Squad Goals

by Kate Karyus Quinn

  I sit at my desk and start picking through the massive pile of folders. Shauna, the pixie/vamp and Kit’s sister, is on the top.

  I met her when she was still just a pixie looking for her changeling brother. Shit must have hit the fan after that because they both became vamps. The two of them then went on a murder spree, which is nothing special. Half the files on my desk are murders. What made them stand out is that they killed their own kind—fellow fae. The two of them took out a fae biker gang, which is no easy feat. Some humans overheard the scuffle and the First Brood was called in to break it up. They nabbed Shauna, but Kit was just brought in. Based on his reaction when he found out she was here, now I’m wondering if she sacrificed herself so he could get away...or maybe he left her ass high and dry. It would explain her attitude.

  She has no interest in reforming. That’s why I marked her as no parole. We’re going to have to figure out something to do with the lifers. They are too dangerous to be released on the streets, but the Triumvirate and their council are reluctant to dole out the death penalty.

  I grab for another folder, this time a bear shifter named Griff. He had real potential to return to society, since for him that basically meant a den of bears in the woods. Cassie made him her poster child for reform. Then he went all, “Roar, I’m a bear,” at a party and majorly failed the test to see if he could handle being around humans. Everyone who is anyone was there, and now no one wants to see Griff get out.

  I had high hopes for Griff…his roommate, though, Tigger the tiger—that’s another story. He’s slimy and did kill some humans. But he has real potential to reform. I’ll have to ask Cassie how he’s coming along.

  “Damn it, Cassie, where are you?” I mutter.

  I grab a new file folder and stand. Time to talk to the incubus.

  He’s hot. Even without his incubus magic affecting me. He looks like a marketing ad for sex appeal. Muscular arms, a square jaw, dark hair...and perfect six-pack abs. I know this because for some reason he’s not wearing a shirt. He shakes his arms, jangling the magic cuffs.

  “Is this necessary?” he asks with a sparkling smile.

  “It’s protocol,” I tell him. He sits back, his arm muscles flexing with even such a small movement. I feel my heart flutter a little bit along with his biceps.

  I glance down at my paper so I’m not staring at his bod.

  “Name?” I ask. At least he’s not bat-shit barking mad like that vamp this morning.

  “Hottie MacStud.”

  I laugh. “You’re messing with me, right?”

  There’s no teasing grin on his face. He just looks...worn.

  “I’m an incubus. That’s my name.” He shrugs. “If it’s easier, most people call me Mac.”

  “Yes, easier,” I agree. Especially if he wants me to address him with a straight face. “And you were found...living in an elderly woman’s mansion and had not only seduced her, but both of her grown daughters...and her son?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “She offered me her home. She told me to live there as long as I wanted. I assumed that meant even after she died.” He gives me a tight smile.

  “She died of....?”

  “Completely natural causes,” he tells me, which might be true but somehow I have a feeling this woman died of a heart attack, in bed, with a smile on her face.

  “Of course. And when her kids came looking for her because she hadn’t checked in, you...made them your sex slaves? You have a fuzzy view of consent.”

  “I would never!” he huffs. “Yes, I use my incubus charms to get what I want. But I would never force anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do. It was them who suggested we all live together and they be my sister-wives...and brother-husband…” he trails off.

  “Well, using your sex magic on humans without their express consent is illegal. I see you were picked up because your place of employment was trashed and we needed to speak with you about…”

  I stop. His place of employment is a strip club. Which normally wouldn’t make me freak out, except this one is owned by my terrible shit-stain of a bio dad. ChiXXX & DiXXX, all genders and all supernatural creatures welcome.

  The room begins to close in on me.

  I suck in a breath and Mac leans forward. “Are you okay?”

  I hold up a hand to him. “Stay where you are,” I say. I grab at my chest and pull out the tablets, popping one into my mouth. I’m immediately better. My pulse evens out. My heart rate settles. And I feel like I can make eye contact with this incubus without salivating.

  I straighten. Mac eyes me. Where does he get off being judgy?

  “They’re prescription,” I say.

  He raises his eyebrows. “Sure, sweetie. Whatever gets you through the day.”

  I should be embarrassed but honestly, the pills take care of that too. “Look, maybe you killed that old lady, maybe you didn’t. But you definitely need a crash course on how to treat humans.”

  “How long is this going to take?” he asks. “My work got trashed and I know Big Daddy is gonna want me to help him decompress.”

  “Big Daddy is…” Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

  “My boss, Hermes.”

  Ew. Gross. Mac doesn’t seem to understand my aversion, and I’m not about to explain that Hermes actually is my daddy. Ew. Again. Gross.

  “He got it into his head a while back that he wanted me to start calling him Big Daddy.” Mac shrugs. “It’s not that strange.”

  If it weren’t for this pill I’d be a sweating, shaking, mess on the floor. But I can do this. “Look, usually I have a partner that takes the less violent cases and works with them to reform and release them. But she’s not here today. So, you’re not getting back to Big Nasty any time soon.”

  I pause, looking at the paperwork. It’s not terribly clear about what went on at Big Daddy’s business, just that it was trashed. “What actually happened at the club?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t even know. There were a few of Hermes’ friends, Dionysus and Pan, and an old jar thing they kept calling a box. It was very confusing, but I also had just popped some MDMA…”

  I shake my head at that last part. Getting high with Hermes and a few of his god friends is not a smart move—even for an incubus. Mac just gives me a look. “Glass houses, hot cop lady.”

  “Mavis…” I say absently. Hermes is up to something. He always is. I really don’t want to have to deal with it, though. I’m strictly a UWR employee; I’ll tell the Triumvirate and then let the gods decide how to handle it.

  “Then a vampire showed up, riding a dragon.”

  My whole body goes cold. Not even Themis’ pills can stop the panic that begins to buzz around my spine. “A dragon?”

  “Yeah, but maybe I just hallucinated that part because that does not seem likely. The dizzy blonde girl was real though, for sure. I don’t need to hallucinate a girl who’s pretty. I see those every day.”

  “Mac,” I say. I push the button under the table that lets Greg know he should listen in. If this guy knows where Cassie is, he’s gonna want to hear it. “I’m going to need you to start at the beginning.”

  “Well, this cute blonde walks up to me and tries to put her finger in my mouth…”

  5

  You’d think a waiting room for an audience with the gods would be a little nicer.

  But no, it’s just a waiting room. There are old copies of Cosmopolitan, Glamour, and Vogue littering a wobbly coffee table that has one leg shorter than the rest.

  I’m guessing that the glam mags are courtesy of Brandee Jean, one member of the Triumvirate and former Wisconsin Beauty Queen. I’m willing to bet the unbalanced table might have also come from her old house. Edie was BJ’s mentor in the fight to replace Zeus, and she said that while BJ had expensive taste, she was a good old-fashioned girl at heart.

  I just assumed that was Edie’s nice way of saying BJ is basic.

  I haven’t seen BJ since she was elevated to god status, along with
her part fae British boyfriend and Zahara, the harpy. The Triumvirate and their council have been incredibly busy trying to get humans on track with the idea of living side by side with supes. But apparently they’re learning that democracy takes time; even name-dropping Edie had only moved me up a few hours earlier in their appointment book, and the waiting room is packed.

  Maybe Themis is right about the Triumvirate not being such a great idea, after all. I mean, Zeus was definitely a massive screw up who shouldn’t have had ultimate power, but at least decisions were made quickly. Fascist but fast.

  I’ve been waiting half an hour, and the music in this room is killing me. It’s tuned into a station that keeps bouncing back and forth between top forty pop hits and country songs about lost loves, dead dogs, and parents in prison.

  Prison.

  I’m going to have to get back to UWR soon. Greg caught the tail end of Mac’s intake interview. Mostly by then Mac was musing aloud about how the belly button was the perfect-shaped object for consuming champagne.

  “You called me down here for that?” Greg asked.

  Instead of filling him in everything I now knew—none of it good—I simply smiled. “He’s an incubus. If you’re concerned about keeping Cassie’s attention away from guys who can travel above-ground, I thought you might want to pick up some tips.”

  Greg frowned at that and then cleared his throat. “You may have a point. I’m just gonna go over some follow up questions with him.”

  Maybe I should’ve just told Greg the truth. But I figured if I talked to the gods first, then I could tell Greg the bad news along with the good news of how we were gonna save everyone.

  I mean why leave him hanging at UWR with nothing to do but worry? I’ve seen Greg’s anxiety ramp up so high that he spontaneously shifts into a bat and has to “fly it off.” I don’t want to know how much wing-flapping will be involved if he finds out what’s going on with Cassie and his friends.

  I re-cross my legs, catching the attention of a guy wearing a Humans First t-shirt. He made a point when he came in to take a seat far away from the other supes waiting here with me—a minotaur with a bandage around one horn, a glitzy high-class vamp who is filing her fangs while she waits, and…a chicken-shifter. I knew they existed, but I hadn’t seen one in a long time, so when the little blonde next to me suddenly laid an egg and lost some feathers, I’d been a little taken aback.

  Apparently the expression on my face was all the human needed to decide I was on Team Homo sapiens as well. He’d been trying to make eye contact with me since he got here, but I’ve been avoiding it. He clears his throat and seems like he might be about to try conversation, when the door to the waiting room opens and a harpy enters.

  “Mavis?” she calls, scanning the room. Her eyes land on me as I stand. She smiles. “Oh, I know you. Cat-shifter, right? You work at UWR?”

  “Yup,” I say, with a strained smile. “That’s me.”

  The guy makes a weird nose in his throat when he realizes he was about to chat up a supe. I bend low as I walk past him and whisper meow right into his ear. He jumps.

  “Brings a new meaning to cat-calling, am I right?” I ask, but he doesn’t have time to string together an answer before the harpy closes the door behind us.

  We’re in a long marble hallway, much nicer than the waiting room I came from. The harpy notices my surprise.

  “Brandee Jean wanted the humans who come to petition the Triumvirate to feel comfortable, as well as the supes,” she says. “So the process is half their world, half ours.”

  “Got it,” I say, eyeing the harpy. “I’m sorry, you know me, but um, which clutch are you?”

  “Eighth clutch, Minerva,” she says, holding out one taloned wing to shake. “I took a tour of UWR and we were briefly introduced. I don’t blame you for not remembering.”

  “Wow, Zahara’s really been popping them out,” I say. But since she produces asexually and carries a clutch to term over a period of only a few days, I guess it’s easier than it sounds.

  “Oh yes,” Minerva says. “Mother has been very busy reproducing. We’ve lost many sisters recently.”

  She blows into her hands and then releases the air, some kind of harpy blessing.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and she nods.

  “It’s our duty, but as we have quickly learned, the species taxed with enforcing the law has no friends.

  I nod like I understand, but I honestly can’t get too far behind the cultural give and take of policing a world gone insane. Right now, I’ve got to focus on the fact that I’m about to tell the three gods in charge of keeping the pieces together that there’s something out there capable of throwing the entire puzzle in the trash.

  And it’s got my sister.

  “So let me get this straight,” Brandee Jean says, leaning forward in her seat. Her oversized crown tips forward with her and she has to lift a hand to straighten it. The crown isn’t meant as a display of her power, but rather BJ’s love of all things bling. “An incubus told you that Hermes had some sort of box—”

  “No,” Alaric, her boyfriend and part of the trio of co-rulers, interrupts in his haughty British accent. “They called it a box, but it was in fact a jar.”

  “Pandora’s box,” Zahara, the last of the Triumvirate, jumps into the conversation. They all have different powers that they inherited from Zeus and one of hers is super smarts. Unlike Brandee Jean, Zahara doesn’t have a crown. It would be easy to mistake her for one of her own children, except that Zahara doesn’t even have the harpy wings. Hers were burned off in an epic showdown with Hades. Luckily she can still fly without the wings; that’s yet another thing she inherited from Zeus. “Although Pandora’s box was always considered a myth.”

  “Weren’t we all?” laughs Prisha, one of the advisors for the Triumvirate.

  A wave of laughter goes through the room. I don’t join in.

  “Look,” I interrupt. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a box or a jar or a pile of pancakes. The thing we need to focus on is the portal. He kidnapped Cassie and I have no idea why. I do know that a monster came out, killed one of Hermes’ friends, and then Edie and Val jumped in and disappeared. We need to figure out where the portal goes and get my sister back. Then we can punish Hermes.”

  “They didn’t disappear,” Zahara corrects me gently.

  “What?”

  “Your sister, and her boyfriend. They went through the portal. Just like you did when you came here or when you go to work at UWR every day.”

  I swear to gods, if they don’t stop this arrogant bullshit…

  “Look,” I say, staring the Triumvirate down—which is really difficult because Zahara, like all harpies, is hard to look at. And Alaric is kind of hard not to look at. My eyes keep wanting to slide over him like melty pats of butter. Alaric inherited Zeus’s charm and virility, which means that everyone who sees him wants to bone him.

  I decide to play it safe and focus on BJ.

  “I can’t stress this enough,” I continue. “Please, think about what’s important here.”

  “And what is that?” Zahara asks, crinkling her forehead in mock confusion. “Do you want us to focus on the portal, or on your sister? Or...” Her eyes go soft and kind, like she feels bad for saying this next part, but is determined to put all her cards on the table. “Or is it about Hermes? And how anything involving him seriously disrupts your equilibrium?”

  “Why not just say ‘makes me crazy?’” I growl. “That’s what you’re thinking, right? Crazy Mavis with PTSD and daddy issues. What a mess she is.”

  “It’s not like that,” BJ protests. “We wouldn’t give you so much power at UWR if we didn’t believe in your skills and judgement. It’s just obvious you’re upset and of course some of that is because you’re worried about Edie. But the rest…”

  “I’m a multitasker. I can be worried about my sister, freaked out by reports of some weird new portal, and hate Hermes all at the same time,” I say, disliking the condescension.
“You are all freaking gods. You can think about more than one thing at a time too, right?”

  “Let’s all stay calm here,” Alaric says in this way like he means I should stay calm, but is being nice by pretending everyone else is also ready to lose their shit. He clears his throat and leans forward. “I think some clarification is needed—”

  If he asks whether it was a jar or a box—

  “All of this is based on the hearsay of an incubus, correct?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Why would he lie? He doesn’t know who I am...he didn’t even know who Edie was. He just knew he saw a dragon and a vampire.”

  “So, assuming he is telling the truth—” Zahara says.

  “Big assumption,” Prisha adds.

  “It may not even be Edie,” Zahara finishes.

  “Yes, I’m sure it was a totally different one of a kind dragon shifter with a vampire partner,” I throw back at her.

  “It does seem unlikely,” Brandee Jean agrees. I flash her a grateful look. “Which brings us back to whether or not the incubus is telling the truth…”

  I sigh. “Regardless, Edie is gone. I can’t reach her. And it’s not like her to just disap—” I glance over at Zahara. “Leave without telling me. And Cassie would never stay away from Greg for that long without sending him ESPN mess—”

  “Sorry,” I close my eyes, aware that I’m losing ground. “ESP messages. But she hasn’t been in touch, either. And we should be alarmed by that.” I open my eyes again, hoping that the gravity is getting through. “ESP messages can travel from anywhere, to anywhere. Where did Cassie go that she can’t send them anymore?”

  Or—and I can’t believe this is just now occurring to me—maybe Cassie is dead.

  A lump forms in my throat at the thought, and I see a flicker of concern on Zahara’s face as well. I know that Cassie helped keep the First Brood safe during the last battle to defeat Hades, so surely Mama Harpy is going to steer the Triumvirate in the right direction—going full-on Amber Alert on Edie and Cassie.