"And your point is?" I taunted the Necromancer who clearly used a black magic charm given her visible age.

She cocked an eye at me. "My point, little witch, is your family is generally responsible for such crimes. Hard to believe they'd employ a troublemaker. But I guess given the emergence of Supernaturals, the police can't handle finding an exemplary individual to assist their cause," she retorted then added. "Sad."

I rolled my eyes at her explanation. "I might be a Thanatos, and possibly mad, but that doesn't mean I keep in touch with the family. We don't exactly get along."

"An outsider to your own family," Chaka commented.

"So what?" I said with a shrug. "Can't a girl live without being dragged in the dirt by her family?"

"This isn't important, we have better things to discuss," Trevor interjected.

His words left an awkward taste to the air which gave me pause. Was it a good or bad thing that Trevor ignored my family ties? But, he knew, right? The chief must have told him before he started dragging me along for his work. Interesting.

I lowered my eyelashes at him. "Then tell me Trevor, what is important?"

"Lanna," he growled then turned his attention back to Chaka. "You agreed to help us, we'll leave after you answer some questions."

She snorted, but remained bearable. "Fine, go on then, specialist."

Why am I here again? Since when did I have to deal with ancient witches dressed up as children, oh right, I've always had. Damn ancestors. I cracked my knuckles, rubbing my palms together to prepare myself.

Momentarily, I shut my eyes, spindling a strand of life energy to my mind. The two connected, sending a zap of electricity throughout my body. "Where were you last night?"

"I don't know," she said, smiling and caressing the pile of fur lounging on her lap.

No darkness surrounded her as she spoke, not a lie then. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Coming here this morning."

"When's the last time you practiced necromancy?"

She arched an eyebrow at me. "When I was still certified within my inner circle."

Still, nothing appeared—odd. The energy within her would've built up like a bubble ready to burst. There's no way she'd be talking with peace of mind right now. The pressure could kill her.

"Are you using any magic relieving or pain reducing charms?"

"A magic siphoning charm," she said while holding up a gold skinned bracelet that snaked around her wrist, the metal warping.

I eyed the distasteful accessory, only an old lady would wear something lacking in splendor. I wouldn't know if she spoke the truth unless I touched it, and then I'd lose my ability to check lies for the day—a double-edged sword. Sighing, I glanced at Trevor then back to her. "How did you feel this morning?"

She paused, whistling out a breath of air. "Tired and sore, why?"

"Oh? No reason," I said, adding a smirk and earning me a glare in return. "We're done here Trevor, she's clean, no lies at all."

I turned, sauntering towards the exit. This was good, very good. We'll see if the rest have this kind of feeling. I'm so lucky.

Moving onto the empty streets, I halted, Trevor and August finally joined me moments later. "So, where to next?"

"Not so fast," Trevor growled. "Tell us what you learned."

I put a hand to my hip, lowering my lashes at him. "Trevor, if you want something, you got to give me something first. Or else, I won't speak."

He crossed his arms, staring me down. Oh, the way those gray, stormy eyes latched onto mine; the way they bore a burning hole into my chest, how did I live before him?

"You'll get your reward later," he scolded.

I glanced at August who shrugged his shoulders. Putting my finger to his chest, I responded. "Dear, we both know, that's not what I mean."

He rubbed his forehead then moved my finger aside. With one scalding look, he turned, walking away and leaving me hanging. What did I get myself into?

"He's not going to take the bait, you know," August commented, tucking his hands behind his head, following his partner.

I skipped after him in my high heels, the sound echoing inside my hollow shell of a heart. Nearing August, I placed my hand on his shoulder, slowing him down. "Then what do you suggest, Mr. Partner In Crime."

He whispered in my ear, "Try sweet and innocent next time, or indifferent. Throw him off his high horse."

"Boring," I replied, finding his suggestions a pain.

"Maybe, but you'll never crack him that way."

"True, I guess it depends on how bad I want him." We both grinned mischievously to each other.