by Gina LaManna
“Your distraction,” Jack said. “Go on, save the world while we feed it, slice by slice.”
Willa giggled, and I suddenly understood why neither party minded the long hours spent working together. If I didn’t watch out, there’d be more cooking in the kitchen than marinara and mozzarella.
I pulled Jack aside and gestured for Matthew to go on ahead. “You be careful,” I told him in hushed tones. “Willa’s mother is ill, and she’s fragile.”
Jack’s eyes darkened. “She’s not fragile.”
“You didn’t see her yesterday!”
“You haven’t spent twelve hours a day with her for the past week,” Jack snapped. “She’s an adult. Let her make her own decisions.”
“I’m just warning you—if you hurt her, if you build her up and break her down, I will hunt you, Jack. I don’t care that you’re my brother—I’ll throw you to the wolves.”
Jack’s cheeks cracked into a grin. “I thought you were more creative than that. If you’re going to get rid of me, don’t throw me to the wolves. That’s just disrespectful.”
“Yeah, well,” I snipped. “Be careful with Willa. You might not think she’s sensitive, but she is.”
“You might not think I’m smart, but I’m not stupid,” Jack said. “I know Willa’s different, and I’m trying my best not to screw things up with her. Your vote of confidence in me is so heartwarming.”
“That’s what sisters are for.” I crooked an eyebrow at him. “Maybe if you hadn’t ‘dated’ my best friend when you were eight and then sent her crying to her mother, I’d have better hopes for you.”
“We held hands once.”
“Then there was Betty when you were thirteen, Linda on the night of my seventeenth birthday—that was a doozy. What about Mathilda just a few years back?” I crossed my arms, turned on my heel, and walked away. “There’s my vote of confidence, little brother.”
“I’m going to prove you wrong!” Jack shouted at my back. “Watch and see!”
“I’ll watch alright,” I yelled back. “Prove me right and you’re dead.”
The last of my threat was heard in the main dining area where Matthew and Willa stood in uncomfortable silence.
“Aren’t their family dynamics charming?” Matthew asked lightly.
“Utterly,” Willa said. “You were a part of this for two years?”
“There are some things I don’t miss,” Matthew said with a grin, and Willa laughed.
“I understand,” she said, and then elbowed him. “But seriously, you loved it.”
“Let’s go,” I said, sparing Matthew an answer but pinning him with a deadly stare. “I’m running low on patience. Not for you—Willa,” I said, pausing. “If you would rather be with your mother, I would understand.”
“She’s okay. Nurse Anita is so great with her. She’s stopping by for lunch.” Her eyes flicked to the back room where Jack could be heard slamming pots and pans around. “I’d really like to be here. It’s a nice distraction.”
“I’ll bet,” I said under my breath, soft enough so that only Matthew smiled at it. “Off to Farmer Marcell.”
“Farmer Marcell?” Willa frowned. “That’s where you get your basil. He’s the best at Herbals.”
“I knew I’d heard that name before!” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t remembered. “I negotiated the deal with him a few months back. No wonder the name sounded familiar.”
“Tell him each batch gets better and better,” Willa said. “You really should give him a bonus or something.”
“I’ll remember that,” I said, tugging Matthew’s arm toward the door. “Let’s go. I need coffee.”
A few blocks later, I secured a giant, frothy latte that put some early morning spring back into my step. We hopped on a trolley and took it to the southeastern corner of Wicked to a little plot north of the Dead Lands and inland of The Depth. It was a nifty little nook of the borough that didn’t see much in the way of tourists or hustle and bustle, therefore making it perfect for a small, self-sustaining farm.
From what I remembered, Farmer Marcell was a wizard with elemental tendencies—hence his success at farming—who’d emigrated over from France after a divorce. He’d opted for the quiet, natural lifestyle here, hiring seasonal help if necessary, and not a whole lot more. It was amazing how much one could get done on a farm with elemental magic. Marcell was practically a one man show, servicing some of the best restaurants (DeMarco’s Pizza), with organic materials.
“Your brother seems quite taken with Willa,” Matthew said as we approached the mailbox to the farm. “And she seems rather keen on him, too. You’re not a fan of them together?”
“Willa’s keen on everyone who’s nice to her, and even some who aren’t,” I snapped, “and my brother is often quite taken by his own shadow. They’re not a good match. I hate to say it, but of the two, Willa would be the one to get hurt, and I can’t stand to have that happen. Especially not after yesterday.”
“What if she didn’t get hurt?” Matthew asked as we stepped past the sign marking Marcell Farms and through the front gates. “What if they might actually work? I know after my own parents died, I could’ve used support. Maybe it’s a good thing Willa can lean on Jack.”
“You were changing into a vampire at that time,” I said. “You could’ve used a lot of things.”
“Even after,” he said, his voice soft. “Loneliness is a challenge. What if Jack is exactly what Willa needs right now?”
“He’s not,” I said. “Now can we focus on the job?”
The driveway was long and twisted, winding through fields with exotic plants I couldn’t name. Matthew and I were silent as we pushed past them, following the dirt road to a neat little farmhouse with the standard white walls on the outside.
We passed through fields of rainbow-colored corn and fruits that looked like nothing I’d ever seen in the markets before. Along the perimeter of the property, trees leaned tall and dark, an intimidating natural fence protecting the property from wanderers.
When the front door loomed near, Matthew stepped ahead and rapped his long, slender fingers against it. The wait lasted only for a few seconds until the front door opened and a man dressed in worn jeans and a plaid red shirt stood there.
He didn’t look like the typical farmer I’d imagined. While he was wearing the right colors and patterns, they were far too polished to suit a man working outside for twelve to sixteen hours a day. Even the man’s hands lacked the dirt stains and darkened nails I’d expect from someone who spent their days up to their elbows in organic matter.
“May I ‘elp you?” he asked with the slightest of French accents.
I noticed he didn’t exactly invite us in, nor did he look entirely surprised to see us. His eyes calculated rapidly as they flicked over us, taking in the sight of a vampire and a witch on his front steps. A person’s normal reaction might be nervousness. Marcell’s reaction was minor annoyance and a bit of shifty-eye-syndrome.
“I think you can,” Matthew said, flipping open his badge. “I’m sure you know who we are. Mind if we come in?”
“How should I know you?” Marcell’s eyebrows pinched together. “We are not friends.”
“Nope, and I don’t think we will be after this visit. I’m Captain King—you probably know me as the vamp.” Matthew gave a deadly sort of smile, allowing the tips of his fangs to poke out from his grin. “This is Detective DeMarco.”
“Ah—a DeMarco.” To my surprise, Marcell took interest in me. “I know of your brother.”
“Which one?” I asked dryly. “You’ll have to be more specific. We have a barn full of them.”
“Barn,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward his properties. “Yes, well, I know Nash. He has a history in Narcotics, no?”
“He does. Has he been here before?”
“Yes.”
“Are you doing something illegal?” I didn’t expect an answer. I considered his reaction odd and hadn’t quite figured out how to tak
e him. “Nash hasn’t been in Narcotics for over a year now.”
“A while ago, they investigate me,” he murmured. “It alwayz happens with a farmer, you know. We grow many things.”
“How many of these things are stolen?” I asked, pleased to find him wincing under the question. “Yes, we’re aware of your claim. What was stolen, Marcell?”
“You’re mistaken,” he said flatly. “Nothing was stolen.”
“That’s not what Lucia seemed to think.”
The name of my replacement Reserve brought out a lick of fire in his gaze. Her persistence had obviously gotten to him, which only proved my theory that there was something more going on here than some flubbed theft claim. But what? Had it been enough to cause Marcell to silence Lucia?
Matthew watched me carefully, practically reading my mind. I could almost hear him thinking it. With all of this land, there were plenty of fresh piles of dirt under which he could’ve hidden a body. Plenty of small shacks where he could hide a prisoner. Would we find Lucia here?
“I think you should let us in,” I said. “We have a few things to discuss.”
“I think not,” Marcell said. “Do you have a warrant?”
“Making things difficult isn’t going to look good for you,” Matthew warned in that soft, silky voice. “Cooperation will go a long way.”
“I’ll cooperate when you follow proper legal procedure,” Marcell said. “In the meantime, let’s finish our chat here. I have nothing more to say.”
“I think you do,” I said. “Why’d you call the cops about something being stolen, then retract your statement?”
His eyes seemed to flicker shut like a lizard’s, then open just as quickly. An odd quirk, I thought, maybe a defense mechanism to stall for time. “I thought I was missing something, so I called the police. It was later found, so I retracted my statement.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you don’t know all the facts,” he said. “That girl twisted them.”
“Lucia.”
“Yes,” Marcell spat. “That one. She comes here accusing me of withholding information from the police, which is ridiculous. I called the police. I’m not afraid of them.”
“You withdrew your statement. Why? Most people don’t call the police until they’re sure something is missing.”
“I was scared,” he said, though the words fell flat. Nobody believed for a second Marcell had been scared. He was a powerful wizard used to living on his own. He could handle himself. “I thought someone had invaded my property, but they hadn’t. End of story. I found what I thought was missing.”
“What was it?”
“Basil,” he said with a sneer.
“Not to turn this to a personal matter, but I think we’re going to renegotiate our contract for DeMarco’s Pizza,” I said, then turned to Matthew. “He’s our fresh herbs guy. We’re going to find someone else as soon as I can get the contract broken.”
“Good luck,” Marcell said. “It’s airtight.”
“I happen to know the best elfin lawyer in the borough,” I said, wrinkling my nose in faux-apology. “He’ll figure it out.”
Matthew suppressed a smile, but I didn’t find anything funny about it. There was the very real possibility that Sanders and I could come to an agreement once we sorted through the hurtles between us. If he wasn’t a psychopath who kidnapped dead bodies, obviously.
“We’ll find what went missing,” Matthew said, “and we’ll find out what Lucia suspected was wrong here.”
“Sure, sure. She hasn’t been around here recently,” he said, a little too innocently for my liking. “Where has she been?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m done here, Captain. Let’s get that warrant.”
Matthew gave a nod of agreement, studied the uber-confident Marcell still leaning against the doorway, and then spun on a heel and started down the path.
“He gets under my skin,” Matthew said once we were out of earshot. “We need to nail him for something.”
“Agreed. Freaking basil,” I said. “How am I supposed to find a new basil guy before this is all over without interrupting our pizza supply?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Matthew said, but he sounded distracted. His gaze was strewn far ahead as he slowed to a more human pace. “We have company.”
I glanced up, surprised to see two familiar figures approaching down the long and twisted driveway. We continued toward them, meeting halfway between the farm and the road on a dusty path. Some odd variety of bright pink corn hung over one of my shoulders, and I swatted a fly from my leg as we came to a stop.
“What are you doing here, Nash?” I asked, studying him and his former partner. “Hey, Peter—long time no see.”
Peter grinned, gave a friendly wave. Nash, on the other hand, looked livid. “What are you two doing here?”
“Um, frolicking in the fields,” I said. “Sipping Ambrosia and plucking daisies. What about you?”
“Enough,” Matthew said, his low rumble radiating tension and severity over the four of us. “We’re on a homicide case. I presume you’re here with Narcotics, Lieutenant?”
“Nash doesn’t work for Narcotics anymore,” I argued, giving Matthew a skeptical glance. “He’s full-time Homicide—no exceptions.”
“Minor exception,” Nash corrected, though he’d lost some of his combative stance and shrunk back. “I’m helping Peter with a case.”
I turned my gaze on Peter. “You’re doing what?”
“Stay out of my business,” Nash said. “Peter didn’t ask me to help—I involved myself. It might do you well to take out that badge of yours and read the label. Who’s full time NYPD and who’s an ‘honorary consultant’ to the force?”
Nash used air quotes, and it irked me to no end. “Special Consultant,” I snapped, “and it’s still Detective DeMarco to you, asshole.”
“That’s Lieutenant DeMarco to you, Detective,” Nash said.
“Lieutenant Asshole,” I amended. “Better?”
“Enough.” Matthew’s voice grew quieter, which had the intended effect of scaring the pants off everyone. There was a rumor circulating the department that Matthew’s voice alone could send someone to the morgue if he so desired. Nobody was brave enough to test him. “What brings you here? Talk quickly—we’re on a deadline.”
“I’ve been chasing a faceless man for some time,” Peter said. “No name, no face, but he entered the market around the same time as the whole Herbals thing blew up in our faces.”
“Herbals,” I said, racking my brain. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s a movement for Herbals—all-natural junk,” Peter said. “Most of it is just food, supplemental crap that’s intended to help people feel calm or sleep better or shit regularly. It’s a load of crap. However, there’s one aspect of it that caught the attention of the Narcotics Unit.”
It began to click for me, and I nodded. “There’s a line of Herbals that is not kosher with the law.”
“Hence the Narcotics flag,” Peter continued. “It’s hard to regulate this stuff because Herbals in general are so new. They’re sold in the marketplace on street carts, or in back alleys, or passed through medical offices. Even so, it’s rare to find a store advertising them. Therefore, we don’t know how much is being bought and sold, but we do believe the number of transactions is growing by the day.”
“What sort of effect do the new narcotics have?”
“There’s one strain mixed with a spell that, when merged with the appropriate concoction of herbs, has been street-labeled Harmony.”
“Hardly sounds destructive,” I said. “What does it do?”
“We’re not entirely sure,” Peter said, widening his hands in frustration. “But we believe it’s killing people.”
I bit down on my bottom lip. “Dammit. That’s what we thought, too.”
“Harmony is now known to be highly addictive,” Peter said. “People begin taking it because they
believe it works as a somewhat organic relaxation method. More dangerously, they believe it’s harmless. Frankly, the drug would be harmless if only...”
“It didn’t slowly kill the user,” I said. “It’s so new, nobody realized the true side effects.”
“The dealers probably realized it would kill some people eventually—that’s the nature of the drug business, after all,” Peter said, “but I doubt the dealers expected Harmony to work so quickly.”
“Why is this just coming to our attention now?” Matthew demanded. “We have three bodies—had three bodies—in the morgue that we could’ve examined for this. Now they’re gone.”
“Gone?” Peter asked. “What do you mean gone? Doesn’t the morgue mean—well, that the people are dead?”
“Exactly,” Matthew deadpanned. “I hardly suspect they just up and walked out.”
Unless, I thought with a wince, Sienna had somehow worked her necromancer magic on them. Which would be highly illegal and a huge breach of her contract with the NYPD. I pushed the thought away, trying to adopt Matthew’s admirable ‘don’t assume anything without evidence’ philosophy, but it was difficult when I’d watched the Residuals sparkle around her hands as she’d lied to my face.
“This is a Narcotics case,” Nash said firmly. “And as Homicide, I’m here to coordinate between the units.”
“Without telling me?” Matthew said. “I am the captain of the Homicide Unit. There is no such thing as taking a case, or helping out, without my prior consent.”
Nash leaned in, his eyes darkening. “You’re telling me, Captain, that you’ve never helped Dani on a case without clearing it first with the chief? No pillow talk outside of work with your girlfriend?”
“That is enough.” Matthew’s voice sliced through the air.
Peter visibly recoiled. I felt like my face was in a frying pan. I was uncomfortable and embarrassed and upset all in one go. For my brother to bring in personal business to the job was a whole new level of low. Sure, there was some truth to it. But it was a below the belt hit, and he knew it.
Nash held his own against Matthew for an extended moment, and only when Matthew’s fangs began to descend did Nash realize his misstep. With a muttered apology, my brother stepped back, but the damage was done.