Hard Magic by Laura Anne Gilman Page B

investigate, and report our findings to all concerned, evenly and without bias. If you have an agenda, dump it on the table now. If you can’t…get out.”
    There was a short silence, and both of the Guys watched us carefully. Convinced that nobody was leaving, Venec went on. “The lonejacks will, as always, make up their minds on an individual basis—”
    Nick snorted, and Sharon almost smiled, and I sensed an inside joke I wasn’t privy to. Venec ignored them, and kept talking.
    “While not actively opposing us, the Council has formally renounced our organization. This is what we are up against: They will not demand that their members comply with any requests we make, nor will they be held by anything we discover. We have, in fact, been told that the Eastern and South Councils have refused to allow us access to…pretty much anything they can control, up to and including their members. The Midwest Council hasn’t ruled in or out yet, nor has California.”
    Midwest—which meant Chicago for all intents and purposes—was the closest to lonejacks Council ever got: they were pretty rough and ready, and seriously cranky about their independence. California? The San Diego Council never said anything before they had to. I bet a lot of them remembered the Madeline case, too.
    Stosser’s turn. “We’ve been dubbed CSI wannabes.” His pale skin flushed a little, but his voice remained steady. “It’s a fair, if unkindly meant, assessment— Cosa crimes, as committed by Cosa members, investigated by Cosa members.”
    Nick raised his hand then, as though we were back in grade school, and I swear his nose twitched. “Does that include the fatae, too?”
    Oh, good question. Nicky was a couple of steps ahead of me, damn it. I should have been on that already. Not that it was a competition…but it felt like it. First day on the job, got to prove you’re the brightest and the bestest.
    “For now…we’re focusing on the human component. The fatae have long dealt with their own problems, without asking us for help.”
    Stosser’s dry response was an understatement. The East Coast had probably the largest population of Cosa -cousins, the nonhuman magicals, but only a few of the more human-shaped breeds spent much time mixing. Manhattan was different in that regard but there was probably still the same “you to yours, we to ours” mentality that the Cosa specialized in.
    “If the fatae come to us, we will offer our services equally, without prejudice or bias. Again, if you have a problem with that…”
    Sharon shifted slightly, and Nick had a vaguely constipated look on his face, but nobody moved.
    “Shune. You have a problem?”
    Nick shook his head. “No sir.”
    Venec narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head just slightly to the left. “You sure about that?”
    “I just… I’ve never met a fatae.” Nick sounded like a scolded six-year-old. “That I know, anyway.”
    Venec laughed, maybe the first unscripted thing he’d done since we walked into the office yesterday, and my reaction was totally, overwhelmingly visceral. I could resist a hot bod, or a nice smile, or even a good line, but damn, I was a sucker for a real, rich laugh, and Benjamin Venec had one that should have been illegal. Damn.
    “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be just as jaded as everyone else in a few weeks.”
    Then he was back to hard-ass drill instructor, and I could breathe again.
    “Now you know the deal. Expect resistance, not acceptance. People won’t want to talk to you, they’re not going to help you out, and no matter how much the client says they want the truth, nobody’s going to thank you for anything, especially if you tell them something they don’t want to hear.
    “But you will be telling them the facts as discerned from the available evidence, nothing more or less, and that is your sole concern.”
    He paused, then sat on the last unused stool and set his hands flat on the white tabletop. “And now we will begin to