Page 29 of Shaken Knot Stirred

Ah, why.

He had worked for my brother long enough to know not to ask those kinds of questions. But he didn’t know me, and it was an odd job. The problem was, I didn’t know the answer.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I came into her life, and somehow I feel like I failed her. And her not being safe.” I paused for the right word. I had been questioning this since I’d reached out to Houston. I couldn’t shake Moxie out of my head.

“She’s in trouble, and I can’t get past it.”

He considered this for a long time. I spun the coffee cup in little circles on the table. The texture was dry on my fingertips. Pay would be disgusted with me. Fidgeting was a sign of weakness. Finally, I passed whatever test Houston leveled at me,and he pulled a folded manila envelope out of the inside pocket of his sports coat, handing it to me.

I flattened out the creases in the stack of papers, spreading them across the tiny table. A B.O.W. report stamped “Confidential” was on top.

“The Bureau of Omega Welfare? What am I looking at here?”

With a fingertip, Houston teased out a photocopy of a news article. The headline read: “Two Dead at Wellness Clinic. Arson Suspected.”

“At 14, Moxie Scheele was found unconscious outside of a burned-out strip mall. Two bodies were found inside. She was taken into B.O.W. custody.” He said in a neutral tone.

“That doesn’t make sense. First, Moxie is a beta. Second, the B.O.W. only deals with omegas. 14 is too young to perfume. The only people who know their designation at birth are…”

“Auracles.” He nudged a document forward from the stack.

A younger, gaunt Moxie stared back at me. Her hair was so long it disappeared out of the head and shoulder frame. It was messy. She had smudges of dirt on her face. Her cheekbones jutted out like they were screaming for attention. Her colorless hair made the blue circles under her eyes more dramatic.

I touched the outline of her hair like that would make this make sense. An auracle?

“It’s noted on her intake form,” Houston tapped the report in the right spot, “but it was a home birth so her potential as an auracle was never noted on any government papers.”

I scanned the document. “Suspected neglect and abuse” jumped out at me. Ice ran through my veins. I tore through the stack, looking for the rest of the report. Houston gave me another one of those piercing looks, like he was peeling back layers of my soul.

“That’s just the cover page,” he said. “I don’t think looking at the rest of the report would be… productive.”

“What does it say?” I asked.

“The initial caseworker couldn’t make a determination about physical abuse. Or other kinds of abuse. There were signs of neglect. She was severely underweight when taken into custody. She refused to talk about her experience and her therapist could not determine if that was due to trauma and PTSD, or stubbornness.”

I traced the outline of her face with my fingertips. “That tracks,” I said. Hard to believe anyone, even a government official, could make Moxie do something she didn’t want to do.

“So her parents were dead, and she was taken into foster care?”

“Not exactly. Technically, the arson is still an open case. The identities of the bodies found at the scene couldn’t be verified. Her parents were under investigation by the Port Haven Police Department for fraud. They were apparently running a sham wellness center promising all sorts of treatments and cures for aura damage.”

My eyes danced all over the page, but my vision was dimming at the edges, overpowered by a steely anger and growing terror.

“She was housed at one of the B.O.W.’s health facilities. It was a rare opportunity to study in omega before she perfumed. They set her up with living quarters and a tutor. She completed her high school education in under a year, which is fascinating. And then she disappeared.”

“What do you mean, she disappeared? How does the B.O.W. lose a child?”

Houston gave a wry smile that was pretty close to respect.

“She’s a con artist.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“She’s an auracle, right? So she can read your emotions that telegraph through your aura. All alphas and omegas can manipulate their auras and pack bonds to a certain extent. Mostdo it by instinct. But you can hone that skill just like playing the piano or doing long division in your head. Her aptitude and her intelligence were off the charts. Imagine what you could do if you were that smart and knew exactly what someone was feeling.”

“You’re implying she’s a criminal.”

Houston shrugged. “The fraud investigation focused on a young omega. People would come to her with aura damage, asking for predictions, seeing who was cheating on their packs. There were a lot of complaints. And you just don’t disappear and leave no paper trail if you’re on the up and up.”

---