Page 7 of Capitol Matters (Marionette #2)

Holland’s patrol car fit the standard for a Capitol-issued vehicle, though it might have been more dolled up than most. The sleek black sedan boasted a white leather interior, in-dash infotainment system, heated seats, and a sheet of Plexiglas separating the front from the back.

Resisting the urge to fiddle with the controls on the digital screen or rifle through the glovebox left me sitting on my hands, lip-biting through the silence until I could stand it no longer.

“So, a human, huh?”

Holland’s cheeks puffed before she expelled a long breath. “I assume you mean Preston?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What about him?”

“Just making conversation,” I said nonchalantly.

She nudged the corner of her sunglasses, resituating them on the bridge of her nose. “I’d appreciate it if we kept our conversations to professional topics rather than personal ones.”

I kicked back and crossed one leg over the other. “Sure thing, Investigator.”

Adult Holland was different from the girl I’d grown up with. She’d always been assertive and coolly confident—a balance for my impulsive and often reactive self. Time had changed us both, but her newfound frigid bitch persona continued to perplex me.

Another mile or so passed with street signs indicating the turn off for Main Street directly ahead. As the car veered right, I cleared my throat.

“Seems a bit shortsighted, is all.”

Holland sighed. “What does?”

“A relationship with a human is like winning a carnival goldfish,” I replied. “Exciting for a minute but best not to get invested. They don’t live long.”

She looked over at me, exasperated. “This is your idea of a professional discussion?”

“He’s gonna get so old.” I snickered. “Imagine how wrinkly his dick’ll be.”

“Seriously?” she exclaimed.

“You’ll get a few good decades, but it’s all downhill from there,” I continued. “Little blue pills, adult diapers, then death. I guess you can upgrade then. Trade up for a newer model.” My lips curved into a smile, teasing, but only barely.

We arrived at a stop sign, and Holland stomped hard on the brakes, causing the sedan to lurch. She spun to face me. “Fitch Farrow, your mother was human,” she snapped. “Your brother is, too. You have no room to talk.”

She hit the gas just as abruptly, slinging us back in our seats as we headed down Main.

If she had been of a mind to hear it, I could have talked a lot more about the downsides of human involvement in magical society. My mother hadn’t even been safe in her own home, under my father’s protection. Donovan was another tragedy waiting to happen. He was a liability to himself and others. A burden to me.

The downtown speed limit was a sluggish 25 MPH. We trolled along, reduced again to uncomfortable quiet. What had once been a thriving part of our city was now a long alley of boarded-over doors, broken glass, and closed signs. Infrequent pedestrians milled the sidewalks.

At the end of a block of brownstones, I spotted the Blooming Orchid. Last I knew, it remained open but, this early in the day, the lights were off.

“I don’t know why I brought you,” Holland muttered more to herself than me.

The statement came from nowhere, and I felt my hackles rise.

I swiveled toward her. “Actually, let’s unpack that. Why did you bring me, Investigator? Is this busy work? Stalling?”

She flipped the turn signal and swerved into a curbside spot. Once we stopped, she let her head hang down toward her lap. Locks of platinum hair fell loose, curtaining her profile.

“I’ve been… preoccupied,” she said slowly. “There have been looters, riots… We went from one disaster immediately to another. First your trial, then a plague?” She rested her hands on the steering wheel. “People are sick. Businesses closed. So, no, I haven’t given much thought about what to do with you. I didn’t even warn my team, and they deserved that much.”

Less guarded than I’d seen her yet. More honest. It was refreshing.

“Speaking of the plague,” she continued. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you know anything about it.”

“What do you mean?” I tugged on my necktie, which felt suddenly strangling.

“Source? Cause? Cure?” She rattled them off. “Anything.”

“I heard it came from some dumpy breakfast place,” I replied. “Bad batch of eggs, maybe?” More like a singular bad egg named Ripley Vaughn, coughing without covering his mouth and infecting the city with a highly contagious disease. I’d felt shitty about it then, and seeing downtown reduced to vacancy and vandalism did not alleviate my guilt.

She shook her head. “I didn’t expect you to know, but leave no stone unturned, right?”

“Sure.”

Eager for a distraction and nic-fitting besides, I scanned the sparsely populated sidewalk. We’d parked near a three-way intersection, with the fourth side comprised of an alley that could serve as a smoke hole.

“Think I’ll step out.” I pulled my cigarette pack from my suit jacket’s inner pocket and waved it as an answer to the question Holland hadn’t asked.

Shoving the door open, I stood on the curb. Glancing side to side found the same boarded up businesses and signs citing the spread of disease as the reason for indefinite closure.

Inside the patrol car, Holland sat slouched, thumbing through her phone. It looked like she needed a minute. I closed the door, then headed toward the alley. The cigarette was lit and fuming before I turned the corner.

Considering the unpopulated streets, I was surprised to find the shallow turn off a bustle of activity. A half dozen men and women loitered near a pair of grimy dumpsters where one man lorded over them from his perch on the top of a chain-link fence. He looked out of place, and not only because of the fence’s eight-foot elevation. More like out of time in his brown wool vest and white Oxford shirt. If his wily grin hadn’t given away his identity, his ascot tie would have. Nobody wore those things anymore, except—

“Avery?” I blurted.

The congregation turned as one. The Everett twins stood out amongst four randoms. Avery leaped off the fence and skipped toward me, his face strained with false cheer.

“Fitch!” he called as he closed in. Stopping within inches of me, his voice dropped to a hiss. “You’d better get your nosey cop ass out of here.” He peeked over my shoulder toward the mouth of the alley. “Is that lady investigator with you?”

“Yes,” I whispered back, then motioned to the gang members looking on. “What are you doing? What’s all this?”

Dodging Holland’s questions about the plague was a cinch compared to the explaining I would have to do if we stumbled onto seven Bloody Hex members lurking around shuttered businesses. If I knew Avery, they were up to no good and ready to rain chaos that would rival Sunday night’s scene at DiaLogix Labs. I had yet to follow up with Holland about her findings in the wreckage. Taking another cue from Grimm by trying not to look too interested.

Avery’s self-assured smile returned as he answered, “We’re having an earthquake.”

If I could have, I would have dragged the conjurer somewhere private to discuss this. But, with the newbies at his back, gawking and gossiping, and Holland just around the corner, we would have to hash it out here.

“Why an earthquake?” I asked.

“Just a small one.” He held up two pinched fingers, then seemed to think better and gestured with his hands about six inches apart. “Like a ‘fuck you very much’ to this—” he looked around again, “—quarter mile.”

“Why, though?”

Avery bounced his shoulders. “I wanted a fire, but that guy does the earth stuff.” He jerked his thumb toward Ethan Everett, who touched his chest as though asking if he’d been summoned. Avery quickly waved him off. “So, we went with that.”

I stood, feeling the same bewilderment that had overtaken me at the lab job. At least this time, there would be no casualties.

The conjurer pointed at the cigarette burning up in my hand. “You gonna smoke that?”

Ash had collected on the tip of the cig, and I flicked it away before taking a long drag. The deep breath gave me an excuse to think longer and Avery a chance to keep talking.

“We really can’t be running into each other like this.” He edged in close to poke his elbow into my gut. “Might need to coordinate schedules. Have your people call my people and so on.”

“I don’t have people, you dick.”

“ I have people.” He waved to the waiting crowd. “Didn’t know how I felt about the whole gang leader role, but I’ve decided it suits me.”

“Sure, it does.” I searched the gathered Hex members once more, looking for a certain dark shadow in their midst. “Where’s Ripley?”

“Not far,” Avery replied. “He’s our getaway driver.”

I shook my head. “You’re really gonna do this? A fucking earthquake?”

“Small one.” He sized it up with his hands again. “Nothing about a 4.0, I swear, and real localized. Just to shake things up a bit.”

I’d arrived at the same impasse twice in one week. I couldn’t stop this, or even effectively protest. My only option was to minimize my own involvement. That meant removing myself and my Capitol counterpart from the scene.

“Gimme ten minutes,” I told Avery. “I’ll clear out the investigator, so you have some room to work. And get away. If you get caught, though, I’m not helping.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

I swayed back, brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Avery spun away to prance toward his acolytes. “All right, everybody!” he shouted. “We’re gonna take five—”

“Ten!” I called after him. “I said ten minutes!”

“Take ten ,” he corrected. “Then we open this place like a cracked melon.”

Groans of complaint rose from the group, but I didn’t hang around to hear them out.

Discarding my cigarette, I walked quickly back to Holland’s car. I opened the door and dropped into the seat, my mind churning to come up with an innocuous reason we needed to leave the area as soon as possible.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Holland muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Constantly,” I replied.

I checked the dashboard screen for the time: 9:32 AM.

“Have you eaten today?” I asked.

“Breakfast, yeah,” Holland replied. “Why?”

“I haven’t, and I’m starving.” I pulled the door shut. “There’s a gas station a couple miles down the road. We could stop by there. I’ll get something quick.”

She watched me for a moment, long enough that I added, “If you don’t mind.”

“Fine.” She shifted into drive.

Her mood had remained somber since her earlier confession. A shortcoming she hadn’t wanted me to know about. She’d been the same when we were kids, perfectionistic and prideful. I’d known how to cheer her up then. Couldn’t hurt to try again now.

“Hey, no rush coming up with stuff for me to do,” I said. “It sounds like what you really need is some help. ”

As we passed the alley where Avery and his crew were gathered, I rotated my torso to block as much of the passenger side window as possible.

“This consultancy gig is a job, right?” I asked.

Holland nodded.

“So, put me to work.”

Several seconds passed while she considered my suggestion. Finally, a scarce smile curved her lips. “We’ll see,” she said.

With the alley and its occupants behind us, I relaxed. So far as I could tell, the investigator suspected nothing about my proposed breakfast run. Even if we didn’t make it all the way to the gas station—and I had to go without a meal—we would at least be far enough away to keep ourselves clear of danger and Avery clear of arrest. The rookies, too, I supposed.

“Thank you,” Holland said in the growing silence. “For being gracious.”

I chuckled. “I don’t think that word has ever been used to describe me.”

“I take it back, then.” Her smile became teasing. “Don’t want to damage your bad boy persona.”

“Bad boy?”

“Or whatever it is you’re putting on here.” She swept her hand in an all-encompassing motion.

I smoothed my suit coat. “I think you’re confusing persona with personality.”

Holland shook her head. “I know your personality,” she said. “This isn’t it.”

Quiet descended more heavily this time. I watched the sideview mirror as downtown shrunk into the distance.

It hadn’t been ten minutes, or even five, when the ground began to shake.