New Order by Helen Harper

to survive; Kakos daemons munch on body parts just for the hell of it.
    I’ve never come close to one. I can confidently state that even my grandfather, who has an encyclopaedic knowledge of the triber world and has had more dealings with its different denizens than almost any other human, has never met a Kakos daemon face to face. And now Stephen Templeton, wanker extraordinaire, is telling me he’s involved with one. I don’t think he’s lying, but also I don’t think it’s true. It has to be some idiot posing as Kakos. God help whoever it is when the real daemons finally catch up with him. I desperately want to call Michael and ask him what he thinks. Of course that’s completely out of the question.
    Whoever has taken backstabbing Dahlia obviously has their reasons. There’s been no ransom demand and, while it’s true that missing persons are more likely to be rescued safe and sound if they’re discovered within the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours, she’s already been gone for several days. Perhaps I’d have more of a sense of urgency if that wasn’t the case. Regardless, I’ll look for her – and not just because of Arzo. Before I left, Stephen Templeton thrust a wad of money in my direction and begged me to continue investigating. I don’t trust him an inch ‒ let’s face it, even his own wife can’t trust him not to place his safety over hers. But the money will solve my immediate problems. I have to push away my distaste at being employed by someone who harmed a man I genuinely respect. Fortunately, for the moment, our needs converge.
    The streets are quieter now so I make good time getting back to the police station where the feather mugger is being held. There’s no parking nearby and, tempted as I am to pull up wherever I can and damn the consequences, I’m wary of getting into more trouble. I end up leaving the car a long distance away before trudging back to the station.
    The desk sergeant is a different guy. When I tell him I’m here to make a statement about the McGuire Street mugging, his face blanches. He picks up a phone and mutters something into it, then asks me to wait. It’s barely twenty seconds before a plain-clothed officer appears and directs me into an interview room.
    ‘You made a citizen’s arrest of the suspect, along with Lord Montserrat, is that correct?’
    I nod, carefully describing all the events and everything the kid said. The officer transcribes it all. His manner is distant and unfriendly but I don’t think that’s because of me or my vampire status. There’s something else going on.
    ‘Sign here,’ he instructs.
    I do as he requests, then look up. ‘Is he still here?’
    Deliberately obtuse, the officer asks, ‘Who?’
    I settle back in my chair, cock my head and don’t reply. Eventually the policeman fills the silence. ‘There was an incident.’ His eyes flick nervously to the door. ‘The suspect’s interrogation was scheduled for the following morning when the next duty officer was in. As per protocol, we checked on him every hour.’
    I’m getting an idea where this is heading. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’
    I receive a nod and my stomach sinks. He may have been a little shit but he didn’t deserve to die.
    ‘What happened?’ I keep my voice soft and unthreatening but I can feel my pulse starting to pick up.
    ‘We’re awaiting the results of the post-mortem.’
    No doubt they’ll be putting a rush job on it. It never looks good when someone dies suddenly in police custody. I’m not in the mood to wait any length of time, though.
    ‘But you have an idea,’ I probe.
    ‘We’re not releasing…’
    ‘Off the record.’
    He sighs. ‘All I know is there is a hex on the wall of his cell.’
    ‘Black or white?’
    ‘White.’
    ‘Can I see it?’
    He glances at the door again. ‘No.’
    I frown. ‘But…’
    ‘Thank you for your time.’ He stands up. ‘If you remember anything else, I’d appreciate it if you get in touch.