Crazy in the Blood (Latter-Day Olympians) Read Free

currently living carnivore.”
    I noticed the look his partner threw him, the first genuine expression from Little Wooden Boy. Okay then, so Rosen was Mulder.
    “What are you saying?” I asked.
    “I’m saying that it’s possible Circe Holland’s killer isn’t the only abnormality out there.” I so wanted to start humming the X-Files theme, but I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket with both hands. Rosen was apparently a true believer. And that made him dangerous as hell.
    “Speaking of which,” Holloway said, leaning in as if to relegate his partner to the background, “did you happen to encounter any evidence of biological terrorism during the Holland investigation?”  
    I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing I had some kind of useful power, like mind reading. Biological terrorism? Dead and dismembered bodies? What could they possibly think I knew?
    “Like what?” I asked.
    Holloway was warming to me. Really, I could tell from the dead stare.
    “Vapid doesn’t play well on you, Mizz Karacis.”
    “Possibly because I’m not playing.” Wait, that hadn’t come out quite right.
    They fired a few more questions at me before finally giving up, threatening to be in touch and showing themselves to the door. I followed so that I could throw the deadbolt behind them, then leaned against the door for good measure, still shaking, legs feeling about as supportive as Silly Bandz. But it wasn’t all the Feds’ fault, and I knew it. I hadn’t been the same since— But no, one crisis at a time. I had my hands full with this one right now. I kept hoping that if I ignored the other it would just go away.
    My first thought was to call Armani—Nick—but what in the world would I say… And could I trust that Internal Affairs wouldn’t be listening in?
    I trudged back into the living room and collapsed into a chair—to the extent it allowed anyway—to do some thinking. In a way, it was comforting to know that no human was suspected of what had been done to those bodies. The kind of carnage in those pictures…it would have taken a madman. Not that they were exactly in short supply in my world.
    The crime scene photos were gone, but my mail still sat in the center of the coffee table, taunting me as only inanimate objects can. It’s hard to win a staring contest with unwanted responsibility. It never blinks. And kick-boxing your mail was wholly unsatisfying. My cousin Tina was a whole other matter. Drop-kicking bridezilla would be a hoot and a half—only I didn’t suppose I’d ever make it back into the family’s good graces that way.  
    As if I didn’t already have enough to chew on, there was the catch that came with the wedding invitation. I had to find Uncle Christos, Tina’s godfather and my absentee mentor, so that he could give the bride away. Her own father was six feet under and therefore unavailable. Truth be told, I was starting to get a bit concerned about Christos myself. His sabbatical from the PI business had now taken on Odyssean proportions and no one had heard from him since the beginning. But as the fellow black sheep of the family—one of the few not to go the circus route—I felt compelled to support his decision to go walkabout. He was a big boy. He knew how to take care of himself. It warred with my innate nosiness not to pry, but I’d thus far given him his privacy. If I wanted back into the family fold, that was going to have to change. Yiayia’s snickerdoodles had been a bribe for me to give in to the family’s request. I wondered if the fact that I hadn’t kept them down voided the implied acceptance of having eaten them to begin with. But really… Yiayia’s snickerdoodles …what other choice had there been?
    On some level, I realized I was off on a tangent. That had been happening a lot lately. Focus was a friend I hadn’t spoken to in awhile. But I tried. The vision of those poor dead scientists gave me something to hang on to. It was hard, in fact, to look away, even in my