Black Truth, White Lies (Black Hat Bureau 3)

The look Arden turned on me demanded a promise I didn’t want to make.

“I’ll touch base if I hear anything.” I offered her my pinky. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

Used to me fussing over her, she didn’t put up a fight as we shook on it. “I will.”

Once the girls were gone, I herded the stragglers out of the shop and helped Asa bring in the table. Clay, always eager to lend a hand—or a mouth—to a worthy cause, had already disposed of the baked goods. In his stomach. The punch met a similar fate. At least the long hours in the kitchen hadn’t gone to waste.

With their help, I cleaned and stored the props until January, for the New Year’s Eve Fireworks Show.

Fireworks weren’t my thing, witches being flammable and all, but Mayor Tate had made it clear participation wasn’t optional.

Ugh.

A storefront on Main Street was a much bigger headache than I ever thought possible.

Out on the sidewalk, I swept my area clean while stealing glances at the commotion. It was growing larger by the minute, not smaller. This kind of violence was a rarity in our town.

Giving up for the moment, I locked us in the shop, turned off the lights, and led the guys to my office.

“Well?” I plunked down in my chair. “Thoughts?”

“We have a dobhar-chú on our hands.” Clay sat on the edge of my desk. “That’s not good.”

The wood groaned under him, and something popped, forcing me to shoo him away before he broke it.

“How can you tell?” I leaned forward. “I’ve read about them, but I’ve never seen one.”

Dobhar-chú attacked adult humans, or other paranormals, but only when cornered on land with no water to aid in their escape. They were opportunists, for the most part, preferring to pick off stragglers. There were documented cases of bolder individuals, but usually in landlocked situations that forced them to hunt outside their norm.

“The smell.” Clay tapped the side of his nose. “Rotten oysters and decaying fish.”

Frowning, I rested my chin on my palm. “Now I feel bad for blaming that on Dasher.”

“He’s right.” Asa tucked a hand into his pocket. “They have a distinctive scent.”

“How did it get here?” I reviewed the hastily snapped images of the mutilated reindeer. “Tadpole Swim is the largest body of water in the area. There’s a creek that cuts through my backyard, but it’s shallow. Other than that, there’s only the big fountain downtown.” I set down my phone. “Why would it travel twenty-three miles from the nearest major water source?”

“A dobhar-chú wouldn’t have traveled so far inland on its own.”

“What do you mean?” I jerked my gaze to Asa. “Someone dumped it here?”

“’Tis the season for gift giving.” Clay’s smile was grim. “Too bad there’s no return policy.”

“It came into town.” I drummed my fingers on my desktop. “During a festival.”

That wasn’t normal behavior for any wild animal, let alone a fae creature.

“Maybe it’s sick?” Clay rubbed his jaw. “That could explain why it left the water.”

“Might explain its hunting behavior too,” I agreed. “It was drawn to people, not spooked by them.”

Fae tended to leave humans alone, unless they were certain they wouldn’t get caught having a snack.

“We’re lucky it saw the reindeer first.” Clay frowned. “That could have been someone’s kid.”

“It’s here because of me.” It needed saying. “This is my fault.”

“It’s the fault of whoever trapped a dobhar-chú and unleashed it downtown during a Christmas party.” Asa circled the desk and crouched beside me. “Place the blame where it belongs.” His hungry gaze roved my face. “You didn’t do this.” A smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. “But you’ll make whoever did regret the day they violated your territory.”