A Little Street Magic (9 page)

“I couldn’t tell you, but I can talk to Lord Derrick. Tell him it’s possible there’s a rogue, and I bet the vamp council will turn the Barrows upside down, looking for one. Of course, if they don’t find him or her, it’ll either be because the killer’s not a vampire, or the killer’s not staying in the Barrows to avoid being found out.”

“Right.” My friend nodded.

Dodson was brushing at his shirt, his blue eyes moving from the screen to Damian. “She can’t just go blab about the case to vampires.”

“I don’t know how they did it where you’re from, but here, we’re committed to working with the various supernatural law personnel.” Damian dismissed him with a cool glance. “I’ll talk to Stannett, and let you know if he okays it, Cordi.”

“Sure. Anything else you need from us tonight?” Exhaustion was beginning to set in, along with a super-sized headache.

“No, go on and get checked over. Let me know what the healer says.”

“Sure thing.” I got up, and Damian touched my arm.

“Thank you for trying, and I’m sorry the experience was painful.”

I moved enough to peck him on the cheek and smiled. “It’s okay, all part of the psychic package. I’ll text you later.”

“All right. Bye.”

We left, Dane slinging the trash bag with my soggy clothing over one shoulder. “Well, this has been an interesting night. You planning to grill Alleryn about Thorandryll?”

I had to cover a yawn, wincing because it caused a spasm of pain. “I was, but man, I’m tired.”

“I’d ask, but he ignores me. He’ll speak to Logan.”

Pushing the main door open, and nodding to the officer on watch duty, Logan uttered a soft snort. “He keeps our conversations limited to orders and snarky remarks.”

The concrete’s cold seeped through my borrowed socks after my first two steps outside. I swallowed my first reaction to Logan’s statement, which was “Well, he is an elf,” and frowned. “Not nice of him.”

“Elves don’t see a reason to be polite to those below them, which is all non-elves. Minus a few exceptions.” Logan stiffened. “He’s leaning on my car.”

“Alleryn?” I peered at the parking lot. “Oh, Brock.”

The reporter was leaning against the back of Logan’s car, and didn’t move when we approached. He was too busy studying me, and I wasn’t comfortable with his scrutiny. I hadn’t felt silly until then, in my borrowed clothing and shoelessness.

“Miss Jones, Mr. Sayer. Care to comment on what’s going on tonight?”

Logan’s response was short and succinct. “Get off my car.”

“No comment,” I added to his demand.

Brock smiled, and moved, his attention turning to Dane. “Don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Nate Brock.”

Dane just looked at him while Logan checked the dark, glossy green paint for scratches. Not finding any, he shot Brock a flat, unfriendly look before unlocking the trunk for Dane to toss the bags in.

“Weren’t you wearing something different when you arrived, Miss Jones?” The reporter’s eyes were back on me, and I hoped I hadn’t missed any spots of blood. “What happened to your face?”

“No comment.” I’d forgotten the blistering.

Brock grinned. “Any comment on your boyfriend deciding to run for mayor?”

Dredging up my sweetest smile, I repeated, “No comment.”

“Benjamin Jones, that’s your father, right? And ah, Sunshine Jones, she’s your mother?”

Damn, he worked fast. It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep smiling. “No comment.”

He shook his head. “Lack of cooperation seldom works in my subjects’ favor, Miss Jones.”

My brain began to itch. Brock was trying to get into my mind. Logan slammed the trunk lid hard enough to shake the car, and I jumped.

The reporter just looked at him. “Nice car, Mr. Sayer. Did you restore it yourself? You’re a mechanic, right? Have a garage in the Palisades?”

Dane herded me to the passenger door. Logan pretended Brock didn’t exist, walking around the reporter to the driver’s door.

“How about you, young man? Are you a mechanic too? Why would the police need a couple of mechanics at a crime scene?” Brock paused before firing off one more question as we were getting into the car. “And why does the Prince’s girlfriend need two mechanics escorting her around?”

I’d gotten into the backseat, because Dane wouldn’t, and sighed as both men shut the car doors. “He’s good.”

“He’s irritating.” Logan started the car. “And he’d better move.”

Brock did, and the mental itching began to fade. I turned to watch him, trying to estimate the distance between us. “Don’t back out yet.”

“Why?”

“I’m checking something. Did either of you get an itchy brain?”

They replied in stereo, “No.”

“Good.” The itchy sensation stopped completely, and I turned around. “About forty feet. That’s his telepathic range.”

“Helpful to know.” Dane twisted in the front seat, hooking his arm around the headrest. “Do you catch brain chatter from us all the time?”

I had to think about it, and finally shook my head. “Actually, I don’t think I do. I catch emotions sometimes, but I think most of the telepathic contact has been direct. I listen for you guys to think at me.”

“Logan’s driving, so try doing to me what Brock was trying to do to you.”

“Dude, I don’t pick brains like that. Especially not my friends’ brains. It’s rude.”

Dane laughed. “I know you don’t, but I’m asking for a good cause. I want to know if I have a secure brain or not, and if I do, how secure it is.”

I hesitated, feeling it was wrong to even think about breaking into a friend’s mind. That was way different than simply listening to thoughts flying out of people’s heads, or “dipping” into the minds of those without any mental shielding to speak of, in order to glean information. “I don’t know.”

“You won’t be doing anything wrong, because I’m asking you to do it.” He smiled. “I think it’s important we find out if it’s possible for Brock to get inside my head.”

He had a point, and I reluctantly agreed. “Okay, but let’s be clear: I am not comfortable doing this.”

“Noted, and sorry I’m asking, but I really think it’s necessary.”

“You do realize that if someone with psychometry touched you, they could find stuff out that way, right?” Though, come to think of that, I couldn’t recall my psychometry reacting much when I touched shifters. Only a single, vivid episode with Patrick, Nick’s older brother came immediately to mind. “It’s a gate opener for other abilities.”

“Sure, but I’m thinking telepathy is the big issue. Most vamps have it.” Dane flicked his fingers. “You have it, Brock has it. Could be wrong, but I’m thinking that means telepathy’s a pretty common ability.”

Another good point. He was just full of them tonight. “I guess so. Okay, ready?”

“Yes.”

I
’d established a telepathic link with Dane before, to transfer a memory from him to Leglin. That had been with my partner’s cooperation, and his intent focus on the appropriate memory.

This time, Dane wasn’t being cooperative, and my linking attempt ran smack into a wall. “You do have a natural shield.”

“See if you can break through it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, because I don’t know what could happen. I might break your shield permanently, or give you an aneurysm, or who knows what?”

“Logan’s here,” Dane said. “He can help me shift, and I’d heal.”

I appealed to Logan. “I don’t think it’s safe. I’m used to scanning and talking. This is way different.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror at me. “We trust you.”

Maybe they shouldn’t about this particular thing. Technically, no one was safe from a powerful, skilled telepath, including less powerful telepaths. Hence my running as fast as possible away from Derrick the first time we crossed paths. If I threw modesty to the winds, then I counted as a powerful telepath, but as a skilled one? Not so much.

Dane was watching me. “Come on, Cordi.”

“Okay, fine.” I huffed out a breath. “But if it starts to hurt, say something so I can stop.”

“Promise.”

Everyday imagery worked far better than trying to visualize tiny electrical pulses flowing around in brain coral. It was freaky enough, being able to “see” and “hear” other people’s minds, so the simpler the imagery, the easier it was to make sense of having telepathy.

I’d learned that “personal bubbles” were a real thing for minds, not just bodies. Everyone, myself included, was the center of their own little, round universe. Which meant that mental shields tended to be circular in nature. Dane’s wasn’t an exception to that rule. Huh, maybe that’s why Sal suggested a maze to me?

Afraid of causing real damage, I carefully circled his mental wall twice, before noticing a line in one spot. Closer examination revealed it wasn't the only line, and together, they formed the outline of a door. I gave it an experimental push, and nothing happened.

“Did you feel that?”

“What?” Dane replied. “Are you doing something?”

“Yeah. Tell me if you notice or feel anything.” I gave the door a harder push. No reaction from him.

Maybe the door didn’t push open. There wasn’t a handle for pulling, just a smooth surface, aside from the shallow indentions of the door’s outline.

Hm. I imagined my telepathic links as power cords, because I was basically plugging into their minds. Made sense to me, but confronted with Dane’s “door,” I began to rethink that imagery decision. Maybe a rope was a better? Because a rope could unwind to become more than a single piece.

Yeah. My link changed from a power cord to a thick rope, the end of which unraveled into four separate strands. They slid around each line of the door, and found tiny holds.
Hah!

I pulled, and nothing happened except Dane blinked. “Did you feel that?”

“No, had one of those see-something-from-the-corner-of-my-eye moments.”

Huh. Another pull, and he blinked again. “Did the same thing just happen?”

“Yeah,” Dane said.

I smiled. “I think you have an early warning system. Anytime ‘corner-of-the-eye’ visitors happen in batches, good chance someone’s trying to break through your mental shield.”

“Now that’s cool, and important to know.”

“Yeah.” I gave the link a hard yank, saw him blink, and felt the door open just a touch. Enough for the four-pieced link to slither through, and Boom! I was in his brain. “How about now?”

“A third C.O.E. visit, but nothing else.” My grin tipped him off. “Oh, you’re in my head right now?”

“You keep pushing your pizza every day agenda just to annoy me. Pest.”

Dane laughed. “Okay, you’re in my head.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t exactly easy.” I reeled the link in, and his mental door shut. My head was really beginning to pound. “And I’m out.”

“Guess I’d better work on that.” Dane turned and settled into his seat. “Think Brock can break in?”

“I don’t know. Stone doesn’t think he’s had that much practice with supes.” We’d made it to the highway, and would be home in minutes. “Hope Alleryn’s there, and hasn’t had to wait too long. I could sure use one of his pain remedies.”

T
he elf was there, waiting behind the wheel of a silver SUV that probably cost almost as much as my house. Alleryn hopped out the second Logan finished parking, opening the passenger door to look in.

“What happened? Those are burn blisters. You still have hair, so I’d assume you weren’t the centerpiece of a bonfire.”

“Mind if we get out?” Dane asked, leaning away from him. Without a word, Alleryn moved back. “Thank you.”

Once out of the car, I recounted the pertinent events on the way to the house, finishing as we reached the dining room table. The elf listened, his grass green eyes intent on the visible blisters.

“It’s rare, a psychic experiencing physical manifestations of trauma, but not completely unheard of. Is this the first time it’s occurred?”

“No.” I told him about my first, and possibly only, precognition while Dane dumped my clothing in the washer, started coffee, and began poking around in the fridge. Logan sat at the table with us, watching Alleryn. Something he’d probably done every time the elf had worked on me.

“They looked much worse at first, yes?” Alleryn examined the back of my hand, lightly running a fingertip over the remaining blisters.