White Witch, Black Curse

Edden's office was a pleasant mix of organized clutter that I could identify with and was part of the reason I had taken to him so quickly last year. The man was ex-military, but you'd never know it by the dust and stacks of files. Still, I bet he could put his finger on anything he wanted in three seconds flat. The pictures on the walls were few, but in one of them he was shaking hands with Denon, my old boss at the I.S. It would worry me if I hadn't once heard the pleasure Edden had taken in jerking a case out from under him. The smell of old coffee seemed embedded in the gray tiles and institutional-yellow walls. A new laptop sat open on his desk instead of a monitor, and the clock that had once been behind him was now behind me. Otherwise, it was the same as the last time I had sat here, waiting for Edden to bring me coffee.

I heard Edden's footsteps before his bulky silhouette showed through the blinds between his office and the rest of the other offices, all open. The man came in with two china mugs instead of the expected foam ones. New rules again? One was clearly his by the brown-stained rim. I got the clean one with rainbows. How sweet…

Jenks rose up in a column of blue sparkles as Edden sat behind his desk, the pixy taking the packet almost as large as he was and retreating to a corner, out of my reach. "Thanks, Edden," he said, wrestling with the plastic to tear it open.

I leaned to shut the door with my foot, and Edden eyed me. "You have something to say in private, Rachel?" he asked, and I shook my head. Taking the packet from Jenks, I tore it open and handed it back.

"Trust me," I said, thinking that having the harried FIB officers deal with a drunk pixy was too much to ask for. My reputation was bad enough as it was.

"So," I said to draw Edden's attention from Jenks, who was humming happily and starting to list already, one wing not fanning as fast as the other. "Isn't a felony charge a little harsh for failure to register a new address?"

Edden's gaze darted from me to Jenks, and then back. "It's not for failure to register. It's because she's a suspect."

"'S good honey, Eddie," Jenks interrupted, and I set my coffee mug down loud enough to make his wings hum.

"The banshee is a suspect?" I questioned. "Why? All she did was leave a tear."

Edden leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. "Alex took her photo out to the neighbors to see if she had been near the scene recently. Babysitter, cosmetics lady, whatever. Every single person asked ID'd Ms. Harbor as Mrs. Tilson."

"What?" I yelped, sitting up fast.

"Holy crap," Jenks swore, almost crashing into the stack of files on Edden's desk as he took flight with his honey packet. "The banshee took a human's name? What the hell for?"

My first wash of surprise ebbed into an uneasy answer, and by looking at Edden's severe face, I knew he had the same idea. Mia had killed them and was trying to cover it up. Good God. Tom is trying to tag a banshee? By himself? Go for it, coffin bait. "That might explain why Tom Bansen was under our kitchen floor yesterday," I said, and Edden started.

"Under your—"

"Kitchen floor," I finished. "All dressed up like a military guy on urban-assault detail. Bis and one of my friends caught him trying to bug the church."

"Why didn't you call me?" Edden said, and I made a face while Jenks slurred something about the gargoyle.

"Because Tom's been, ah, shunned," I said, flushing. "No Inderlander will hire him, the I.S. included. He has no choice but to go independent. Bringing in a banshee will probably earn him enough money to get himself set up somewhere he can live his life out in the wilds. He warned me off the case. Now that I think about it, he told me specifically to stay away from Mia. He probably knows at least as much as we do."

"Then why bug you?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Because if he's been shunned, he lacks the resources of both the FIB and the I.S. I guess he figured he'd listen in to what we found and act on it before we did. Tom probably knows exactly where she's gone. Maybe I should try to bug him."

Edden looked grim, rubbing his mustache, when I finally looked back. "Want a car at your house?"

Immediately I shook my head. "No, but one at my mom's might be nice."

"Within the hour," he promised, the pen almost lost in his grip as he made a note.

Jenks had started climbing Edden's desk files like a drunken mountaineer, and I blushed when I found out what happened on the tenth day of pixy Christmas. Shaking off the visual, I turned to Edden. "If Mia is Mrs. Tilson, we need to find her fast. The man with her is in danger."

Edden made an ugly sound and just about threw the pen in the cup. "I don't care."