Sinners & Sorcerers: Four Urban Fantasy Thrillers by Scott Nicholson, Robert J. Crane, Daniel Arenson, S.M. Reine, J. R. Rain Page B

phone and texted them to Suzy with a short message: “Eduardo and Joey tried to kill me. Get to them first and find out why.” I waited for the message to go through, then handed the phone back to Stonecrow.
    “We should get rid of that,” I said. “It has a GPS tracker, too. I’ll let you decide how to trash it.”
    Stonecrow stepped out of the car and ducked. When she got back in and closed the door with a solid thump , I raised an eyebrow in her direction. She said, “Under the tire.” The corner of her mouth twitched as she surveyed me. “You look like shit.”
    I angled the rearview mirror. Yep, still hamburger-faced . “Wonder why that is.”
    “I can fix it,” Stonecrow said. “I just need some herbs.”
    Her tone wasn’t exactly friendly, but she didn’t sound pissed at me now. It was a start. And if she could heal my face? Better and better.
    The phone crunched when I pulled away.
    We rode in silence, Stonecrow only moving to turn on the air conditioning. The quiet lasted on the road back to town for about five minutes or so when she said, “So…Cèsar, right? You didn’t kill the agents back there. Because you work with them?”
    “I don’t know if they deserve killing. And that’s not something I do, anyway. But yeah, I kinda work with them—or at least I used to. I’m currently taking what you might call an unscheduled vacation from the Office of Preternatural Affairs.”
    “Why?”
    No nice way to say it. “Because I’ve been accused of murder.”
    Stonecrow leaned toward her window a few inches.
    “Oh.”
    “I didn’t do it,” I said. “That’s why I need your help. I need you to talk to the victim and find out who did kill her. It’s the only way I can clear my name.”
    She let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Tell me what happened. Tell me about her .” I gave her the short version of Erin’s story. It wasn’t much shorter than the long version. When I finished, Stonecrow was frowning more than ever. “So you…you didn’t kill this waitress?”
    Could she have tried to sound a little less skeptical?
    “No. I didn’t.”
    “And you want me to talk to her.”
    It was like we were talking in circles. “If you can do what you say you can.”
    “I can,” Stonecrow said, tapping her finger thoughtfully against her chin. “I just need to get close to her remains, preferably within touching distance. You think you can pull that off with people gunning for your head? Do you think you even want to? It’d be much safer to run.”
    “I’ve gotten this far. I can’t stop now.”
    She sighed. “Okay. Let’s go talk with Erin.”

 

12
     
    We made a stop at an herb shop then grabbed dinner at a fast food joint as the sun sank to the horizon. Dinner and magical supplies were paid for by Joey, who turned out to have a fat wallet. I left the credit cards and his fake FBI identification in the glove box. The cash was ours.
    I didn’t risk going inside the McDonald’s to order. We went through the drive-through and ate behind the security of tinted windows in the parking lot. Stonecrow looked extremely disinterested in my burgers, but she seemed okay with her chicken wrap, and she guzzled her soda in about five seconds flat.
    “So what’s your story?” I asked when I was halfway through my meal, gesturing at her. “What does the OPA want you for?”
    “They don’t tell you that in your files?”
    “Your file says that you’ve had three families complain that you’re a scam artist. But every story’s got two sides, right?”
    “Three complaints.” She snorted. “The dead don’t lie, Cèsar. That’s why people complain. They don’t like what the dead have to say to them. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
    Stonecrow wiped her fingers with one of the paper napkins. She looked around for a place to throw it out and caught sight of her dirty face in the mirror. We were both all dusty from the brawl in the desert. She used other napkins to wipe off her