by RJ Blain
“You have a tan, and you’re glowing.”
Was I? I lifted my arm and scowled at it. Sure enough, I’d developed a golden-brown tan with a faint gleam. “Oh, look. I’m shiny. Neat.”
Unless I turned into a living lightbulb, I wasn’t going to worry. The ambrosia would bleed through most containers. Indirect contact wouldn’t hurt anyone. Just to be certain, I checked the meter Kevin had left with me, set it for a close-range blanket scan, and watched the results, stifling a yawn.
It confirmed ambient ambrosia in the area and a single strong source. Had I spilled any, there would have been a second strong source detected.
“I’m concerned.”
“You encouraged Quinn to run off. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be handling dangerous substances right now.” I peeled off the gloves and set them inside the emptied tray, covered it, and set it aside. Mixing a strong batch of neutralizer spray, I spritzed the entire room and coated the tray in a layer so thick I couldn’t see inside due to the pink, glittery fluid coating it. “There. Give it ten or twenty minutes and the residual essence should be gone.”
A faint golden radiance illuminated the glass box containing the baby blankets. Oops. At least the phoenix feathers wouldn’t be affected by it; the birds loved ambrosia, and my stash might convince them to help me rather than fry me to a crisp. The sedatives might help, too, if push came to shove—and I lived long enough to trick them into eating a few along with the ambrosia capsules.
“It is rather concerning he isn’t answering his phone.”
I glared at him. “It’s just a handful of horny gorgons—including one who hates him. How bad could it be?”
“You must drive my poor grandson crazy. Your sarcasm has been refined through extensive use, I see.”
“If you hadn’t let him go wandering off, I wouldn’t need to be sarcastic, now would I? Anyway, I need a map, some chalk, and a pot of ink. After that, I’m going to need a vehicle.”
“The car and map I can understand, but why the chalk and ink?”
“You’ll see. Just trust me.”
“I’m concerned.”
Sighing, I shook my head and headed for Chief Hollands’s office. The man eyed the glass box warily. “This scaly pest has a list of things I’m going to need. If you could help him, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
“I’d stay out of the break room for twenty minutes unless you want to glow for a while.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thanks for the help.” I turned to my grandfather-in-law. “Remember: chalk, map, ink, car.”
“Would you care to elaborate what you’re going to do with all those things?”
I was beginning to understand how Quinn had become so infuriating. It had to be a part of his genetic makeup, just like his devastatingly good looks. “You’re the one who thought it was a good idea for Quinn to go to the gym. Therefore, you’re the one who has to get the things I need to find him—and that poor cop. I bet he kidnapped that poor cop sent out with him.”
“No, I suspect he suggested the young man should go home and enjoy the rest of the night with his wife. I told Chief Hollands his cop was probably influenced and to let it be.”
“Influenced? How?”
“Little Samuel is part incubus, dear. He just doesn’t draw on that part of his heritage unless necessary.”
My eyes widened. “He can do that? Without pixie dust?”
“He prefers to handle matters with his own skills rather than rely on, and I quote, ‘a cheap trick.’ He makes things more difficult on himself than necessary. If I could—”
“I don’t want to know.”
“But—”
“No.”
“If—”
“I have pixie dust, phoenix feathers, ambrosia, and sedatives. You and your snakes don’t scare me. Go ahead and continue that sentence, old man. I could be sleeping in some nice hotel room right now, but no. I have to chase my idiot husband who got the idea into his pea-sized brain he needed to handle a horny gorgon hive on his own.”
“You mean eradicate.”
I was so tempted to find out what pixie dust would do to the gorgon. “He’s not stupid enough to cheat on me. Remember, magical ball and chain? I’d know.”
“He’s also incapable of it.”
“Not stupid enough, incapable—whatever. He wouldn’t. End of story.”
“You’re very trusting.”
“You’re very lucky I’m holding phoenix feathers right now, or you’d be sporting coral snake braids, old man. Quinn’s a stubborn ass, but he’s not like that. Just help me find a damned map, ink, chalk, and a car already.”
Quinn’s grandfather sighed. “Gorgons are patriarchal.”
“Bullshit. You’re whipped by a centaur, and we both know it. You’re not dumb enough to cross her, and you’re not dumb enough to cross me, either. Do you want to know why? Please tell me you do, just so I can tell you.”
He scowled, and his snakes hissed at me. “Why?”
“You adore me because I don’t put up with your shit. Now, go fetch my things so I can find Quinn.”
“God help us all.”
“You keep saying that.”
Had I been anyone else, I would’ve been petrified. The gorgon’s magic made my eyeballs itch. He grunted, hissed at me, and stormed off. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” I called after him. See? I could be a polite, well-adjusted adult when I wanted.
Chapter Twenty-Three
An audience of two curious cops, Chief Hollands, Kevin, who turned out to be a CDC evaluator in addition to a supplier and general busybody, and my grandfather-in-law observed me open the map and spread it out over the hood of Kevin’s pickup. I pinned it in place with the vial of ink, grabbed the box of chalk, and went to work crushing it against the asphalt. Dust coated my hand in a thick layer of white.
I hated the feel of chalk on my skin.
Sighing, I glared at my filthy palm. First, I needed to find Audrey’s gorgon dust cache and destroy it. After, I would hunt Quinn down and give him a very stern reminder we would work together when insanely dangerous stuff was involved.
With a little luck of the good variety, I wouldn’t find Quinn at the cache.
How the hell was I supposed to concentrate with so many people watching me? I ground my teeth together, unstoppered the ink vial, and leveled at glare at Quinn’s grandfather. “This is almost entirely your fault.”
“Oh? Who am I sharing the blame with now?”
“My stupid husband!” I thumped my palm on the hood of Kevin’s truck, and the CDC rep winced at my rough handling of his vehicle. “Oh, lighten up. Your big manly truck isn’t going to be damaged from a little love tap like that.”
“But it’s my baby.”
“Men,” I snarled.
“Ah, I understand. This is what my beloved queen speaks of so often. Us men and our ability to infuriate the fairer sex. One day she might remember I’m not a human.”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting,” I muttered.
“You are nervous, little one. Why are you so nervous?”
I pointed at Kevin. “He’s going to take one look at this and turn me into a research subject.”
Maybe wailing over it was a little out of line, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not,” Kevin confessed.
“Don’t mind her, Kevin. She’s had a difficult few weeks, and she’s been poked and prodded enough during her evaluations. It’s fine, little one. First, you are a part of the Quinn family now, so the CDC will refrain from any invasive research. Won’t they?”
Lifting both of his hands, Kevin nodded. “Don’t look at me. I’m just the nice guy with the truck.”
“Just get on with it,” my grandfather-in-law ordered.
I sighed, placed my palm on the center of the map, and closed my eyes. The ambrosia, pixie dust, sedative, and pair of phoenix feathers en
sured I’d face trouble no matter what happened. If there was a large stash of gorgon dust, phoenix fire might be the only thing capable of destroying it without the CDC bringing out the same sort of crew required for 120 Wall Street’s demolition. Without napalm, I couldn’t do it as a unicorn—even with it, I wasn’t sure I’d try again. One napalm bender was enough for my lifetime.
No matter how I approached the situation, I could easily die trying to get rid of any substantial amount of dust.
Why did I always have to be the one making difficult choices? I didn’t want to be the one hunting down dust and destroying it, but I was doing it anyway. I clenched my teeth and concentrated on what I needed.
I needed to eliminate Audrey’s cache of gorgon dust, if it existed. If she was manufacturing it, the operation needed to be destroyed. My palm tingled, and the chalk residue slithered over my hand.
Someone gasped.
I drew in a deep breath, held it until my lungs burned and body trembled from the need for air, and exhaled in a slow, gentle sigh.
When I opened my eyes, I focused on the map. Blue flames licked at the edges and washed over my arm without burning me. While the map burned, the fire didn’t consume the paper. Some would call my magic trickery. I feared some omen lurked in the flames. The ink remained in its pot, untouched by my power.
Where I wanted to go wasn’t on the map, so I lowered my gaze to the asphalt. Pink, sparkling light illuminated the ground where the chalk had fallen and surrounded my hands in a pale nimbus. Great. I was glowing again. At least the ambrosia’s influence had worn off.
The chalk writhed on the ground in sparkling tendrils, waiting for my command.
“Go,” I ordered.
One day, I would learn how to better control my powers—or at least understand what happened and why. If my magic worked, the chalk would guide me. It slithered along the road, stretched out twenty feet, and halted. Snatching the burning map, I gave it a good shake to extinguish it and folded it up. “If you’re going, get in the truck.”
Fortunately for everyone involved, Kevin’s truck had an extended cab. I took the man’s keys, loaded the box with the phoenix feathers into the back, and got behind the wheel.
Only an idiot would join me, but I had somehow found five of them. Kevin and the three cops opted for the backseats while Quinn’s grandfather took shotgun. I cracked up laughing at the loud but brief argument over how four men would fit on a bench made for three. The two losers were Chief Hollands and his youngest cop.
“Perhaps one of you would like to stay here,” I suggested.
“No,” they snapped.
Chief Hollands ended up sitting on his cop’s lap, and I considered it a miracle I didn’t laugh in their faces. I turned around first. “Buckle up, boys.”
A chorus of curses in the back made me smile, but they obeyed.
Kevin’s truck rumbled to life, and I followed the pink, glittery glow. Since I was using a map as a focal point, my magic would hopefully acknowledge the existence of roads. Maybe one day I’d figure out why it worked.
Then again, maybe I wouldn’t. It was magic, after all.
The trail of pink, glowing chalk led me far from civilization, up a mountain, through a river, and into the woods. The ‘river’ was only a few inches deep, but that didn’t stop me from singing annoying Christmas songs to irk my passengers.
Grandma apparently lived in a stone fortress. I whistled. “Who the hell builds a three-story gothic mausoleum out in the middle of nowhere? Are those gargoyles on the roof?”
“Those are called crenelations, darling girl. And no, those would be petrified incubi and succubi.” Quinn’s grandfather sighed. “How is it my grandson discovered a wayfinder and married her without realizing what she is? How is this even possible?”
Kevin snickered. “Probably the way the CDC had no idea what she was for a decade. You’re no vanilla human, Mrs. Quinn. How naughty of you. Don’t do it again—and come in for a proper evaluation of your talents.”
I had a feeling Kevin would be added to the short list of people I actually liked. “Non-invasive evaluation?”
“We save the invasive evaluations for those with immunities.”
I narrowed my eyes and turned in my seat to glare at the man. “Remember, Kevin. I turn into a unicorn and can breathe fire.”
“I don’t believe in unicorns.”
Annoyance and amusement waged a cruel war, and I ended up cracking a grin. “When you have the seat of your pants lit on fire by an angry unicorn, remember it’s your fault for your lack of belief.”
“You’re going to be so entertaining to evaluate.”
“Any evaluations will have to wait until after she gets her extravagant honeymoon with her groom.”
“What honeymoon?” After killing the engine and pocketing the keys, I shot a glare at my grandfather-in-law. “I was unaware there was going to be a honeymoon.”
“I may have suggested little Samuel plan something nice to distract him. It kept him from attempting to kill people for not finding you faster.”
Kevin chuckled. “Still, I’m pretty impressed, Bailey. That’s the nicest piece of wayfinding magic I’ve seen in my entire life. Direct, best route, no detours, and you even used the roads efficiently. That’s something special.”
I blushed. “Really? It’s not magic. It’s a curse. We’re going to walk inside and bad things will happen. Actually, only the gorgon is coming inside with me. He’s expendable.”
In reality, he was immune to gorgon dust, but I didn’t want to risk anyone else being exposed.
“I regret my inability to petrify your tongue.”
“My life is complete. I have annoyed a gorgon king. Come on, Your Most Royal Majesty, Archambault Quinn. If you end up petrified, I won’t laugh too hard while I’m dumping neutralizer on your statue. Then again, you would make a pretty decoration. Curse you and your family’s good looks. I’m a crow stuck among peacocks. This is not fair.” I threw open the truck door, jumped out, and retrieved the phoenix feathers from the back. Tucking them under my arm, I marched towards the doors.
Quinn’s grandfather was nice enough to close the driver’s side door for me before following me. “Have you had a psychiatric evaluation yet? If you haven’t, you should have one.”
Nice. I’d been deemed insane by a member of the crazy Quinn menagerie. “Says the gorgon following me into a building contaminated with gorgon dust. I’ll laugh so hard if you end up a statue. I’ll never let you forget it. I will call you in the middle of the night, and when you answer, all you’ll hear is my laughter.”
“You left the meter in the car.”
“Don’t need one. There’s only one way to deal with this sort of problem.”
“Oh?”
“Fire. Lots and lots of fire. Phoenix fire, to be specific. You may want to stand back. Thirty feet’s a single phoenix’s blast radius. I don’t think anyone has ever tried to activate two feathers at the same time.”
I loved when people listened to me, but I wasn’t a fan of Quinn’s grandfather reaching his hand into my pocket to take the truck’s keys. “Hey!”
“I’ll move the vehicle to a safer place while you work. I’d rather not have to explain how we killed a CDC representative and three cops.”
With a light, fast stride, the gorgon returned to the truck, hopped in, and fishtailed the vehicle in his haste to get away. After a few hundred feet, the vehicle disappeared into the trees.
“Cowards,” I muttered.
As long as I held the two baby blankets, I would be protected. Part of my certification with the CDC involved handling phoenix feathers, although the feathers had been used with the living bird’s permission, on loan to the CDC for training purposes.
Most students had gotten singed. I’d been one of the few to dodge any burns. Now I could better appreciate the phoenix’s amused ‘don’t die’ since I faced the possibility of resurrecting two of its kind in one fell swoop. Since I had used my magic to lo
cate the gorgon hive, I expected to have my hands full of squirming baby birds soon.
I also expected Quinn would show up—or was already in the gorgon hive somewhere. What else could go wrong? I grimaced at the numerous possibilities. An angel could show up, or an incubus, or a succubus—or all of them.
Ah, I knew: the entirety of Quinn’s family could arrive. I sighed, shoved my shoulder into the front door, and slipped inside. An empty stone entry disappeared into darkness, and the place reeked of gorgons. Surprise, surprise. My footsteps echoed. Relying on the light from the open door behind me, I headed deeper inside.
Why hadn’t I gone to a more traditional school, earned a proper degree, and taken a job as a secretary or something else sane and safe? A few math courses would have helped; I could have determined the potential blast radius of resurrecting two phoenixes.
I should have made a pitstop for coffee on the way. Sighing, I crossed the entry to where it opened into a grand chamber, so large I couldn’t spot the far wall through the gloom. At least the fire would have plenty of places to go.
As long as I held onto the baby blankets, I wouldn’t have to worry about the flames, the heat, or asphyxiating. Setting the glass box down, I regarded the feathers inside. “Please don’t kill me, baby birds. I have a yummy treat of ambrosia in my pocket for you. Please don’t kill me, baby birds.”
All I had to do was hold onto both baby blankets, grip the feathers by their shafts, uncover the vanes, and wait. The knitted yarn would protect me as the temperature went from safe to holy shit on a stick, everything’s on fire. If I ended up with baby birds, I’d have to hold onto them for at least ten seconds until they cooled.
No problem.
I shivered, removed the bundles from their storage container, and slid the box away. When the explosion happened, the last thing I needed was molten glass shards tearing through my skin. “Please don’t kill me, baby birds. Please don’t collapse the mausoleum around my ears, either.”
What sort of idiot brought a pair of phoenixes to a gorgon fight, anyway? Oh, right. The kind who could transform into a fire-breathing unicorn and was banned from having access to napalm. I sighed at my own lunacy, prayed I wasn’t about to die, and began the nerve-wracking process of handling the blankets in the dark so I could locate the shaft and vanes of each feather without uncovering them.