DeVante's Coven (8 page)

“He said that?”

“Well, not in so many words, but you know, there’s always an extra place setting at the table for innuendo.”

Maggie was not in the least butch. She was a model, and had the thick chestnut hair you only see on models, hanging in perfect controlled curls almost to her waist. She had wide hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and a mouth that smiled easily.

She’d started modeling after college and raked in the big bucks, and now she only worked for photographers she really had an affinity for, or if her agent managed to entice her with a spectacularly edgy layout.

“Are you working this week?”

“I don’t know. Ralph called. I’m thinking I should say ‘yes’ to get some new black and whites into my portfolio. I’m getting a bit older now, like you, and black and white can be more kind.”

“Older, like me? Thanks a lot.” Reed said with a laugh. He was thirty-two.

“Well, I’m only a couple years behind you. And even twenty-five is past prime for a model. You know that. My career’s practically all washed up.”

“Maggie, they will always want you because you will always be exquisite.” He was going to say more, but just then the kid walked in.

Shit.

Chapter 8



How to investigate a murder

If they screw with the body...” Detective David Lark’s words faded as he jabbed angrily at the scan button on the radio. The tuner started jumping stations, twenty seconds of Beethoven, twenty seconds of Christian sermon, twenty seconds of ‘Louie Louie.’ “I hate when the damn patrol guys get busy playing mortician before we get there.”

Lark’s partner, a very large man named Craig Nelson, didn’t comment. It didn’t matter. Lark was talking only to talk. Being called to scenes that involved actual dead people made Lark very nervous. He worried he might throw up.

Nelson was preoccupied with his own shit, as always.

“I got court tomorrow, remember? I’m off. So don’t get me involved in anything today that’ll be a goddamn mess tomorrow.” Nelson shook his head and slowly blinked sad, basset-hound eyes. “I hope her attorney doesn’t make me look like a big, moronic ox.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry overmuch if I were you,” Lark said. “You are a big, moronic ox.”

Nelson was slow to move, slow to smile, but he had a kind heart and always meant to do the right thing. Nelson and his wife had been to court over everything but the kitchen sink since they separated two years ago. Nelson was always in court. Tomorrow it was probably over who gets the kitchen sink. Poor Nelson had bought more suits this past year than Lark had owned in his lifetime.

Lark wasn’t in to suits. He was a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy. Poor Nelson worked security jobs every Saturday night on the side just to keep cash flowing into his legal fund. When he had occasion to think about it, Lark wondered how Nelson’s kid could seem so normal while living with such fucked-up adults. Nelson was a nice guy. His wife was probably a nice gal. But the way the two of them hated each other took an energy Lark could not fathom.

Anyway, Nelson wasn’t listening, as usual. Lark tried to imagine what the body of a fifteen year old street kid was gonna look like. He hoped he wouldn’t puke. Fifteen. Pretty young to be found in a heap of limbs near Treasure Island casino, dead of nothing anybody had yet been able to determine.

Nelson smacked the radio with untoward violence. “Pick a station, for Christ’s sake.”

The good news was that nobody had touched the body. The girl was slumped behind a small row of trashcans, definitely dead. Lark stared down at her. He wasn’t going to puke. There was nothing outwardly sickening about the scene except for the fact that she was so dead and so young. She had bright blonde hair cut close to her skull and her eyes were closed as if in sleep. Eye shadow on her lids sparkled. Lark pictured her laughing, the sparkles falling onto her sweet cheeks, cheeks still puffed with baby-fat. His stomach heaved. He took a deep breath. It was possible he might puke.

“Do we know anything about her? Who called it in?”

An officer that wasn’t fighting off curious on-lookers answered. “Who always calls it in? Just somebody walking by. We’ve got a couple of bystanders, punks, really, waiting in the car over there,” he pointed, “who claimed to know her. Haven’t had a chance to talk to them yet. And we found this shirt.” He held up a clear plastic bag that contained a white shirt. “In a garbage can two blocks over. There’s a smear of blood on the sleeve and a couple of drops on the collar.”

Lark nodded then walked over to the police cruiser and peered in. ‘Punks’ was an understatement. Skateboard wheels jutted up between their knees, and both of them were intent on repetitively slapping the wheels with their palms. Spin. Whirrrrrrr. Spin. Amusement fit for nervous teens and autistic children.

“Right.” Lark paused to think. “Listen guys, I really appreciate your hanging around and telling us you know this chic. What I need from you is whatever information you can give me that will help me figure out who this girl is, what’s her name, where’s her family. Can you get on that page with me?”

The polite kid was nodding. The other one looked like he was ready for a nap. Lark concentrated on the one with manners. “Where, exactly, did you see her around? Like in a coffee bar, on a street corner? Do you think she’s a runaway, a prostitute, neither, both?”

“Yeah, I think she’s a prostitute. I thought she was cute, you know, and I thought maybe we could talk. So I’d kinda hang around—over by the Dairy Queen up on Grove. But she wouldn’t give me the time of day, man. Bummer. She hung with another girl, a girl with long blonde braids, real smiley girl. But I don’t know their names. I just wanted a chance to talk, you know, maybe hit a Rave or something. But they blew me off every time.”

Lark was impressed. The uniforms managed to hang onto a decent witness. “That’s good info. You think I can find this other girl up on Grove?”

“Probably. Seen them around up there a lot. Seen the other girl on the corner of Main and Cypress the other night, too.”

“Thanks.” Lark pulled out his notebook. “That helps. Let me get your addresses and phone numbers. You know, got to keep a record of everybody I talk to.” They cooperated. Even the duller kid seemed all right now that he realized they were gonna get to leave. Lark dug around in the glove box and found a couple of McDonald’s gift certificates. Perfect. Some of the patrol cops kept stashes of these certificates to bribe kids and street people to move on. Worked pretty well. He got out of the car and let the boys out. “Thanks, you’ve helped a lot,” he said, and handed them the McDonald’s currency. “Have breakfast on us.”

“Cool,” said the quiet kid. “I didn’t know we’d get breakfast!” They dropped their boards and were out of sight in sixty seconds.

Cool, Lark thought, he had place to start.

Chapter 9



How to lie to yourself

The kid saw him and walked right over, smiling that damn smile that Reed had been trying to keep out of his head all damn day.

“Hey, Reed.”

Reed intended to say a simple “Hi” and then blow him off. “Hey yourself,” he said, and before he could even stop to think, added, “Where’d you run off to this morning?”

Reed realized he’d been staring at the kid’s face and forgotten his manners. “Oh, sorry. This is my friend, Maggie. Mags, this is... is...” He paused, realizing he had no idea what the kid’s name was.

“Daniel,” the kid said. “Nice to meet you.” He grinned at Reed, and just stood there.

“Want to join us?” Maggie offered, but then looked at Reed. “Or... shit. I’m sorry. We were going to have a discussion. Maybe now’s not the time.”

Reed jumped at the opportunity to avoid discussing the kid, because he knew that was the only discussion there would be at this point. Even Maggie couldn’t talk about him if he was sitting right there. “Nah, it’s all right. Have a seat, young Daniel.”

“Actually, I was just going to grab a coffee. Maybe I’ll see you later?”

Damn. The kid wasn’t going to bail him out. “Yeah, maybe.” And the shock his own comment just about tossed him out of the chair. He should have said
Not if I see you first
, make sure the kid knew the score. What the fuck was wrong with him? He had no intention of seeing the kid later. He had no intention of seeing the kid ever again.

He avoided looking at Maggie until the kid was gone. Tried to avoid looking at the kid too, but didn’t do a very good job of it. His eyes just kept straying over him, blond hair, narrow hips, smile. The brightest fucking green eyes he’d ever seen. Even as the kid stood at the counter ordering his coffee, Reed could see the glimmer in those eyes.

Finally he was gone and Reed could breathe. He took in a deep breath and let it out. It came through his teeth as a long sigh.

Maggie was staring daggers at him. “You didn’t meet anyone and have no idea what might trigger a trip down memory lane. You are so full of shit, Reed.”

“What, him? He’s just a kid. You can’t count him for anything.”

“I think I can. And you couldn’t stop staring at him. Jesus, Reed, do you think he’s even eighteen? How old would Aidan have been this year?

“Fifteen.” Part of Reed wished she’d just shut up. But talking about Aidan is why they’d come. Exorcise the demons of the past and all that crap. Deal with the grief before it hit too hard. “The kid’s older than that.”

“You know, Maggie, I don’t want to talk about either one. I want to go home to bed.” She gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “Alone,” he added.

“Bullshit. You were with this kid last night and now today you’re battling Aidan’s ghost.” She sighed. “Jesus, he’s beautiful. But I can’t imagine he’s old enough.”

Reed felt a little bit guilty. He’d actually managed pretty effectively to push Aidan out of his head. The truth was he’d been fighting off thinking about the kid all day. “Could you stop? Okay, he’s a little young. He swore to me that he’s twenty-one, does that make you feel better? He’s young and gay and new to the area, and he was determined to go home with somebody last night. I don’t think he really gave a shit who. Considering what’s out there, I was probably one of the safer choices, so yeah, I brought him home. I was practically protecting him. He wanted it, Maggie, he was looking for it.”

“Every gay male in the city wants to be with you, Reed, and most of them have been. I don’t call that protection. I call it frightening.”

Driving home Reed decided Maggie was right. This Daniel kid was way too young and Reed had no business messing with him. He needed to treat the kid like anyone else who wanted an encore—thanks, no thanks, get the fuck out of my face. And then Reed would avoid CK Teasers for a while, give the kid time to learn the scene, maybe find a boyfriend his own age. This uncomfortable little interlude could fade into the past.

By the time he got home, he had a plan. He’d go to Teasers tomorrow night, let the kid approach him, and give him the big brush off. Then he’d go to the dance floor and pick up some guy he’d never seen before and take him home. Make sure Daniel saw it all. He took off his suit coat and stared at himself in the mirror, pushing his white shirtsleeves up past his elbows. Like Maggie said, they all wanted him. Good for them. He’d use it to make sure Daniel understood that one night together didn’t mean Reed owed Daniel time or attention, or a repeat performance. They owed each other nothing.

Chapter 10



How to be a fledgling

Tony couldn’t put his finger on exactly how he felt different today from yesterday. It was sort of everything, but when he tried to pinpoint ‘everything’ he came up with nothing. Well, nothing except that his eyesight was perfect without contacts or glasses. Better than perfect. He had been fitted for his first pair of glasses when he was eight and his vision had gone steadily downhill from there. Until this morning. No, that was a mistake. It wasn’t morning. It was the middle of the night. His new vision seemed able to take any faint light source and allow him to see as in broad daylight. Night vision eyes. Eyes like a cat. Very cool.