Jim's eyes flashed.
"Deal with it," I told him and looked at Doolittle. "What would keep a shapeshifter from shifting?"
"Magic," he said. "Very powerful magic."
"Feeding comes first, mating second, and shape-changing is third. Hard to override it," Jim ground out.
"But the Reapers did override it. They held the key to it. And they damn near obliterated Derek." I clenched my teeth.
"Your sword's smoking," Doolittle murmured.
Thin tendrils of smoke snaked from Slayer in my sheath, the saber feeding on my anger.
"Nothing to worry about." I drummed my fingertips on the table. "I could possibly manage to take the Reapers into custody. But I have no reason to hold them. First, we have no proof they took out Derek."
"They would smell of his blood," Jim said.
"So do I. There was enough of his blood in that plaza to stain anyone who came into contact with it. That's not enough. Did you m-scan the scene?"
"Blue and green across the board." Jim shrugged in disgust.
The m-scan recorded the colors of residual magic. Blue stood for human and green stood for shapeshifter. It told us absolutely nothing. Maybe if I prayed to Miss Marple, she'd hook me up with a clue . . .
"Another problem with bringing them in," I said, "is the Games themselves. Let's say I bring them in. I'll have to ask questions like 'What were you doing in that plaza?' If they admitted to being a team in the Games, I'd have to follow up on it. I can't just ignore the existence of an underground gladiatorial tournament. The cops, Order, and MSDU have to know the Games are going on. The fact that they take place at all means a lot of money and influence are backing them up."
Jim nodded. "You'd get shut down before the investigation ever hits the ground."
And that was why I liked working with Jim. He didn't waste any time on calling me a coward, on baiting me, and suggesting I was afraid of the pressure. He understood that if the powers that be came to bear on me, the investigation would become difficult and my progress would be slower than molasses in January. He simply acknowledged it and moved on to the next possible avenue. No angst, no bullshit, no drama.
"So officially, we both can do nothing," I said.
"Yeah."
Doolittle just shook his head and ate his hush puppies.
"I take it we'll have to fight in the Games to get to the Reapers."
"Yeah."
"How come you never invite me to the easy jobs?" I asked him.
"I like to challenge you," he said. "Keeps you on your toes."
I leaned forward and drew a line across the tablecloth with my finger. "Unicorn Lane. Thirty-two blocks long and ten blocks wide. Long and narrow." It used to be thirty blocks long and eight blocks wide, but the flare boosted it and Unicorn grew, swallowing more of the city. "As I understand it, the Reapers go in there and vanish. And your guys can't track them down."
"Your point?"
"You remember the firebird capture from the summer two years ago? Half of Chatham County was burning and the bird smelled like smoke. You couldn't track it and it burned through every trap we had." And he had been pissed off as hell about it, too.
Jim frowned. "I remember. We baited it with a dead possum that had a tracker in it."
"Can you get your hands on a tracker like the one we stuck into the possum?"
"It can be done."
"What's the maximum range of the tracker?"
"Twenty-five miles, if the tech is strong."
I smiled. More than enough to cover Unicorn Lane.
Chapter 14
JIM SCOWLED AT SAIMAN'S DOOR. "THE PERVERT," he said.
"He prefers to think of himself as a sexual deviant."
"Semantics."
We'd talked our plan over on the way through the city. It wasn't a great plan, but it was a slight improvement over my usual "go and annoy everyone involved until somebody tries to kill you." Now I just had to sell my snake oil to Saiman.
Saiman opened the door. He wore a tall, thin platinum blonde, long of leg and decorated with a sneer. Jim bristled. If he had been furry, his hackles would've risen.
Most people confronted with two armed thugs on their doorstep would pause to assess the situation. Especially if one of those two had threatened to kill you five hours earlier if you didn't give her a horse, and the other was a six-foot-tall man with glowing green eyes who wore a fur-edged cloak, carried a shotgun, and looked as if he lived to grind people's faces into brick walls. But Saiman merely nodded and stepped aside. "Come in."
We came in. I sat on his sofa. Jim assumed a standing position behind and slightly to the left of me, with his arms crossed on his chest. Soft music layered with a techno beat played in the background. Saiman made no offer to turn it off.
"I've returned your horse," I told him. "It's downstairs with the guards." Jim had brought a spare mount for me.
"Keep it. I have no need of one. Would you like something to drink?"
And risk another ultimate luxury lecture? Let me think . . . "No, thank you."
"Anything for you?" Saiman glanced at Jim, saw the Stare of Doom, and decided safety had its advantages over courtesy. "Pardon me while I get something for myself. I think better with a glass in my hand."
He made a martini and came to sit on the love seat, crossing one impossibly long leg over the other and flashing me with his cleavage . Yes, yes, your boobies are nice. Settle down.
"How did it go with the Reapers?" I asked.
Saiman glanced at Jim. "Less than satisfactory."
"The Order has a certain interest in the Reapers." Technically that was true. I was an agent of the Order and I had an interest in the Reapers. I had an interest in killing every last one of them in an inventive and painful way.
"Oh?" Saiman arched an eyebrow, once again copying me.
"More to the point, I have a personal stake in this matter. I want the Reapers eliminated."
Saiman's gaze probed me. "Why? Does it have anything to do with your young friend?"
I saw no point in lying. "Yes, it does."
Saiman saluted me with his glass. "I find personal motives to be best."
He would, the selfish bastard.
"So what do you need from me?" he asked.
"I propose a partnership." I was getting better at this game. I didn't quite throw up in my mouth as I said that. One small victory at a time. "You want the Reapers out. So does the Pack, and so do I. We join forces. You provide access to the Games. We provide the muscle."