Justin Gustainis - Those Who Fight Monsters Tales of Occult Detectives

“Don’t be sorrowful,” Tolliver said. “You bested me at wits, fairly. No shame in that.”

Pete watched Rowan and Tolliver disappear down the opulent hall, no doubt bound for a place much darker and much less sympathetic to his motives.

Crowfoot gripped her arm. “You’ve done very well, Lady Caldecott. And you’ve earned a favor of the Fae. Anything you wish. Ask it.”

Pete glared at the hand, and then at Crowfoot, until he removed it. “Yeah, I’ve got a favor,” she said. “Take me the bloody hell back to the pub.”

When Pete walked back into the Lament, she saw a familiar platinum-dyed head hunched on the far stool at the bar. She practically tripped over her own feet to join him.

Pete didn’t know how she felt about condemning a man only trying to help his mother. She didn’t know how she felt about the sudden attention of the Fae.

But she did know that she’d enjoyed being a detective again. It had felt good.

She missed it.

In the morning, she’d probably end up calling her old DCI, Nigel Newell, and inquiring about positions that were open in the Major Crime Squad. But for now, at least, she was content to bask in the knowledge that she’d still got her old skillset.

Jack regarded her over a whiskey glass. “Where’ve you been, then? Missed you, luv.”

Pete signaled the publican for a glass of the same. “Trust me, Jack,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Caitlin Kittredge is a full-time writer who lives in Seattle with collections of comic books, cats and vintage pinup clothing. She’s the author of the bestselling “Nocturne City” and “Black London” urban fantasy series, and the novel The Witch’s Alphabet, a steampunk adventure for young adults. Her website is www.caitlinkittredge.com

Petunia Caldecott is a former Detective Inspector with the Metropolitan Police, London. She graduated from London City College and currently resides in Whitechapel. Jack Winter is a mage and a pain in her arse, but he sometimes makes himself useful. He hails from Manchester, England.

“I said … empty your wallet .” I glared across the table at Carmine Leone and let a slow growl roll up and out of my chest. Blame the werewolf in me. When I get annoyed, my mask of humanity slips a little, even with my former employer

“And I said , go to hell.” He matched my growl with one of his own. No werewolf in him, but mob boss isn’t that far of a leap. “Nobody touches my wallet. Not my wife, not my staff and not even you. There’s nothing in there that’s of any interest to anyone.”

I let out a sigh, and looked over at Lucas Santiago, who was sitting in the corner of the room. He was my new boss, for Wolven, the law enforcement branch of the shapeshifting community known as the Sazi, and up until a month ago, had been arguably the second most powerful being on the planet. But he’d been attacked, like I’d been two years ago, and now he was a vanilla human, trying to get a handle on not being the toughest dog in a fight. I’d thought coming on this case with me would make him realize he didn’t need to be a wolf to stay boss of the organization. He’d saved my butt a couple times and I figured I owed him.

Lucas had been trying to stay out of this, but I could smell that he was getting fidgety. There were three emotion scents in the room right now — determination, which smells similar to a heated cast iron pan; and anger, which reminds me of hot peppers roasting. The final scent was frustration; which is a weird mix of scents, including boiling water, black pepper and other stuff.

I shook my head. “See, there’s a flaw in that logic, even if you’re too stressed to see it.”

Carmine narrowed his eyes, but then he grudgingly nodded. “Go on.”

“First, neither of you are going to like me blabbing all this, but you both need all the information at hand to see my point, so just get over it.” Now both sets of eyes were mere slits under narrowed lids. “You called me up here to Canada to find out the status of the job you gave me, which is finding and killing the guys who beat the crap out of you, using the knife they sliced you with. Just so we’re clear, I don’t have that knife anymore, but the job’s still on”

Carmine made a small, strangled noise, and then started scanning the ceiling and walls — probably looking for some sort of bug.

I shook my head again. “This isn’t some sort of trap, Carmine. I’m not state’s evidence material. I’m just laying out the facts. The job’s already been approved by the Sazi Council, so while Lucas might not like that it’s been allowed, he knows why I’m here. No, the question is … why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Vacation. Just a quick get-away with Linda and Barbara before the baby’s due. Calgary’s nice this time of year.” The black pepper scent told me he was lying.

“Just knock it off, okay? Lying isn’t going to help any of us.” I held up a hand to forestall further bluster. “You own a flippin’ island in the Caribbean where there’s no extradition treaty. The feds know it, so you’re a flight risk. What odds would you give me that there’s an order out there restricting your movements?”

Lucas crossed his arms over his chest and let out a light growl. It wasn’t precisely a wolf growl, but close enough. While Carmine was a full human, he was also the significant other of Barbara Herrera, an alpha werewolf … and the woman about to give birth to his son. He had thus become a fringe “family member,” who Wolven and the Council would keep an eye on.

Carmine didn’t respond at all. But I noticed he didn’t deny my guess.

“So,” I continued, “It’s unlikely you’d be allowed on a commercial flight out of the country, meaning you snuck here, probably in the middle of the night — and I know you’re not stupid enough to do that without a damned good reason.”

“There is one.” A simple acknowledgment with a short nod. At least I didn’t have to dig on that point deeper.

“Now, when I walked in the hotel room, we shook hands.” He stared down at his hand suddenly like I’d infected him with something, or passed him some poison. I snorted. “No, it’s nothing like that. But I did do a hindsight on you without your knowledge.”

Now Lucas glared. That was supposed to have been a secret.

“Goddamn it, Giodone!” The same words came out of two mouths as they both rose to their feet and advanced toward me threateningly.

“Knock it off!” I had to yell over the blue language that was now searing the paint off the walls. “Would you please give me a second to explain why it’s important you both know?” After a moment, their scents settled down, but they still arched over me like vultures waiting for a death twitch.

My head tipped up until I could watch Carmine’s face. “I figured that my arriving would put your mind on the day you were attacked and stabbed in the condo in Colorado, so I snuck into your head to watch what happened. It is a hell of a lot easier to find people when you know what they look like, y’know.”

“It’s not like I had a camera handy while they were slicing me up.” His mouth was bitching, but his scent was impressed I’d thought to do the hindsight.

The Sazi magic that turned me into a werewolf also did other stuff to me. Most shifters get heightened senses — better eyesight or super-sensitive hearing. But a very few become ‘seers,’ those with a sixth sense. Lucky me. In my case, I don’t get the future popping into my head. No, I get the past . Usually it’s a specific past, an event that’s important or emotional to the one who lived it. I’ve learned to be able to step outside the memory to see tiny details that happened, but which aren’t readily evident until the person is pressed or under hypnosis.