“We’ve had our differences in approach over the years, haven’t we, Detective Harper?” Rowan isn’t smiling anymore. His voice has taken on a hard edge. “You’ve always been so... by the book. So concerned with protocol. Sometimes, that rigidity prevents us from doing what needs to be done.”
“Protocol exists for a reason,” Harper counters evenly. “It protects everyone, civilians and officers alike.”
I blink, processing what I’m hearing. I’d assumed Harper was just another one of Rowan’s lackeys, enforcing and enabling his heavy-handed tactics without question. I didn’t know there was tension between them.
The chief’s smile returns, looking decidedly smarmy. “You know, if you could learn to be more of a team player perhaps there would be a permanent spot for you back in Brighton. No more chasing fugitives across state lines. A detective of your caliber deserves better.”
“I’m happy where I am,” Harper says firmly. “The work suits me.”
“I’d be careful about the road you’re choosing, Detective. There’s more to the job than following procedure. The actions you take now could determine your future in the force.”
Harper doesn’t flinch at the underlying threat in his boss’s tone, but I’m seriously tempted to get closer and smack Rowan.
“This doesn’t have to be so difficult. We’re on the same team,” the chief tuts. “I would hate for your career to suffer because of... poor judgment. Especially when you have such potential.”
Who the hell does Rowan think he is? The bastard’s trying to intimidate the wolf into talking, just because he’s the chief. My blood begins to boil. My fingers clench around the edge of the planter we’re hiding behind.
“Dodger,” Marlow whispers urgently. “Calm down.”
“I am calm,” I hiss back.
“No, you aren’t.”
“What do you know? You don’t sound calm yourself.”
“You’re right,” he says. “Hard to feel calm when it sure looks like a passage to another plane of existence is opening in the coffee shop.”
I look around and feel my stomach drop. Sure enough, a small tear is forming in the air nearby, barely visible at first—just a shimmer, like heat rising from asphalt—but growing darker and more defined by the second.
Shit. I close my eyes, forcing deep breaths, trying to rein in my emotions and the power they’re unleashing. Why is it only easy to connect to my powers when I’mnottrying?
My whip is back at the hotel, so I’m just willing the opening to close and hoping my power responds. It works, sluggishly. The portal gradually begins to shrink, the edges sealing themselves like a healing wound.
“Is it gone?” I whisper, eyes still squeezed shut in concentration.
“Uh, the portal’s closing,” Marlow says, “but I think something already came through.”
~
Dodger
Everything looks normal—wait, what’s that? A translucent shape prowls between tables. It becomes clearer, a huge dog with chilling red eyes, surveying the café. About the size of a Great Dane with a fluffy black coat. Can anyone else see it? The dog looks hazy, outlined in an otherworldly blue, some kind of spectral hound.
“What the hell is that?” I whisper.
Marlow swears under his breath. “Oh shit.”
“What? You know what that is?”
“Yeah, they’re the worst.”
Uh-oh. My heart hammers against my ribs. What did I just accidentally unleash? “Are we in danger? What does that devil dog do?”
The spectral beast raises its massive head, nostrils flaring as it scents the air. Those burning red eyes sweep across the café, and when they lock onto mine, a bone-deep chill spreads through my body. It sees me. Of course it fucking sees me.
“Real pests down in the underworld,” Marlow explains, surprisingly casual given the circumstances. “Doesn’t matter how secure food is, they always find a way to get it. When you try to shoo them out or chase them away, they go intangible.”
Huh. That doesn’t sound nearly as bad as I feared. “So... it’s not here to drag our souls to hell or something?”
