The Burning Bush (5 page)

“I see why you want to solve this case.” I closed Shelly’s school file.

“Winters still has major Human connections with key members of Congress and the Supreme Court. Everyone’s tripping over themselves to solve this.” Rivera handed me a thick file. “We scanned Shelly’s brand, although it was pretty hard because of the fire, but anyway this is a copy of her brand report.”

Wow. A brand report.
I kind of always wanted to see what they looked like. I flipped through a three-inch-thick file. Everything from Shelly’s medical information to her last ATM withdrawal was in there.
I knew we had an inch-long transmitter in our brands, but not how the government was tracking this stuff. A wireless transmitter, maybe? Some sort of satellite system?

I couldn’t wait to tell Zulu about seeing the report. Now that we were finally done with the bombing crap, we could actually return MFE’s focus to Mixbreed rights and Human oppression of Supes.

“Whoever solves this will get a lot of money and probably a really big promotion,” Rivera said, interrupting my thoughts.

“Glad to see you’re still motivated to keep the habitat safe.”

Rivera ignored my comment. “Her sorority friends were the last to see Shelly alive. They helped her get ready for a date with Jacobi Brass, Judge Brass’s son.”

“Another tribunal judge?”

“Yes. Shelly and Jacobi’s parents had set them up to marry at the end of the year.”

“That can’t be right about the marriage setup. Judge Brass is a Witch.” I put my hands on my hips. I’d been studying habitat law to prepare for my law school entrance exams in April. I knew details about all the tribunal judges in Santeria by heart.

“What does it matter if he’s a Witch or not?” Rivera took the toothpick out of his mouth and put it in his pocket.

I sighed. “Purebloods, especially rich Purebloods, don’t do interspecies marriages or breeding. Come on, man. How long have you been in Santeria?”

“Well, according to Shelly’s friend,” Rivera said, “Shelly couldn’t have kids. Her family put an announcement in the newspaper that they were seeking possible suitors for an infertile Shifter.”

“Her family is hiding something.” I twisted my lips in disbelief.

“Well, Witch or not, the Brass family was the only one to accept the offer.”

“Anything else?” I asked, hoping for a whole lot more information. I would definitely have to ask MeShack about Shelly’s advertisement. If there was one thing all Shifters did in the habitat, it was gossip.

“Her friends’ statement was that they did Shelly’s hair and makeup. A limo picked Shelly up to take her to her fiancé’s art gallery showing, and that was the last time they saw her.”

“Red limo?” I asked, thinking of Dante Bottelli’s limo and hoping it was that easy.

“Nope. Black.” Rivera got up and handed me an envelope with pictures in it. “Jacobi was interviewed. He said he never sent a limo to get her and she’d planned on just driving herself to the gallery showing.”

“Does Jacobi have a limo?”

“No, but his father does. All the judges do, and half of their friends too.” Rivera waved his hand. “Leave the limo angle alone for now. All the guys on the force are running after the mysterious limo.”

I stared at the envelope of pictures he’d given me. “What’s this?”

“These are photos of Shelly’s dorm room. She was enrolled in Maya Luna Law School.” Rivera sat back down. “And before you ask, I can’t get you access to her room, and don’t even think about talking to her family and friends. Judge Winters has lawyers and investigators all over this thing. Leave Judge Brass’s family alone too. People say he’s a sadistic asshole.”

“Then why am I here if I can’t investigate her stuff or these people?” I asked, annoyed.

“No one’s even looking at the first victim, the Mixbreed.” Rivera’s cracked lips formed into a smile. “I figure since she’s the first victim, maybe it’s all connected.”

Two girls tied to a burning bush and delivered to the habitat police station. It’s obviously connected.

“I’m kind of shocked and sad you’re the only one on this police force who arrived at that conclusion.”

Rivera beamed. “I’m a pretty smart guy.”

He dragged out a wrinkled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “This will probably be your last chance to look at this bush, or Shelly, so make it count.”

“Make it count,” I muttered, imitating him under my breath.

Heading back over to Shelly and the bush, I circled the horrific display for a few seconds and paused. I positioned my hands to the flames and attempted to touch them. The fire wavered a little. When one of my fingers tapped the bonfire’s edge, the blaze seared my skin.

“Fuck!” I jerked back, not used to being hurt by fire. I wiggled my hand as if that would help stop the throbbing. “This is definitely some sort of spell.”

A darkening yellow color formed on my fingertip and hardened.

“Why do you say that?” Rivera examined his pack of cigarettes as if he’d never bought or seen them in his life.

Because real fire doesn’t burn me, but some types of elemental magic do.

“Because the bush has been burning for two weeks.” I rubbed my finger against my jeans as the magic bit at my flesh.” And fire tends to damage everything. But the bush’s sticks, leaves, and even Shelly aren’t destroyed.”

“I get that part. I’m saying can’t the spell still use real fire?” Rivera asked.

“Yes, but it’s not real fire.”
If it was, I could have called it to me.
“This is something else. The killer is an Elemental Witch.”

“But which one—earth, wind, fire, or air?”

He’d forgotten Spirit Witches, but it didn’t matter. None of them existed in Santeria. Most of them lived in habitats with religions that used a lot of spiritual magic.

After the government probed the population and discovered thousands of Supes, they slung the adults and kids in research facilities. Witches united with Shifters and attacked Washington, D.C., starting the Supe-Human wars, which resulted in five years of death and destruction that spread from America to all regions of the world. Governments everywhere combined their militaries together in fear, striking against any being with an ounce of paranormal power. Fairies and Trolls joined the wars. Vampires and weaker Supes fled to third world countries for refuge, only to be captured later.

The first year of the wars, the Supes won many battles. Witches used earth’s elements to fight. Shifters had strength and rapid healing ability. Fairies possessed an assortment of powers to use, including glamour to hide most of the Supes’ bases.

But the Humans owned weapons. The government had conducted tests on the probed Supes they’d caught earlier and discovered each species’s weakness. Steel bullets destroyed Shifter and Fairy military units. Battlefields were covered in liquid silver to prevent Earth Witches from controlling the land. Monkweed, an herb deadly to all Witches, was processed into liquid and gas forms. Human soldiers drank Monkweed to prevent Water Witches from controlling their bloodstream. They sprayed Monkweed gas in the air to instantly kill Fire and Air Witches. In no time, Humans were victorious.

Many Supes surrendered, living in concentration camps with no running water. The camps produced disease. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals and United Species conducted an international campaign against the most powerful countries. They demanded a nonviolent solution that would treat Supes humanely.

As a compromise, the governments developed the Habitat System, a network of caged Supe cities all over the world. Each caged city was categorized by a religion. Supes were given a choice of cities they wanted to live in. Most picked the one representing their actual religion. Others picked cities based on religions that were most accepting of their species. That was why my dad picked Santeria—because that religion didn’t perceive Demons as evil creatures from hell. It saw them as just another species.

Santeria also did not use spiritual magic, at least not the type Spirit Witches could control, which was why I didn’t have to worry about a Spirit Witch committing this crime. None had settled in Santeria.

“What’s on your mind?” Rivera tugged a brown cigarette out of his pack. “You look like you got something.”

“Relax. I’m not some genius investigator, you know. I figured out who the last murderer was because the person was trying to freaking kill me.” I rubbed my face. “Where’s the Mixie’s file?”

“We don’t have it. When the first bush with the Mixbreed corpse appeared on our doorstep, we threw the whole thing in the incinerator on Bloodstone Street.” He tried to light his cigarette. I mentally extinguished the flame. He shook the lighter in front of his face, flicking it until fire lit the tip again.

I told the fire to leave and crossed my arms. “You just threw the bush and dead Mixie away?”

“I didn’t, but some of the guys did. We figured it wasn’t important. What the hell is wrong with my lighter?” Rivera, who didn’t know about my power, studied the little contraption, gazing at the naked woman on its front. “Damn thing was working just fine before.”

“Maybe you should consider quitting. Smoking is dangerous.”

“Mind your fucking business.” He banged the lighter against his leg. “Living in Santeria is dangerous.”

My cell phone rang. I opened it and put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Someone blew up Linderman’s Blood Factory.” MeShack’s voice came through the phone in a deep, rough tone that I recognized as his somebody’s-arm-will-be-torn-out-of-their-socket voice. It was best to tread carefully here.

“Really? Oh my goodness,” I said. “When did that happen?”

“Do you know anything about this, La La?”

“Know anything about a bombing? Of course not,” I said with as much innocence as I could muster.

“Cut the act. This has you and Zulu all over it. I knew something was up when I saw you borrow all those books on bombs from the library,” he hissed. “Plus, you and those fanatics had been having those secret meetings for the past two weeks—”

“MeShack.”

“And I realize you have a problem with that Vamp who bought the factory, but a bomb? La La, a motherfucking bomb?”

I knew the gold flecks in his eyes were probably gleaming, and maybe a vein in that huge neck was bulging. I cleared my throat. “MeShee, it’s not—”

“Don’t MeShee me, trying to sound all cute,” he growled. “You could have killed somebody. You could have killed yourself!”

I doused another flame on Rivera’s lighter as he tried again to light his cigarette.
Who the hell smoked in an enclosed room anyway, and around evidence at that?

“I’m really busy. I’ll talk to you later,” I mumbled into the phone.

“No. You’ll talk to me now!”

I hung up before MeShack could start yelling again. Rivera threw the lighter against the wall. The plastic cracked. A tiny bit of liquid leaked out and the broken pieces fell to the floor.

“There’s no file on the first victim. We didn’t do a brand scan. The guys who found her did take fingerprints. Some dirt got on the bush on the way to the incinerator, and it put out the spell. Since the fire was out, we followed procedure and took the prints.” Rivera pulled out a wrinkled Polaroid picture from his pocket. “This is a picture of her on the bush. Her mother’s contact info is on the back. I told the mother you would come by tomorrow and question her.”

Now this Human is planning my week. Awesome.

“So you took fingerprints?” I asked.

“Yeah. We found some on her neck, which we assume belong to her killer. We took prints from her fingers too.”

“What’s the Mixie victim’s name?” I asked.

“Onyx.” He dropped the cigarette packet on the table. “The mother reported her missing the night after the bush arrived on our doorstep.”

I stared at the picture. Anger seized me. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds and count to ten before glancing at the photo again. In the picture, two habbies posed next to Onyx’s dead body tied to the bush. They smiled with their thumbs in the air. At the bottom of the Polaroid, someone had written “Weird Habitat Shit #55.”

“This is disrespectful,” I said.

“Just concentrate on solving this case before you end up in jail and one of these guys is taking care of you.” Rivera fanned himself as I increased the temperature in the room. “Trust me, you’re all right–looking. Guys like the ones in the picture would have a lot of fun with you.”

That’s assuming I don’t burn the place down first, or even better, Zulu and MeShack don’t kill the entire habitat police force.

I raised the photo to the light, comparing both victims. Onyx and Shelly were night and day. Onyx was naked. Her skin was midnight black. Long, thin braids hung past her shoulders, framing her silver X brand. Onyx must have been a teenager. Tiny breasts peeked out above the white ropes wrapped around her waist. No diamonds or jewelry adorned her body; only jagged scars covered her arms and thighs like she’d just been in a fight. Her neck appeared broken and was tilted to the right with a bone pushed out of the skin. Onyx stared straight ahead with an angry expression, her lips open and her eyes wide. Where Shelly had resembled a princess frozen in a glow of fire, Onyx’s body and pose gave the impression that she’d been fighting for her life.