One
Zoe
Have you ever had a day so bizarre, you spend every waking moment convinced someone is going to jump out from around a corner and yell “Punked”?
Well, it’s happening. To me. Right now.
In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve gone from the laughing stock of the San Francisco Police Department, constantly ridiculed for my insistence there were supernatural forces at work in the City by the Bay, to the newest junior agent at the Bureau of the Occult and the Other.
B.O.O. for short.
Yes. Really. Our name is BOO.
Three Weeks Ago
Zoe
The parking lot feels empty, and the fog is already starting to give the world a soft, white glow. The swelling under my right eye doesn’t help. The stench of the scumbag I arrested this morning still clings to me, even after two showers and changing into the backup shirt I keep in my locker.
The guy reeked of sweat and cheap liquor, and when I found him trying to break in to a bunker out at the abandoned Hunter’s Point Naval Shipyard, he got the best of me and landed a hard punch just south of my eye.
The detective in charge—Randall—sent me out with no backup, then had the gall to keep me out of the interrogation room while he questioned the guy. The rash of vandalism and break-ins at abandoned buildings across the city has been a thorn in the department’s side for weeks, but the perp gave DIC Randall nothing. Just two words. Over and over again.
His eyes. His eyes. His eyes.
I wish I’d been able to talk myself into the room. But my partner, Temple, called in sick three days ago, and apparently, I’m “a loose cannon” because once, I made the mistake of telling Detective Randall that my grandmother taught me to respect the world of the Other.
Well, there was also that one time I accused a sex worker of being a shifter. But I saw scales ripple over the back of her neck when I arrested her. What else could she have been?
Gingerly, I touch the swelling along my cheek and let the wind coming off the San Francisco Bay ruffle my hair. I love this city. Even when it’s cold and foggy and damp. My earliest memory is seeing the bay with my grandmother. I can still feel her hand on my shoulder like it was yesterday.
“One day, Zoe, you’ll understand how special you are. This city, this view…treasure it. Here, you’ll do great things. I know it.”
I miss Nana so very much. I don’t remember my parents, and though I never put stock in her assertion that I was sculpted by the angels, that I was her little miracle, the world of the Other? That’s real. It has to be. Nana knew things before they happened, and when she cried, it always seemed to rain.
Retrieving my keys from my jacket pocket, I skid on some wet leaves a few steps from my car. Shit. I need another shower, a glass of wine, and an ice pack for my cheek. I’m so tired, I’m losing my edge.
A soft footfall registers a second too late. Before I can turn, something hard jabs me in the back, and cold fingers wrap around my throat.
“Not a sound, Zoe.”
“Temple?” I whisper. “What are you doing…?”
My partner tightens his grip, and I fall silent.
“Unlock the car, get in the passenger side, and cuff yourself to the door handle.”
My hand shakes as I fumble with the key fob. Temple sounds strange. His voice is hard and cold, so very different from the kind, jovial, teddy bear with an easy smile I’ve come to know and trust since being promoted to detective six months ago.
“This isn’t you, Temple. Put down the gun and let’s talk.” His fingers tighten over my windpipe, making it hard to swallow, but he hasn’t cut off my air. Yet.
The pressure of the pistol eases, but a moment later, the barrel slams into the back of my skull and I fall against the car, my keys jingling as they hit the ground.
“Pick them up. Now.”
At least he doesn’t have me by the throat anymore. But I’m dizzy, and pinpricks of light dot my vision. Nodding is a mistake, and my knees wobble. He grabs my right arm and twists it behind me, sending pain radiating from my shoulder to my fingertips.
Why didn’t I leave when my shift was over? Two hours ago, there’d have been half a dozen other cops headed out with me, and I wouldn’t be in a deserted parking lot alone. Or about to be kidnapped by the one man I should be able to trust more than anyone else in the world.
My service weapon is under my jacket, but with his hold on my wrist, I can’t get to it.
“Temple, please,” I whimper. “You’re hurting me.”
“Keys. Now.”
Forcing me down, he keeps the gun pressed to my back, and I snag the fob and unlock my car.
It hurts even more when he pulls me up, and I curl my fingers around the door handle.
“Put down the gun!” a man shouts from across the parking lot. “Hands in the air.”
The sharp pressure of the barrel shifts, and I ram my left elbow into Temple’s gut, then stomp on his instep with all the strength I can muster.
A loud crack registers before my ears start to ring, and something warm and wet makes my shirt stick to my side.
Temple grunts as he doubles over, giving me a split second to jerk my wrist from his hold and pull my gun.
The shouts from my fellow officers are muffled, and the world seems to move in slow motion as I draw down on my partner. His eyes are glazed over, his mouth slack, but his gun is still trained on me.
“Temple! Listen!” My voice isn’t steady, and I brace myself against the car so I won’t fall. “It’s Zoe. We’re partners. Friends. Don’t do this!”
A dozen uniforms and half as many detectives surround us, but Temple doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react at all.
When I meet his gaze, something unnatural slithers along my spine. It’s like his personality, his very soul is gone, and all that’s left is desperation.
“I never would have made detective without you. You’re a good man.” Fire burns through my side, and a quick glance has me stifling a whimper. My light green shirt is stained red with my blood, and the world tilts. He shot me. My own partner.
Temple blinks, hard, then focuses on my Smith & Wesson. “Do it,” he says as a tear rolls down his cheek. “Can’t fight...him any longer.”
“Who?” The burning pain in my side is getting worse, and the gun wobbles. “Temple? Tell me...”
“You’re…special, Zoe. Don’t…tell anyone…” His eyes cloud over. “Run.”
I only make it a single step when the crack of his .45 deafens me, and the bullet rips through my passenger window. I don’t think. Training takes over, and I return fire. My ass hits the pavement, with Temple falling an arm’s reach away.
Blood spurts from his neck, and he gurgles quietly as footsteps pound towards me.
“Zoe! Detective Dawes!” My sergeant kneels next to me and presses his hands to my side. “Stay with me. That’s an order.”
Sergeant Perkins isn’t someone you mess with, even when you’re about to pass out, and I clutch his arm. “Temple...”
Sirens blare in the distance, and I fight to hang on. We’re surrounded now. Two uniforms drag Temple away, and every other officer on duty takes position in a solid blue wall around me and Perkins.