by Alisa Woods
“Pennies won’t come after me as long as he thinks Zane has me squirreled away.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Mercy asked.
“I thought Zane was hiding you away from Pennies.” Nia’s glare got deadly. “Are you telling me this mobster knows exactly where you are?”
“Well… yes.” Ever grimaced.
“You said Agent LadyBoner got you free from him.” Nia’s eyes narrowed. “How exactly did that go down?”
Ever sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you. But you’re not going to like it.”
“No, I’m not.” Nia looked like she wanted to hex Ever right through the videochat.
“Zane is an incubus.”
Mercy’s brilliant blue eyes flew wide open. “For real?”
Nia’s mouth hung open. “Not in PsyOps, my ass. Regulation FBI does not have incubi!”
“Well, apparently, they do.” Ever felt a need to defend him rising in her. He did save her life, and he was protecting her now… even if she had to pose as his perpetual sex-magick feed-bag.
“He’s not… Ever, is he…” Her sister was horrified.
“No.” Ever let out a breath. “Are you serious with that? He’s not attacking me.” It felt weird to say it since he, in fact, had attacked her. She frowned. Was he using some kind of elaborate mental magick, persuading her to go along with all this? She glanced at the couch where he’d left soup and a blanket. If he’d wanted to feed off her while she was sleeping, he could have. Did he? Would she know? Then the memory of that erotic nightmare flashed up. She would know. There was no sleeping through that level of assault.
“Ever.” It was Nia, her voice calm—too calm—but her expression deadly intense. “I need you to think very clearly. Is he manipulating you with mental magick? Are you doing things you wouldn’t normally do?”
It was a reasonable question. “No,” she said firmly. “I’m fine. Zane didn’t even want me here at his apartment. I heard him on the phone trying to talk the other agents into setting up a regular safe house for me.”
“I still don’t like it.” But Nia’s voice held some doubt now.
“Me, either.” Mercy’s scowl was unrelenting. “Incubi are very rare, but they’re amazingly strong in their powers, E. You need to be careful. Like, they’re in the class of Talents that were strong even before High Magick.” Mercy’s extensive education in medical magick included a lot of the genetic history of adepts.
“Which is why he was able to save me.” The rightness of that settled her nerves. The steely control he had in the alley came back to her—she knew what it took to keep control like that. And seeing him at the FBI office and at her apartment and then his—he kept his restraint every time. It was like having a dragon as your guardian—yes, he could eat you, but he could also eat everyone else.
It was strangely reassuring not to be the most dangerous thing in the room.
Mercy looked utterly unconvinced, and Nia seemed unsure, but they weren’t objecting.
It was time to change the subject. “Were you able to find the girls from CharmCare who overdosed?”
“Yes and no.” Mercy’s brow furrowed. Ever’s middle sister was two years younger than Ever’s twenty-eight, and she had their father’s soft heart, even if that got covered up with an abundance of seriousness sometimes. “We recovered two from the morgue. One had truly died, but the other…” Her sister’s frown deepened. “Whatever was laced into the drugs she took, it wasn’t pharmacologically based. The drugs were physical—a mild stimulant and a lot of dopamine and serotonin activators—but what put the girls into a simulated death state? That was magick. I think. It took a couple spell reversers to bring the one girl—Aster—out of it. We tried the same thing on the other girl, but no luck.” Mercy winced. “She died happy if that’s any comfort.”
“Not really.” Ever frowned. “Wait, you said two?”
“Willow was gone,” Nia said. “I’m still looking into how the body of a seventeen-year-old girl can go missing from the emergency room.” She seemed pissed about that, but Ever’s heart just hurt. Willow had barely gotten her second chance after fleeing an abusive family.
“Maybe she woke up and walked out?” Ever tried.
“I don’t think so,” Mercy said. “If she was anything like the others… even after we roused Aster, she wasn’t very responsive for an hour or two. Someone would have noticed that. Not to mention they’d have to do some serious casting in the first place to make it happen. This is some powerful magick they’re splicing into the drugs, whoever’s doing this. Enough to kill for real if everything doesn’t go right. We’re talking embedded magick, E, and you know how that goes—way too many interactions in an uncontrolled environment. Depending on the wild field magick in your area, your own magick abilities, the size of dosage relative to your body…”
Ever’s degree was in business administration, not med-magick, but she knew her family’s business—and she knew that pumping magick into physical objects, much less ones you were ingesting into your body later, was an uncertain art at best. There was a reason enhancers were illegal… and why attempts at legalization had failed several times. There just wasn’t a good way to control the embedding process—or who would be on the receiving end of the magick. You couldn’t put magick in a pill and expect it not to have side effects—sometimes wildly dangerous ones.
“So these spiked drugs can kill for real,” Ever said. “And Willow’s body is missing, so whoever’s doing this now has her.”
“And our father.” Mercy’s brown eyes seemed to shine with almost-tears. “He’s older than these girls, E. If it can kill one of them…”
“Your father has the heart of a lion.” Nia was emphatic, but Ever knew it didn’t work that way.
“His magick is really strong,” Ever countered. “He’s known for his finesse and Talents in micromanipulation, but at his core, he’s one of the most powerful wizards I’ve ever known.” Ever got her strength primarily from him—the legendary Strange family magick—with her mother’s genetic history gifting her with a range of Talents. But the stronger your magick, the more unstable it could be—and the more likely you were to trip a surge of chaos magick.
Ever knew that better than anyone—her magick was stronger than any living Strange family member. Supposedly she took after great-great-grandmother and namesake Everly Strange, whose magick was legendary… and legendarily unstable.
Mercy wiped at her eyes. “It’s possible Dad’s magick could have had an unstable reaction with the simulated death spell embedded in the drugs. These girls are just charmers, and still it killed one of them. He could actually be more susceptible.”
Ever was shaking her head. “No. He’s alive. Whoever’s taking these bodies… they want them alive. I don’t know what twisted thing they want them for—I’m no FBI profiler—but the killer is returning the bodies to the FBI, mutilated. They’re playing some kind of twisted game. If Dad had been truly killed by the drugs, I don’t think his body would have gone missing.”
Nia nodded. “It’s a solid theory. Given we have almost nothing to go on.”
“What about the FBI?” Mercy asked. “What’s their theory? What are they doing to track down this madman?”
“I don’t know.” Ever wished Zane was here to give them some answers. “I’m sure they’re working the case. I’ll let you know when Agent Walker returns, if I know anything more.”
“Are you back to last names now?” Nia was teasing her, on purpose, just to lighten things up.
Ever appreciated the try. “I’m sleeping on the couch, Ni. Not that it’s any of your business.”
The humor dropped off her face. “It’s my business when your bodyguard is an incubus.”
Ever rolled her eyes. “I’ll call you when I know something.” Then she tapped the StrangeChat window closed. She stared at her laptop for a few seconds then scooped it off the table and returned to the couch. After snuggling into the blanket, she snagged the soup and spoon off the flo
or and opened her laptop again. The soup was cold—she must have slept a while—but it wasn’t too bad that way. She sipped at it and opened her browser. The world thought she was missing, so doing work would just blow her cover. Instead, she needed to learn everything she could about Chicago’s gangs, the drug supply, and what kinds of magick could fake people’s deaths.
And which spells were safest to resurrect them.
Chapter Seven
Nighttime at the rail yard could seem treacherous, even without the dangerous gang members infiltrating it. The shadows were deep and dark, and the large mechanical beasts were unforgiving if you found yourself in their way. Which made Pennies fit right in.
Drugs came into the Chicago market in the usual ways—planes, trains, and automobiles. The FBI had once busted a ring that smuggled drugs via the hold of a fishing boat. It was a billion-dollar business, and moving product was as much about logistics, financing, and control of the transportation hubs as about the violence the illicit trade always commanded. The drugs weren’t just bound for Chicago addicts—the city was a legal transportation hub for the entire country, and illegal drugs moved along the same lines as diapers, corsets, and combat boots. Seventy percent of the population of the US was within a day’s drive of the city, and six interstate highways ran through the metro area. The Port of Chicago was the nation’s largest inland port, and O’Hare was one of the busiest airports in the country. But the shining star of the illegal drug world was the rail system—every major line passed through Chicago’s numerous rail yards. The mass movement of goods had a lot of dark corners in which to tuck illegal drugs.
So Zane wasn’t surprised at all when he arrived at the Cicero yard to see Pennies with a dozen men lined up at the transfer bridge where regular cargo was off-loaded from trains and placed on trucks for transport to further distribution hubs. The surprising part was that Zane was here—this part of the operation didn’t normally require Pennies’ most terrifying enforcer.
The yard was quiet except for the distant squeal of trains down the line, starting or stopping, Zane couldn’t tell. He parked his car and hoofed up the concrete stairwell to where Pennies stood, his brother Berzerker at his side, overseeing this operation, whatever it was.
Pennies lifted his chin in approval as Zane approached. He was early. “I trust you are well energized tonight.” Pennies was wearing the same spiked-out, aggressively metal jacket from the day before.
Zane forced a tight smile. Supposedly, he’d been assaulting Ms. Strange since he’d last seen the cartel boss. “The girl has a lot to give.”
Berzerker snorted, and Zane sensed the man’s connection to the ambient wild magick crackling erratically. “I’d like to see that,” he sneered. He made a twitchy obscene motion with his hands.
Zane ignored him and said to Pennies, “I’m not done with her yet.”
Pennies waved that off. “We’ll discuss that later. I need you here.”
Zane frowned and swept a look at the men stationed on the bridge and near the tracks below. The transfer rigging was a giant claw that off-loaded cargo containers from the trains directly onto the waiting truck chassis. An empty truck was parked in the loading area, but there were no trains nearby, and the lift frame was silent.
“You need me to safeguard a shipment?” Zane asked.
Pennies smiled, and it wasn’t a pretty thing. “I need you to help me steal one.”
Zane’s eyebrows lifted, and he quickly surveyed the train yard again. The sickly yellow lights illuminated the half-dozen tracks well enough, but the shadows were encroaching nearby. And the industrial district at their backs could hide a small militia lying in wait. “This is a Midnighters shipment?” he guessed.
“Not anymore.” Berzerker grinned crookedly. It was only that morning Pennies’ other goons had shot Jankov, along with three of his lieutenants. Zane didn’t know what happened to their lookouts stationed outside the bakery, but there was zero chance their disappearance had gone unnoticed by the rest of the Midnighters gang.
“Are they expecting us here tonight?” Zane’s gaze flitted across the assembled men—they were all part of the Dziki cartel.
“Right now, they’re like a snake with its head cut off, twisting on the ground.” Pennies was obviously delighted by his weird metaphor. “But they’ll figure out what we’re after soon enough if they haven’t already.”
“So you’re expecting a fight.” Shit. Zane wanted to glean information about the spiked drugs—the ones apparently laced with death-mimicking magick—not to get further embroiled in a gang war. And it was becoming clear Zane was the ringer here. Pennies would expect him to use his Talents, and there would be no spiriting people out to be resurrected by his partner—Arrow wasn’t even on standby. He was too busy with the Resurrectionist case. Zane squinted down the track directly below them into the hazy murk. “Is this shipment worth it? What if it’s the tainted drugs?” It was dangerous to bring it up so obviously. Zane made a show of looking put out. He crossed his arms. “I was enjoying myself with the girl.”
But Pennies just chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “I promise you’ll feed well tonight, my friend.”
Fuck. But he just nodded. Pennies had avoided his question—if Zane pushed it, he’d definitely trigger suspicion.
Pennies gestured expansively to the empty train tracks. A rare, smirking smile curled his lips. What the hell was he so giddy about? “Tonight we attain what I’ve been working toward for years.” He threw a side glance at Zane. “You’re not like them, incubus. You disgust them, just as we do.” He meant adepts. Zane knew Pennies had grown up impoverished as a simple—he’d read everything in Pennies’ file—but he’d never heard the backstory from the man’s own lips. Pennies curled them and stared back down the line. “They treat us like trash. They think they own everything because they have magick in their veins. My kind used to rule this world, you know. Smart, ruthless, brutal—that used to define power before High Magick gave every fucking idiot the ability to command forces beyond their comprehension. Now people like me are on the dung heap of history.” He turned back to Zane. “Did you know my mother cleaned toilets for the adepts? They fired her for missing a speck of dust in their fucking mansions. My father was an asshole who mostly drank and beat the shit out of everyone—but when he worked, do you know what he did?”
Zane shook his head. His heart was starting to thud. Pennies was cool and calculating—Zane had never seen him this worked up. And dangerous things happened when he got worked up.
“He was a janitor!” Pennies spat. “Fucking cleaned toilets! The adepts like to track their illustrious families all the way back to the start of High Magick. So proud of their great-grandfather who sparked magick from his dick. You want to know my family history, incubus? Shit-cleaners for the magically-blessed, all of them.” He turned back to the track and stabbed a finger at it. “This track right here? This is where my father decided, drunk as fuck, to walk in front of a train rather than clean one more shitty toilet for the adepts.”
“He was a bastard,” Berzerker huffed.
Zane couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or not.
Pennies just nodded. “And now his sons are about to become kings. Right here. On the same track.” He smiled. “It’s a beautiful thing.”
“That’s right!” chimed in Berserker. His brother with the insane, uncontrollable magick. Irony wasn’t Pennies’ strong point.
He peered at Zane. “It almost feels fated, doesn’t it, incubus?”
“I’m a little concerned about hijacking a rival gang’s shipment.” Zane needed to circle back to the drugs. And what exactly Pennies expected to go down here.
He smirked. “That’s why you’re here. We need the drugs, but even more… I need Jankov’s people to accept their new boss. I trust you can persuade them it’s useless to fight.”
“But what if these drugs are the spiked ones?” Zane tried again. “Won’t that contaminate our customer base?”
&n
bsp; Pennies’ good humor faded fast. “You let me worry about that. I didn’t claw my way to controlling 100% of the drug trade in Chicago by being an idiot.” The anger was suddenly electric on Pennies’ face.
“Of course,” Zane said quickly. Shit. He blew that, bad.
His brother next to him quirked an insane smile, his fingers twitching like he was eager to let loose some of that magick he barely held onto. Zane just glared his unspoken, Bring it, asshole.
The heat of Pennies’ anger tempered his voice into hardened steel. “You haven’t been here to see it, incubus. When people all around me were lost in the drugs, the allure of the magick, I always—always—kept my head. I didn’t do that shit. You don’t let the drugs control you; you control the drugs. Money is the only true power. You control the money, you control the drugs. And the magick.”
Zane tipped his head in a show of proper respect—and Pennies was right. Zane had seen exactly that, growing up in the slums, son of a sex worker who had no magick of her own, no power. The men who controlled the drugs controlled her—and, eventually, killed her. It was why he joined the FBI—because the kind of power Pennies had, outside of the law, meant people died. And that wasn’t right.
The irony wasn’t lost on Zane that he was now Pennies’ enforcer—especially tonight. “How many should I kill to convince them to join the Dziki cartel if they wish to live?”
Pennies was all smiles again. “As few as possible. I need Jankov’s network intact.”
Zane nodded, and relief trickled through him. He could get away with almost killing a few, then letting them live. It made sense that Pennies would want Jankov’s network working for him, not a bunch of bodies he had to turn to ash and dispose of.
Running a drug ring took serious capital—each supplier had to be paid on down the line. The drugs were manufactured in tiny rural towns all over the country, usually pairing illicit crops and labs with low-paid “magick sweatshops” where people with low skills imbued magick into the drugs, turning a regular high into a magickal one. Part of why the enhancers were so ineffective was the poor quality of the magick being pumped into them. Even so, it took money to move a hundred million dollars of product through the pipeline every month. If this shipment was a decent size—which was likely, coming in on a rail car—Pennies had to seize it to keep operations running. The Midnighter’s distribution network would collapse without product. But Pennies also needed to co-opt the street sellers and dealers to keep it moving. He’d already executed the top-level bosses. Now, apparently, he would use Zane to convince the next few levels they had a new boss—one not worth fighting. Then they could all get back to the business of peddling enhancers… and Pennies’ grip on the city’s enhancer market would be solidified.