The hellebore fairy blanched, her skin turning a paler hue of chartreuse. “A bogle haunt lies a league yonder,” she said, pointing to the southwest.
Even if I had known how far a league was, that didn’t exactly narrow it down. “Any chance you can be more specific?”
“Yes.” Her pretty green lips curled in a smirk, revealing a glimpse of needle-sharp teeth. “There is a chance.”
My tail twitched with irritation. “Where’s this bogle haunt?” I said. “Please be as specific as possible.”
Ellie’s slight chest rose and fell in an aggrieved sigh. I knew how she felt. “The bogle’s haunt lies in the woods,” she said reluctantly. “It prowls the grounds of the abandoned encampment by night.”
“The abandoned . . . Wait, do you mean the old Presbyterian camp?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “I know not what you call it.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Is there anything else I should know? Anything you’re not telling me that would earn you a black mark in my ledger?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?” I pressed her.
Her yellow eyes flashed. “Dost thou call me a liar?”
“Hey, I’m just checking.” I spread my hands. “No offense intended. Thank you, Ellie. I’ll record the favor.”
With another sniff, she vanished.
So goes the scintillating work of conducting a paranormal investigation. Actually, it’s not that different from conducting a regular investigation, which is infinitely more tedious than it looks on TV. Lots of interviewing witnesses, sources, and informants, lots of paperwork, not a lot of chasing bad guys.
“Thanks,” I said to Sinclair. “I appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” he said. “Do you want me to go out to the camp with you?” He thumped his chest. “I’m extra . . . ouch!”
I winced. “Sorry! Does it hurt?”
Sinclair coughed. “Only when I hit myself. It’s a little tender. Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, thanks.” I shook my head. “We couldn’t go right now. Bogles only come out at night. Anyway, I’m working with Cody on this one.”
“Ah.” Something in his expression shifted. “Are you okay with that?” Damn, I didn’t think Sinclair knew about me and Cody. He gave me a wry smile. “Sorry, sistah. Jen let it slip after your night of debauchery.”
“It is what it is.” I couldn’t help an edge creeping into my voice. “What about you and Stacey?”
“What about us?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Do you actually like her?”
“Maybe. I don’t know—it’s too soon to tell.” Sinclair was silent for a moment. “I think she’s lonely, Daisy. And sometimes I am, too. I mean, I’m glad to have made some friends here, I’m glad Jen decided to rent the spare bedroom, and I’m grateful for the coven, but I’m still the new guy in town. Look, I love Pemkowet—I really do. You know I’ve always been drawn to the place. But sometimes it seems like everyone here’s known one another forever, and I’ll always be the new guy.”
“The new guy everyone likes,” I pointed out.
“The new guy who got dumped by the first girl he liked,” he said quietly. I flinched a little. “It’s okay. I understand. Our timing was lousy. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, Daisy.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“I know.” Sinclair shrugged. “What can I say? Stacey brought me cookies as a thank-you for saving her life. We got to talking. She’s got an overbearing mother,” he added. “I can relate.”
“That’s a bit of an understatement,” I said. No kidding; Amanda Brooks might be a pit bull as the head of the PVB, but Sinclair’s mom was a judge, an aspiring candidate for the Jamaican Parliament and a powerful obeah woman who’d unleashed the duppy that raised Pemkowet’s dead and nearly got Stacey Brooks killed. “And you weren’t exactly going it alone in the life-saving department.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I mentioned that to her. To be honest, I think she feels a little self-conscious about it.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say she damn well should feel self-conscious given the amount of shade she’d thrown my way over the years, but I figured there are times to take the high road, and this was probably one of them. “Just doing my job.”
Sinclair smiled, a genuine smile. “You want to come in for a cup of coffee or something?”
I shook my head. “I should head down to the station and catch up on my filing. Thanks, though.”
He walked me to my car. “Take care, Daisy.”
“You, too.” I paused. “By the way, your tattoo’s really beautiful. It’s perfect. Totally perfect.”
“Thanks.” Sinclair laid a hand over his heart; gently this time. “I think so, too.”
The rest of the day proved uneventful, with one exception. I got a call from Amanda Brooks notifying me that Daniel Dufreyne was coming to town to meet with her tomorrow morning at eleven a.m. I confirmed that I’d be there well in advance, reiterating my warning not to meet with him alone.
I left a voice mail message for Cody telling him I had an update on the Night Hag case and to prepare for an after-hours jaunt to the old Presbyterian campgrounds, and spent the afternoon filing, as well as writing up a report for the X-Files, which I logged into my ledger, along with an entry for Ellie the hellebore fairy and the favor I owed her.