* * *
While Brice is on stage performing, I don’t have anything to do with myself. With my father trying to get one of his goons to take over as the mayor, I feel like I need some time to think through what he’s doing and try to figure out if I can stop it. So I go for a walk in the city at night. But I don’t think about my father. Instead, I keep thinking about Brice and the fact that we keep having trouble with our love life.
Maybe it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. After all, lots of good Catholic girls my age are probably pushing their boyfriends away every night too. The difference is, I guess, that they know it’s going to happen sooner or later. They’ll get married or whatever, and it’ll be okay. But for me and Brice, it’s never going to be okay, and I don’t know how much longer he even has before he succumbs completely to the virus and is a berserker all the time. I feel helpless. And so far, even though I’ve tried everything I can think of, I haven’t been able to find a cure or even any hint of one.
Since my walk is less than productive, I give up and go back to Brice’s apartment to wait for him to come back from the show in a couple hours. Waiting for me at the door is Donna Fitzpatrick. “Olivia Calabrese!” she says brightly. She comes over to me and takes me by the arm.
Fitzpatrick is a police officer. She helped me figure out what happened to my mother after Brice and I broke into police records and stole my mother’s file. Fitzpatrick was good to me, mostly. She seemed to know that I killed Joey Ercalono, but didn’t arrest me for it or anything. She said something like prison was probably too good for him. (Joey Ercalono abused my cousin Tressa and then killed her when he found out she was pregnant. He was scum, and he deserved to die.) But she’s the law, and I make my money by breaking the law. I’m not exactly happy to see her.
I shake her off. “What do you want?”
She laughs. “You’re always so polite to me, you know that?”
“There a reason I should be polite?”
“I think I risked my ass to give you some valuable information not too long ago,” she says. “So you could at least pretend to be happy to see me. You could ask me how I’m doing.”
“How are you doing?”
She rolls her eyes. “Not great, actually. That’s why I’ve hunted you down.”
Hunted me down? This doesn’t sound too good. But if she were going to arrest me, she would have already, right? “Sorry to hear that. You gonna ask me how I’m doing?”
“Look, it’s come to my attention that your boyfriend is a berserker.”
I gulp. “We keep him locked up. He hasn’t hurt anyone. Are you going to force me to take him to one of those sanitariums or—”
“I’m not out to get you,” she says. She sighs. “See, the thing is, my sister is a berserker too.”
Really? That’s weird.
“Walk with me, okay?” she says.
“Walk with you where?” Panic shoots through me again.
“Would you stop freaking out?” she asks. “I’m not even on duty. Come on.”
* * *
Fitzpatrick seems a lot like me. No-nonsense. Tough. She even wears her hair in a ponytail. We sit in a coffee shop a few blocks from Brice’s apartment. We both have a cup of black coffee. We agree to splurge on chocolate chip cookies. I had a feeling of kinship with her before. It seems like the more time I spend with her, the more I feel it. I only wish she weren’t a cop. I can’t trust her.
Fitzpatrick breaks off a piece of a cookie. “I thought maybe we could help each other out. We both have loved ones who are berserkers. And I don’t need sanitariums or better ways to lock up my sister. I need a cure.”
I lean forward, suddenly interested. “I’ve been looking.”
“So have I,” she says. “You know, I got into this job because I wanted to do something to stop the spread of the berserker virus. I thought if I fought the people who were making the charms, I’d be doing some good. But it doesn’t make any difference. And when I look at my sister, who can’t have any kind of life because of it, I feel so helpless inside.”
I nod. I know how she feels.
“So,” she says, “that’s when I started looking for a cure.”
“Every time I bring it up to anyone, all I hear is that there isn’t a cure,” I say.
“Me too,” she says. “Until I stumbled upon this rumor.” Fitzpatrick takes a sip of her coffee. “This guy claims he’s been cured. I was able to track him down using the resources I have at work, but there’s only one problem—he won’t talk to me. That’s why I was looking for you.”
I’m excited by this news, but confused as to how I make any difference. “What do I have to do with it?”
“He doesn’t trust me,” Fitzpatrick says, “because I’m a cop. But he’ll trust you, don’t you see? Because you’re Olivia Calabrese. You’re safe.”
I nod slowly. “But couldn’t you pick someone else to help?”
“You think I have a lot of criminal friends?”
“I’m not a criminal,” I say. “And we’re not friends.” Are we?
“Whatever.” She eats more of the cookie. “Do you want to help or not?”
Of course I do.
Buy Book Two Here.
The Toil and Trouble Trilogy, Book One Page 48