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  Alex just shook his head.

  “And what’s with him not being a player in the business scene?” Ben asked. “I thought he was involved in all sorts of partnerships, with Odette and also Bob Smith.”

  “Partnership is a strong word. His name was attached to a number of ventures, but he only had small financial stakes in them. He was a bad business decision waiting to happen.” Alex scratched his jaw. “He had skills. He could be incredibly persuasive, and he certainly knew how to manipulate, but that’s not where his interest lay. Everyone in the community has been burned by him, so within the last few decades, he hasn’t had a real say in the financial side of any business, not in the way he’d have liked.”

  All of which confirmed what Lisette told me.

  “Did he lose anyone a lot of money?” Money always seemed like a great motive to me. A lot of decisions in the witch world were made based on cash.

  “Not in a long time.” And I knew Alex’s “long time” trumped mine, so a really long time. Alex continued, “He simply didn’t have the access to lose anyone large sums. His reputation precluded that kind of involvement. I’m surprised Camille wasn’t aware.”

  “Yeah, she might be more distanced from the day-to-day workings of the non-witch world than either of us realized.” Live and learn. Next time, I’d go to Alex or even Cornelius for the latest non-witchy gossip.

  “If your suspect list has imploded, then I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know anyone off the top of my head who would want him dead.”

  “You’re not the first to say that.” And then the alarm bells started to ding. Alex wasn’t the first, or even the second, to say that. Was Alistair leading some kind of double life? Well, beyond what every secretive, bloodsucking fiend led, because all vamps were living a double life by default.

  Ben bumped my shoulder with his. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking Alex isn’t the first to comment that no one would have wanted to kill Alistair, and that’s just weird. The guy was a vampire. Vampires are generally disliked and more violent than most. And I was under the impression that Alistair, despite his lack of financial savvy, was a powerful figure in the community.”

  “More a figurehead than a powerful figure,” Alex said.

  I threw my hands up in frustration. “Someone wanted the guy dead. We have a corpse that proves it.”

  And then it hit me like a ton of bricks: maybe that wasn’t Alistair’s charred body.

  Maybe Alistair was alive.

  Alex, Ben, and I looked at each other, and it was clear we’d come to the same conclusion.

  “That sneaky, nasty bastard.” My blood was boiling, because poor Marge was caught up in the middle of this entire mess.

  Alex tipped his head. “You expected better from a vampire?” But contrary to his neutral tone, he was looking pretty ticked off.

  Ben looked about as angry as I was feeling. “How do we prove it? If we can’t prove it, then this guy’s women and his influential connections will be demanding Marge’s blood.”

  I was pretty sure Lisette wouldn’t be, because she’d flat-out said she didn’t think Marge had done it, but what about the others? Would they be as discriminating?

  “We need the fire starter,” I said. “If we can find what started the magical fire that charred the corpse to a crisp, maybe we’ll find a connection to Alistair. And if we don’t, at least we’ll have evidence that Marge isn’t responsible.”

  “You work on that.” With a grim look, Alex said, “I’m going hunting.”

  I almost felt sorry for Alistair if Alex caught him.

  No. No I didn’t. Not even a little.

  13

  I nudged Alex to consider his priorities. Perhaps deliver the corpse—a now even more vital piece of evidence—to its new hiding spot before going off on a quest to find the possibly not-so-dead Alistair.

  He reluctantly agreed. He also gave me the name of a source. He called him a magical creatures dealer, and handed me a wad of cash to be used as a bribe. This source was definitely no Djinn.

  While he and Ben once again shifted the crumbly bits of the unnamed man, Ben asked, “Do we even know if this guy is a vampire? Could you tell that when you examined him?”

  “Yes, I could tell, and yes, he is. There was no magic residue or any indication of age or power, so nothing that would help identify him in that regard.”

  Alex brushed his hands together after getting Mr. X stashed in the back of his truck. “You didn’t get any sense of remnant power?”

  I shook my head. “Is that unusual?” It’s not like I routinely did autopsies, and Camille was hardly an expert, but I’d think I’d know if dead people usually left magical signatures.

  I knew from personal experience that if the remains of a golem weren’t properly handled, at least one with defaced creation tattoos, there could be some energy drain of nearby magical persons, but that was a very specific scenario. Of all the dead vamps I’d encountered since working at the funeral home, none of them had any kind of residual energy attached.

  “I’d think an older vamp would take some time to lose all of his magic.”

  “Oh. You know, I’ve only ever helped with young vamps.” I looked over my shoulder at the funeral home sign. “Since Ben got the contract for enhanced funeral services, we’ve had a handful. Maybe this vampire isn’t very old.”

  Alex nodded, but his mind was already miles away. Likely strategizing how he’d find Alistair. Not a good plan to try and pull a fast one on emergency response. The Society didn’t care about much, as a rule, except reveal scandals. We must remain hidden, was kind of the unofficial motto of the Society. But Alex had a strong sense of justice, and in the years I’d known him, he was having an increasingly difficult time caging that beast, the Society’s rules be damned.

  “Go get him, Alex,” I said, with a fond smile. “Just try not to get yourself drained. Oh, and hide the body first.”

  He nodded, a grim look on his face. I really wasn’t into the dark and broody types, so how had I ever ended up with him?

  “How were you guys a couple?” Ben asked as Alex’s truck pulled down the drive. “I mean, outside of the fact that he’s incredibly good looking and has more magic than any five normal wizards.”

  “Outside of that, I’m not really sure.” I pulled Ben’s head down and planted a kiss on him. I really did adore this man.

  There was a noticeable lack of groping happening while we kissed, and once I noticed, I realized why and stepped quickly away.

  Lifting his hands, Ben said, “I’ll just go wash up, and then we can hit the pet shop.”

  Yep, we were headed to a pet shop, because that was a logical front for an illicit magical creatures dealer. Actually, I shouldn’t make fun. It kind of was a great front.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Ben and I were parked in front of what looked like a normal, mundane pet shop. Puppies in one window, kittens in the other, and kids with their moms wandering by to window shop. There was a shoe store next door, so the pet store probably got decent foot traffic.

  “Let’s do this.” I tugged Ben’s hand, pulling him behind me as I approached the store.

  “No plan?”

  I stuttered to a stop. “We want a salamander?”

  “And when they say they don’t sell them? Or try to sell us the regular variety?”

  I grinned at him. “Then we ask for the special kind. And I’ll do a little sweep of the place with my sight to see if there are any special creatures in the store, so I should have a better idea of what’s going on once we’re inside.”

  Ben sighed. “Okay. But somehow I doubt it’ll be that easy.”

  When we walked in, I encountered the first surprise. There wasn’t an ounce of magic in the place. No shields that might be hiding magical critters. No wards to alert to the presence of enhanced visitors entering the building. No flashy security. No magical bells or whistles at all. Certainly no magical beasts.

  Ben caug
ht my eye, and I shook my head.

  “How can I help you on this fabulous day?” a teenager asked us, her bored tone in direct conflict with her words. She held an open book in her hand and didn’t bother to set it down or even mark her place.

  This was the magical creatures dealer I was supposed to bribe? He was a she, and she couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen.

  Ben recovered faster than me. “We’re here to look at your salamanders.”

  “Back wall. Look all you like.” Before she’d finished speaking, she’d already turned her attention back to her book. She dropped down onto the stool situated in front of the register, completely ignoring us.

  I tipped my head, indicating the back of the store. Might as well check it out, just in case my scan had missed something—though I didn’t think it had.

  The aisles were crowded with pet supplies, but tidy. When we reached the back wall, we found salamanders. No special, fire-breathing varieties that I could see, but at least four different kinds of normal, everyday salamanders.

  They all looked shiny and reptilian.

  And that was it.

  Ben nudged me back toward the front of the store. “Your turn this time.”

  This time, the girl didn’t even look up from her book, and, in the same bored tone, said, “Have a good day.”

  “We’re still looking.” I tried to make eye contact, but she wouldn’t look up. “My boyfriend and I are trying to find a special kind of salamander.”

  The girl—Natalie, according to her nametag—huffed out a heavy breath and then set her book down. “Look, we’ve already sold that one, but I think you know that. There aren’t any rules against selling fire salamanders unless we sell to mundanes. So get lost, cop.”

  She was looking at me when she said “cop.” Not that either Ben or I remotely looked like law enforcement. I was still in my jeans and hoody, and Ben looked like… I gave him a quick up-down assessment. In his cargo shorts and polo, he looked more like an after-hours accountant than an off-duty cop.

  With another huff of annoyance, Natalie pointed with two fingers, first at her own eyes, then mine. “I see you, witch.”

  “Ah.” Some non-magical people could see magic. It wasn’t all that common, but it existed. It looked like Natalie was one of the few. Not only was she a member of that group, but it looked like she’d found a way to earn a buck on the fringes of the enhanced community using her special skill. She just seemed awfully young to be trading in near-black-market goods. “This is your store?”

  She shook her head, her face clouded with disbelief. “Do I look old enough to own a store? You’re, like, the worst cop ever.”

  “I’m not a cop. Or even emergency response.” I wasn’t sure why I was in such a snit, but it bothered me to be falsely labeled.

  Natalie crossed her arms. “No? Then why do you care?”

  I drew a breath to say—I wasn’t sure what, because Ben’s hand fell lightly on my back, reminding me that I was the adult (sort of) here. I could be adult-like…with a little help from Ben. In a pretty darn calm tone of voice, I said, “I think someone used the fire salamander to kill a vampire and frame someone else.”

  She gasped. “Not Marge?”

  How did we get from fire salamanders to Marge in less than two seconds?

  For the first time, Natalie looked properly engaged with the conversation. “It has to be Marge. Dragon and salamander fire burn the hottest. Marge wouldn’t hurt anyone. Well, not anyone human.” Her nose wrinkled. “She just roasts squirrels and things like that.”

  “And a fire salamander would hurt someone?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah. I mean, maybe not on purpose. They’re not like dragons.” She grimaced. “They’re not all that smart, you know? They’re more like the ones at the back of the store than you’d think.”

  “But someone could use a fire salamander to hurt another person.” If that was true, then tying Alistair to the purchase of one would be a vital link. Assuming we weren’t all off our game and Alistair really was still alive.

  “Sure.” She looked between Ben and me. “But I don’t know who that would be. Really. I didn’t sell it. That’s my dad’s thing. I just take care of the contraband—that’s what Dad calls the magical animals—and make sure they’re treated right while we have them.”

  “We need to speak with your father.” Ben still hadn’t removed his hand from my back, and I was glad that one of us was staying completely calm.

  “Uh, good luck. He must have made a mint on that salamander, because he left town right after he sold it.” She looked down at her book with longing, and then muttered, “Probably gambling in Vegas. Won’t be back for weeks.”

  “What about sales records?” I asked.

  “Really, lady?” All of Natalie’s teenage attitude came rushing back. “Sales records for the magical creatures we sell? The ones that are mostly legal to sell, sort of, but not really. Right, let me run and go get those.” She snorted. “Please.”

  Ben ran his hand up and down my back—not like I was going to lose it, but I still appreciated the sentiment. Very quietly and politely, he asked, “Do you know when the sale happened?”

  “Two days ago. Lucifer wasn’t in his cage when I got back from class.” She blushed. “Um, Lucifer is what I called him.”

  And that fit our timeline just right. We needed to find Lucifer to verify it was his flame that crisped the corpse and not Marge’s.

  Ben and I exchanged a glance. He looked as stumped as I did. Not only could we not tie Alistair to Lucifer’s purchase, but our one witness was AWOL in Vegas, and that was assuming he was still alive.

  “If there’s anything you can think of,” I said, “anything to indicate who purchased Lucifer, that information would be helpful in defending Marge.”

  “Or if you know of a way that we might find Lucifer…” Ben didn’t voice the obvious: if the tiny critter was still even alive.

  Natalie must have seen something on Ben’s face that clued her in to his thoughts, because her eyes widened. “Oh, you know they’re really hard to kill, right? Lucy’s likely running around somewhere. I mean, no telling where, but somewhere. It took Dad ages to trap one. They’re tricky little guys to find.”

  So Alistair could have used the creature, turned him loose, and been relatively certain no one would stumble upon it for weeks, maybe months or longer. Just spiffy.

  “Right. Thanks for your help,” Ben said.

  “Wait!” Natalie called. “No one would really believe that Marge did it, right? She’s not going to be in trouble?” She must have read the worry on our faces, because her face squished up like she was trying not to cry. Poor kid. “Why would Marge hurt anyone? She wouldn’t do that. She’s really sweet.”

  I didn’t want to say it aloud, but that didn’t always matter with the Society. When the available evidence pointed one way, a victim had friends demanding blood, and when the only suspect couldn’t easily defend herself, well, that wasn’t a good situation for Marge.

  “How do you know her?” Ben asked.

  “Um, I’m not supposed to say.” She looked at both of us, squinted as if she could see through us, then sighed. “You’re helping her, so I don’t see the harm. Dad played ‘matchmaker’ for her. It’s not like there are a bunch of dragons cruising around in the States.”

  Some sleazy black-market dealer with a possible gambling problem knew about Marge’s eggling. That could not be good.

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Natalie smiled. “Marge is a really good negotiator. Dad’s got a monthly supply of saliva and venom for at least a few months, so he’ll be quiet that long.”

  Venom? Dragons had venom? That was a scary thought.

  “Well, that’s good news,” Ben said, holding her gaze. “Because it’s a really bad idea for anyone to know about Marge’s particular condition, especially right now.”

  She blinked. “I won’t say anything. I really liked her. Oh, hey, I just thought of something that might he
lp. Fire salamanders need special food if you want them to spark up a flame.”

  Ben and I both perked up. “Really? Like what?”

  She gave us both a put-upon look. “Special, meaning nothing you’re going to get here.” She sighed. “Really? No ideas? You guys aren’t very good at this black-market investigating stuff. Try a witch? You know, the place you’d go to get most hard-to-find stuff?”

  “Right.” I ignored the teenage attitude, because she wanted to help Marge and was trying to do the right thing, if a little rudely. “We’ll do that.”

  And I didn’t even have to call Camille for this one. I knew just who to ask about shady, magical creature foodstuffs.

  14

  “Time to call CeeCee and Bernard,” I said once we were safely stashed inside Ben’s car.

  Ben nodded. “Your friends from the Halloween party. I liked them.” He pulled out of the parking lot. “Where am I headed?”

  “A cute little vintage store in south Austin. That’s the front for their new business.”

  “Wow, that was fast.”

  I couldn’t help a laugh, because in that same time Ben and I had become pretty serious. I mean, we’d been talking about kids without either of us having a coronary. In my book, that was serious.

  “What?” he said, looking all cutely confused. “Didn’t they get together just before the party? And now they have a business together? The paperwork for a partnership alone, and then finding the space—they must have hustled.”

  “And here I was thinking that you meant the two of them going into business together was fast.”

  He shrugged. “Nah. They seemed solid. But, ah, why are we headed there? I thought Bernard was a spells specialist? And CeeCee specialized in potions, right?”

  “Bernard and CeeCee, being true entrepreneurial types—”

  “You mean normal witches.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Even more entrepreneurial than normal. Anyway, they had this idea of a one-stop shop. So instead of dealing in innovation and custom orders, which is a more typical path for witches, they’re a convenience shop.”