Page 60 of Filthy Fae

“In some way that would hem me in, I would guess?” Nancy asked the question with a spark of amusement in her gaze, making me think she enjoyed the thought that Jane was trying to trap her in her own words.

Obviously, this was an A, B conversation, and these two wanted me to C myself the fuck out of it.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated,” Nancy said on a sigh, all flirtation dropping from her expression. She worked her thumb under the label of her beer, absently pulling it off. “Do you know who Morte is?”

Jane nodded, her pen already scratching along her pad. “Born Joshua Bright. Age nineteen. Graduated from the local high school six months ago. Solid C student.”

“Also known as my half-brother.” Taking another swig, Nancy set down the beer. “I could do with another one of these.”

Mack took the empty bottle and headed to the truck, returning a second later with beers for the whole table. It was barely afternoon, but when he popped the cap off, I readily swigged down the cold liquid.

Nancy set down her bottle, worked her jaw back and forth, and sighed. “Morte’s a good kid. We didn’t really know each other until recently. My mom was a necromancer, but she had a lot of problems. She’d already ditched my dad and me before she had Morte, so I didn’t even know he existed until he was taken, fostered, and then adopted. His parents are great, but they made the decision not to let the kid have much contact with the fucked-up side of his rogue mage family. My father wasn’t related to Morte, and… He was complicated as well. It was what it was. But when my brother’s powers started developing…” She opened her hands.

“They came to you.”

“Of course. They were ill-equipped to deal with a fifteen-year-old who was reanimating corpses in the graveyard to impress his classmates.” Sighing, she swigged down the rest of her second beer.

Aaron slid his unopened one across the table, and Nancy immediately popped off the cap. “This will be my last. I don’t want to be telling you all too much.” She cracked a smile. “Anyway, the kid mentored under me for a while. Just to learn the ropes, so he could get his powers under control. But he and I don’t see eye to eye in the business. The kid is sweet as fuck, but he’s driven to be recognized. If I taught him something, he’d immediately post a video tutorial about it on social media and count every single view coming through.”

“I’ve watched several of those,” Jane said as she continued to write.

“You didn’t show me that,” I said.

Jane had promised to keep me updated in this investigation, but clearly updated meant something very different to her.

“I found nothing pertinent to the case on them. They were very—”

Nancy snorted. “Ridiculous.”

Jane’s lips twisted. “I was going to say dramatic.”

“Then you were going to be nice.” While peeling off the label on her new beer, Nancy said, “He wanted to impress people, and I have no more fucks to give. Eventually, he didn’t see working for my little demon business as a good fit. He went union, making his parents happy. He’d drop in once a week so I could kick his ass at videogames, and he could tell me about everything he was doing, ask advice, stuff like that.”

“So, you two were still close?” Jane asked.

“Are still close.” Nancy thumped her bottle onto the picnic table. “Morte is alive.”

“They found Morte’s DNA at the scene.” Jane trailed off, her gaze on Nancy, who was shaking her head.

“His blood. They found his blood spilled over the scene. If Morte was dead, this incubus would be loose. But it’s not. It’s bound to a task. Each day, it feeds, chases down a target to lick, and then goes into hiding and no more. If it were free, trust me, you would know it.”

“You know that it was Morte who conjured it?” Jane asked as her pen continuously scratched over the pad.

“He borrowed some supplies from me. I don’t summon demons, but my mother would do just about anything for money. When she died, her supplies came to me, and I was stupid enough to lock them under a blood spell, thinking that when I had the time and money, I’d dispose of them in a way that would prevent anyone getting ahold of them. It was like I designed the situation perfectly for Morte or something.” She swigged down the rest of her beer, and then whispered, “Damn it, now I want one more.”

Mack nodded toward the food truck. “Want me to get another?”

“No.” She pursed her lips. “If Marina knew that you gave me a second and third, she’d be pissed.”

“I already know,” a woman called from inside the food truck. “I’m not your mother, Nancy. You want to put your life and the rest of the city in danger from demons, that’s up to you.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “See, she’s pissed. All right.” She stood, climbing off the bench seat and stretching.

“Are we leaving?” Jane asked as she continued to write.

“I just need to stretch. I’m tracking the demon tonight. You probably want me to explain what happened on the night of the summoning, right? That’s why we’re here.” She stretched her arms as she continued. “Last week, Morte started asking me pointed questions about demons—all theoretical, of course, but I didn’t like them. So, I followed him to the Full Moon strip club. Morte is anything but subtle. Or observant.”

“How so?” Jane asked.