Pure Blood_ A Nocturne City Novel - Caitlin Kittredge [46]
I glared back. My head was hurting from being around so many witches and workings, I needed caffeine, and I’d had it with smart remarks directed at me. I figured if Seamus hauled off and smacked me, at least I’d get some paid time off and the satisfaction of handcuffing him.
A grin split Seamus’s face, like a thunderstorm rolling back to admit a jolly sun. “My lords,” he boomed, clapping me on the shoulder. “My lords, girl, you’ve got moxie. Good for you.”
The elevator reached the lobby and opened to reveal a huddle of corporate drones waiting for a car. They all shrank back when they saw Seamus.
“Thank the gods,” Shelby muttered, making a bee-line for the stairs to the parking garage.
“No offense meant, Miss Wilder,” said Seamus. “You’re obviously a woman with her head on straight who would never be interested in my idiot little brother.” He whipped out a business card and scribbled on the back with a gold pen. “If you ever need assistance—anything within my power—please call that private number.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” I said, and backed out of the car just before the doors rolled shut again. My skin prickled with raw magick where he had touched my shoulder. Seamus O’Halloran was the most powerful caster I’d ever encountered, and he scared me. I so needed to get out of this damned office building.
A lobby café saccharinely named Koffe Kart caught my eye and I bought a large latte without my customary shot of hazelnut. I just wanted to wake up, shake the heavy feeling that being inside of so many workings and wardings gave my body and my mind.
My phone trilled. “Where are you?” Shelby demanded. “We’re waiting in bay forty on the first level.”
“Gods, I’m coming,” I said. “Blame your uncle. He gave me his number.” I snapped the phone shut on Shelby’s enraged squeak and grinned to myself. Maybe this day could be salvaged.
I pulled out Benny Joubert’s photo again as I walked and called McAllister. “Mac, I need you to look at a guy named Benny Joubert—that’s J-o-u-b-e-r-t.”
“Do I wear a short skirt? Do I look like your secretary?” Mac asked.
“No, but thanks for the mental image all the same.”
“Luna, you’re not still working that junkie case, are you?” he said. “Morgan’s all over my ass to close it and move you on to other things.”
“Such as what, the exciting world of collating and filing?” I grumbled.
“It beats losing your job, and costing me my best detective,” said Mac shortly. “Here it is—Benny Joubert has had two arrests and one conviction for possession with intent. Charges were reduced from distribution of controlled substances. Must have rolled on someone… He looks like a mid-level dealer to me. You on to something?”
“Maybe,” I murmured, looking at Joubert’s face again. “I’m more interested in what he is than what he does.”
“What in the seven hells does that mean?” Mac demanded.
“It means I know a were when I see one,” I said. My phone hissed as I descended into the garage. “Forward the file to my in-box. I’ll see you later, Mac.”
He said something that might have been “be careful” before the call cut out.
“There you are!” Shelby called before I could ponder Benny Joubert’s nonhuman status. Behind her, Patrick sat in a shiny Jaguar that didn’t even pretend not to be compensating for something.
Shelby walked a couple of steps toward me and squinted. “Is that coffee? Couldn’t you have waited?”
“No!” I snapped, taking a large sip for emphasis.
Shelby paced closer. “Just hurry it up!”
“Let’s go, ladies!” Patrick called. “This train’s leaving the station!” He turned the key in the Jaguar’s ignition.
A roar filled my ears, and for a ridiculous half-second I thought it was the car’s engine, but a hot hand made of air grabbed me and slammed me to the floor and a blinding white-orange flash filled my eyes as the Jaguar was engulfed in flames.
I hit the cement on my back, concrete and glass raining down. My jacket and jeans mostly protected my