Deadly Spells

by Jaye Wells

  “A committee,” I snorted. “How about raising cops’ salaries so they don’t have to worry about paying their rent while fighting your war on dirty magic?”

  “Huh?” Danny said, looking up from his game.

  I shook my head and punched the Off button. Instead of listening to a man I didn’t like, and sure as hell didn’t trust, I needed to get to work.

  However, before I could escape to grab a shower, Baba shuffled into the kitchen. My septuagenarian roommate used a purple cane decorated with yellow crescent moons as a walking aid. She wore black leggings, white tennis shoes, and an oversized T-shirt with three howling wolves and a full moon emblazoned across her chest. Her gray hair was pulled back into a long ponytail.

  “Help me, will ya?” she groused instead of saying hello.

  Danny rushed forward to take the bag from her free hand and pulled out a chair for her at the table.

  “Morning,” I said. “Coffee?”

  She waved a hand. “Tea. You know coffee gives me the runs.”

  I scrunched up my nose and put on the kettle. “What’s in the bag?” I warmed up my own coffee and leaned against the counter.

  She frowned, as if she’d forgotten she’d brought a bag in with her. “Oh!” Her face cleared. “Some stuff for my new job.”

  “Since when do you have a job?”

  “What? I do things,” she said. When I just stared at her, she finally relented. “Okay, it’s a volunteer thing, but it’s still work.”

  “That’s great, Baba.”

  Lately, I’d noticed her age catching up with her. Baba used to spend most of her time at the Babylon Senior Center, flirting with the silver foxes, playing bingo, and participating in a smutty book club. But lately she’d been sticking closer to home. By that I mean, butting into our business more than usual. Her having something new to do might mean I’d get a little less grief from the meddling witch about my own lack of a personal life.

  She opened the zip-top bag and handed an item from inside to Danny.

  “Cool,” Danny said in a halting tone. I leaned over to see what was in his hand. It was a glittery unicorn sticker.

  “Kids love stickers!” Baba exclaimed.

  “Baba?” I said carefully. “Where exactly are you volunteering?”

  She shifted in her chair to look at me. “The Babylon Community Center. You remember—it’s the place Mayor Volos opened last fall?”

  I choked on my coffee.

  Baba tilted her head and threw a dish towel at me to mop the coffee stains off my shirt. “Careful,” she said.

  “Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “How—why?”

  She sat up straighter. “The mayor himself called me.”

  My eyes narrowed. “John Volos called you?” And she hadn’t mentioned it to me before now? Something smelled rotten in that kitchen, and it wasn’t just the trash Danny had forgotten to take out.

  “There’s some new pilot program that pairs seniors up with at-risk youth.” She beamed. “John said he thought of me immediately.”

  “Hmm.” Better to make noncommittal noises than to speak my mind on the subject of Volos. “And you didn’t mention this why?”

  Her gaze skittered toward the kettle. “That’s ready.” A split second later the pot’s high-pitched whistle cut through the air. I turned to take it off the stove but didn’t let the task distract me. “You were saying?”

  “I thought I’d told you.” She shrugged. “Guess my memory ain’t what it used to be.”

  “Uh-huh.” I wanted to call her on her lie. Baba might be old, but her memory was just fine.

  I poured hot water over the special tea bag she’d made from herbs she’d grown in her old garden. The new neighbors had ripped out the garden almost immediately after moving in, but we had plans to plant a new one in my backyard once spring officially sprang.

  A horn beeped from the street. I glanced out the window. My best friend waved back from inside her car. “Pen’s here,” I said to Danny. Since she was the counselor for the school Danny attended, she normally drove him in the mornings.

  He jumped out of his seat and gathered his backpack. “Don’t forget to come today,” he called as he ran out the door.

  I pressed my lips together and dunked the tea bag with increasing force. “I would have remembered,” I muttered to myself.

  “Huh?” Baba asked. When I shook my head, she waved an arthritic hand, dismissing the topic. “Anyway, I was hoping you could take me.”

  “Where?” I looked up from stirring the bag three times counterclockwise.

  “The community center,” she enunciated. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you need some of my special tea.”

  “Uh, no thanks.”

  Even though I’d relaxed the total ban on magic in my house, I was terrified of Baba’s concoctions. She liked to give them names that reflected their uses, like Lose Dat Ass Tea or, even more disturbing, Sexy Juice. Call me crazy, but I preferred not to ingest sex teas brewed by senior citizens.

  Plus I didn’t trust Mundane magic, as a rule. Most of it was just intention and flashy rituals instead of the actual transformative magic that Adepts were trained to use. If all that wasn’t enough to convince me, she also often used herbs that caused decidedly nonmagical side effects, such as painful cramping or explosive diarrhea.

  “Do you think you could give me a ride?” she asked. “It’s on your way into the office.”

  “What—today?” I set her cup of tea next to her hand.

  “Thanks.” She nodded. “Yeah, this morning.”

  “Why not take your car?”

  She shifted uneasily in her chair and looked away. “I’m running low on gas.”

  Something in her posture and tone set off an alert in my gut. Baba had only lived with us for about a month, but in that short time I’d become painfully aware of how dire her financial situation had become. When her husband died, she’d been left with Social Security and modest savings as her only income. But with rents on the rise as our neighborhood got more gentrified and the cost of food and medication going up, she simply hadn’t been able to keep up.

  Having her move in had been a mutually beneficial situation. She didn’t have to pay me rent because she did so much to help me with Danny. But I was starting to worry about what would happen when her health deteriorated to the point where herbal remedies and kitchen witchery couldn’t cut it anymore.

  “How will you get home, though?” I asked. “I’m probably going to be out of reach most of the day.”

  She waved a hand. “I’ll either get one of the other volunteers to drop me or I’ll grab the bus.”

  She could have taken the bus there this morning, too, but I didn’t point that out. For some reason she thought she needed me to take her. It would only add a couple of minutes to my commute, and, frankly, I found it hard to deny Baba most favors. Besides, this way I could check out the facilities and make sure she’d be safe there. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll grab a shower and then we can head out.”

  Chapter Five

  An hour later I pulled my run-down Jeep, Sybil, up to the curb outside the Babylon Community Center. The two-story brick building stood on what used to be an empty lot. Just behind the building, concrete sealed the old entrance to Babylon’s abandoned subway tunnels. The Arteries, as they’d been called, used to be ruled by the Sanguinarian Coven. The space used to be a maze filled with potion freaks looking to get high off magic, but now they were empty tombs haunted by the ghosts of blood-magic fiends.

  The new community center blocked any view of the old entrance to the Arteries. The building’s design was clean and modern—a sculpture of steel and glass. The sign in front read: DEDICATED TO THE CHILDREN OF THE CAULDRON. Beneath that line was a list of benefactors, the first of which was John Volos.

  If the tunnels had once been a symbol of Babylon’s downfall, the community center—and by association its founder, John Volos—were being touted as a beacon of the city’s bright future.
/>   Inside, the lobby held a visitors’ check-in desk and a seating area. Kids’ toys were piled into plastic bins, and colorful artwork decorated the walls. Farther into the facility there were basketball courts and classrooms, where arts-and-craft classes were offered.

  “I need to check in,” Baba said.

  I helped her toward the desk, where a friendly woman handed her a clipboard with paperwork attached. As soon as Baba bent her head to fill out the forms, I started to tell her I would leave her to it, but a gust of wind from the front door grabbed my attention. I turned to see who had just entered and froze.

  In the doorway, wearing a black trench coat like any respectable villain, was Mayor John Volos.

  He was speaking to an Asian woman who looked vaguely familiar, but I was too busy trying to figure out how to slip away without him seeing me.

  “Hey, it’s John,” Baba said. I closed my eyes and cursed. “Yoo-hoo—Mr. Mayor!”

  I opened my lids. “Thanks, Baba.”

  “What?” she muttered.

  Volos looked up midsentence. The instant his gaze landed on me, his words dried up. I raised my chin. I’d be damned if I was going to cower like a rodent trying to avoid a predator’s attention.

  His head tilted, as if he, too, couldn’t believe we were running into each other in this of all places. The woman next to him perked up and said something to the cameraman who’d followed her and Volos into the building. That’s when I realized where I’d seen the woman before: on the evening news.

  Volos started toward me with determined strides. The journalist and cameraman followed hot on his heels.

  “Kate, what an unexpected and pleasant surprise.” Since he was a fellow Adept, Volos held out his left hand to shake mine. The heat of his palm engulfed mine, and his grip was tighter than necessary. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was his way of warning me to behave in front of the journalist.

  “You’re up bright and early after the inauguration ball, Cinderella.”

  “You know how it is—no rest for the wicked.” His smile was tight. “Sorry you couldn’t make it. You were missed.”

  “My ball gown was at the cleaners.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “What brings you to the community center?”

  “Just giving your newest volunteer a ride.” I nodded toward Baba. “It was nice of you to ask her.”

  The smile that spread across his lips was hesitant, as if I’d thrown him off guard by paying him a compliment. “We’re lucky she agreed.” He raised his voice so Baba could hear him. “I know she’s got a busy social schedule chasing the eligible bachelors at the senior center.”

  “Damn straight, kiddo,” she said, chuckling.

  “Detective Prospero.” The reporter edged her way into my personal space. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Grace Cho, Channel Seven Action News.” Her black hair was long, and the perfect waves could only have been achieved with the aid of a vanity potion. Her makeup was camera-ready, but with natural light flooding into the lobby instead of studio lights, the cosmetics looked caked on and garish. However, there was no denying she was naturally beautiful, and the determined expression on her face told me she was used to being underestimated because of her looks.

  I shook her right hand with mine, as was the custom when one of the greeters was Mundane. “Seen you on TV.”

  “Grace here is doing a piece on my first week as mayor,” Volos said.

  I nodded because it was polite, not because I cared.

  “You must be so proud of Mayor Volos,” she said with a practiced smile. She turned to the cameraman and gave him a signal that had him lifting the lens. A red light lit up, indicating we were being recorded.

  I flashed a look at Volos. “Um.”

  “It must be exciting to have your old friend become the first Adept mayor of our city,” Cho prompted.

  I gritted my teeth and tried to remind myself to behave. “Sure,” I said. “Exciting.”

  “Unfortunately Kate and I haven’t seen each other in a while,” Volos said, stepping in front of the camera. “The campaign took up so much of my time, and Detective Prospero has been keeping our streets safe.”

  The reporter looked from John to me with a speculative gleam to her eyes. “I just had a great idea! Detective, if you have a moment, I’d love to have you answer some questions about growing up with the mayor.”

  “I’m sure Detective Prospero is busy,” John said. “Right, Kate?”

  The unease in his tone amused me, but as it happened I’d rather get a pelvic exam from Freddy Krueger than reminisce on camera about my past with Volos. “Actually, he’s right. Crimes to solve and all that.”

  “That’s right.” Cho stepped around Volos. “Is the MEA task force investigating the murder of Charles Parsons?”

  Volos’s gaze slammed into me like a punch. But I couldn’t react to his surprise at the news because I had to fend off the reporter. “I’m not at liberty to disc—”

  Cho motioned to the cameraman to keep rolling. “Do you have any leads?”

  I held up a hand. “No comment.” I glanced at Volos. Something in my expression must have warned him I was about two seconds from losing my patience.

  “Ms. Cho, have I introduced you to Baba?” He steered the journalist toward my neighbor, who patted her hair. “She’s helping us out with a new pilot program at the center that pairs at-risk kids with senior citizen mentors.”

  Cho looked like she wasn’t ready to give up trying to get me on the air, but the steel in Volos’s voice encouraged her to let the matter drop—for now. She fished a business card from her purse. “Call me and we can set up a time for an interview.” She shoved the card in my hand just as Volos took my arm and pulled me toward the door.

  I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Cho turn and start asking Baba questions. I smiled at the excitement on the witch’s face. Grace Cho might have thought she was about to get a simple fluff piece out of the old woman, but I’d put money on Baba talking her ear off until Cho had to beg for mercy.

  Volos pushed the door open and ushered me out into the cold. He didn’t let go until we were out of sight of the door. “Sorry about that.”

  I pulled away and shrugged. “Not as sorry as I am.”

  “Charm’s dead?” His politician’s smile had disappeared and his tone was deadly serious.

  I nodded and rubbed the chill from my arms.

  “You okay?” He stepped closer. “I know you guys got along.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Had you seen him since—”

  “No,” I cut in. I definitely didn’t want to talk about my mother’s death with him.

  His expression hinted that he knew better than to believe I was unaffected, but he let the matter drop. “Who did it?” he asked.

  I sighed. “Don’t know yet.”

  “Come on, Kate, I know you have a theory.”

  “Why don’t you ask Eldritch? His top murder detective is refusing to let us assist.”

  “Because I’m asking you,” he said. “Friend to friend.”

  I wanted to remind him we weren’t friends, but resisted because we had been—more than, actually—a long time ago. Whatever issues we had personally now, the fact remained that John and I had shared history that I couldn’t seem to escape completely. He had every reason to want to know about Charm’s murder—both as a former member of the Votary Coven and as the mayor of the city that would feel the aftershocks of the crime. “We’re still working out angles, but someone definitely wanted Charm’s death to make the news.”

  Volos frowned. “I just can’t believe he’s dead. Figured that guy would outlast all of us.”

  “See, that’s the difference between us. I can’t believe he lasted this long.”

  He tilted his head. “How you figure?”

  “Abe’s been in Crowley for five years. I can’t believe some ambitious corner boy didn’t try to take Charm out to gain rep before now.”


  “Is that what you think happened—one of the Votary crew took him out?”

  I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know.” I glanced at my watch. “Speaking of, I really need to get going.”

  He smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Wait, how’s Danny?”

  I held up my hands. “Let’s not do this, okay? I’m late and you’ve got a world to dominate.”

  He crossed his arms. “Running away?”

  “No, John.” I sighed, not bothering to disguise how tired he always made me. “I’m just leaving.” I started to walk around him.

  “You’ve always been great at that.”

  I ignored that. “Have a nice day, Mr. Mayor.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Watch your ass out there, Detective.”

  With a quick, awkward wave I walked away. All the way back to the car, I could feel him watching my ass for me. Jerk.

  When I got in the car, my phone buzzed with a text from Morales asking where I was. I typed on my way and hit Send. After the surprise run-in with Volos, I was looking forward to spending my day dealing with potion freaks and murderers.

  Chapter Six

  Twenty minutes later I pulled into the parking lot outside the gym. Morales’s SUV was already there, as were the cars for the rest of the team. I gathered my gear and headed across the lot.

  My foot had barely touched the top riser of the staircase when Gardner called out, “You’re late.”

  She stood next to Morales’s desk with her arms crossed. The gown she’d worn the night before had been replaced with a brown pantsuit and a cream-colored shirt. Next to her, my partner leaned back in his desk chair with his battered cowboy boots propped on the desktop. He shot me an I-told-you-so smirk. Guess that explained why he’d been texting.

  “Sorry, sir,” I said. “Had to make a detour on my way in.” No way in hell was I about to mention that a conversation with Volos had kept me. That was a sure invitation to get teased. Most of the team knew enough about my history with the city’s new mayor to have plenty of ammunition to throw at me every time he was mentioned.