The Burning Bush (45 page)

“Whatever, La La. We needed Graham at the time I called. You can’t do everything all by yourself. Someone at least has to care for Ben while we’re dealing with this mess.”

I pointed to the bloody cords, spilling out of my dad’s pocket and dirtying the area near his foot. “So what were you thinking? Did you figure the psychotic Demon would be an upstanding babysitter?”

“That’s not my fault,” MeShack said.

“Who’s Ben?” Dad raised his black, bushy eyebrows.

“No one,” I replied.

“Your new grandson,” MeShack explained. I scowled at him.

“Outstanding. I can’t wait to meet him.” Dad turned to Zulu. “So is this Vampire trying to kill my daughter?”

“I think so,” Zulu said.

“Me too.” MeShack got between Zulu and my dad. “Dante sent her a gift after the bombing. It was a king chess piece wrapped in ribbon. This Vamp bit her, too.”

“Then he’ll die by my hands,” Graham said. An inferno of flames erupted all over the shop. Graham howled so loudly the display window cracked.

“No.” Zulu targeted my dad with his eyes. “You’re going to have to get in line.”

The room went silent. Frantically, I waved my hands to extinguish the flames erupting around us. MeShack glanced at me. We both knew this situation could go either way. My dad could return to hurting Zulu, or he could shrug the comment off.

Another second passed, and my dad laughed. “I like this guy. I take out some of his magic, making it mine, and he still has the balls to talk mess to me.”

MeShack sighed. I also let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.

“You really love my daughter, don’t you?” My dad shook his head.

“I do,” Zulu replied, still with dark and angry eyes.

“You’ll have to kill my cheetah to get her, and I can’t let that happen.” My father’s face hardened as he maintained a steady gaze with Zulu. He never even blinked. “I love him as much as I love my little girl. When his Season is done—”

“Then we’ll battle.” Zulu’s skin rippled on his face.

“I guess so.” My dad nodded and clapped his hands. “For now, we all share a common enemy.”

“Just a minute, Graham.” MeShack walked over to me. “I need to talk to La La.”

“Now? Of all times,” I said with an edge of annoyance and slid out of Zulu’s grip on my waist.

“Yes, now.” MeShack guided me toward the front door. “You guys get to know each other. We’ll be right back.”

“What do you want?” I asked as he continued to tow me out of the store.

“Don’t scream,” MeShack murmured. “But I couldn’t figure out a way to deal with this.”

I stepped outside the shop and halted. Ten habbie police cars were parked in front. Several habbies had guns pointed toward the shop. Rivera appeared at my side with a gun targeting me. “We need to talk, Lanore.”

“Why are we in your shitty little car?” I asked Rivera from his passenger seat.

Faux cheetah fur covered the car’s seats, reeking of cigarette smoke. MeShack had been snarling the whole ride and complaining about the seat covers. It was weird, but I hadn’t noticed the cheetah fur on the seats the last time I had ridden in this car. Vee sat in the back, next to MeShack, still in her sapphire gown. We’d left Zulu and my dad alone in the store together. I tried my best not to go insane with worry about all the possible problems that could arise.

Rivera turned the raggedy car into the police station. Black exhaust smoke trailed behind us. “Jacobi’s blood matched the carrier spell on the bush, but his fingerprints don’t match the ones lifted from Onyx or Shelly.”

“Who cares about fingerprints?” Vee asked. “The blood and spell are what’s really important.”

“Not in Human courts.” Rivera took a drag of his cigarette and blew smoke out of his open window. “It’s all about fingerprints. Magical evidence is unadmissable.”

“Inadmissible,” I corrected.

“Well, since you’re so smart, you better find a way to pin the murders on Jacobi.” Rivera parked the car. “All we have is tampering with evidence.”

“What? Tampering? His blood matched the spells, end of case.” I slammed my palm against the dashboard.

“Hit my car again and I arrest you. Jacobi says both Shelly and Onyx were dropped in his bed with no letter or any kind of message from the killer,” Rivera explained. “He keeps saying they were already dead. And since the fingerprints don’t match the ones on the girls, we can’t really charge him.”

“That’s Were-bullshit.” I slumped in my seat. “And why do you fuck faces believe him? I swear none of you habbies can do your job.”

Rivera flung his cigarette out the window and turned the car off. “My boss wants to know who gave me the blood. Clear this shit up before I have to explain this to him, because I’ll throw you under the bus without another thought.”

“Are you forgetting that I’m just a broke college student? This is what you get when you force me to do something I don’t know anything about.” I climbed out of the car. “You need to start blackmailing actual investigators.”

“Why would you cover your seats in animal fur?” MeShack asked through clenched teeth. “That’s what we need to be talking about.”

“Just let it go, MeShack. It’s not even real fur.” I headed toward the station, already several feet in front of Vee, MeShack, and Rivera. I didn’t like my dad being alone with Zulu. We needed to finish this quickly.

“You have two hours before Jacobi’s lawyer arrives. Solve this.” Rivera got to my side and pointed his finger at me. “Someone released your friend Angel and a bunch of prisoners last night. Their image wasn’t caught on camera and none of the guys saw anything, but as of right now, you’re my top suspect.”

“I had nothing to do with that.” I displayed my fingers to him. “Check my fingerprints.”

“You’re a Mixie. I don’t need to follow any penal code or rules of procedure with you. I can just say you did it, and we can take you in.” Rivera opened the habbie police station doors and walked inside. “Our precinct looks stupid since all the prisoners escaped. The other precincts in other districts around Santeria are laughing at us. My boss wants Jacobi as the murderer and the media coverage it will bring. Make it happen.”

“What part of ‘I’m not a detective’ did you not hear?” I pushed through the doors and marched toward a room that had a paper sign reading “Interrogation Area.”

“In here?” I asked.

“Yes.”

My head throbbed, announcing an oncoming headache as I entered.
Think, Lanore.
Jacobi sat behind a wooden table. His father, Judge Brass, sat next to him with his arms crossed over his chest and a grim look on his wrinkled face.

“Wait a minute. I’m questioning Jacobi?” I whispered to Rivera.

“Of course. Who else would do it?” He nodded at the Judge and his son and gestured to me. “This is the habitat police’s official Supernatural consultant. She found the blood and has some questions.”

“I won’t answer to a Mixbreed,” Jacobi said. I don’t think Jacobi even recognized me as the model from his art class. I wondered if he even knew his sex tapes were missing. “I’m not discussing anything with this individual.”

“That makes sense. Fine by me.” I headed for the door.

“Get back here,” Rivera yelled and pointed at Jacobi. “If you want out of here, then you better answer her.”

Jacobi glared at me. “What do you want to know?”

MeShack and Vee stood outside the room, staring through the Plexiglas window.

“So you found the girls dead on your bed?” I asked.

“Yes.” Jacobi tapped the desk with his manicured fingertips. His father glanced at his watch.

Two folders lay on the table. I grabbed one and opened it up, stalling. “Why not call the habbies to come and get the girls?”

“Obviously, I didn’t want to be blamed for their murders,” Jacobi said. “I made sure I was careful to not mess up any evidence, which is why I used a preservation spell. I figured the habbies would have enough evidence to find the right person.”

“And then you dropped off Onyx and your fiancé on the habbies’ front doorstep?” I raised my eyebrows. “Maybe I can see you doing that with Onyx, but Shelly was intended to be your wife.”

“People die every day.” Jacobi shrugged. “Seriously, I barely knew Shelly. My art gallery opening was a way for us to learn about each other.”

I thought of the child’s drawings next to his altar, the ones with a stick-figure woman stuck in fire and how both Onyx and Shelly looked like the drawings. Originally, I’d assumed Jacobi blamed himself for his mother’s death, and maybe he was reenacting what he had witnessed that day as a kid. But something else was going on, something I was missing. I paced back and forth, chewing my lip. All three men turned their faces to me—Jacobi, Judge Brass, and Rivera.

I needed more time to think, so I asked a question, figuring I already knew the answer. “You knew both girls?”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet Onyx?” I continued to pace. Rivera sat down on a chair in the corner, took out a pack of gum, and unwrapped the foil wrapper.

“Her mother, Harriet, cleans our house during the day. She’s been bringing Onyx around since Onyx was two years old.”

I forced myself to keep pacing, but knots formed in my stomach. I remembered when I’d showed Harriet Onyx’s sketch of Jacobi. She said she didn’t know him. I quickly did the math in my head. Onyx had been coming by the Brass’s estate since she was two, and she died at sixteen. How could Harriet not recognize the son of a client that she’d been working under for fourteen years?

Maybe Jacobi didn’t do it
. “Why did you make the girls appear like your mother when she died?”

Judge Brass’s face snapped up. “Excuse me? What do you mean by that?”

Jacobi’s attention went to his fingers as he twisted them around.

“Has the Judge seen the pictures?” I asked Rivera, who was smacking his gum.

“No,” Rivera said. “They’re in the next folder.”

I opened it, pulled out the photos of the dead girls, and put them in front of the Judge’s face. “Does this look familiar to you, sir?”

The Judge waved them away and looked at Jacobi. “What in Shango’s name is wrong with you, boy? Playing with dead bodies? Reenacting your mother’s death?”

Jacobi’s fingers shook as he continued to twist and tug at them. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“Answer me!” the Judge roared, eyes bulging. Veins popped up around his forehead.

The table magically cracked down the center and broke away into four large slabs. The table slabs slammed against Jacobi’s face, one after another, bringing a smacking sound with each assault. Jacobi fell out of his seat as he screamed in horror. Judge Brass lounged back in his seat with gleaming green eyes. The table formed back together so fast that, if I hadn’t seen it break apart, I would have thought it ever moved.

“Please, don’t do that again.” I leaned toward the Judge so my face was even with his. “If another object moves in this room and hits somebody, I’m setting you on fire. You understand?”

“And how will you do that, combo trash?” the Judge’s green eyes brightened to a lighter shade.

A splintered plank of wood crashed against the right side of my face. I waved an arch of flames to capture the plank with my left hand and rubbed my cheek with my right hand. “Motherpounder!”

I shot three fireballs out of my palm, targeting the Judge’s face.

The Judge jumped out of his seat and dodged the fireballs. “You’ll regret that.” His hands rose. The table divided into thousands of tiny, sharp-edged pieces in front of me and soared above my head.

“Not in here!” Rivera yelled.

I dove onto the floor, twisting around to face falling bits of table as they rained down on me. I screamed, calling a shield of fire to surround me.

“Stop!” Rivera shouted.

A blaze curved around my body, absorbing and burning the wood. Explosive sparks burst throughout the room. I removed the flaming shield, ready to set the Judge on fire. But when the flames vanished, the hard point of a gun dug into my sore cheek.

“You have power?” Rivera asked as the metal shook in his trembling hands.