Wingless (The Lia Hunter Chronicles #1)
Chapter 4

I waved to Linda, the station’s daytime receptionist as I breezed through the front doors. She returned the gesture distractedly, a scowl creasing her features as she speaks into the phone pressed against her ear.

“All I can tell you at this point in time is that the PeaceKeepers have no comments in regards to the death of Ms. Carlyle.”

It wasn’t a surprise the press were already chomping at the bit for any dirt on the latest victim. The story was a gold mine, no doubt containing three of highest items on any reporter’s checklist: Jaxai, purists, and murder.

Pulling the phone from her ear, Linda covered the mouth piece with her hand.

“He’s waiting for you in his office.” She said, returning to her conversation with a roll of her eyes. “No Bill, I’m not hiding any information.”

Giving her a thankful nod, I quickly made my way through security, tapping my foot in impatience as I waited for my bag to be x-rayed. Earl - the dick - made sure to pause the conveyer belt, scrutinizing the contents of my bag with fake concern. When my possessions were finally returned to me, I speed walked the rest of the way to Hutch’s office.

Not bothering to knock, I quietly let myself in, closing the door behind me. Hutch glanced up from his position behind the desk.

Entering the police force at an early age, Hutch had spent the majority of his years patrolling city streets, looking out for the little guy. When the peace treaty between the Jaxais and humans was put into place, a lot of people started revealing their true heritage. To the surprise of many, a great majority of the police force had alien blood running through their veins. Feeling betrayed and untrustworthy, the human cops turned on their fellow brothers in blue and things within the force turned ugly. Disgusted by the prejudice Hutch left and was one of the first to apply to the PeaceKeepers.

At fifty-five he was technically retired from active duty, much to his annoyance, but was still in great shape. I had no doubt he could still give me and every other PK a run for their money. In fact, the only signs of his aging were the deepening wrinkles in his skin and the hint of gray teasing at his copper hair.

I loved everything about him. He was the closest thing I had to a father figure.

Glancing at the clock on the wall behind me, he frowned. “You’re late.”

He was also a hard ass.

Sighing, I dropped my bag to the floor before flopping into the chair in front of the desk.

“Earl thought it would be funny to hold me up. Again.”

Smirking, he continued sorting through the huge pile of paperwork in front of him.

“Maybe if you were a little nicer to him, he wouldn’t feel the need to torment you every time you come into work.”

Offended, I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “Hey! I’m perfectly nice to him.”

Glancing up, he raised a single eyebrow. Peeved, I looked away. So what if I didn’t exactly ooze friendliness, Earl was lucky I hadn’t shot him with a silver bullet yet. Shaking my head in annoyance I focused my attention back on Hutch.

“So what case was so urgent you needed me straight away?” I asked.

Shifting in his seat, Hutch met my gaze with his usual professional stoicism, but the hint of concern I could see in his eyes had alarm bells ringing in my head.

“Since you were watching the news I assume you know the basics of what happened.”

Nodding, my mind flashed back to the picture of Sandy on my TV this morning. The brilliant smile lighting up her face.

“Well, here’s what we know so far. At five o’clock this morning a jogger was passing by the Seraphim embassy when he noticed something unusual lying on the steps of the building. Deciding to investigate, he was considerably shocked when he came upon the naked, mutilated Sandy. He called the police, and the area was quickly sectioned off.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “It wasn’t long before the first of the press began to descend.”

Hutch had a very tenuous relationship with the press. Years ago, when he was working a big case, classified information was leaked and published allowing a highly influential purist to disappear just as PKs were closing in on him. Ever since Hutch dealt with reporters only when he had no other option and made sure it was an experience they didn’t want to repeat.

“Okay, so has the family hired us to replace the killer?” I asked.

We didn’t get involved in cases like this unless we were specifically hired to. Although we were trained with the skills necessary to conduct thorough investigations, many were still leery of PKs, not trusting the impartiality we ‘supposedly’ provided. Choosing, instead, to leave either leave it up to the police or go to their Jaxai rulers for help. We were the last resort for many.

“Not exactly.” Hutch dodged. Tugging on the ends of his thick mustache, a nervous gesture I had identified years ago, he looked at me uneasily. “I wanted to talk to you before you met the clients. Make sure everything would be...okay.”

“Just spit it out, Hutch,” I said, frustrated at his uncharacteristic aversion. Sitting up straighter, he placed his hands on the desk, staring me down.

“The people who have hired us to investigate Sandy Carlyle’s death are members of Seraphim nobility.” He said crisply, watching my face for a reaction. My palms began to sweat, my stomach tightening slightly.

Despite owing half my DNA to my Seraphim father I’d never met the man. Didn’t even know his name. The fact he’d left before I was born, abandoning my mother and me, left me with more than my fair share of resentment and anger. Add to that the complicated secret of my wings and as a result, I tended to stay as far away from anything Seraphim as possible.

“How royal are we talking here?” I asked around the thickness in my throat.

“Jehiel Black.”

Fuck me.

Jehiel Black wasn’t just any royal, he was the bloody king of the Seraphim. He was young, a deceptive 25 years, only just having reached the throne in the last few years as his father passed away from supposed heart complications. He was derisively labeled the hatchling king by his enemies and unfortunately, the name had stuck. His youth did not, however, make him weak, a fact which he’d proven when he survived three assassination attempts, tracked down the perpetrators and annihilated them. All within the first two months of his reign. He was rumored to be ruthless but fair and he was everything I wanted nothing to do with. If my mother was still alive she’d be screaming at me to run away. Of course, she told me to run away from the mailman on a bad day so there wasn’t much advice to be had there.

The sound of Hutch’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “I know you don’t want anything to do with your father, so it’s up to you whether or not you want to take the case.”

Shock flowed through me. Hutch never let anyone turn down a case, no matter how much they didn’t want to do it. It’s our responsibility to protect people he’d say no matter who or what they are. The fact he was offering me the choice grabbed me by the heart, wrapping it in a warm embrace.

Closing my eyes I considered my options. I didn’t need the money, having saved the majority of my pay checks. The chances my secret would be revealed were slim but they were there nonetheless. Sandy’s picture flashed through my mind again, and I imagined how scared she must’ve been. The feelings hit too close to home, pulling me back into memories.

That’s right. Shut up and be a good little girl and we won’t kill you okay?

Clenching my jaw, I pushed away the memory opening my eyes to see a concerned Hutch watching over me. I opened my mouth to tell him I wouldn’t take the job, but Sandy’s face flashed in my mind once more and I knew I couldn’t turn down the job.

“I’ll do it.” I bit out before I could back down.

Surprise flickered across his features before he gave a firm nod. Standing he gathered up his papers.

“They’re waiting in the conference room.” He said walking around the desk. Picking up my bag, I began to follow him. Hand on the doorknob he paused, turning to face me.

“Are you sure Lia?” He asked, face drawn in apprehensive lines. I placed my hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze.

“Yes.” I lied.