Black Wings, Gray Skies (Black Hat Bureau 4)

“Activated.” She shrank to her smallest size and nested in my hair. “This will be so cool.”

Given how much Colby hated cats, being a moth and all, she might find the boo hag’s latest vessel more traumatic than greeting a human wrapper. I wasn’t sure if they could reuse a skin after they discarded it, so Jilo’s appearance would be a surprise for us all.

I really hated surprises.

* * *

The worst thing about investigating a crime were the lulls that boiled down to waiting for the killer to make another move to give you a clue that might inch you closer to catching them. Nothing makes you feel inepter than when your shortcomings cost people their lives.

The weight of unseen eyes pressed down on me, heavier than before, and I couldn’t shake the sensation we weren’t the only ones out hunting the streets.

This part of the job was much easier earlier in my career when I didn’t care who lived or who died. It was a challenge to overcome, a puzzle to solve, a feather in my cap, but that was it. Unless it involved power boosts or raw, pulsating meat, I couldn’t have cared less.

We discovered no flashing arrow signs pointing toward the killer’s secret hideout during our walk, which would have been nice. Colby tucked in my hair left me feeling exposed on the street, and paranoia she was being targeted—again—left me twitchy.

On the plus side, the fresh air perked Colby up quickly.

The old saying canary in a coal mine flashed through my mind with peculiar insistence.

How secure was our rental? How safe was she there? Or any of us for that matter?

“You okay, Dollface?”

Aware Colby was listening in, and equally aware she couldn’t participate in this conversation and maintain her cover, I filled him in.

“The note I wrote Colby is gone. She never saw it.” I hesitated. “Her blanket is missing too.”

“That’s not good.” A soft curse slipped under his breath, and I pinched his arm. “She loves that thing.”

Within minutes of opening that gift from Asa, it had become more than a present. It was her security blanket, a talisman against the bad dreams that once plagued her.

“Fingers crossed she left it in your room or Asa’s.” I rubbed my forehead. “She’s never without it.”

As a matter of fact, we cranked the AC up at home to accommodate her preference to remain bundled.

“We’ll find it.” He stared at the back of Asa’s head. “That, or Ace better knit like the wind.”

The ancient practice of Tinkkit was a craft few fae mastered, and the result of the knitting was a gift with intent. I was fuzzy on the fine points, but I wasn’t sure if Asa could make another identical blanket. The pattern and fabric, he could duplicate. The magic protecting Colby’s sleeping mind? I was less sure the same endowment could be given twice.

“You brought a friend,” a low voice drawled from overhead. “Hello, golem.”

Head tipping back, I scanned the tree above us for a set of red eyes and found their hungry glow.

“Hey, Jilo.” I offered a wave. “This is Clay.” I gestured to the branches. “This is Jilo.”

“Hello, boo hag.” Clay grinned up at her. “How’s it hanging?”

“Eh.” The leaves rustled. “Could be better.” A squirrel zipped down a limb. “These two made last night a freaking misery.” The creature flicked its bushy tail. “Not a fan. Of either of them.”

“I’m the nice guy.” He spread his hands. “Ask anyone.”

“He is the nice guy,” I confirmed. “Until he’s not.”

“That hurt.” Clay slapped a palm over his chest. “I think it’s a mortal wound.”

Jilo chuckled, low and throaty, and the squirrel leapt onto his shoulder. “Poor dear.”

Had I not already admired Clay, I would have respected how he allowed a spiralized squirrel to land on his shoulder without a) screaming b) swatting it off or c) swatting it off and then stomping it flat while screaming.