Black Truth, White Lies (Black Hat Bureau 3)

2

Pollen granules dusted Colby’s hands and mouth, and cups that once held sugar water dotted her desk. I was too tired to fuss about the mess, so I ruffled her antennae and headed for the living room. Clay, Asa, and I already had our bureau-issued laptops out on the coffee table. We had been updating the software and emptying the caches and defragging the hard drives and…I zoned out after that, confused by the jargon.

Asa and I sank onto the sofa, and Clay took the ancient wingback Colby had insisted I buy for the weird perch carved into the wood trim at the top of the chair. All I could figure was the original owner kept a parrot. Whatever the reason, Colby loved to sit there. It was the best thirty-five dollars I ever spent on furniture.

Even if it cost me three hundred more to have it restored to its former, quirky glory.

“We need to call this in.” Clay shifted his weight, and the chair protested. “Whoever dumped the dobhar-chú on your doorstep did so during a festival. It’s a miracle no one saw it chowing down on poor Dasher. It’s bad enough so many humans, with camera phones, got an eyeful of a mangled pet reindeer in an area where there are no native predators large enough to blame for that bite radius.”

“We have mountain lions, coyotes, bobcats, feral hogs, and the occasional black bear.”

“Rue.” His eyes saw too much. “We need to do this by the book.”

“We’re a team.” I gestured to the three of us. “This is what we do.”

“You don’t want to call it in,” Asa realized a beat after Clay. “What are you afraid of?”

“Samford doesn’t exist in the Black Hat database.” I checked, top to bottom, but its record was spotless. Only the Kellies, and the director, knew it was my new home. “This case would put it on their radar.”

“It would be the same as with any other town,” Clay argued. “There doesn’t have to be a link—”

“I’m a black witch, as far as they know, and I’m Black Hat. That makes me a threat, and threats get flagged on paperwork.” Standard operating procedure was to list paranormals associated with a particular area, including species and affiliations. “That would associate Samford with me forever. Any agent could access that information, and with the spike in rogue activity? I’m not okay with that.”

“You’re worried about Colby.” Asa cut to the heart of the matter. “You’re afraid for her.”

I was afraid for everyone in town, all my too-human friends, but her most of all.

“Old enemies would hunt me down.” I kept my gaze low. “That puts her in the crosshairs.”

Call me Rue Hollis, or any of my previous aliases, I had found one adage to be true.

The past always caught up to you.

“Forty-eight hours.” Clay used his senior agent voice. “I’ll give you that long to cowboy.”

Gratitude left me dizzy, and I sank back with relief.

“Past that,” he warned, “we reevaluate.”

Throat gone tight, I worked up a smile for the friend who had never let me down. “Thanks.”

“You used the kid against me.” He jerked off his newsboy cap and threw it at me. “Not cool.”

The kid in question must have sensed the tension in the room and came to investigate.

A lush green blanket draped her cat-sized shoulders, a velvety shield against nightmares she held tight even during the day. Asa couldn’t have given her a better, or more thoughtful, gift.

“How did the reopening go?” She lit on the perch above Clay. “Did you sell tons of product?”

“Hey, Shorty.” Too late, Clay slammed his laptop shut. “How did your raid go?”

“What was that?” Her breathless gasp filled the room. “A reindeer?”

“A dobhar-chú got snackish.” I attempted to divert her. “Hey, did you get that cursed-chalice thing?”

“That’s so cool.” Her antennae quivered. “It’s here? In town?”

A smile threatened to overtake Asa as Colby refused to be distracted.