Raised in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy 2)

He rose gracefully. “That is a story for another day. Would you like more wine? The whole bottle, perhaps?”

“If you could hold as much alcohol as I can, you’d suck this wine down just as quickly, don’t tell me you wouldn’t. It is delicious.”

“Bottle, then?”

“Well, if you’re offering…”

Chapter Seven

The next day I marched into the MLE office with a surly attitude and balled fists. If I was going to be fired, I’d do it with my usual gusto. And maybe I’d kick down a door for kicks. I’d rather kick Garret, but that wouldn’t fly. People would think I was ungrateful—or more ungrateful, since I’d already punched him. The last thing I needed, in addition to everyone thinking he’d saved my life, was for them to think he was nicer than me. So far the split on who liked whom better was tied in the office. I needed to keep it that way for the sake of dignity.

“Oh look, there she is.” Garret stood and rested his elbow on the corner of his cube wall. A gloating grin slid up his face. “Does the air smell sweeter today? Do the colors look brighter and the food taste better? I’ve heard that’s what happens when people have a near-death experience.”

I flexed my arms to keep them at my sides. I absolutely could not punch him again. I could not.

“I never did hear a thank-you for saving your life,” Garret continued as I drew closer. Other people popped up out of their cubes, watching.

“Sure you did,” I said through a tight jaw. I didn’t, but the others didn’t know that. “Last night. I wasn’t aware that heroes stooped to the level of gloating.”

The smile slipped from his face. Clarissa, in the cube across from him, nodded slightly.

Ha! Point to me.

“But anyway, thanks.” I patted his shoulder as I passed, making him jump. “Good work out there. It’s good you had my back after I stabbed that thing.”

He’d gotten the credit, deserved or not, so the only way to make him still look like a douche was to admit it. Oh well, there were worse things in life. Tomorrow I’d figure out what those were.

“He in there?” I asked the unimpressed secretary outside of the captain’s office.

“Yeah. He’s waiting for you.” She waved me through without looking up. That was probably bad news. Usually she told me to make an appointment on the intranet and get away from her desk.

I knocked. The captain had installed a reinforced metal door to his office after the last time I’d kicked it down. I’d have to find another door to kick in. Why let go of my favorite act of violence just because I’d been outsmarted?

After a moment I turned the handle and walked in. He glanced up from his desk before leaning back and clasping his hands on his stomach. “That was a civilized entrance.”

“What can I say? I got a new chance at life, so I turned over a new leaf.” I crossed my arms over my chest, silently refusing to take the chair in front of him. I preferred to get fired standing up, thank you very much.

“Shut the door,” he said, opening his desk drawer. In a moment, he’d pull out a red card stating my infraction. I’d been here before.

I did as he asked, and resumed my stance.

As expected, the square of red made an appearance, followed by a normal-sized piece of paper. He laid both down in front of him and leaned back again. “Let’s clear the air, shall we?” He motioned me into the chair.

“Sure.” I stayed where I was.

“I know Garret didn’t save your life.”

Surprise ran through me. Then alarm. How could he know that? “But he did,” I hastened to say. “You said so yourself.”

“Sit.”

“No, I’m good—”

“Sit,” he barked.

I did as he said, half wondering what was going on, and half dreading finding out. I didn’t want to have to kill this man to protect my identity. I liked him, for all the grief he’d caused me over the years I’d worked for the MLE as a bounty hunter.

“You have a terrible poker face unless you’re actively trying to keep something to yourself,” he said, staring down at his desk. “After Garret firebombed the threat, it was clear you believed, without a doubt, that he had not saved your life—even after I explained how an aswang transfers its power. You aren’t one to blow smoke, or get indignant and deny the obvious truth.”

“I just admitted that Garret did save—”

He held up his hand. “You also didn’t use any sort of experimental magic. That bullshit lie was obvious. The fire didn’t burn your skin. That’s not possible, that I know of. Not just that, but the way you handled that aswang speaks of a completely different magical person than I typically employ. You’re not like them. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. I long suspected that, but now I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I don’t know what you are, Reagan Somerset, but I know it’s more than a leather-clad woman with a fanny pack and no eyebrows.”

I groaned. “For the last time, it is a pouch, not a fanny pack. How come no one sees the difference?”

“There is no difference. That’s why no one can see it. Anyway, we’ll table the issue of your unique powers for now.” He pushed forward the red card. “You know what this is, and why you’re getting it.”

“Because I punched my hero in the nose, yeah. Some bitch I am.”

“Yes, some bitch is right. Garret is a twerp most times, so I get the feud. Regardless, it was completely out of line. As you know, I’ve raised your tally to five red cards. Most people only get three.”

“Yep.”

“Usually, we allow an employee to lose a red card after a clean year of service. You’ve received all five in two months.”

“But it’s been three weeks since the last one. I’d say that’s progress.”

“Are you trying to talk yourself back into the job?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “I’m just pointing out my awesomeness.”

“Garret has two red cards on file. He’s gotten three in the six years he’s worked here. The first was in his first year for hot-dogging. The second—”

“Let me just stop you right there to express how much I honestly do not care.”

His eyes twinkled and the corner of his mouth tweaked into a half-smile. “Be that as it may, my point is that Garret is the next highest red card holder, and that is largely because of you.”

“I’m inspiring.”

“Something like that, yes.” The captain picked up the red card. “Despite your affinity for collecting these, most people don’t cross the hard lines easily. It takes willful disobedience. I, myself, collected four in my tenure on that side of the desk.” He pointed at the chair I was sitting in. “That was in four years. I was great at what I did, but I was unruly.”

“I hope this doesn’t turn into a job offer.”

He shook his head and flung the red card across the desk so that it landed right in front of me. “Eventually, it probably will.” He tapped the white sheet of paper. “This is a pardon for all five red cards. A full pardon. Not increasing your number, like last time, but wiping them out altogether. This comes from my superior.”

I felt the knot work into my brow. “Why?”

“Because you have extremely powerful friends.” He pushed the sheet across the desk. “I’ll need your signature on both. You know how it goes.”

“So…wait.” I grabbed the piece of paper. “In addition to not losing my job, I also get to start over?”

“I doubt I’ll ever be able to fire you, no matter how often you punch Garret. As I said, you have some powerful friends.”

“That’s absurd. I don’t have any frie—” The words dried up as it hit me. “Darius.”

“Mr. Darius Durant. An extremely influential elder vampire.” The captain nodded slowly. “Since you were hired, he’s made this office his project. He has no real affiliation with us, but his donations and business sense give him the ear of our board. He’s actually helped out in restructuring, which has saved the organization a lot of money. What he wants, he gets. Without anything being written down, it has come to the board’s attention that one of the things he wants is your happiness. That translates into: what Reagan wants, Reagan gets.” The captain held up a hand. “That wasn’t written anywhere, as I said, but that’s what the board has unofficially decreed.”