The Hex Files: Wicked Never Sleeps (Mysteries from the Sixth Borough Book 1) by Gina LaManna

Author:Gina LaManna [LaManna, Gina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: J.D. Robb, urban fantasy, JD Robb, dresden files
Publisher: LaManna Books
Published: 2018-06-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Councilman Blott had set up shop on the cusp of the Golden District and the Goblin Grid—close enough to the glitzy high-end shopping to appear successful, just far enough across the border into the goblin territory to be affordable.

I knocked on the front door of a sweeping Victorian mansion that had been repurposed from an old wedding dress shop into campaign headquarters for Homer Blott. The shop had closed a few years back due to the fact that no bride in her right mind ventured into the Goblin Grid for such purchases. Since then, the building had gone on and off the market as office space, a hair salon, and a shipping facility in no particular order. For the last year, it’d been back in business as campaign headquarters for the new mayoral candidate.

I greeted the front desk goblin with a smile and asked for Blott.

“Yeah,” she said, frowning. “He won’t want to talk to a cop. He’s busy with his campaign.”

“Yeah,” I drawled right back. “He doesn’t have much of a choice.”

“Maybe a different time?”

I flashed my badge. “I’m not a cop, and I’m not here to chit chat. If Blott doesn’t want to talk to me, he might not have much of a campaign left.”

The goblin stared at me with a dead expression in her eyes. Unlike so many goblins, there wasn’t the craftiness there, or the cleverness to try and fool me. She mostly just looked bored.

“Yeah,” she finally said again. “I’ll get him and see what he says, but he won’t be happy.”

“Well, I’m not happy either, so that makes two of us,” I said, taking a small step back from the desk. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait right here.”

The goblin rolled her eyes and stood, muttering under her breath. I pretended not to hear.

She returned a second later, joined by an eye roll that might’ve put a crick in her neck. “You can head upstairs to his office.”

I wrinkled my nose in an attempt at fake cuteness. “Thought you might say that.”

There were a few comments that had nothing to do with my being a cop and much to do with my being a witch—plus a few substitute letters thrown in for good measure—as I proceeded up the stairs.

It was common in most areas of Wicked to see old houses transformed into office spaces. As the borough had grown, it’d gone up in height instead of outward. The most in-demand properties were condos above Floor 375, which left the ground houses reserved for those large families who needed more space. Or, of course, for groups of young paranormals living in packs of five or six to a house because they couldn’t afford loftier spaces.

However, most houses were on some sort of historical registry, making it so the city couldn’t tear them down to build more high-rises. That left us with abandoned buildings scattered throughout Wicked, and it only made sense to fill them with businesses.

The smell of dust and paper greeted me as I climbed, my hand lightly skimming the wooden old railings along the staircase.

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