Free Hotter Than Helltown: An Urban Fantasy Mystery (Preternatural Affairs Book 3) by S.M. Reine

my aspis.”
    My heart sank. Not just down to my stomach, but past my gut, down beyond my knees, six feet deep in the earth below the basement.
    I’d accessed OPA files above my clearance level on a job in Reno. Apparently, this was a problem. A big problem. The kind of problem that Vice President Lucrezia de Angelis believed might require crossing me off her list—permanently. Fritz’s solution had been to take me as aspis, claim responsibility for my knowledge and behavior, and save my life.
    If the vice president already doubted my ability to become his aspis, then she was probably thinking about what she’d do about me if I failed the test, too.
    “It was Janet,” I said. “She saw Isobel. Bet she has Janet spying on us now.”
    “Then you’d better do well with the reconstruction spell,” Fritz said.
    I licked my dry lips. “Okay.”
    I could tell by his expression that Fritz was thinking pitying thoughts in my direction. Both of us knew that I wasn’t a good enough witch to be aspis to Fritz Friederling, director of the Office of Preternatural Affairs.
    But I had to be good enough, because if I wasn’t, then I would be too dangerous to keep around.
    Fritz raised his voice and addressed the forensics team. “Everyone head out. Your legally mandated fifteen-minute break is overdue. Not you, Agent Takeuchi. You and Agent Hawke need to supervise the scene.”
    Janet and her cohort, Chekov, emerged from behind the boiler. She looked annoyed. “I’m in the middle of something, sir.”
    “No, you’re not. Head upstairs to take a break.”
    Her eyes flicked between us, but she couldn’t argue with Director Friederling. Not without giving away her new hobby as vice presidential stool pigeon.
    “Yes sir,” she said.
    Fritz gave me a significant look. “Fifteen minutes, Agent Hawke.”
    Fifteen minutes to cast a spell that was beyond my skill level.
    No problem.

CHAPTER NINE

    THE BASEMENT WAS EMPTY within seconds, leaving Suzy and me alone with a mangled body.
    “Okay,” Suzy said, jerking the briefcase out of my hands. “What bullshit does Director Friederling have you doing this time? You can’t tell me he cares about legally mandated break times. We’re never going to get audited for that crap. We don’t even exist.”
    “I need to cast a reconstruction spell before everyone comes back, Suze,” I said. “I’m so fucking screwed.”
    “You’re about to take the aspis test. Reconstruction spells are included. You should already know how to do them.”
    “Yeah. I should know them.”
    “But you don’t.” She didn’t look surprised. “They’re fucking with you again. Aren’t they?” All of her cynicism, her humor, her warmth had drained from her features.
    The same case that had gotten us assigned to special investigations had led to Suzy’s incarceration in a Union detention center. They thought she’d killed someone, and she’d spent a day locked up in the desert north of Los Angeles.
    Whatever had happened in there, it had changed her. It had made her a little bit harder. And it had definitely wrecked her trust in our employer.
    I didn’t want to tell Suzy the details of what was happening with Lucrezia de Angelis. It would only endanger her, too. So I just gave her a Look. The same kind of Look I used to give my brother, Domingo, when I was begging-without-begging for him to get me out of trouble. He called it my bitch face. Domingo was kind of an asshole.
    Luckily for me, Suzy wasn’t.
    “You’re going to owe me big time for this, Cèsar. I own your balls. I’m serious.” As she spoke, liveliness returned to her features. She concealed her hard center like an Almond Joy concealing tooth-breakingly stale nuts under a delicious chocolate coating.
    “You already own my balls, Suze. You said you owned my balls for buying me a Coke from the vending machine last week. Remember?”
    “Yeah, but I really own your balls this time.” She ripped open the briefcase and looked inside.