Some People Never Learn – Part Two

<< Part One

Jordan sped, only slowing at stop signs and hitting the breaks at the last second when the light turned red too early for him to run it safely. I turned my face to the ceiling and sighed.
I had to get my own car.
The main advantage of Jordan’s was that it came cheap, with a chauffeur, cops recognized it from a mile away – the color was hard to miss – and considered it ‘non-fineable’. It bore the immunity of a diplomatic convoy except when there was a high-valued prisoner in the backseat. Then, cops would find a reason to commandeer my catch and ruin my day.
When Jordan cranked up his death metal music, my annoyance punched his shoulder. “You’ve had your fun,” I growled. “And I’ve hunted this one long enough.”
He turned down the volume and eased off the pedal.
“I rather liked this tune,” Leon said. I shut up the radio. He muttered a “bitch” in response which I decided to let go; I had to keep some bile in stock for Rency.
We entered the parking of the Niagara Police Station a bit too fast but nothing dramatic. The building rose tall, pale and gorgeous against the moonlit sky. Tomorrow was the autumnal equinox – Mabon as we witches called it – and a full moon to add to the magical power surge and the fugglies going bump in that night.
The back of the car came this close to scrapping paint off a cruiser again as Jordan skid to a spot. I glared at him. He shrugged.
Holy imposed adrenaline-addicted son of a rich! If I did that, I would get the lecture of a lifetime and probably lose my license.
“Come on, Leon.” I grunted as I pulled my collar out of the car.
Balm for my pissed off heart, I walked in the station under thundering applause. Leon had been a tough one to track; anti-locating spell was the one thing he was good at – not that my keen sense of smell could be fooled by one of those. Money exchanged hands, the winners of the bets grinned and someone took Leon’s face off the corkboard.
“Hey Karmen!” The officer at the front desk ended me a check, already filled with my name and reward. “Captain wants to see you.”
“Is he in one of his moods again?”
The officer answered me with a wink and took over my prisoner. Jordan had already leaned against the desk of a female officer, working his devil-may-care bangs and bloodline for all it was worth.
Truth be told – schoolgirl crush aside – the dude was a jerk.
“Bane!” Captain Montmorency pointed to me, as if yelling my last name wasn’t enough. I resisted the urge to drag my feet and opted for a decided strut to his office. He slammed the door behind me. “How’s it going with my nephew?” He sat behind his desk and crossed his hands over his belly.
“Like a Nightshade overdose.”
I totaled my car into an escape convict a month ago. The guy was stonewalling his pursuers – literally – someone had to do something. We caught the guy but he sued the department. The Captain punished me with improving the character of his nephew. Apparently, Jordan needed to be bossed – and/or slapped – around. Hence his driving me.
“What if I told you I would agree to shorten that sentence?” I cocked an eyebrow – why waste saliva on asking for the oh-so-obvious catch? “You take the horseshoe tonight and the next two.”
I sighed. “I’m a bounty hunter. Not an urban legend watchdog.”
“I’ll pay you three thousand bucks a night.”
Goddess, he knew how to talk to me. “How big a team?”
“You’re a loner, aren’t you?”
Another catch? “You expect me to watch the whole Canadian side of Niagara Falls alone? You usually have ten men do that!”
“My team’s stretched thin. I’m giving you a ten men salary plus a daredevil bonus. And you can ditch Jordan in a month instead of five.”
I kicked the corner of the desk for good measure but I had done worst jobs for lower pays. “Fine.”
I’d miss the Mabon celebration tomorrow night but at least, I’d have a social life again in a month.
I’d also really have to get a new car.

Part Three >>


About Aheïla

Somewhere in Quebec City, Aheïla works as a Game Design Director by day and writes by night. Known for her blue hair, unyielding dynamism and tasty cooking (quails, anyone?), she’s convinced “prose is the new crack”. She satisfies her addiction daily on The Writeaholic’s Blog and weekly on Games' Bustles View all posts by Aheïla

2 responses to “Some People Never Learn – Part Two

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