Hannah Jayne - Under Suspicion

Youd think by the time a guy had gained immortality, hed tire of copying his butt on the office copy machine.

Not so.

I was pulling out the third paper jam of the morningand tossing fistfuls of copies of a weird combination of butt cheek and hoofwhen Nina poked her head in, scanning the room, and asked, Is she gone?

I flopped backward and blew a few strands of my hair (done up in Clairols Red Hot) out of my eye. Who?

Nina shimmied into the copy room and straightened her vintage boat-necked Balenciaga dress. She had paired this little number with black-and-purple lace tights and those peekaboo booties that make me look like a poor lumberjack while it made supermodels (and vampires) look amazingly chic.

I guess living through two world wars and umpteen clothing revolutions would pique your fashion sense.

What do you mean, who? Mrs. Henderson. This dressNina did an elegant twirlis not only vintage, its irreplaceable. I wore it when I nabbed a bite of John Lennon. Nina batted her lashes and grinned, her small fangs pressing against her red lips.

I cocked an eyebrow and Nina blew out an exasperated sigh.

Fine. It was Ringo. So, is she gone?

Mrs. Hendersonthe Underworld Detection Agencys busybody dragon and all-around most obnoxious clientand Nina have a bit of a history together. Its one that most often leaves Nina naked and hairless, with Mrs. Henderson hiccupping smoke rings and not-so-genuine apologies.

I looked down at my watch. Oh my gosh, Im totally late. Thanks for reminding me.

I thrust the last of the hoof-and-butt Xeroxes into Ninas hands and headed to my deskhopping over the burnt-hole remains of a wizard, who had blown himself up, and looking away from Lorraine, UDAs resident witch and finance whiz. She tried to stop me by waving in front of my face a folder full of invoices, but I was able to dodge her, thanks in part to the seminar that HR held on Respecting Your Coworkers Personal Space.

I flopped into my ergonomically questionable chair and blew out a deep, comforting breath, then laced my fingers over Mrs. Hendersons files. In addition to being a fire-breathing, St. John Knitwearing dragon, Mrs. Henderson was a divorce hell-bent on squeezing her cheating ex-husband for every last dime. As our agency detected all supernatural movement within our region, Mrs. Henderson dropped in monthly for updates and especially liked it when we were prepared for her with Mr. Hs paycheck stubs and warm, fuzzy stories about his current financial woes.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Hs statements were still undisturbed in my file folder, and Mrs. Henderson was nowhere to be found.

I buzzed the reception desk and Kale answeredI could hear the murmur of the iBud she kept continually tucked in her left ear. Reception, she said, what can I do you for?

Hey, Kale, its Sophie. Did Mrs. Henderson call in? Shes almost twenty minutes late for her appointment.

I heard Kale muss some papers on the other end of the phone and then the snap of her gum. No, nothing. Are you sure she was scheduled today?

Positive. Its the fifteenth.

Ooh, alimony pickup day. Shes usually a half hour early.

Thats what I was thinking. Ill try and ring her house.

Okay. Oh!

I rapped my fingers on my desk, suddenly impatient. Yes?

Um, Kale started to stutter and drift off, and I could almost see her biting her lower lip, curling the telephone cord around her finger.

What about Vlad? I asked.

Vlad was Ninas nephewand he was a current UDA employee, leader of the San Francisco chapter of the Vampire Empowerment and Restoration Movement (VERM for short, and for annoying Vlad incessantly), and a permanent fixture on Ninas and my couch. He had the bright eyes, video game fetish, and disdain for folding clothes that most sixteen-year-olds had.

Except that he was 112.

Do you know if he is seeing anyone?

Kale had been in love with Vlad since he first blew into the citymoody, restless, and dressed like Count Chocula. The Vampire Empowerment and Restoration Movement required that its adherents stick to the classic dress code of the fearsome vampires of yesteryear (more Bela Lugosi, less Edward Cullen) and also preached a staunch code against vampire/nonvampire mixing. That left Kalea Gestalt witch of the green orderto pine relentlessly and call me on numerous occasions to ask about Vlads dating status.

No, Kale, I dont think so.

She let out a loud whoosh of relief. Thats what his Facebook status said. I just wanted to make sure. Bye, Sophie!

The hangup sounded in my ear as I pulled up Mrs. Hendersons phone number. I was in the middle of dialing when Nina stalked in, slamming the door behind her. So what did the big lizard have to say today? She needs more money for crickets?

I hung up the phone and rubbed my temples. Shes a dragon, not a lizard, and she still hasnt shown up. Thats not like her.

Nina whipped out a nail file and gave her perfectly manicured nails the once-over. Maybe she lit herself on fire. One can only hope. She snorted, her smile lingering. I want to go shopping. What do you think? Boutique in the Haight or mainstream on Market?

I frowned. Im kind of worried about Mrs. Henderson.

So send her an edible arrangement. Dont they have one with staked mice or something? Anyway, boutique or mainstream? I need your financial prowess to point me in the right retail direction.

I pulled out my calendar and flipped back a few pages. Last week I had two missed appointments.

Nina pouted. Are you doubting your popularity at UDA now? You know everyone here adores you and we dont even consider your ... issue.

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.

My issue was my breath. Not that it was bad (at least I dont think it is); it is that I have some. The Underworld Detection Agency not only caters to the demon communityproviding transfer papers, tracking paranormal activity in the city, detecting demon activity, and protecting from demonic or human threatsit is also staffed by demons.

Except for me.

Which is why there is currently a bologna and cheese sandwich wedged between two blood bags in the office fridge and why there is a constant CAUTION: WET FLOOR sign in front of the hobgoblin receiving line (hobgoblins are constantly slobbering demons and seem to have better traction than I do).

I rolled my eyes. I know no one cares about me being human. Ive been working here forever. Its the appointments. No cancellations, no phone calls, nothing. I called the last two for follow-ups and couldnt reach anyone.

Nina shrugged. Who cares?

Where do you think theyre going? Its not like there is another company out there protecting demons.

Like a demon Walmart undercutting our fees?

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Yes, Nina, Im really worried that were losing business to Walmart.

Bring it up with Dixon.

I gnawed my bottom lip. I guess I could. We do have an all-staff meeting at four.

Ninas coal black eyes went wide. I had totally forgotten about that.

Cuts into your shopping time?

No. She clapped a hand to her forehead and started a rigorous massage. Do you know how awkward thats going to be? Me and him in the same room together after what happened!

I leaned forward. What happened?

Ohmigod, you and I live together, Soph! Have you not paid any attention? Me and Dixon? she enunciated. The whole dating thing? It totally didnt end well.

Oh, right. Thats probably because it was all in your head. Nina, hes our boss. Its expected that hed call you. And asking you to collate his copies means just that. The man needs staples.

Nina narrowed her eyes. Oh, and I suppose youre going to tell me that him asking me to boot up his hard drive was completely innocent, too!