Shadow Burns: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Preternatural Affairs Book 4) by S.M. Reine Read Free Book Online Page A

hadn’t thought of a way to recycle them yet. The OPA wouldn’t be happy if I threw proprietary technology out with the rest of the trash.
    “Yeah, I think that’s the last of them,” Suzy said. “What’s that?”
    I was still holding the invitation to the memorial. I’d completely forgotten about it once I’d been distracted by the happy valley between my partner’s legs.
    “See for yourself.” I shoved it at her and then occupied myself with stirring my potion. Just a couple of smooth, slow turns to keep it from sticking to the side of the pot.
    She read it, then crumpled the invitation in her fist. “Fuck them.” She hurled it at the trash and missed. “They’re fucking with you. That’s all it could mean.”
    “Or they want money.” They’d have to get it somewhere else. My government salary was barely enough to keep my shitty apartment stocked with all these books I had no time to read, much less pay off grieving families. “Did you get one?”
    “I haven’t been home. I don’t know.” She flopped onto my couch. One of the precarious stacks of paperwork slid onto her lap, and Suzy shoved it onto the floor.
    “Seems weird. Group funeral at the place everyone was murdered.” I gave the potion another stir. It was almost done. “Maybe I’ll go.” I hadn’t even given the idea consideration before the words came out of my mouth, but as soon as I said it, I knew it was right.
    “I’ve heard some pretty bad ideas before, Cèsar, but that’s got to take the cake. It’s our fault those people are dead. Whatever reason they want us there, it’s going to suck all kinds of pickled eggs.” She ticked the options off on her fingers one at a time. “They might want something from you, like you said. If not money, then information.” Another tick. “Or they’ll want to cry all over you, which is awkward as hell.” Yet another finger. “Or it’s a trap.”
    I barked a laugh. “A trap at a retirement home?”
    “You never know. Could be that someone’s grandson has Mafia connections and wants to bash your skull in for letting Gramps die.”
    Seemed pretty doubtful, but Suzy painted a convincing picture.
    She was right—going to that funeral could only lead to bad shit.
    The families weren’t the only ones who wanted information, though.
    Something weird was going on outside Mojave. Really goddamn weird. And it hadn’t ended with all those deaths, either. The ritual space in the basement had vanished after the fact, so somebody was actively attempting to obfuscate the evidence.
    There were going to be a dozen corpses’ worth of information on display at that memorial, and I happened to know a death witch who could talk to them.
    I ladled most of the sleeping potion into a couple of Thermoses. Enough to keep Suzy going for another week.
    The rest of it landed in my favorite mug. The side featured an empty transporter from the original Star Trek series. Once it was filled with hot fluid, the away team beamed in as the graphic heated up. Coolest mug ever, and I was sharing it with Suzy. Lucky lady.
    She took the mug and cringed at the smell. “We have got to work on the palatability of your potions.”
    “What are you talking about? I only serve the finest gourmet vomit-sludge at Chez Hawke.” I sat on the lazy chair with my own mug. I was having tea, not sleeping juice.
    Suzy would spend the night on my couch while I monitored her reaction to the potion. Sleeping draughts were touchy things. If I didn’t occasionally check on the dose, she might drop into a sleep too deep to rouse from. We’d been having sleepovers once a month so that I could make sure I wasn’t going to accidentally kill my partner.
    So far, so good. She was still alive and snarking.
    She didn’t take a drink yet. “Don’t go to that memorial, Cèsar.”
    “I can go armed in case the grandson Mafioso makes an appearance.”
    “I’m serious,” Suzy said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about that place. Can’t