Page 22 of Amber Gambler

“Every time after Armie and Josie broke up, we’d come here. Hedonism helps mend broken hearts, or so I’ve been told. Mostly the other Marys like the atmosphere.”

Folks who came here wanted to dance, to have sex, and to forget. The romance-free environment suited Matty’s relationship preferences and gave Josie a safe place to have fun without any pesky expectations.

“And you like the food.”

“Try one.” I passed him a wing, though it was lukewarm. “Then judge me.”

As soon as he got a taste, his eyebrows popped up, and he cleaned the meat to the bone.

“That’s what I thought.” I smirked at him. “Bash ought to open up his own place.”

Though, if his clan bought Armie’s old restaurant, he could do just that.

“I’ll definitely be coming back here.” He scanned the table for a menu. “And placing an order to go.”

“You’re welcome to eat with me.” I sipped my water. “We can discuss that business you mentioned.”

As he skimmed the options on the short list, he rubbed his jaw. “Sure you won’t lose your appetite?”

“I have a strong stomach.”

“I had the 514 run a background check on Farah Kent. Then I repeated the process at the SPD.”

“Okay.” I started picking apart my cold fries. “Any reason for the double entries?”

The 514 would have been collating a para crimes database since their launch, likely with help from more established entities. For him to check her records with both organizations, there must be some link I had missed between Farah and the nature of her death.

“She wasn’t human.” He passed me his phone, open to a PDF in his email. “Neither is Audrey.”

The report on Farah Kent from the 514 listed her as a quarter nixie and Audrey Collins as part Melusine.

“Her grandfather didn’t mention this to me.” I returned his phone to him. “That’s a big omission.”

A Melusine was a type of freshwater spirit with a set of bat-like wings and the lower body of a serpent. It was a detail not to be left out of a physical description when you were as desperate as him to find her.

“If she doesn’t present any traits, he might not know.”

Among the myriad arguments as to why paranormal society ought to allow humans to believe they ruled this world was simple math. They outnumbered us. Even if every single para faction banded together for a battle to overthrow humans, whichwould never happen thanks to centuries of bristling animosity with too much history to unpack, we would still lose a war. Humans also held the advantage of compatibility with an alarming number of supernatural races, making them excellent breeding stock for dwindling species.

But, if impregnating humans was all it took to stave off extinction, they would be kept in pens instead of in penthouses. The problem—biologically, not morally—was while offspring might prove plentiful with a human, children didn’t always inherit the powers or traits that would endear them to a magical parent.

A roundabout way of saying Audrey might be half Melusine but appear to be one hundred percent human.

The reason her father wasn’t in the picture could very well be he wasn’t interested in a nonmagical heir.

As for her mother, well, there was always a chance her father hadn’t disclosed his species before Audrey was conceived to protect his secret. And if she didn’t know her child claimed a supernatural lineage, she couldn’t have told her father either.

“He’s scheduled to meet me for a status report in two days. I’ll run this past him then.”

“There’s a bigger problem.”

“These days, there always is, right?”

“There are five missing persons cases open with SPD for victims who fit the profile.”

Victims.

That single word summed up the most likely outcome, its permanence metallic in my mouth.

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