I stepped into the doorway, forced my expression to be calm and neutral, and held my box as though I meant to go to the filing room rather than my locker to empty out my gear. “Sir?”
“Chief Quinn will be taking you to your new station. They have need of a detective, and you were up for promotion. Empty your locker on the way out. Dismissed.”
For a woman rumored to be pregnant yet again, Chief Bailey Quinn hopped to her feet with admirable grace, although her husband beat her to the door and snagged my box, claiming it.
“Sorry for the lack of notice, Detective McMarin,” he said, and he herded me out of the captain’s office, snagging the door with his foot and easing it closed. “The commissioner dumped a huge stack of files on our desk yesterday. I was permitted to bring in one new body to help deal with it. A new hire wouldn’t work, so I inquired with Captain Frankson who would fit well in the position, can handle excessive amounts of paperwork, and has a high tolerance for bullshit, as he’s got the most robust numbers in the area. Upon reviewing your file, Bailey decided we were taking you, and as she’s willing to fight me over it, I thought it wise to cooperate. Don’t mind Captain Frankson’s temper. He’s annoyed we took his best paper pusher, and the commissioner has also decided he isn’t accepting no for an answer. First things first; unless reporters are nearby, I’m Sam or Quinn. She’s Bailey.”
Chief Bailey Quinn glared at her husband and the box he held. “If you want to put him in his place, call me Gardener. It drives him crazy.” Placing her hands on her hips, she continued to glare at her husband. “I could have carried that.”
“You could have, but you won’t.” Chief Samuel Quinn grinned. “As I’m busy carrying this box, I won’t be able to defend your saddle, which I happened to bring with me today.”
The woman bolted down the hall, hit the stairwell door at full throttle, and bounced off it before yanking it open and plunging down the steps.
My mouth dropped open, and I struggled to come up with a single thing to say.
“The kids are at their grandparents’ place today, and she is enjoying her freedom. As she’s no longer nursing, she had her first cup of coffee today since month five of her first pregnancy. This time, she gets to have coffee until month eight. This will delight her until she realizes that she’s already working on her timer before she’s cut off again. She has not had coffee in months. She’s once again forgotten cindercorns don’t appreciate the cold, which should have been her first clue she’ll be losing her coffee rights again by the end of the year. Have you ridden a horse before?”
I grimaced at the memory of being stuck with one of the force’s worst assholes of a horse during my training period. “I have basic mounted patrol training, but I was passed over for duty,” I reported.
“That’ll do. You’ll ride Bailey to the station. Maybe that’ll calm her down. I’ve a pair of goggles for you to wear, and I had a vest made for her so she’s not cop bait. She is excitable today, and cindercorns have a habit of disregarding speed limits when excited. Hell, who am I kidding? Cindercorns hate speed limits.”
I considered running away and searching for the incubus I’d rejected earlier in my shift. Testing my luck with the incubus seemed a great deal safer than riding a unicorn with a habit of breathing fire and destroying entire city blocks at her whim. “Understood, sir.”
“You’re going to be one of the ones who struggles with first names, I see. We have a rule for the newbies at the station: those who don’t use our first names get extra paperwork.”
“Are you serious?” I blurted.
“Not really, but it’s fun making the more formal cops squirm. You’ll get used to it.”
No one had warned me Mr. Chief Quinn was as crazy as his cindercorn wife. Doing my best to mask my skepticism, I replied, “If you say so, Samuel, sir.”
“I’ll take it. Let’s hurry up before Bailey creates extra trouble or breaks something in her general excitement. Had I been a little wiser this morning, I wouldn’t have reminded her she can now have coffee. It’s your first day with us, and I’m already going to have to issue you a hazard bonus for coping with my wife’s insanity. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”
All I could do was hope heaven might help me, as I doubted there was any other force in the universe capable of stopping a pregnant fire-breathing unicorn with a reputation of creating havoc wherever she went.
Chief Samuel Quinnobserved while I emptied my locker into the duffle bag I kept in the bottom, aware I ran a high risk of being let go at any time. My firearm would be returned to Captain Frankson with the promise I’d get my choice of new weapon as soon as we made it to the station. I’d also be receiving a new badge, I would have an office of my own, and I would have my choice of partner from a pool of thirty men and women being shuffled as part of their reorganization.
The reorganization, according to Mr. Chief Quinn, might be the thing that shattered his flagging sanity, although he loved the perks of working with his wife, even when she was a demoness high on her first cup of coffee in months.
Ten minutes after I started emptying my locker, returning everything belonging to the station and otherwise regretting I hadn’t taken a half day to enjoy a dalliance with an incubus, Chief Bailey Quinn pranced into the locker room, her dark head held high. Her hooves clicked on the floor, and she lashed her tail.
Up close, the cindercorn seemed a great deal less dangerous than expected, although I respected that her horn could inflict a great deal of damage. The red mottling her black coat resembled smoldering embers, and I wondered why she didn’t smoke or steam.
Snorting, she went to her husband and nuzzled his chest. He smiled and dug his fingers into her thick fur. “We’ll tack you up in the garage, and we’ll see how Detective McMarin takes to riding you. You may do one and only one teleportation test with her, so pick your test wisely.”
“Only one?” the cindercorn whined.
“Only one. The goal is to see if she’s able to handle teleportation, not break speed records getting back to work. You also need to remember that most people get sick from your teleportation, and I’d rather if you didn’t end up in the bathroom holding her hair for a few hours because you got rambunctious again.”
Heaving a sigh, the unicorn with a reputation of destroying anything that got in her way regarded me with a dark eye. “Most cops throw up when I teleport. Hope you don’t. You seem nice. Tolerant. I need nice and tolerant. Mostly tolerant. Please don’t throw up.”
Chief Samuel Quinn snickered, gave his wife a final pat, and grabbed my bag, tossing it over his shoulder before taking my box. “Bailey, why don’t you return the detective’s vest and gun? Make sure he gives you the return receipt so he can’t be a pain in my ass later. You know how annoyed I get when the captains try to claim we didn’t return the vests and firearms after stealing one of their cops.”
“Much annoyance, much whining.” The cindercorn grabbed the vest and holster in her teeth, lifted her head, and stepped with care to keep from tripping over the straps. Her husband opened the door for her.
Once she left, he said, “All right. Let’s get downstairs and start sorting through her tack while she inevitably starts an argument with Captain Frankson. And if anyone asks why I allowed my wife to cause trouble, I’m just going to ask how they expect me to stop the fire-breathing unicorn. That usually stops most of the complaints. He annoyed her. We can talk down in the garage.”
Without anything to carry except my purse, I led the way, holding the door for the chief while he wrestled with my possessions. “Thank you, sir.”
