Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Roc Books by Jacqueline Carey
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- Forty-seven
- Forty-eight
“That’s what I’m saying!” I said in frustration. “According to Sinclair, there’s a good chance that human is possessed by Grandpa Morgan’s spirit. That’s not something the, um, magic watch would register.”
Cody cleared his throat. “The dead aren’t considered part of the eldritch community, sir. Only the living and the undead. Even magicians and sorcerers are only tangentially related. And the dead are just . . . dead.”
“Well, I wish the goddamn dead would stay put,” the chief said sourly.
“Chief Bryant, if you cancel the festivities, I will call for your resignation,” Amanda Brooks said in a stiff tone.
He ignored her. “We’re not canceling,” he said to Cody and me. “I’ll put everyone on duty. Twelve-, thirteen-hour shifts, whatever it takes. Time and a half for overtime. We’ll make a round of the bars, make sure no one stays open after closing time. By two a.m., I want everyone off the streets. But we’re not canceling.”
Failure felt like a leaden lump in my belly. “Two o’clock’s too late, sir,” I said quietly. “If we don’t catch this duppy by midnight, the gate between the living and the dead may never be closed.”
The chief’s world-weary gaze slewed my way. “Well, I’m afraid that’s your job, Daisy.”
I bit my tongue, then said what I was thinking anyway. “With all due respect, sir, you’re not making it easier.”
He continued to regard me. “Neither are you. Meeting dismissed.”
I won’t lie, the chief’s failure to trust me hurt. He’d been a father figure to me for a lot of my life.
But he was right. I’d screwed up and I hadn’t found a way to fix it yet. When it came down to it, I couldn’t blame him.
“What now?” Cody asked me in a low voice on the sidewalk outside the station, standing a little closer than professional courtesy dictated. “Plan B?”
“What’s Plan B?” I asked him.
He smiled ruefully. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
I smiled back at him, wishing we had a real relationship, wishing I could ask him to hold me just long enough to bury my face in the curve of his throat and inhale his scent of pine needles, musk, and a lingering trace of Ralph Lauren’s Polo. Which, come to think of it, would also be pretty damn unprofessional. “I think we need to assume the worst and call for whatever backup we can.”
A reserved look settled over his face. “You mean Ludovic.”