Free Chaos Broken by Rebekah Turner

shadows around us grew a fraction longer. ‘Where are the Grigori? Someone was obviously trying to invoke some sort of darkcraft spell.’
    Caleb’s eyes widened innocently. ‘Technically, no darkcraft was actually used. Therefore, technically, it’s not within the Grigori’s jurisdiction.’
    â€˜You sly old dog,’ I said. ‘Skirting rules like that. Not like you. If they find out you didn’t involve them in a death where a Calling Circle was found, they’ll interrogate you with hot pokers and have a Regulator unit shadow you for a month.’
    Caleb pocketed his notebook. ‘The Grigori sometimes forget they are not the law. You might say the City Watch has learned how to deal with the Grigori’s interference in its own way.’
    My eyes flicked to behind his shoulder, where Crowhurst was making let’s go gestures. ‘You mind if I leave now?’ I asked Caleb. ‘You know where I am, right?’
    â€˜Running Blackgoat Watch, I heard.’ Caleb looked more impressed than he should have. ‘You let me know if I can help with anything.’ His voice dropped. ‘I still owe you, Lora Blackgoat.’
    ***
    Abraham’s Alley was too narrow for cars or coaches, so Crowhurst parked near the entrance and we walked the rest of the way to Blackgoat Watch. The crooked alley was populated by peddlers selling the latest black-market herbs and trinkets of every description. Hustlers tried to find rubes among the hard-eyed locals and buskers flapped about in bright clothing outside the cluttered windows of pawn shops, trying to swindle a coin or two for their troubles. Gas lamps were being lit by men with cloth caps and steady hands, and crowds jostled about as the hunt for the evening meal or entertainment began.
    Blackgoat was a two-storey building halfway down the alley and a swanky new sign hung above the door, listing all the services it had to offer. Security. Personal protection. Locators. Retrieval experts. Masters of all trades. The last one, I personally thought was a stretch. Orella’s herbal store, Arcania Apothecary, sat next door and the stern-faced woman Orella had hired to look after the business stood outside the building, scrubbing the windows with a brush. I realised someone had painted a slogan there and I recognised one of the words as rising .
    â€˜Did you see who did this?’ I asked her.
    â€˜Bunch of lousy kids,’ she growled. ‘No respect for property.’
    â€˜Lora,’ Crowhurst said, a warning in his voice. ‘Don’t start getting distracted by things that don’t pay. It’s not Blackgoat’s job to fight bored teenagers.’
    â€˜Yeah, yeah.’ I opened Blackgoat’s door and a plume of black smoke engulfed us, coming from the kitchen.
    â€˜Kianna’s tits,’ I swore. Crowhurst pushed by me and sprinted to the kitchen and I hurried after him. Inside the kitchen, a frypan on the range cooker billowed flames. Cloete, the only other female Runner at Blackgoat, danced around it, her tail whipping about as she and a small crowd of Runners tried to beat out the flames with scorched tea towels. Crowhurst rushed to the pantry and grabbed a bag of flour. He pushed his way to the stove and threw the contents on the fire, dousing the flames immediately.
    â€˜Shit! Shit!’ Cloete was still hopping around the room. Being otherkin with a healthy dose of succubus blood, she sported a slinky tail and tiny horns, which were currently flushed dark.
    â€˜What are we going to eat now?’ one of the Runners complained.
    â€˜I slaved over this stupid dish for an hour, so you’re all gonna eat it,’ Cloete yelled, shaking a fist at him. I noticed for the first time the tough Runner was wearing a frilly apron.
    â€˜Here.’ Crowhurst thrust some coins into the complaining Runner’s hands. ‘Go get a pot of chilli from Sullies Hot Pot and bring it back