less with your stuff. You can buy more stuff. It takes years to get over a bite. If ever.”
“Which is why,” Edden interrupted, clearly uncomfortable, “I’m glad you are here.” He hesitated. “Why are you down here, anyway?”
“Looking at property,” I said, unwilling to open up that far to him just yet. “Stef, I’m sorry this is happening to you, but my advice is to pack up what they chuck out and find a new place.”
The woman’s lips pressed together. “Do you know how hard it is to find anything in Cincinnati or the Hollows right now? The nearest place I could find is out at Hamilton, which would give me an hour commute instead of a ten-minute trip by bike or bus.”
“I do, actually,” I said, letting some of my own frustration show. “I’ve had eight properties jerked out from under me in the last three weeks. I’ve got my own eviction notice pinned to my chest like a big, red A.”
Stef’s eyes met mine, her entire attitude shifting as she saw us for the first time. Hazel, I thought, then I jumped when an end table hit the ground with a loud crack. Jenks darted from me in surprise, hands on his hips as he stared at the destruction. “Petty,” he said.
“My cat is up there,” she said, her fear hitting me like a slap in the face.
Damn it all to the Turn and back. . . . Jaw clenched, I looked at Jenks. I didn’t have to say a word.
Spilling a bright silver dust, Jenks hovered closer. “I’ll find it. What’s its name?”
“His name is Boots,” Stef quavered, blinking fast as she tried not to cry.
Of course it is, I thought, and after giving Edden a dark look to stay put, I headed for the door, arms swaying. “Anything else you want?” I called over my shoulder.
“That vampire bitch’s head on a platter,” she said, and Jenks laughed.
“I knew I was going to like her,” he said as he came even with me.
But I wasn’t anywhere near amused. I hadn’t been embellishing the situation when I told Stef getting in and out without a bite was chancy. Peeved, I looked over the taped-off lawn to find David talking with a group of five Weres in cuffs. “Jenks, how long would it take for you to get David if I need him?”