“Inspector,” he said, nodding at me and giving the word a chilly formality. He stood at the edge of the table, his features caught in a tide shifting between embarrassment and confusion.

Derrick was sitting sideways on his bench, taking up the entire thing, so I scooted over to allow the young officer to join us. He did, but his movements were disconnected, uncertain.

“Officer Lancaster, this is my partner, Inspector Knight. And vice versa.”

Russell held out his hand but, no big surprise, Derrick didn’t take it. Even with his gloves on he never shook hands. Instead he gave the young officer a sharp half wave. I could all but hear Russell’s teeth grinding from the perceived insult, but it wasn’t my place to reveal that my partner was wyrd.

“Anyway, here’s the issue,” I said and then laid out a very brief explanation of why we wanted to know about Vicky the waitress’s heels.

He looked doubtful, and I wasn’t sure if that stemmed from a lack of faith in his own ability or if he just couldn’t picture the bright young waitress as guilty. Still, he didn’t argue but nodded when I finished and closed his eyes so he could concentrate.

After several long moments he shook his head. “There are a lot of charms and active spells in here. I, uh, might also be a little too close to you, Inspector. Your arsenal is a little overwhelming.”

Right. I really should have thought about that.

“You’ll have to get closer to her then. Why don’t you go flirt with her?”

Russell gave me a stunned look.

“Maybe it’s just the smile, but she is very pretty,” Derrick added.

“Not as pretty as you,” Russell said turning large chocolate-colored eyes and his own smile on me.

Derrick tried—and failed—to cover his laugh behind a cough. I shot my partner a scowl, but I wasn’t insulted. I was very aware of how ordinary I appeared. I used it to my advantage as often as possible. And while I was flattered by Russell’s attention, there was business to be done.

“You’re cute, but you’re what? Nineteen? Trust me—that would never work.” I paused, giving him a moment to accept my words. “Now, there is a job on the table, and I’ll pay you, but don’t think a heart is up for grabs.”

The disappointment played across his features, but after a moment he nodded. “Buy me dinner. That will be pay enough for using an ability I can’t turn off anyway. I’ll be right back.”

He headed for the waitress in the fetish heels and I sipped my rapidly melting shake. Derrick and I both watched as he approached and her already brilliant smile lit up an extra degree. Now those two would make a cute couple. If she wasn’t evil.

Russell returned after a few minutes and sank into the bench beside me. I expected him to give a report of some sort—he was an officer, after all—but he sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty tabletop in front of him.

“Are you injured?” After all, the creatures could wound with no physical trauma; maybe the waitress could, too.

“No. Nothing like that. She was nice. Very nice. I just . . .” His face scrunched, his lips pursing and his brow crinkling. “You were right—the shoes are spelled, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the spell does.”

Not a good sign for the waitress.

“You did well. Here. You said you wanted dinner?” I passed him the menu, and then sat back in the booth as I considered what to do next.

The waitress wasn’t currently hurting anyone, so no need to make a scene and drag her out in front of the patrons. I’d wait until the diner closed. Also, just because her shoes held a complex spell didn’t mean she was guilty, but it was damning enough that I’d have my crossbow at the ready when I approached her.

Russell’s food arrived and the table fell into silence as he ate, Derrick thought about whatever the hell was bothering him, and I considered the capture I’d make tonight. It wasn’t exactly companionable silence, but it could have been worse. Then Russell’s fork fell onto his plate, food flying off it and skittering across the table.

“Something’s happening. A spell.” Skipping subtlety, he lifted a shaking hand and pointed.

Right at the waitress.

The lights from a truck streamed through the large panel window in front of the table where she stood. It illuminated her and the patrons at the booth in front of her in an eerie yellowish tinge as their shadows stretched across the tiled floor. The waitress stood inside the shadow of one of the men and where her and his shadows met, the darkness quivered, like I was looking at oil instead of the absence of light. It could have been anything, or nothing, but—

“What is she doing?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the comingling shadows.

“I—” Russell shook his head and tried again. “I don’t know. But I don’t like the way it feels.”

That was enough for me. “Move.”

He didn’t move fast enough. I vaulted onto the table and hit the floor running. A flicker of stored magic called my crossbow to my hand, and still moving, I lifted and fired. The blue foam bolt hit the waitress in the temple, the spell inside splashing onto her. She went down, hard.

All talking stopped for one suspended moment, making the diner silent aside from the jukebox. Then chaos erupted. People screamed and cursed. Most jumped out of their seats, rushing for the door until they’d created a bottleneck jam.

“MCIB,” I yelled, holding the badge over my head. It didn’t help. It rarely did in situations like this.

I used a touch of magic to send my crossbow back to its holster, and then I shoved my way through the crowd, trying to reach the waitress and her victim. A small pool had opened around the girl, keeping her from being trampled. Which was good—I preferred to take the human elements of crimes in alive. Unfortunately the man whose shadow she’d . . . well, I didn’t know what she’d done to it, but it hadn’t looked good, was gone. Damn it.

I jumped onto the booth bench and searched the crowd. The man was already outside. Double damn.

“Hey, Knight,” I yelled, hoping my voice carried over the panicked outcries.

Derrick, unsurprisingly, hadn’t entered the melee. Instead he stood against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest as he remained well clear of anyone who could accidentally touch him. He watched the madness with a rather apathetic expression, but his head jerked toward me when he heard his name.

“Can you get her secured and processed? She’ll be down several hours unless someone dispels my knockout spell.”

At his nod, I jumped from the booth and pulled an evidence bag from my pocket. If I were following procedure—or being intelligently cautious—I would have pulled on gloves and cast a circle before trying to remove Vicky’s heels, but I needed to catch up to the man she’d worked some unknown magic on. And I needed to find out what that magic was. With that in mind, I grabbed the shoes and pulled them off feet covered in welts and blisters.

“Damn, I’m even more surprised that you could walk.” How could she have smiled like she did when she had to be in agony? Not that such a question was what I needed to be focused on right now. I shoved the shoes in my bag, the spells on them all but crackling when the magic-dampening spell in the plastic touched the red material. I sealed the bag and then ran for the door.

Some of the panicked patrons scuttled out of my path, but many didn’t and I spent priceless seconds trying to shove through the crowd.

“Darque, activate your charm,” Derrick yelled from the back of the building. He’s the premonition witch. I covered the small pendant with my palm and channeled just enough magic into the healing charm to activate it. Then I continued to elbow my way through the crowd.

By the time I made it outside, the victim had vanished. I ran for my vehicle, scanning people and cars as I moved. There. The man was in a silver sedan, already in line to make a right out of the parking lot.

I jumped into the rental Hummer and reversed the large beast, forcing it to turn a little tighter than it liked. I did it without smashing any other cars, so it was a success. The sedan had already turned. Damn. I didn’t bother with the line but took the Hummer over the sidewalk and onto the grass—it was an off-road vehicle after all. I made good time with my improvised private turning lane, but still not fast enough to spot my target. Which means a little aggressive driving is in order.

The Hummer had a lot of pickup, and I pushed its horsepower as I swerved and darted around other cars while the speedometer needle continued its climb. It took only a mile for me to spot the silver sedan, and only a minute to catch up. I slowed as I approached and flashed my lights, trying to signal the driver. He didn’t turn off the road. Swerving around him, I opened my passenger window waved, yelling for him to stop.

The small car sped up.

Damn it. Just because he didn’t know I was trying to help him didn’t mean he had to be so stubborn.

As I gave chase, I considered shooting him. I could probably bounce a metal bolt in such a way it would pierce the glass and spill its contents on the driver without actually hitting him. There were a lot of variables though, and while I could get away with a lot in my job, even I would get in trouble for shooting a victim for his own protection. Besides, I had no way to control his car. He’d likely end up in worse shape than the victims already affected by the waitress’s spell.

Behind me, three sets of blue lights throbbed in the growing darkness. Well, that’s just peachy. The lights grew brighter as the cops drew closer until they completely filled my rear window. “You’re driving Impalas and I have a tank of a Hummer; what exactly are you going to do?”

Apparently just follow me and hope I pull over. Well, I would as soon as the silver sedan did. Which meant we made a nasty gang of cars flying down the quiet road at breakneck speeds.

Finally the sedan made an abrupt right. I’d been waiting for the move but it still left me wrenching the steering wheel. The Hummer shuddered as it slid into the turn, at least one tire losing contact with the ground. Oh, you really turn on a dime, don’t you? Just don’t flip.