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“Oh, I think ‘normal’ packed its bags and left a while ago,” I said.
My cell phone chose that moment to buzz in my pocket.
Riker Kane this time—former military, current supernatural bounty hunter, and my mentor in this weird business I’d fallen into.
“Please tell me you’re calling to say you’ve got ice cream,” I said, only half-joking.
“Sorry, Fury. Nothing so sweet. I’ve got a case. Every outdoor fountain in the city just burst into flames.”
“I’m looking at one of them right now. Any clue why?”
“None. But the Dallas PD just put out a supernatural BOLO on an unidentified fire djinni. Meet me back at your office?”
“Copy that, big guy.” I ended the call and faced my friends. “Looks like our summer just got a whole lot hotter. I’ve got to go play detective with Riker—see if we can’t douse these flames,” I said, already backing away. “Y’all coming?”
“Might as well—there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do here.” Helen’s mouth twisted as she glanced at Elijah, who nodded in agreement.
“See you there,” I threw over my shoulder with a grin that felt like armor.
Time to hunt down whatever supernatural arsonist thought turning the city into a candle shop was a good idea.
CHAPTER 3
The flickering images from the flame-licked fountains across town danced in my mind as I thumbed through the case files spread out like a poker hand on my desk.
“Think it’s some pyromaniac with a flair for the dramatic?” Elijah asked, balancing his coffee mug precariously between his knees, his floppy blond hair obscuring his eyes.
“More like a pyromaniac who can snap their fingers and make Bunsen burners look like birthday candles,” I said, shooting him a wry smile.
Helen, resplendent even in the harsh fluorescent light of the office, raised an impeccably arched brow and took a delicate sip of her coffee, her bullwhip coiled on the table. “Darling, if that’s the case, then this city is about to become the hottest nightclub in town—without the need for a disco ball.”
“Or the cover charge,” I said.
Just as the laughter began to bubble up between us, the door swung open. Riker stepped in, the air seeming to shift to accommodate his broad shoulders and the invisible heft of his presence. He was like a walking power stance—someone you’d follow into battle or at the very least, down a dark alley when hunting things that went bump in the night.
The moment Riker Kane strode deeper into the office, I was hit by a familiar wave of admiration—and not just for his tracking skills. The guy had the sort of rugged looks that could make a woman forget she was about to dive headfirst into a world of supernatural chaos. He managed to pull off a ‘younger, paler Dwayne Johnson’ vibe without even trying—if The Rock ever decided that ghostbusting was more lucrative than Hollywood—and it was distracting on a good day.
Lord, he was hot.
“Morning, team,” Riker greeted us with a curt nod, his deep voice rolling through the room. I always wondered how someone could pack that much authority into two words. Must be a special skill they teach at supernatural bounty hunter boot camp.
“Riker,” I said, pushing aside the case files. My heart did a little somersault—not out of fear but anticipation. When he walked in, adventure usually followed, and today felt like no exception.
“Got any insights on our fiery friend?” Helen asked, her tone all business despite the glamorous veneer.
“I’ve got a tale or two that might shed some light—or heat—on our situation,” Riker replied, a shadow of a grin tugging at his lips. And just like that, we were all ears, ready to hunt monsters.
“Okay,” he began, rolling up the sleeves of his charcoal-gray shirt, revealing forearms that could probably arm-wrestle demons into submission. “These fountain fires aren’t your garden-variety arson.” His eyes glinted as he leaned against my desk, which groaned under his weight—a reminder that my furniture wasn’t used to accommodating paranormal hunting powerhouses.
“Supernatural, then?” Elijah chimed in, eyebrow arched over the rim of his coffee mug.
“Exactly,” Riker confirmed. “I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with a fire djinni.”
My spine straightened at the mention of the creature. I’d never met one, but I’d been doing my homework. Djinn were bad news, fire djinn worse—like ‘set-your-life-and-everything-you-love-on-fire’ kind of bad news. Not exactly the thing you wanted to tango with on a Tuesday—or any day, really.
“Fire djinn are ancient, capricious beings,” Riker continued, his voice taking on that ‘lecture time’ tone I knew all too well. “They’re drawn to chaos and have a knack for turning the smallest spark into an inferno.”
Elijah whistled lowly, while Helen’s grip on her coffee cup tightened, her knuckles whitening.
