Chapter Forty-Two: Lessons on a Learning Curve

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   "This place is

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   "This place is..." Terrenel's voice drops off and I nod.
   "I know, I know," I murmur.  "It's awful, I know.  But we don't have a choice.  I need to Tread these scenes again...especially this one.  It's the one where I first picked up two distinctive signatures."
   I bypass the police tape and beckon my men forward.  "Please don't touch or disturb anything, okay."
   "It will be as you say, my beloved," Chamuel says softly.
We walk into the run down apartment and I take a deep breath.  The smell of rot and decay is still present, even after this length of time.  It's awful.  I feel a heaviness hit me.  I'm suddenly so tired.  So very tired.
You can do this my amour
   I know, Chamuel.  I'm just...I'm just...
   Afraid, I know, my beloved.  But just know that you can do this.  You are the strongest person I know.  You CAN do this.
   I'm not afraid
   It is okay to be afraid, my beloved.  It is not a weakness.  Use that fear, let it guide you, let it give you strength and push you forward and give you the motivation you need to catch these awful men.
   Okay, okay, I can do that. 
I know you can.
   "I would very much like to know what you're saying," Branuel Or De A'anuel says dryly.
   "I was just having a...moment.  But I'm okay now." I take a few more deep breaths.  "Okay, so I need you all to move back and please, please, DO NOT disturb me while I'm Treading."  After I get them all to agree, I drop my shields—one by one.  They come down, like so many dominoes dropping.  Then I pull dow my empathic walls and allow the dead access.  The Tread is sluggish, and comes slowly.  I'm assuming because it has been a while since I last Treaded this scene, plus I'd already done this once before.  I concentrate on the signatures.  Now that I knew that Branuel's nephew was the Tuatha de Danaan that we were after I didn't need to feel this signature the way I needed to feel the other one.  I let it all in, all of it.  My heart begins to race and I can feel a fine sheen of sweat sliding down my forehead.  I'm shaking when I come out of the Tread.  But...miraculously I don't feel like I need a pill.
   "That was amazing to watch, my midnight queen," Branuel Or De A'lanuel says, smiling broadly.  "There was so much power filling the room, soooo much death...it was delicious, so thick I could almost taste it all on my tongue."
   I wipe away the sweat and roll my eyes.  Of course that is what he'd focus on.  "Sick...I'd picked up sickness the first time I treaded, but I think I may have gotten it wrong..." I scrunch up my nose. And fish out my cell phone.  I push the button 1 and soon a familiar voice answers.
   "Hey Ann." Garrett's voice answer, almost hesitantly.
   Oh please, oh please, let us be okay.  "Hey Garett, listen..." I was not going to 'GO THERE,' and I was not going to ask him if he was okay.  No.  Best thing to do was to act like it was business as usual. "...listen this might now make that much sense, but I need you help on something."
   "Uh yeah, okay, sure thing."
   He sounded okay.  At least that was good.  "I need a list of the worst smack heads on the radar right now."
   "You're kidding me right?"
   "Does it sound like I'm kidding?" I snipe and then sigh.  "Sorry, that was rude."
   "Wow, YOU'RE apologizing?"
   "Yes, yes, don't get used to it," I say with a smile in my voice.  "So no, I'm not joking.  I need that list, Garrett.  Are you at the station?"
   "Yes.  But, Ann I don't have that kind of information just lying around."
   "But you can get it." There's a pregnant pause and then I hear him.
   "Hmmm—-hmmmm..."
   "What that hmmmm—hmmmm mean, Garrett?"
   "It means that I can speak to Wilson down in Narcotics and probably get it for you.  But you ARE going to tell me what this is all about, Ann.  Do you understand?" And he hangs up.
   I stare at my beeping phone shocked.
   "What is is, baby girl?" Walker asks.
   "Garrett hung up on me."
   Walker laughed.  "Good for the kid.  Probably just giving you a taste of your own medicine.  Do you know how many times you've hung up on me, baby girl?"
   "I'm not that bad," I gripe.
   "No, you're worse," he says with a laugh.

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