Dark Currents Read Online Free PDF Page B

of Macallan at the scene, so that part of their story checks out. They kept drinking after last call.”
    “Yeah, but did the bottle come from the Vanderheis’ bar?” I asked.
    “Good question.” Cody gave me an approving look, which faded quickly. “Not one I look forward to asking the bereaved parents.”
    “No,” I murmured. “I wouldn’t think so.”
    After that exchange, we worked together in silence. I took the opportunity to write up a quick report on the milkweed fairy encounter for the Pemkowet X-Files, which is where I keep records of incidents that are eldritch in nature and don’t exactly fit into the mundane criminal-justice code. That one already seemed as if it had taken place ages ago. By the time we had finished, it was nearly seven in the morning. The rumor mill was in motion and the phone had begun to ring. I felt sorry for the night clerk, and even sorrier for Patty Rogan, the day clerk coming in to replace him in an hour. It was going to be a long, unpleasant day.
    At seven o’clock sharp, the chief lumbered in to conference with us and draft an official statement for the press. He looked haggard and drawn, and I felt sorry for him, too. I wished we had something concrete to tell him, but we didn’t.
    Not yet, anyway.
    It was broad daylight when I left the station. I was tired and my eyes felt gritty. I walked the four blocks to my apartment. Most of the retail shops were still closed, but the bakery was already open, a buzz of speculation spilling through the screen door.
    Speaking of buzzing, my phone was doing just that. As soon as I closed my apartment door behind me, I fished it out of my purse. “Hi, Mom.”
    “Daisy, baby!” Her voice was strained. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Mrs. Browne said you ran out of the apartment at four in the morning.”
    I managed a tired smile. “Do you have her keeping tabs on me?”
    “She cares about you.” A gently chiding note. “A lot of people in the community do. Is this about what happened?”
    “What’s that?”
    Mom lowered her voice. “Sandra Sweddon told me a boy drowned in the river last night.”
    Thad Vanderhei’s lifeless face flashed behind my eyes, his skin blue-gray and mottled. “I can’t talk about it. But I’m fine; I promise. I just need a little sleep.”
    That made her solicitous. “Be careful, sweetheart. Take care of yourself.”
    Have I mentioned that my mom is a totally awesome person, despite having made one really bad life choice? One of the awesome parts is that she never, ever makes me feel that she regrets it.
    “I will.”
    “Come see me when you can. I’ll read the cards for you.”
    I nodded, too tired to remember she couldn’t see me. “I will. That’s a good idea, thanks.”
    “Anytime,” she said before hanging up, blowing kisses into the phone. “Love you always, Daisy, baby.”
    “Me, too.”
    I set my alarm and slept.

Five
    T wo hours later, my clock radio blared to life, shouting out tunes from a classic rock station. Not my usual choice of music, but it does the trick. I jolted into wakefulness and slapped it off, then dragged myself into the shower. The hot water invigorated me. I stood naked beneath the spray, twitching my tail back and forth in a luxuriant manner, letting the water wash me clean.
    Okay.
    Fresh jeans and a scoop-necked T-shirt, check. Cereal for breakfast, check. Call in vain for Mogwai and fill his bowl, check.
    I was meeting Cody at the station at eleven o’clock a.m. That gave me twenty minutes to run an errand.
    Plenty of time. Or, at least, it would have been if Casimir had what I needed.
    The Fabulous Casimir—I think he’d trademarked the name—was our resident head witch and the proprietor of Sisters of Selene, Pemkowet’s local occult store. He was as shrewd as he was flamboyant, and his affinity for cross-dressing had roots in a number of shamanic traditions; although, truth be told, I think he probably would have done it anyway. I’d