Called, p.4
Called, page 4
part #2 of The Grey Gates Series
By the time the research team let her go, a whole day had passed. There had been a few short breaks, but Max had been on her feet for most of the day, her bruises coming to life as she left the building to find the sky darkening to night.
She paused outside the door, drawing in a breath, finding a smile on her face. It felt good to have been useful.
Cas and Pol crowded around her, demanding attention. The tests had been using live fire, so the dogs had been left in Leonda’s office for most of the day. There were more than enough other people in the building to ensure they hadn’t been lonely, but they clearly felt that they had simply been abandoned. Max scratched them behind their soft, silky ears and fed them treats from her pockets. As she dug into her pocket in search of more treats, she pulled out her phone and only then realised she had left it on silent for the day. There were a few missed calls from Faddei, Ruutti and a couple of numbers she didn’t recognise, and the voicemail icon was lit up.
Brows lifting, as Faddei rarely called her directly, Max headed for the office building, dialling Faddei’s number as she walked.
“Where are you?” Faddei asked.
“I’m just leaving the armoury, heading to the offices,” Max said, brows lifting again at his tone. He sounded worried.
“Good. Don’t speak to anyone else, and I’ll meet you in the main office.”
“Alright,” Max said, the peace of the past few hours turned to apprehension, wondering what had happened. She ended the call and put the phone back in her pocket. Ruutti and the others would have to wait.
When she reached the main office, it was empty apart from Faddei, who was staring at something on his laptop screen. Max went to join him.
“You were looking for me?” Max said.
“Did you threaten to shoot someone this morning?” Faddei asked, voice carefully neutral.
Max blinked. She had almost forgotten the incident at the petrol station. “The guy grabbed me and managed to land a punch. I drew my gun, yes,” she answered, and turned her face slightly to show the bruising that the other Marshals had noticed earlier. “He caught the old bruise. He just grazed me. Ellie was there. I didn’t press charges.”
Faddei ran a hand over his bald head and turned the laptop screen towards her. There was a video clip playing, the man saying You can’t shoot me, and Max asking Why not? with her gun to the man’s forehead. The clip was only a few seconds long and repeated over and over. It had been taken at a slight distance. One of the other drivers at the petrol station, Max guessed, cataloguing the angles and distance. She had been filmed without realising it.
“How did you get that?” Max asked, words clumsy in her mouth.
“It’s on the internet,” Faddei said dryly. “I’ve been fielding calls all afternoon from reporters asking if it’s now Marshal policy to threaten to shoot unarmed civilians.” He rubbed his head again. “And most people who’ve seen the video think you should be dismissed from service.”
The ground was unsteady under her feet and her stomach churned, making her glad she hadn’t eaten that day. Heat coursed across her skin, followed immediately by icy cold. Her face was on the internet. She glanced at the bottom of the screen and almost recoiled at the number of views the video had. So many people. She didn’t want to be seen. She just wanted to live her life and do her job. And now thousands of people had seen her holding a gun to a man’s head. She flinched from an invisible blow.
Then her ears caught up with what Faddei had said. People were calling for her dismissal. A wordless protest lodged in her throat. She needed this job. It was the only place she had ever felt accepted. Trusted. And it was probably the only thing she was qualified to do. “I’m sorry,” she said to Faddei, mouth dry and lips stiff. Her eyes were stinging and she blinked, trying not to cry. “I didn’t think,” she said, voice harsh.
Faddei just nodded, saying nothing.
She drew a deep, shaking breath and realised something. He hadn’t dismissed her. He had just said that other people wanted her gone. And she was still here. He hadn’t asked for her badge. “That clip is just a tiny bit of what happened,” she said.
“I’ve no doubt,” Faddei said, sounding tired. “So, tell me, what did happen?”
Max had to swallow a lump in her throat before she could answer. He hadn’t fired her. Not yet. Instead, he was listening. “Well. The guy was yelling at the forecourt attendant. I thought he was going to beat the attendant up. When I stepped in, he grabbed me and took a swing at me. Oh. The attendant had a camera on him. He should have a recording of the whole thing,” Max said. “And then the attendant called Ellie. Well, not Ellie, but he called the police, and Ellie showed up.” It was probably the worst verbal report she had ever given, tangled up and spoken in a rapid, too-high voice. Faddei just nodded when she had finished.
“Alright. I’ll see if I can get the footage. Was the attendant hurt?” Faddei asked.
“No. I don’t think he was even all that worried,” Max said, shaking her head. “I didn’t spot it at first, but he’s a vampire.”
“So you probably saved that man from something worse than having a gun pointed at his head,” Faddei said, voice dry.
Max’s eyes stung again. He hadn’t fired her. A tiny sliver of hope wriggled through the chill that had taken over her body. Maybe she would keep her job.
He closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm. “I believe you. I’ll make sure that the full story gets out to the right people.”
Max had to lock her knees to stay upright. Cas and Pol crowded into her, sensing that something was wrong and offering comfort. Her eyes were still stinging, and she might even have tears on her face. She could always depend on her dogs. And Faddei, it seemed. Although he still had a serious expression on his face.
“But you want me to stay home for a couple of days?” she guessed, voice choked. She didn’t blame him. Now that the shock was fading, and she realised she still had a job, she also realised that if she had been in his position, having to deal with reporters and outrage, she doubted she would have been so accommodating.
“If you could. Keep your phone on, though. I got your doctor’s note earlier and you’re cleared for duty again. Although that was before your run-in with the Huntsman clan,” he added, frowning, “so a bit of extra time off is probably wise anyway.”
Max wanted to protest. She wanted to say she was fit for duty, that she was ready to get back to work. But it wasn’t her decision. And he hadn’t fired her. “Alright.” Max hesitated. “I really am sorry,” she said.
To her surprise, Faddei grinned, shaking his head. “Don’t be. This is mild, compared to some of the stuff I’ve had to deal with. Did you ever hear about the time that Vanko and Zoya chased a pair of Seacast monkeys into a gentleman’s club? There was a strip show going on and half the council was in there. Apparently one of the monkeys tried to escape by climbing up the stripper’s pole. That was some evening.”
Max’s urge to cry faded and she choked on a laugh. She could all-too-easily imagine the always cheerful Vanko and intense, dedicated Zoya chasing a pair of the enormous, carnivorous monkeys around a room full of half-dressed women and outraged council members.
The bubble of humour got her outside and into her pick-up. She managed to remember to turn on the ringtone before she put the phone into its dashboard cradle. She had spent long enough on the sidelines.
As she was driving out of the parking lot, her phone rang and she blinked, startled that Faddei or Therese had an assignment for her so soon. But the number on the screen was Ruutti, not the Marshals’ service.
The detective was the last person that Max wanted to speak to then, but it was possible that Ruutti had more follow-up questions from the killing the night before. With a sigh, Max answered the call.
“Where have you been?” Ruutti demanded by way of greeting.
“Getting into a fist fight at a petrol station and then helping with weapons testing. How about you?” Max answered.
“What? Never mind. I need you to meet me,” Ruutti said.
“I don’t work for you,” Max answered, the words almost falling over themselves to get out of her mouth. The last time Ruutti had dragged Max into police business, Max had ended up in an underground illegal fighting arena and had been injured by a Strump, the giant bird just one of the supernatural creatures kept captive for entertainment purposes. “And I’m still on leave,” she added, stretching the truth a little.
“I don’t need you to run and chase anything,” Ruutti said, sounding impatient. “Have you heard about the missing people?”
“Just this morning. Something about homeless people missing from the docks?” Max said, frowning. “Why? What’s that got to do with the Marshals?”
“We’re running into dead ends,” Ruutti said, and Max’s brows lifted. The detective did not like to admit to failings. “A fresh perspective would be helpful.” Max could hear the forced patience in Ruutti’s voice and had to bite her lip to hide a smile, even though the other woman couldn’t see her.
The smile faded almost at once as Max remembered the dead girl from the night before and the video clip Faddei had shown her. She had utterly failed to help the girl, and made matters difficult for her boss by pulling a gun on an unarmed civilian. The last thing she wanted to do was to get involved with another case working with Ruutti. Not least because the detective had taken all the credit for catching the talkative serial killer who had also tried to kill Max. Max had read the news headlines with disbelief. She didn’t care about the publicity, but she did care that the detective had lied. Again.
“No,” Max said, more bluntly than she had intended. “There are dozens of other detectives you could ask for input. Missing humans is your problem, and your world. Not mine.” And she hung up before she could think better of it, pushing down the stab of guilt. It was perfectly true. Human crimes were Ruutti’s business, not Max’s. All Max wanted to do right now was go home, huddle on the sofa with her dogs and avoid the world before anyone else could ask for her help, or before she did anything else wrong.
Chapter four
It was fully dark when Max finally arrived at the gates to her house and garden. The head-high gates were closed, as usual. She didn’t think anyone would come out this close to the Wild to steal anything and, on days like today, she welcomed the solitude. But this close to the Wild it was possible that something would stray past the protective wards she had placed around the grounds. If she left the gates open, there was a strong possibility she would arrive home to find unwanted visitors grazing in her garden.
Tonight the gates were still closed, but there was a large, brilliant white envelope tucked just above the latch, where she couldn’t fail to see it. In the glare of the headlights, she could see black writing on the surface. She stared at it for a moment before getting out of the pick-up to take a closer look. All her normal post went to the Marshals’ offices as the postal service refused to deliver this close to the Wild, not wanting to risk coming across something that might have found its way out of the Wild. Which meant that the envelope had been hand-delivered, and she could not think of anyone who would go to that much trouble, not when the Marshals’ offices were easier to reach.
The only package that had been delivered to her in the last couple of months had contained replacement ammunition for the rocket launcher that the Marshals’ service didn’t know she had. It had been used against a Harridan, and she had wanted to resupply the case before she returned it to her Vault. The arms supplier had been willing to get a courier to deliver the package, for a fee. Max had paid, wanting the rocket launcher out of her house and back into its place in her Vault. Marshals might be allowed to carry handguns off-duty, but she didn’t think Faddei would turn a blind eye to her keeping a rocket launcher under her sofa. Even though putting the rocket launcher case back into her Vault had taken most of her energy for a whole day, it had been worth it. The Vault as an organisation provided secure storage for magicians, and asked no questions about what was stored there. Not even the council could get a list of magicians holding a Vault, let alone what was inside. Max only had hers because every apprentice of the Order was given one, and it was coded to her and her alone, so even Kitris, as the head of the Order, hadn’t been able to take it back when he had dismissed her.
But that delivery had been planned. This envelope was unexpected. She frowned at it, unable to think of anyone who would make the effort to drive here to deliver it. She couldn’t sense any magic on it, so she picked it up. The envelope was addressed simply to Max Ortis, and there was no return address, but there was the faint impression of a seal on the closure. She broke open the envelope and found a rectangle of thick paper inside, a faint scent like old roses reaching her nose. There was handwriting on the card in old-fashioned joined-up letters that had certainly been made by a fountain pen, and a simple message.
“Dearest Max, you did a great favour for one of my household earlier today. To express my thanks, I should like to invite you to afternoon tea, at the date and place below. I look forward to seeing you there. Warmest wishes, Audhilde.”
Max’s fingers tightened and she forced herself to relax, not wanting to damage the heavy and doubtless expensive paper. She liked Audhilde. The vampire was professional and knowledgeable, with a warm manner that belied the grim nature of her work. But this wasn’t work-related, Max knew, and she held in her hand an invitation from one of the city’s most powerful vampires to an afternoon tea, which had a specific meaning within a vampire household that Max did not fully understand.
Max read the message again, trying to work out what favour she had done, realisation creeping over her. The vampire at the petrol station. He must be a member of Audhilde’s household. Max didn’t know precisely how vampire households and hierarchy worked - it was a closely guarded secret - but clearly Audhilde felt that Max had done something special. And even though Max didn’t consider it to have been particularly worthy of thanks, there was no possible, polite way to refuse Audhilde’s invitation. She would risk offending Audhilde, which was not something she wished to do. Which meant that at the appointed time, Max would need to go into a vampire’s house and put herself into the care of one of the most powerful beings in the city.
One of the dogs whined, letting her know she had been standing for too long. They knew that they were due to be fed when they got to the house.
“Sorry,” she said to them. She put the message back into the envelope and pushed open the gates.
It was only when she was making sure that the gates were locked behind her, the dogs running around the garden, that she realised she had a far more basic problem than offending one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in the city by not turning up: she wasn’t sure she had any suitable clothing for afternoon tea with a vampire.
The next day, Max took herself and her dogs to the one place in the city she knew she would always be welcome, and where she might find answers to the conundrum of what happened at afternoon tea with a vampire. And perhaps also some sympathy for her unfortunate rise to fame on the city’s media channels. She had fielded a half dozen calls from reporters wanting answers from her to a series of questions, the most prominent of which were whether she was in the habit of threatening innocent humans, and whether she had ever shot a human on purpose.
To her relief, she had solved the problem of clothing by digging through every item in her wardrobe and finding clothes she had forgotten about, relics of some impulse buying from her early months in the Marshals’ service, almost eight years ago, when she had been overtaken with the heady sense of freedom and having her own money to do with as she pleased. She remembered spending a small fortune in a boutique that Malik had recommended, and it seemed that shopping trip was finally going to be useful. So that was one problem solved.
The Hunter’s Tooth bar didn’t look like much from the outside, but she didn’t care. As she walked through the front door, Cas and Pol bouncing ahead of her like over-excited puppies, she drew in what felt like the first easy breath she had taken since she had seen the video clip.
The bar’s owner and operator, Malik, was in his usual spot, mixing drinks. He glanced up as she came in and favoured her with one of his generous, welcoming smiles. It had been a long while since they had been anything but friends, but Malik’s smile still warmed her all the way through. It didn’t matter that he had that effect on nearly everyone, or that his particular magic meant he could make this bar feel like the safest place in the world. Everyone was special to Malik, and all were welcome at the Hunter’s Tooth.
Max settled at one of the stools by the bar and waited while Malik finished serving a group of what looked like university students. He gave them another one of his smiles, and Max had to bite her lip to hide her grin as she saw the effect it had on the group. Malik was undeniably beautiful, with mid-brown skin and curling black hair and a facial structure that could have earned him a modelling career if he had possessed any real vanity. Doubtless the students would be vying for his attention before long. Max didn’t blame them, although she was tempted to tell the girls not to bother. Malik did not tend to favour very young women. But it was not her business who he kept company with, and not her place to interfere.
“Max,” he said, leaning over the bar and kissing her cheek. “It’s good to see you. Are you healed?”
He didn’t mean the bruising on her face, she knew. It didn’t surprise her that Malik knew about her injury. Although he never seemed to leave the bar, he knew most of what went on in the city.
