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They start to charge and I brace myself right before they hit me, the moment quickly devolving into a flurry of fur and scratched up limbs. I can tell they’re holding back the force of their bites and scratches, but shit happens, and I’m quickly overwhelmed by the two, speedy little shits. I use the only thing left in my arsenal and manage to swipe a slice of jerky from the pocket of my leather jacket. The one I totally bought to match Wicked.
If she won’t wear a coat, then I’ll suffer an icy death with her.
Gizmo and Snitch both freeze as I hold up the yummy meat snack in the air, their noses twitching as they zero in on the movement. It’s probably a comical scene: me beneath a pile of fur, my clothes ripped and tattered, while holding a piece of food above me like the Olympic flame. Them, half posed in attack mode, their heads faced to the jerky as if it was the messiah himself coming down from the clouds.
Then I throw it. Gizmo and Snitch both take off after it, leaving me laugh-groaning and trying to stand behind them. They dive towards the food, playfully growling and fighting each other instead of me. Thank fucking God, because they actually give me a run for my money.
“-maybe that’s not the only reason you want us off the case,Chief.” I catch the tail end of Nic’s sentence and freeze in place, his sneered accusation setting me immediately on edge.
“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?” Alan is obviously struck by the revelation of Nic’s suspicion, his face paling and hand moving over his stomach as if he’s been shot.
“You fucking heard me! Why in all the seven hells would you kick all of your best detectives off of the biggest serial killer case sinceThe Angelwas caught?” Nic steps closer, his tone brimming with promised violence and obvious disdain. Alan flinches, pale face going green as he steps backwards once more, as if trying to fight the urge to flee. My eyes narrow as I catch the movement, unable to decide what exactly is fueling his reactions.
Is he shocked and offended by the thought that he’s a suspect? Or is he just nervous that we’re landing close to the truth? Are those the actions of an innocent man, or a guilty one?
It’s much easier to figure out if someone is in the clear or not if they have no idea you’re even looking at them. Fucking Nic just had to open his big fucking mouth. Dumbass.
“I-I just wanted to keep her safe. I thought she needed you a lot more than I did.” Alan scrambles to answer, his gaze flicking between all three of us before resting on Wicked’s still form, his eyes softening slightly, growing wet with unshed tears. One moment he looks like a doting, heartbroken father, then in the next he’s straightening his spine and locking his jaw, a wild look entering his eyes. “I’ll expect a full briefing on what she sees in there when you’re done. But don’t be mistaken, if you guys come anywhere near this case again, you’re all fired.”
With those last words, he turns and stomps away.
As Nic turns and sighs, rubbing his hand through his hair and returning to Wicked’s side, I keep my eyes on Alan, all the way until he reaches a silver Honda Accord, one that isn’t his usual vehicle. Instead of jumping in and immediately driving off, he slumps in his seat, head moving to rest on the steering wheel. It takes a few moments before I realize that his body is shaking and jerking before his fist slams into the dashboard.
I have to dodge around a couple crime scene workers when they break my line of sight, but then I can see him again, his head is staring straight ahead, phone pressed to his ear, and a look of pure hatred on his face. He speaks to whoever is on the line intermittently, only one word or two word responses, then he hangs up.
His hand moves up the wipe at his face and then his gaze connects with mine, realizing that I’m watching him. Quickly starting his car, he pulls away.
Who was he talking to?
“Kai!” I turn quickly as Nic calls my name, seeing Wicked twitch in place as she surfaces from her vision. I run to her side, the three of us crowding around her, yet careful not to step on any evidence.
“Guys?”
“We’re here, baby.” I grin as she groggily asks for us immediately. Maybe she’s not ready to admit it, but I think she actually kind of likes us.
“I’m…shit. Catch me.” Then she goes limp, Ezra easily keeping her boneless form upright until he sweeps her up and cradles her in his arms.
“Let’s get her home. I don’t trust anyone here.” Nic surveys the scene around us, noticing everyone trying to pretend they aren’t watching as he cracks his neck.
With that, we hustle from the alleyway, ducking past crime scene tape and ignoring everyone who even looks in our direction. Gizmo and Snitch close on our tail, as always. There used to be a day where everyone in the department respected us and looked to us, but it looks like those days are long gone. Pretty much since we started consorting with thepsychic. Or, more precisely, when we got on the chief’s bad side.
It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I’d trade everything I have or will have to be owned by Wicked any day. They simply don’t know or appreciate her for who she is, not like we do.
It doesn’t take us long to make it home and get Wicked settled on the couch, and she doesn’t stir the entire time. Even though we know now that it’s just her recovery period after taxing her gift, the three of us are still lost without our gravitational pull awake and snarking at us. For a while, we just sit around her sleeping form and twiddle our damn thumbs.
That is, until Nic speaks, surprisingly the hell out of me.
“I’m sorry.” I about fall out of my seat as his words register, my eyes going wide as they take in the man sitting on the sofa chair with his face in his hands, his usual unruffled presence now anything but.
“Are youapologizing?” I gasp dramatically, my hand slapping against my chest. “Don’t worry about it. Alan was bound to find out that we’re suspicious of him eventually.” I wave him away, my gaze skating over Wicked’s prone form.
“Not for that.” Nic’s accent is thicker than usual, as if he’s struggling to put his thoughts into words, and I examine him more closely. He’s dropped his hands to his lap as he leans back in his seat, his dark gaze soft and open as he watches Wicked sleep.
I flick my eyes to Ezra and the bastard just stares me down without giving anything away. Looks like I’m on my own. “Then what are you sorry for?”
“For…” Nic waves his hand in a short circle in the air, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before dropping to his lap. “Everything.”
I say nothing, not quite sure what I’m supposed to do. It’s not like I’ve ever thought in a million years that Nicky-fucking-D would everapologizeto anyone, much less us. He registers my silence and sighs before steepling his hands in front of him, elbows propped on the arms of the chair.
