Banshee Charmer (Files from the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency, #1) by Tiffany Allee

info for me?”
    “Not much. Just that we can’t find anyone staying at hotels near Sylvester’s that matches what we’re looking for. No one who’s been there for several weeks. No one acting suspiciously.”
    The elevator dinged. “Look, let’s talk later. I gotta go.”
    The fourteenth floor was as nicely decorated as the first, with matching sconces on the walls and the same dark and light green carpets swirled together to form geometric designs. But this floor lacked the scent of new paint. Instead, it smelled of upholstery and carpet and computers—like most offices.
    As the receptionist said, the etched glass door at the end of the hallway had Natalie Leigh’s name inscribed on it, with one word below her name to denote her occupation.
    Witch.
    I opened the door and slipped through. I expected to see another receptionist, but there was only a waiting room equipped with padded chairs and small stands holding old People and Time magazines.
    The door at the other end of the room stood open, and as I took a step toward it, a voice called out.
    “Come in, Detective.”
    The woman behind the cherry desk didn’t look like a formidable witch. She especially didn’t look worth the undoubtedly astounding rate she charged the police department for her services.
    Witches—real witches—weren’t cheap.
    Not that Amanda hadn’t been a real witch. She could hold her own. But amateur witches like Amanda were self-taught. Covenant witches were trained since birth, pledged to their particular branch of magic, and raised from bloodlines that could be traced back into prehistory. They were as inhuman as I was—or more.
    The witch’s short, dark hair gave her a tomboyish appearance, but her face was pretty and heart-shaped, delicate. No one would mistake her for a man, even if her frame hadn’t been so slight. Her light green eyes stood out in stark contrast to her dark hair and golden skin, making her gaze almost startling. She stood behind the desk and held out her hand to me. As we shook, I took in the rest of her. She stood even shorter than me—maybe five feet tall—and she wore an expensive-looking green blouse and black slacks. The blouse, I noticed, matched her eyes. Not to mention the carpet.
    “I’m Natalie Leigh. Please call me Natalie. Detective, how can I help the police department today?” Her voice was soft and lilting. I would have bet the witch could sing.
    “I’m Detective Kiera McLoughlin. I need your help finding a killer.”
    She narrowed her eyes. Cute or no, the witch was no fool. “I haven’t received any paperwork. No notification you were coming.” She grinned, and the expression was almost feral. “No check.”
    I gritted my teeth and concentrated on not pulling my gun. “Well, you wouldn’t have. I’m hiring you myself, outside of the department.” I hesitated, but something told me that she would know if I lied. “My partner was recently killed, and I’ve been taken off the case. The PD won’t hire you except as a last resort, because you’re too damn expensive. Her killer may be gone by then.”
    Natalie leaned back in her chair and watched me. I stifled the urge to tap my foot or play with my fingernails, or something equally annoying, and watched her right back.
    “As you said, Detective, I’m damn expensive. And locator spells are particularly pricey.” She waved a hand in the air. “Rare ingredients, you understand. You are prepared to pay my fee?”
    “Yes,” I said through my clenched jaw.
    “Fine, I think you’re good for it. Did you bring something of the victim’s? Or even better, an item belonging to the killer?”
    I snorted. “Yeah, like I’d be coming to your expensive ass if I had something of his.”
    Natalie laughed, a musical sound, and only the knowledge of how much she was going to deplete my savings account dispelled her charm. Locator spells were much easier if you had an item owned by the person you searched for. Any amateur witch would have