"Let's take a look at that." He switched sides and guided me to the ambulance, making me sit on the rear b.u.mper while he rummaged in one of the lockers. "Did you fall or get knocked into something during the blast?"

I only dimly heard him, my concentration fading out as I watched the fire. Black smoke was roiling out of the O'Halloran's garage, and three ladder trucks were parked at the entrance, firefighters running in and out with axes and hoses and oxygen tanks. Down the block, another squad was evacuating the tower, workers cl.u.s.tered on the sidewalk staring in our direction, watching the flames slowly die as the firefighters got the blaze under control.

"Miss?" Chen crouched in front of me again, holding an ice pack and a roll of Ace bandage.

"My partner," I murmured. "I lifted a block of concrete off her and hurt my shoulder."

Chen whistled. "You're Detective O'Halloran's partner? That took some b.a.l.l.s."

"Too bad I don't have any." I smiled weakly. "But thanks anyway. Is Shelby going to be okay?" My survival-driven panic was fading and I was aware of hurting all over, ears ringing, mouth dry as ash. Shelby had to be okay ... I had gotten her out of the fire, hadn't I?

"She's on her way to Nocturne City General," he said. "She lost some blood, and her leg needs surgery."

Knowing Shelby was all right compelled my mental grip to relax and the were burst forth, thrashing and howling at the pain and the adrenaline I'd expended saving Shelby and myself. My jaw started to ache, and my lower back spasmed, the telltale warning that my body wanted to phase.

I couldn't couldn't at this time of the month, but I could fang out and sprout claws, and then I had the distinct feeling Chen would be a lot less enthusiastic to play doctor. at this time of the month, but I could fang out and sprout claws, and then I had the distinct feeling Chen would be a lot less enthusiastic to play doctor.

"Fix my shoulder," I growled.

"You should go to the emergency room..." Chen started.

"Is it broken?" I asked, struggling to stay normal. All of my instincts wanted to bolt and find a safe place to hole up and heal, far from prying eyes.

"No, it's dislocated, but..." Chen started.

"Then fix it, please. Now."

He sighed, but gripped my wrist firmly. "Brace yourself. This is going to really hurt."

I gripped the frame of the ambulance and choked on a scream when Chen jerked my arm violently and my shoulder snapped back into place with a soft thop! thop! A split second of violent, mind-bending pain and I was left with a dull ache and a functional arm. A split second of violent, mind-bending pain and I was left with a dull ache and a functional arm.

"Thank you," I said tightly to Chen. The fire was out, just stinking smoke boiling from underneath the skysc.r.a.per now. Police cruisers had arrived, and I saw two unmarked sedans in colors I'd describe as "lightly toasted" and "well done" pull up behind them. McAllister emerged from the first, Matilda Morgan from the second.

Hex me.

Mac waited for Morgan and they walked together, a bad sign. If my lieutenant and my captain were in concert, heads were going to roll.

Morgan looked at me, looked at the fire, and back at me again. She tapped one finger against her teeth. "Detective Wilder, is this your idea of keeping a low profile?" Her tone was light and pleasant, but the rage burning in her eyes was hotter than any bomb blast.

"No, ma'am," I muttered, looking at my feet.

"Lieutenant, I must say I'm disappointed," she told Mac, facing him. She barely topped his collarbone, but Mac looked like a rabid pit bull was chasing him and he'd just realized his shoelaces were untied. "Your record is exemplary, but having seen the way you run your detectives I'm beginning to wonder just how accurate that is."

Mac's rangy face turned tomato-colored, although his expression never altered. Mac is like a dormant volcano-it takes a h.e.l.l of a lot of pressure to make him blow.

Morgan continued, "Property damage, officers under your command willfully disobeying orders, other officers grievously injured because of these oversights- you might as well have sent Detective O'Halloran to the hospital yourself." She drew herself up, her blocky body reminding me of nothing so much as one of those fantasy-novel dwarves who seem cute until you notice they're swinging an axe at your shins. "Rest a.s.sured that all of this will be reported to the disciplinary committee, and I very much doubt you will have your shield much longer."

"Stop it," I said. Morgan turned on me and had I not already been in pain I would have felt it from the sheer force of her glare.

"Excuse me?"

"Leave Mac alone." I met her gaze. "You want to blame somebody for all of this, blame me. But have the guts to do it to me. to me. Don't punish Mac because you like to play mind games." Don't punish Mac because you like to play mind games."

"Luna, this is a really bad time for speeches." Mac sighed. Morgan held up a hand and he reluctantly shut his mouth.

"I think this is the perfect time," she purred, a grin that I can only describe as triumphant on her face. "Do go on with your impa.s.sioned outburst, Detective."

"I know you don't like me," I said. "I can't figure out if it's because I'm a were or because I just rub you the wrong way, but in any event, I'm a good cop, and I am doing the best d.a.m.n job I can, and if you can't get past this animosity and see that, then Hex you."

I stood, looking down at Morgan. "My partner almost died, so if you'll excuse me I'm going to go find the person that almost made it happen."

Morgan narrowed her eyes, daring me to step past her, to be the one to break contact, but she didn't explode like I'd thought she would. Mac remained carefully bland next to her, but I could smell his sweat under the well-worn suit.

"Carry on, then," said Morgan finally, as if coming to a decision. "I think we're done here, Lieutenant McAllister." She spun and went to her car, weaving past a CSU team that was approaching with cameras and field cases.

Mac gripped my arm. "Don't get the wrong idea, here-I appreciate what you said, but don't you ever do that again. You're my my detective and if you buck protocol I'm going to suspend you." detective and if you buck protocol I'm going to suspend you."

I blinked. "Hex, Mac. You're welcome."

He pressed his lips together, giving me a look that was all too fatherly. "You're not all right, Wilder, and this whole mess just proves it. I can't give you special treatment. I need you to be on your game, or off my squad."

What was it with all the men in my life telling me what was best lately?

"Luna?" Mac crossed his arms, waiting. I was saved when one of the CSU techs broke off and touched my shoulder.

"Detective Wilder? We need you."

"I have a crime scene to secure," I told Mac coldly. He looked like he wanted to say something else, then turned and went back to his car.

"Thought you could use an a.s.sist," said the tech.

"Thanks, he-" I began, and then registered the tech's handsome dark face from my memory. "Pete!"

Pete Anderson grinned at me and shook my hand. "Good to see you, Detective."

I'd met Pete during the Duncan case, when he'd been working in the identification bureau as a lab tech. Poor Pete had endured a lot from me on that case-hostile were packs, being held at gunpoint, and my general b.i.t.c.hiness about the whole situation.

"You got promoted," I noticed. He was carrying a gun and wearing a blue field-investigator's jacket.

"d.a.m.n right, I did," he said. "The department figured it was the easiest way to keep me from suing their a.s.ses off after that Roenberg mess."

"I'm glad you're here," I told him, and meant it. Pete was one of those steady humans, the kind who radiated stillness and competence. They were the only kind I could be around for extended periods of time.

"Me too. Let's see what we've got."

The garage was still hot and made my eyes water from the noxious smoke, but the fire department p.r.o.nounced it safe to enter. Pete's team members swarmed around the smoking hulk of the Jaguar, taking pictures and bagging debris that had been thrown everywhere by the blast.

I saw a piece of car embedded in the concrete wall of the garage and flexed my shoulder. I really had been d.a.m.n lucky.

Pete flashed his light over the Jaguar's interior and the charred corpse of Patrick O'Halloran, wincing at the barely recognizable shape. Someone knew what they were doing," he murmured. "Hot and fast. No chance of survival. Get a picture of that," he instructed the tech with the camera, pointing at the wall behind the car. Aside from the surface concrete being blown off, it was intact.

"Something there?" I asked, examining the scene as best I could in the smoky half-light.

"Not there," said Pete. "The garage is still intact, which means the tower above it is still intact."

"So?"

"So this bomb wasn't meant to bring down the structure. It was meant to kill."

I coughed, trying to clear my parched throat. "Who'd want to kill Patrick O'Halloran? He's a figurehead. Wouldn't it be smarter to go after Seamus?"

"That's your area," said Pete. "I'm here to find out how they managed it." He touched the frame of the car experimentally and then climbed through the mangled pa.s.senger door and examined the interior. "Huh," he said.

"See something?" I asked.

"That's the problem," said Pete. "All that's here is car." He clambered back out and ill.u.s.trated with his penlight. "Fire follows the path of least resistance, right? It blew through the windows and the vents to the engine compartment, which caused the gas line and the tank to blow as secondary charges."

"Where's this going?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't like the answer by the grim expression on Pete's face.

"For the explosion to follow that path, the bomb would have to be planted under the front seat." He offered me his flashlight and I leaned in, trying to ignore the obscenely sweet smell coming from the cooked body in the driver's seat.

The seats and dashboard were intact, charred and melted but still retaining their shape. I pulled my head back and gave Pete a puzzled look.

"Shouldn't there be more, I dunno, exploded parts?"

"There shouldn't be anything left of the inside of that car," said Pete. "For all intents and purposes, this could have been a freak accident. If it wasn't for the point of origin, I'd say his gas tank ignited."

"But it didn't..." I murmured. Something tickled at my consciousness, the birth of a theory that wouldn't quite come clear. "Pete, how do you kill a witch?"

He goggled at me. "I haven't the faintest idea."

"You can't," I said. "Because any witch worth his blood won't let you close enough to do the job."

"Something come to mind?" Pete asked carefully, because I was pacing back and forth like a caged beast. How would you kill a powerful caster witch on his home territory, surrounded by workings and ward marks and protected by his own power?

You wait until he's in the one spot with no wards, I answered myself. I answered myself. And you blow his face off. And you blow his face off.

"Detective?" Pete said anxiously.

I dug in my jacket pocket and found my car keys. "I'll be back. Don't let anyone in here except the CSU team- not firemen, not the medical examiner-no one."

Running for the Fairlane, I belatedly realized that this was a bad idea and that also my car was probably totally trashed. I'd only parked about fifty feet away from the explosion.

The thought made me jog faster, because in the ten years I'd owned the car I'd never managed to so much as dent the fender. The Fairlane was trusty and s.e.xy and mine, and if the SOB who set the nonbomb had blown it up too, then the G.o.ds help them.

I skidded to a stop, seeing a huge starburst crack in my windshield from where debris had rained down, but no obvious fatal injuries. The Fairlane started, a little more grumbly than usual, but it purred as I pulled out of the garage using the alternate exit, flashing my shield at the uniformed officer guarding it. As I accelerated into the street the Fairlane shuddered once and then slipped smoothly into gear. I sighed with relief. It's a long drive to Battery Beach.

CHAPTER 16.

Grandma Rhoda's cottage looked duller in the light of day, no longer a spooky Carpenter Gothic house of horrors, just a ramshackle old Victorian that was slowly but surely sliding down the dune.

Sunny's convertible was in the driveway, alone. That didn't mean anything, though-Grandma Rhoda didn't drive. In my less charitable moments I speculated about pointy hats and brooms as modes of transportation.

"Sunny?" I called, knocking cautiously on the frame of the screen door. I didn't know what kind of wards Rhoda had put up since I'd visited last. I'd had Dmitri with me, and hadn't exactly endeared myself.

Footsteps sounded and an eye covered the peephole momentarily before the door opened. "Luna." Sunny frowned, in confusion or surprise I couldn't tell.

"I need your help," I said, cutting to the point.

"Oh G.o.ds, what's happened to you?" Sunny said immediately. She has this habit of a.s.suming that I'm always on the verge of dire peril. We'll ignore for the moment that most of the time she's right.

"Nothing's wrong with me," I said, more snappishly than I intended. "I have a crime scene that I want you to take a look at."

Sunny blinked. "Me? Why me? I'm not good around blood, Luna."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm fairly sure all of the dead guy's blood got burned up."

She blanched and I made a heroic effort to curb the ingrained instinct that all siblings and close relatives of the same age have to mess with each other. We weren't fifteen anymore. "Please, Sunny?"

"I don't see what good I'd be," she said. "And Grandma is going to be home soon ..."

"They used magick," I said. "They killed Patrick O'Halloran."

Sunny's eyes went wide. I knew that would get her.

"How?" she whispered.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

She nodded slowly. "Of ... of course. I'll get my bag and meet you at your car."

The minute we pulled into the garage Sunny started to shiver. "Cold?" I asked.

"No ..." Sunny murmured. "Just power ... a lot of power ... all around us."

"That would be the magickal electric fence the O'Hallorans erected around this entire tower," I said. I could feel it too, if I let myself-the dull pinpoint between my eyes, like a disembodied whisper you can't quite make out.

"Incredible," said Sunny. "Just incredible. I can't believe I'm actually here."