“Nothing new there,” Oliver grumbled.
“Saul would love to poach some of my guys,” Grayson said, “but Tower Security pays better.”
Oliver cocked an eyebrow. “Are you implying I should work for you?”
Grayson chuckled. “You couldn’t. Being subordinate to me would stick in your craw.”
“You’re right there.”
“If it didn’t offend you, I’d say you’re a typical lone wolf.”
Oliver laughed. “Comparing me to a wolf is testing the bounds of friendship.”
Grayson gave his arm a light punch. “Very glad to have you back. Though I wish I had more intel for you.”
“What have you got so far?”
“Very little.” Grayson’s brows pulled down. “Admittedly, I didn’t have staff on the ground when most of the humansdisappeared. Too busy sorting out feral gang fights. But Tom was near Bellamy’s when the last woman disappeared. He said there was nothing to show for it, not even a scrap of material or a drop of blood. Seems like we might have to fight to get background from the Council of Towns, too.”
Oliver found himself almost relishing the idea of locking horns with the humans. There wasn’t anything he liked or respected about the Tween elite. There was only one human in Tween who he had any respect for—and she certainly wouldn’t have any for him.
Would he get to communicate with Clare, he wondered? Maybe he’d be obliged to call her to discuss the case? And then, maybe he’d have to meet with her, to hear what Tween PD had on the case, if anything.
The idea thrilled him.
For all the wrong reasons.
CHAPTER 9
Clare lay in bed with her eyes closed, listening to the sounds outside her window. She heard the footsteps of passers-by and tried to guess what monster species they belonged to. She detected the low rumble of carts and the purr of hover cabs passing along the main drag. The cry of morning food vendors on the corner, near Monster Bucks, brought back memories of yummy street food.
A smile shaped her lips.
She was back.
Back in the hurly-burly of Motham City.
And it felt sooo good.
By a stroke of luck, her old apartment had been up for grabs.
“A human left last week, which is good news for you. Went scurrying home to mommy and daddy,” Mrs. Bing had huffed when she arrived last night. The brownie who ran the apartments was a stout and rather nosy woman. “One little bit of trouble and they’re out of here. That’s herd mentality for you.”
“That’s why I’m back.” Clare had smiled, placing her case on the bed. “To help with the case.”
“Well, good luck,” Mrs. Bing said as she walked away. “At least I’m not losing rent.”
Wide awake now, Clare flung back the patchwork cover, padded over to the window, and pulled back the curtains.
Her nose twitched to the scent of baked goods from the elf-owned bakery three doors down. Her favorite was called shakta, a flaky pastry with a soft, savory cheese filling. Her mouth watered just thinking about it. Across the road, a sprite was carrying a bunch of flowers into the cemetery.
Clare stiffened. Seeing the cemetery brought back a wave of shame. Gods, she could almost make out the tombstone she’d… they’d…
She screwed up her eyes.
Nope. She wouldn’t dwell on the past, and she wouldn’t take a shortcut to work through Motham graveyard to be reminded of a certain someone, a certain event…
She’d be fine. Absolutely fine.
