Angel: Private Eye Book One Read Online Free Page B

I’ll get her. It will give me a chance to
size her up.”
    Cortez froze halfway through tugging his
jacket on, brow crumpling to a thin line over his dark eyes. “What
does that mean? What the hell is she, anyway?”
    “Oh, Hell is only one possibility, Detective
Cortez. But there are many others,” William said cryptically as he
stopped himself from giving the vial of Miss Luck’s blood one last
longing look.
    “What the heck does that mean?”
    “That it’s time I find out what race Miss
Luck comes from.” With that, Benson turned on his foot, a flicker
of something igniting in his gut.
    It was a sensation he hadn’t felt for years.
Interest. Curiosity.
    The feeling that something was about to
begin. He curled his lips and savored the sensation as he strode
forward, Italian loafers beating a solid drumbeat on the
linoleum.

Chapter 4
    I sat there, still shaking. Though they'd
given me something for the blood loss and shock, it wasn't
working.
    I was in the cells now, pressed right up as
far as I could get along one of the rickety metal seats. The cell
was filled with other perps who'd been dragged in that night. Real
criminals, if my innocent little mind was any judge. One looked
like a body witch – a sorceress who could spell herself into
looking like anyone or anything for your pleasure. Or torture –
depending on who paid her.
    My skin crawled the way she looked at me. As
if she was sizing up my measurements, remembering them in case
anyone was stupid enough to ever ask for a 5’3 mouse with blond
stringy hair and a figure like a toothpick.
    There was a sullen warlock pacing from one
end of the room to the other, his arms clasped tightly around his
well-built, muscular body. There were flecks of what looked like
either dried blood or blood red paint under his nails. Or both.
Unlike the vampires, it would be harder for the warlocks to source
the material they needed for their spells. I'd always heard that
certain enchantments that required pure blood could be thinned down
with red pigment. Though the results were rarely the same, unless
you were brewing spells for someone with the nous and balls to
complain to a warlock, that didn't matter. It was a little like
powerful drug lords cutting down their cocaine with powdered
sugar.
    There were two other inhabitants of the
cell. But I couldn't even begin to guess what they were, let alone
what crime had dragged them in here.
    They huddled together standing up in one
corner, their backs pressed against the wall. They were both
wearing dark hoods that covered everything apart from their sallow
yellow skinned hands.
    At first glance, they looked terrified –
just as I was – of everyone else in here.
    At second glance, if you locked your
attention on the faint shapes of their necks and shoulders, you
could see the points of bone beneath the fabric. Demon spellers, if
I was any judge. And let's face it – I wasn't. A vampire had died
of an overdose after biting me, and I had no idea what had
happened.
    Just as my stomach began to tie itself into
a painfully tight knot of fear, I heard footsteps. Low, determined,
heading our way. They echoed out with the unmistakable squeak and
shudder of leather over cracked concrete.
    Almost as one, everyone in the cell turned
to face the bars as someone walked into view. I imagined we all
hoped it would be our ticket out of here.
    As I was pressed up against the corner of
the wall, I couldn't quite see past the pacing warlock and the body
witch. I could see enough, however, to note their exact expressions
as someone finally stopped in front of the bars. If they’d looked
hopeful before, now they looked crushed. It was as if somebody had
kicked in their faces until the only expression they would ever
show again was total and complete fear.
    Though it was probably smarter to stay
exactly where I was, curiosity got the better of me.
    I pushed to my feet and arched my neck to
the left, just as a man purposefully took a step to the