Free Darkness Clashes by Susan Illene

forward and eyed the fountain with disgust. “Weepy women annoy me.”
    “Everything annoys you,” I pointed out.
    “Why would anyone want to put such a monstrosity in their place of business?” he asked.
    The fountain wasn’t ugly, but the stone turtle at the top with water pouring out of its mouth did seem kind of weird.
    “You’d have to ask Felisha,” I said, moving behind the counter to check over some paperwork she’d left strewn there.
    “She should have gotten one with a goose on it instead. Birds are far more fascinating than this strange thing.” He paced around it.
    I grabbed some cash out of my wallet. “Why don’t you go get some coffee?”
    The shop was only a couple of blocks away. Kerbasi could go there without reaching the end of our range from each other. It would also keep him occupied. He had a habit of studying all the available beverages there and asking questions about each of them—despite having visited the place a dozen times. The employees hated it, but it would give me peace and he’d hang around there for at least an hour or two. He enjoyed people-watching.
    Kerbasi folded the money neatly and put it in his shirt pocket. “Very well. I’ll go, but only because I’m bored.”
    “Don’t forget to put your glamour up first. I don’t want to see people running down the street and screaming like last time.”
    The guardian’s features were harsh enough to look intimidating, but it was his swirling silver eyes that freaked most humans out. Especially when he let them glow.
    Kerbasi huffed. “I was simply encouraging a moose to go elsewhere. The creature was staring at me strangely.”
    “Whatever.” I gave him a shooing motion. “Just go.”
    He shot a final look of contempt in my direction, then left.
    I headed for the back storage room and started sorting through the latest shipment that had arrived that morning. About an hour had passed when the bell attached to the front door jingled. My senses didn’t pick anything up, indicating a human. We didn’t get that many of them in the shop.
    “Can I help you?” I asked, wiping my hands off on my jeans.
    The man examined a selection of dried rosemary on the shelf with his back facing toward me. All I could make out was that he had a medium build and short black hair. Walking up to him, the scent of Armani Code cologne wafted over me.
    I almost jumped when he turned around. “O’Connell!”
    “Sanders, it’s good to see you,” he said, giving me a once-over.
    The last time we’d seen each other was when we were stationed in North Carolina.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked.
    “New job. The government sent me here.”
    He’d gotten out of the army about six months before me, but before that we’d been together in the same unit as interrogators. The black suit he wore made me think he hadn’t strayed too far from his old line of work.
    “What agency?”
    He let a smile play along his lips. “A branch of the Department of Homeland Security.”
    I wasn’t surprised. He’d often talked about getting a job that didn’t have all the military pomp and ceremony attached to it. Or the random times where the chain of command decided you had to drop whatever you were doing—no matter how important—to go outside and pick up trash. It was their way of reminding you where you stood in the scheme of things.
    “Investigation?” I lifted a brow.
    “Yes.” O’Connell nodded. “Though this one has been particularly…difficult.”
    “Don’t suppose you can tell me what it’s about?”
    “I’m actually more curious as to what you’re doing here.” His brown eyes turned suspicious. “You were one of the best interrogators I’ve ever seen and now you’re working in an herb shop?”
    “Things change.” I shrugged. “After that near-death experience with the mortar attack I decided I wanted something different for my life.”
    It had happened while I was on an assignment in the Middle East. I’d nearly died,