by Kelly Gay
“Yeah, I don’t need super senses to figure that out.” I marched away from him, down the hall in the opposite direction, needing some air before I totally lost it.
Usually on cases, I had no trouble remaining distant and methodical. Don’t get close, and you don’t lose your objectivity. And you don’t get yourself beaten to death running down a back alley after a pissed-off ghoul before your partner gets there to back you up. I’d learned my lesson. And I hadn’t made a mistake like that again.
I couldn’t make one now.
The unmistakable scent of autumn, of changing leaves and cool soil, rode on a leisurely breeze, helping to calm my emotions as I stepped into the courtyard where the kids often ate lunch on nice days like this.
I turned my face to the warm sunlight, letting my eyelids close. The voices on my radio drifted into the background along with the birds in the courtyard and the sound of cars on the side street beyond the high stone walls that surrounded the school grounds.
Just a moment’s peace was all I was after, but as my mind drifted all I could think about was the irony. I busted my ass every day to afford the best and safest school for Emma, to pay for everything else myself and use Will’s child support solely for her education.
Kindergarten through twelfth grade, Hope Ridge was one of the best private schools in Atlanta. And, despite all that, I couldn’t protect her from the harsh realities of life. I knew what it was like to be a victim, and I knew what it was like to love a victim, to feel helpless and lost. Crime happened anywhere and in the safest places. It was inevitable. But, still, part of me had been convinced that if I worked hard enough, somehow my child would be exempt.
The mention of Amanda’s name over the radio interrupted my thoughts. They were taking her to Grady Memorial Hospital. All her vital signs were normal except her heartbeat. She didn’t appear to be worsening.
Ashhad hit the market so fast, just in the last few weeks, that we still didn’t know what we were dealing with. Chemically engineered? An airborne agent? An ingested substance from Elysia or Charbydon? There were so many mysterious things brought into the country with the influx of our new neighbors. I scrubbed my face with both hands, feeling overwhelmed. Protecting citizens was hard enough, and lately, as we mingled more and more with the off-worlders, it felt as though we were patrolling blind.
At least I had Hank.
And he knew way more than he let on. I turned and headed back into the building, steeling my resolve. He’d spill his alien guts one way or another.
The soles of my black boots echoed in the empty space as I marched down the hall. Ahead, Hank was speaking to the school superintendent and Principal Anton. He pacified their fears. I could see it in their faces, the way they breathed relief and the gratitude they showed as they shook his hand.
Hank turned to me as I approached. I didn’t halt my stride, just grabbed his thick bicep and propelled him down the hall with me.
“Whoa, I know you like to manhandle me and all, but this should probably wait until we’re alone.”
“Shut up, Hank.”
I shoved open the front door, stepping out into the bright sunshine only to run into a large group of reporters. Perfect.
“Is it true the victim is Cassius Mott’s daughter?”
“Is she like all the others? Is it ash?”
“Do you have any leads on what the drug is exactly?”
“Will you bring in a medium to help with the investigation?”
“Hey, aren’t you that cop who died a few months back?”
Sometimes, I hated reporters. Especially the ones with memories like elephants.
“C’mon! Back off!” Hank flung out his arms, trying to shield me.
We pushed and elbowed our way to the car parked out front. I slipped behind the wheel and waited for Hank to get in. Once his door was shut, I drove around the corner and down one block where I stopped the car at the curb to question him.
“Okay, spill.”
He drew one leg in and propped his arm on the window ledge, obviously in tune with my meaning. “I was going to tell you before the whole Amanda thing … I talked to the ER doc from Grady. Some of the tests came back from the first rash of vics. It’s definitely an off-world substance. Most likely in powder form since they found some residue in the nostrils and lungs of the two who didn’t make it. The effects are almost instantaneous. The few who have woken up from the coma are dying. Once it leaves their system, their bodies begin to shut down.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head and staring out the front windshield. “They’re doing more tests. So far, no other cities have reported any cases, and security has been increased at all the off-world gates.”
“So it started here in Atlanta. It came through our gate.”
Figured. Many of the new crimes and problems stemmed from trafficking in off-world items. Spellmongers from Elysia and Charbydon had become a big problem, selling all kinds of illegal concoctions and substances. Soul bartering, a gigantic no-no, still occurred in dark alleys and private residences. And none of it would change unless we all suddenly became happy and content with ourselves and our lives. Fat chance of that. Any way to get a leg up, illegal or otherwise, was here to stay.
“We need to figure out where it’s coming from. If it’s leaking into other schools …” My voice broke. “You’re a siren,” I said, refocusing. “Nothing about this seems familiar, like anything you’ve come across before?” I was grasping at straws. We’d had an entire off-world team on this for the last week and no one seemed to know anything.
“The condition on the eyes. The guys at the station have considered it, but don’t seem to think it’s related. Could be a long shot …” Hank cleared his throat and I caught a split-second squirm. I turned in the seat, more curious than ever. He spared me a dry glance and then looked straight ahead. “The condition happens naturally when some Elysians get, you know, excited.”
“Excited about wha— Oh. Oh! That kind of excited. Really?”
“Really. Look,” he said, frowning, “it doesn’t happen with sirens, but I’ve seen it with others. It’s like an effect of euphoria, happens when they perform certain ritual dances or prayers, or they … you know …”
“Got it.” I held up both hands, putting an immediate halt to any mention of sex. Definitely not something I wanted to discuss with a drop-dead gorgeous siren with all the grace and power of a lion. That was a personal boundary I promised myself long ago I’d never cross. If I did, it would be way too easy to start wanting something I couldn’t—and shouldn’t—have. Hank was not only my partner, but one of my best friends. Not something I wanted to mess with. “Have you seen this recently?” I asked, wishing I’d rolled down my window for some air.
“I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he said on an irritated breath, “In Underground.”
“What place in Underground?” I pressed.
“Helios Alley. The Bath House.”
No surprise. Helios Alley catered to off-worlders, Elysians to be exact. Restaurants, clubs, shops, you name it. Two streets over was Solomon Street—Charbydon territory. And the street in between was Mercy Street, a mix of everything—magic shops, psychics, anything supernatural and you’d find it there, legal or not.
If we’d learn anything about ash, it’d be in Underground.
My first reaction was to laugh, which I did, but then I saw he wasn’t exactly laughing with me. “Are you serious? The Bath House? I didn’t take you for a nudist.”
His eyes rolled. “It’s not a nudist club. It’s a public bath house, like the Romans used to have. Didn’t you study history in school?”
“Yeah, and the Romans had all kinds of nasty sex orgies in the baths.” I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “It all starts with a massage …”
A spectacular groan came out of Hank’s mouth, which expanded his chest and made his white shirt stretch nicely across the broad expanse. Hell, seeing him lounging around na
ked in some bath would probably be worth the trip downtown. Hank had one of the best bodies I’d ever seen. But then he was a siren—his species had a knack for attraction and seduction.
“I swear, Charlie,” he grumbled, turning in the seat to face me with an evil glint in his blue eyes, “if we weren’t friends, I’d take off this damned modifier, make you strip naked, and skip all the way down to the station house.”
That sobered me up because I knew he had the ability. And because I knew Hank had his limits. “Okay, point taken. So, why The Bath House?”
“Females,” he answered without pause. “I’m single. I have a life, unlike someone in this car.”
“Yeah, well, you can be single without going to extremes. Women throw themselves at you all the time. You don’t need to hang out at a nud—er, bath house.”
“I do if I’m looking for one of my kind. You think it’s easy, getting hit on all the time and not being the tiniest bit interested? The only female sirens in At lanta are ones who have mates, or work in the private sector, or occasionally hang out at the baths because it reminds them of home.”
“Poor you.” I put the car in gear. “Try being a single mother, who carries three lethal firearms and can take down a runner at fifty yards. Trust me; it doesn’t make a date feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
I pulled into traffic and then made a U-turn at the light to head back to the station. “I have to make babysitting arrangements for tonight.” Hank blinked, confused, so I enlightened him with a smile before turning my attention back to the road. “We’re going to The Bath House. Looks like you finally got yourself a hot date.”
His lips dipped down, leaving a dimple in his left cheek. “Joy,” he said, as disgruntled as a teenager being told to clean their room. “Please, please, please, Charlie, don’t do anything stupid.”
Hank wouldn’t care about causing a scene. That’s why we made a good team. When it was necessary, neither one of us backed down, no matter what, no matter where. I switched lanes and passed a taxi, a thought suddenly occurring. “What? You like someone there or something?”
He rubbed his hands down his face and muttered, “Oh, Jesus H. Christ.”
Hah!A broad grin stretched across my face. “You do!” My laughter filled the car. “You have a crush on someone at The Bath House,” I sang. “Hey, doesn’t that mean you’re shy if you have a crush? Hank’s shy! Oh, my God …” I laughed for at least a good half mile. He cursed under his breath and slid down into the seat. Last time I had a date, with an officer from the ninth precinct, Hank had had a major field day. “Payback is a bitch, my friend.”
I parked the car in the fire lane off Ellis Street in front of ITF Building One, or as we referred to it: Station One. “It’s three right now. I’m gonna head over to the hospital and check on Amanda, make arrangements, and then I’ll meet you downtown at eight.”
Hank opened the door. “I’ll talk to the guys at the lab again about this eye connection. And I’ll pick you up at ten.” He lifted his hand to stop my argument. “Things don’t even start to heat up until then. You’d know that if you weren’t celibate.” He got out of the car and then leaned back through the window. “Oh, and try to take a beauty nap, and don’t look so damned professional if you can help it. Let your hair down, maybe use some of that deep red lipstick you wore on your date with Officer Wandering Eye.”
My eyes narrowed, and I opened my mouth, but he flashed me a broad grin, a wink, and then he was gone.
I supposed I deserved that.
CHAPTER 2
Underground Atlanta was the hub of off-world activity in the city, an entertainment, shopping, and living district that encompassed six city blocks in the very heart of old Atlanta. In the 1920s city engineers built bridges and viaducts over old, Civil War—era railroad tracks and streets, raising the street level and eventually leaving the ground level almost forgotten until the city revived the area in the late 80s and early 90s. Now it was home to free concerts, restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and specialty shops.
One of those shops belonged to my sister. And, yeah, I could’ve called her to see if she’d babysit, but since her shop was on Mercy Street, it would give me a chance to talk to one of my informants.
Bryn’s place sat in the middle of a long row of shops that lined the left side of the street. There were potted plants out front, a chalkboard sign on the sidewalk advertising sales, and a few wind chimes hung from tall, ornate garden stakes shoved into the planters on either side of the door. I thought she was nuts for having a shop in Underground. But Bryn had some serious smarts when it came to business. She carried items the off-worlders craved, like crafting items, exotic herbs, minerals, rocks, and other trinkets, and she made sure to stock things humans could use as well—anything Wiccan. Books, antiques, charms, clothes … But mostly she specialized in herbs, the rarer the better.
I stepped around a three-foot-tall imp carrying a Gucci handbag and approached the back counter. Bryn had her back to me, snipping a few branches from a small potted herb as she spoke to it softly.
“Probably not a smart thing, to turn your back on the customers,” I said, looking around at the patrons. The store was packed with plants, items, baskets, and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, so many corners and dark shelves; you couldn’t see a shoplifter at work if you tried.
Bryn turned. “I have a security system.”
I frowned at her and leaned on the counter. “A spell is not a security system.” When would she learn to take care?
She shook her head, looking awfully like Mom when she did that. Her auburn hair had been twisted up into a sloppy arrangement, and her brown eyes held a smile as usual. “Well, I also have Gizmo.” She nodded behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see a gargoyle, the size of a large cat, perched on top of a tall, dark bookshelf by the door. His head moved with the flow of patrons, watching them closely. “You got a gargoyle? Are you insane?” I held up my hand. “No, wait. Don’t answer that.” Gargoyles were notorious for misbehaving, like little demon monkeys, always chewing on things, jumping around, making messes. I shook my head. They were also incredibly pricey. “Where’d you get the money for him?”
She leaned over the counter, getting closer and smiling as though she’d pulled off the coup of the century. “I traded a five-pound bag of Elysian sea salt, a box of rare Tibetan incense, and that old petrified toad I had sitting on the counter.” She straightened, going on the defensive. “And he’s perfectly trained, so wipe that prune-y old look off your face. You’re gonna get two wrinkles right between your eyebrows just like Grandma Eunice.” She reached out and used the pad of her index finger to vigorously rub the spot on my forehead.
I swatted her away, stepping out of reach. “Will you cut it out? God, you’re just like Mom.” I felt the frown return and made an attempt to ease my facial muscles. The last thing I wanted was to end up looking like Grandma Eunice, God rest her soul. “Speaking of which, have you heard from Mom and Dad?”
Bryn popped a few M&M’s from a small bowl by the register into her mouth and then held up a finger. From under the counter, she pulled a postcard. “They sent you one, too. Don’t you ever check the mail?”
“Occasionally.” I took the postcard. One side was a photograph of the Giza plateau in Egypt and the other side had a few scribbled lines about how hot the desert was and how beautiful sailing down the Nile had been. Next stop: Turkey. I slid it back to her. “Any idea when they’re coming back?”
She shrugged as I stole a handful of M&M’s. “Your guess is as good as mine. Probably another few months, unless they find somewhere else they want to go.”
Mom and Dad had saved their entire adult lives for this trip. They’d moved all their furniture into storage and rented me their three-bedroom bungalow in Candler Park, which worked out well since Em and I had already been shacking up in the spare bedroom after the divorce. Plus being in midtown, it was closer to Emma’s school and not too far from downtown. More po
wer to them, I thought. They deserved to travel the world for as long as they liked. I missed the hell out of them, but it helped that I had Bryn. She reminded me so much of Mom, it was scary.
Bryn was also a gifted earth mage. Even growing up she’d been able to do things—make plants grow and bloom by talking to them or touching them. After the Revelation, what we called the discovery of the new dimensions, she’d begun to take her talent more seriously, and she utilized the new resources to study and learn and cultivate her abilities. Last year, she became the first human member of the Off-World Garden Society and the Atlanta League of Mages.
A high-pitched scream exploded behind me.
Instinct sent my hand to my gun. It was already drawn and pointed in the direction of the scream before my vision landed on the source. My heart pounded as Gizmo flew off his perch and hovered in front of the imp I’d passed earlier.
“Jeez, Charlie, put the gun away, you’ll scare my customers.” Bryn pushed my gun down and hurried around the counter toward the imp. The hem of her sundress flapped behind her, making me notice her bare feet and trim ankles encased by two sparkling charm anklets.
“Me?” I holstered my weapon, trying not to dwell on how ready I’d been to pull the trigger. “That thing just blew out every eardrum from here to Solomon Street.”
I followed Bryn as she navigated the narrow paths in the store. It must be nerves, I decided. Seeing Amanda like that had me on edge. That, and I was about eight months past due for a good night’s sleep.
At the entrance, Bryn bent at the waist and held out her hand to the imp. It was female with cocoa-brown skin, large, slanted black eyes, thin lips, freckles, and a shock of orangey-red hair. The imp let out an irritable huff, dug into her Gucci purse, and then slapped a small crystal dragon into Bryn’s palm. Gizmo flew back to the bookcase and folded his gray wings behind his back.
“Nice try, Dix.” Bryn gave the imp a triumphant look. “Better luck tomorrow, eh?”