The joke was on the Crescent population, really. Fringe families had long ago taken land no one else wanted and cultivated it. The marshes and swamp areas were the most beautiful, private, and richest of all the inhabitable land in the area. To Violet, the busy, crowded city was the unwanted area.
The receptionist returned a few moments later. “Someone will be with you shortly.”
I’ll bet.
She bet right. Once all the papers were filled out, with the cold facts of her brother’s life and death crammed into lines not nearly long enough, she spent the time checking emails on her phone and confirming a couple of appointments with jewelry stores. Finally she played a couple of rounds of Best Fiends before a voice penetrated. “Miss Castanega.”
A young man stood in the open doorway with that same sour look. He’d drawn the short straw, evidently. She was so sick of being judged by her name, her family. She swallowed the weariness and forced a professional smile. He took the clipboard and said nothing more, just walked into a large room filled with desks. Expecting her to follow, she assumed. The Guard’s officers wore business attire, not uniforms. She didn’t need to see his magick tattoo identifying him as the lowest officer, an Argus. The fact that he led her to one of the desks crammed into the center of the room said as much. There were only two levels of officers in the Guard. Vegas handled higher-level issues, and Arguses handled everyday Crescent matters.
Several other officers sat at their desks, engaged with complainants. She heard snippets of conversations about the crazy neighbor releasing orbs from his roof and Aunt Betty doing naked gardening and trying to run off Elementals. Those officers not busy watched her openly, as though they were ready to be amused. Someone whistled the banjo theme from Deliverance.
Idjit. That movie was set in Georgia, not southern Florida.
She gripped her alligator purse handle tighter. The skin came from their farm, the purse from the company that fashioned them into four-hundred-dollar bags and belts. She wanted to tell these people that their operation used every part of the gator so nothing went to waste. That the income from their various enterprises provided well for the families it supported, far better than the Guard probably paid their employees. They also ensured that the alligator population thrived, that the nests in the wild were protected.
Violet met curious gazes, most giving her a dose of a sneer. Her Dragon rolled over her senses, bringing everything into hyperfocus. She felt its heat as it pressed close to the surface.
Back. Not a good place to show yourself. You’ll—we’ll be pounced, blasted, and incinerated before we can blink.
She pushed it deep inside her and focused on the paintings of gods that were situated between doors, done in various mediums, styles, and probably eras. For younger generations, the gods were mythical, part of distant history. Her clan descended from Mora, Dragon goddess of creativity and beauty. Here she was depicted as a gorgeous green Dragon surrounded by flowers and butterflies. She was about to snap her fangs around the neck of a bird with bright plumage.
The man led her to a female officer’s desk. “Here, K, this one’s all yours.” He shoved the clipboard at her. “I’ve got better things to do.”
Mia Kavanaugh, according to her nameplate, gave him an acidic look but turned to Violet. “Please sit.” Her gaze skimmed the top of the report, and Violet could tell the moment her last name registered.
Mia’s moss green eyes took her in, swirling with trademark Deuce mist that, like Dragon’s flames, could only be seen by Crescents. Mia set the clipboard down and met her gaze. “Ms. Castanega, please tell me your family hasn’t killed the Mundane who is screaming to the world that there’s a gator ape in the swamp.”
Dragonfire, that’s where she was going? “Even though Smitty’s always sneaking around on our private land with his video cameras, we have refrained from harming him. This has nothing to do with him.”
“You piqued his interest. A huge alligator that walks upright at times? One of your family members obviously revealed your magick. Which makes you a reckless element?—”
“This has nothing to do with that idjit, and we are not reckless.” Well, most of the time. Wild, daring, and a little bit crazy, yes, but all aware of the punishment for breaking Rule Number One: death. “The murder I’m here to report is my brother’s.”
“Details?”
Don’t cry. You’re good at holding back tears after years of being teased by three brothers. No, now two …
She held back the rest of her thoughts and the sob that threatened to erupt. “My brother Arlo was murdered yesterday by a Dragon who Breathed his power. He was attacked on our property without provocation. But?—”
“You know the Guard doesn’t interfere with the swamp clans’ feuds.” Mia lifted the clipboard, her face relaxing as she thought her job here was done. “We will, of course, file the proper paperwork.”
So his death would be filed with the government but not the suspicious nature of it. No need to involve the Muds—the Mundane police force.
“I’m not just here because of my brother’s murder.” Violet pulled out a piece of paper and laid it on the desk. It contained the names of the other deceased Fringers. Swamp trash, she knew they were called more often than the Fringer moniker they’d given themselves long ago. “As I was about to say, there have been five similar murders in the last ten days. All Breathed. Someone’s inciting the feuding clans.”
Mia barely glanced at the list. “The feuding clans are inciting the feuding clans. That’s what you do down there.”
“We’ve been at peace for the last ten years. But it won’t last. My family is ready for blood. I’m sure these other families are, too. That’s how it works: someone’s killed for good reason, and there’s a retaliation murder, and then another.” She thought of one family in particular that had been completely wiped out twenty years ago. It pained Violet to know her family was responsible, even if the Garzas deserved it.
Violet pointed to the list of names. “I bought time by doing this research to show a pattern. But my family is only going to hold out for so long before they start looking for justice.” She met her gaze. “You can prevent bloodshed by finding out who’s behind this. A teenage boy died.”
Movement beyond the woman caught her eye. One of the office doors opened, and a man walked out. Her Dragon snarled at the sight of the Deuce Vega who had tangled with her family on several occasions in the name of the Guard, Kade something or another. The one she’d attacked, but let’s just forget about that, shall we? His green-eyed gaze homed in on her. Something fiery sparked between them, surprising her because she didn’t know what it was exactly. Sure as hell wasn’t that. She turned back to the Argus. “Will you investigate?”
Mia shook her head. “I’m sorry, but this looks like typical Fringe infighting, and we are way too busy to deal with that particular kind of crazy right now. Maybe it’s the effect of living on the edge of the Field. Who knows what the lack of full Deus Vis does to you after a while?—”
“We get plenty of Deus Vis.” Latin for god force, it was the essential energy that sustained Crescents’ deity essence. The supernatural energy emanated from the crystals that composed the island of Lucifera. The energy was still present. Ships and planes in the Bermuda Triangle found that out firsthand when their instruments malfunctioned. The Field of Deus Vis extended in a crescent shape into the Miami/Ft. Lauderdale area, fading at the edges. The Fringe lay at the southern curve of that edge.
Mia tilted her head. “But how would you know? I don’t mean to sound derogatory, but to give you an example, if you grow up crazy, that’s your norm.”
