by Jaye Wells
I let out a relieved breath. Last thing I remembered was seeing those two motionless on the ground. “Good,” I said, “that’s good.”
“C’mon. Let’s have them look you over.”
I waved a hand that felt heavier than it had ten minutes earlier. “I’m okay.”
He paused and narrowed his eyes at me. “Kate, you’re covered in blood.”
I looked down. My hands were slippery with red slick. The skin looked like it belonged on someone else. “Wh—how?”
“Looks like the glass got you.” He touched my head gingerly. The contact stung my scalp, and the movement made the back of my neck come alive with pain. “Let’s go.”
He led me toward the three ambulances at the curb. A medical wizard came forward immediately. I dropped onto the bumper of the ambulance while he cleaned the wounds with saline. Morales stood over me as if he expected me to bolt, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Exhaustion had its own force of gravity, pinning me to the bumper.
A black car screeched to the curb near the ambulance. Gardner emerged and I could have sworn that for a split second her face registered complete panic. The emotion was quickly doused as she put on her cop mask. She flashed credentials to the firemen working the scene and beelined for Morales and me.
“Everyone okay?” Her hawkish eyes moved over the streaks of watery blood running down my arms.
“It’s just flesh wounds,” I said. “We’re all okay.”
Her shoulders lowered a fraction. “Good. Now what the fuck happened?” She said this to Morales, who as ranking agent had been in charge of the raid.
“Mez found a bomb in the oven. Best guess it was a booby trap left by Dionysus, but”—he sucked in a deep breath, as if bracing himself—“we found evidence that Aphrodite Johnson might have tossed the apartment before we got there.”
Gardner’s eyes widened. But before she could comment on that revelation, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and cursed. “Shit, it’s Eldritch. Be right back.”
She put the phone to her ear with as much enthusiasm as if it were a gun. “Captain—Yes, I—No, that is absolutely not—” By that point she turned away to take the rest of the ass chewing in private.
“What a shit show,” I said.
Morales nodded sagely. “Totally FUBAR’d.”
The med wiz applied a bandage to the back of my neck. “I’m going to dose you with some saline intravenously just in case.”
I nodded my consent. The pinch of the needle paled in comparison with the thrum of pain behind my eyes. “So our next step is to go get Aphrodite, right?”
Morales’s head tilted. “Correction: My next step is to get Aphrodite. You’re going home.”
“Like hell—”
He held up a hand. “Don’t even try it, Prospero. Go home and get some rest.”
He probably hadn’t meant the comment as judgment, but I was raw as an exposed nerve. “Don’t pull that fragile-woman-needs-protecting crap with me, Morales. I’m fine.”
He looked at me like I’d stepped in dog shit. “This has nothing to do with you being a chick, Prospero. I need you in fighting shape for the Blue Moon.”
I deflated. “Sorry.” Rubbing my temples with my hands, I closed my eyes. “Jesus Christ, this case.”
“We still have a week until the Blue Moon. We’ll get him.”
I opened my eyes and looked my partner in the eye. “Of course we will. I just hope we can do it without getting blown up, shot, or poisoned.”
Morales’s smile was weary. “Just another day in the MEA.”
Chapter Eighteen
When I arrived at Pen’s apartment that night, I took a deep breath before exiting the car. The last thing I wanted to do was walk into her place with the weight of the day hanging around my shoulders.
Even after a shower and some grub, I still felt like shit warmed over. It didn’t help that I’d forgotten Danny had a sleepover at his friend Aaron’s house that night. I’d tried to follow Morales’s orders to relax, but after half an hour in that silent house I’d been ready to punch myself in the face just for something to do.
That’s when I decided it was time to visit Pen again. I knew Baba had her weekly romance novel book club at the senior center that night and Lavern was working night shift, so Pen would be alone. Didn’t call ahead because I knew she’d tell me not to bother.
Grabbing the bag of food I’d brought, I exited the car and jogged across the street to the building. The building’s facade was the color of a rotten peach. Back during Prohibition, the Mundane gang bosses had stashed their mistresses in the tiny apartments there. Pen loved it because she said she enjoyed living someplace with a scandalous history. As I climbed three stories of stairs—no elevator—I wondered what she’d think about the history once she was mobile and had to navigate those steps with her healing injuries slowing her down.
I used my key to enter the apartment. The living room was clean and held the lingering scent of Baba’s aromatherapy oils. I turned right and took the bag of sandwiches to the table in the pass-through that pretended to be a dining room. The galley kitchen was also clean. I briefly eyed the cabinet where I knew the bottle of rye waited to be violated, but decided to hold off until I found Pen.
A tiny hallway jutted off to the left from the kitchen. I ducked around the corner, expecting to find Pen asleep in her bed. The double mattress took up almost the whole room, but it was empty.
“Pen?” I called softly. A quick look confirmed the bathroom behind me was also empty. I stayed calm because I knew panicking never helped anyone. Moving quickly, I went back through the living room to the bedroom on the other side of the apartment. Pen had converted this room into a sort of office/closet. Guess the mobster’s dolls hadn’t had much use for clothes, because the apartment only had a tiny linen closet near the bathroom for storage. Besides the large portable clothing racks lining three of the room’s walls, there was a tiny writing desk wedged next to the door leading to the apartment’s balcony.
I was about to duck back out the room and go call Baba when I saw something move out on the balcony. Frowning, I went to investigate. While the rest of the apartment was roughly the same square footage as a shoe box, the balcony was surprisingly spacious. It formed an L-shape that stretched from one bedroom to the other.
I opened the door and poked my head out. At first, all I saw was a red-winged blackbird sitting on the railing. When I burst through, the damned thing didn’t fly away or move in surprise. Just turned those black-bead eyes on me as if I’d disturbed it.
My heart sank as I realized Pen wasn’t out there, either. But then a soft cough reached me.
Turning, I finally spied a bundle of blankets huddled on a chair over by the other balcony door. “Pen?”
The bundle froze, and then a hand emerged to push the blankets back from Pen’s face. I blew out a relieved breath. Rushing over, I knelt beside her. “What are you doing out here?”
I looked her over, as if expecting to find new wounds. But all I saw was the same neck brace and the cast on her arm. The bruises on her face were less puffy and mellowing into a dull yellow instead of the green they’d been a few days before.
But it wasn’t the bruises around her eyes that worried me—it was the eyes themselves. Her pupils were dilated as hell, and when she looked at me her gaze was glassy and unfocused.
“Honey?” I whispered. “Why are you out here?”
“Hi, Katie,” she slurred.
“How did you get out here?” Surely Baba wouldn’t have moved her out here and then left.
“Wanted some fresh air.”
I looked down to the trash containers three stories down. There was definitely air out here, but it wasn’t particularly fresh. “Pen, can you look at me?” She had to move her whole head to manage the task. Dread weighed down my stomach. “Sweetie, when did you take the potion?”
“Din’t.”
I took a deep breath and prayed for patience, even though impatience an
d worry made me want to shake her. “Yes, you did,” I said. “Where is it?”
She smacked her lips like they were numb. Then she smiled like she’d just noticed I was there. “I love you, Katie.”
“I love you, too,” I snapped. “Tell me where the potion vial is.”
She vaguely waved a hand toward her bedroom.
“Stay here.” She was so loaded I’m not sure she even heard me.
Inside the bedroom, I found an empty potion vial sticking out from under the bed. The label on the front identified it as Maslin’s Tincture and noted that the user should take three dropperfuls every six hours as needed for pain. The good news was that Maslin’s was the most commonly prescribed pain elixir on the market and was about as clean a potion as you could get. The bad news was that the vial was totally empty.
Back on the balcony, I held the vial up for Pen’s unfocused inspection. “Did you take the entire vial today?”
She just chuckled. With a curse, I pulled my phone from my pocket and punched a couple of numbers. “Baba, it’s Kate—just be quiet a sec and listen, okay? Did you fill the pain potion prescription the med wiz prescribed for Pen?”
“Of course not,” Baba said, sounding insulted. “Why?”
“Because she’s higher than a kite right now and there’s an empty vial of Maslin’s.”
The old woman spat out a curse that would make a sailor blush. “That’s my potion. I take it for my arthritis.” The sound of rustling came through the phone. “She must have taken it from my purse. I’d set it on the bed before I went to use the restroom. Shit, Kate, I’m so sorry.”
I sighed. “It’s not your fault. Look, I need to call her doc. I’ll call once I know more.”
Luckily, I had Nurse Smith’s number in my phone. When she answered, I quickly told her what had happened.
“Relax, Detective. She just needs to sleep it off. She’ll be fine.”
I let out a relieved breath. But the nurse wasn’t done.
“Just in case, though, don’t leave her alone. If she stops breathing, call me back.”
“What?”
“Just a precaution. There have been a few, rare cases where the potion worked a little too well and a patient’s lungs shut down.”
“Shouldn’t I bring her in just in case? Or is there an antipotion we could give her?”
The nurse sighed like she’d reached the end of her patience. “Look, you can bring her in if you want, but a bus wrecked on Interstate 71, so we won’t be able to see her for several hours anyway. It’s up to you, let her rest comfortably in her bed or drag her here to sleep it off in a waiting room.”
“Got it,” I said through teeth clenched so hard they creaked. “Thanks so much for your help.”
When I punched the End button, I let out a frustrated growl. I wasn’t really mad at the nurse. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t Baba’s fault, either. Hell, I couldn’t really blame Pen, for that matter. I knew her pain levels were off the charts. Add to that the addiction demon that constantly sat on every recovering addict’s shoulders for the rest of their lives.
No, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but that didn’t make it suck any less. The only solution was to get her inside and let her sleep it off, like the nurse suggested. Having some sort of game plan helped me feel better.
“All right, sister,” I said, standing. “Bedtime for you.”
My eyes felt like someone had buffed them with sandpaper. The siren Sleep had been trying to lure me into her welcoming arms for two of the previous four hours, but I’d managed to resist her by calling Morales every fifteen minutes for an update on his progress tracking down Aphrodite. He’d finally threatened to come over and take my phone away if I didn’t leave him alone. After that I stayed awake by pouting that he was out having all the fun chasing down the Hierophant while I was stuck watching Sleeping Beauty.
The other thing is, the longer I sat there, the angrier I grew. Initially, I was just relieved I’d shown up to keep an eye on her rather than her being alone and potentially hurting herself. But then the more I thought about it, the more I resented the entire situation. I was pissed at the selfish asshole who’d hit her with his potion-fueled car. I resented Baba having arthritis. I resented my job for making it hard to help Pen before she resorted to magic. But mostly I resented Pen, herself. There were plenty of nonmagical options for pain relief. Maybe nothing strong enough to take it away entirely, but surely enough to make her more comfortable.
“Kate.” A groggy voice came from the bed.
I hopped up and went over. A small bedside lamp was lit, but even that dim light made her blink as if in pain. I didn’t turn it off because I needed to see her to reassure myself she was okay. I also needed to see her reaction as I read her the fucking riot act in a few minutes.
“Hey,” I said softly. I handed her a glass of water and sat on the edge of the bed. She lifted her head enough to take a sip and then surrendered the glass.
“What time is it?”
I glanced at my phone. “Almost nine.”
Her eyes widened. “Last I remember it was four.”
“Yeah, potions tend to make one lose track of time.”
Her gaze skittered from mine, as if looking away would protect her from the judgment in my tone.
“Don’t start on me.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
I tilted my head. “Start on you? Why in the world would I do that? I mean, it’s not like I just spent the last four hours of my life watching you sleep in case you stopped breathing.”
She froze and looked up from beneath her lashes. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.
“Sorry don’t cut it, sister. What the fuck were you thinking?”
Using her good hand, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. But she moved too fast and ended up swaying. I reached out a hand to steady her but she shied away. “I got it,” she snapped. Then she settled herself back and looked at me. “I was thinking that I was in pain, Kate. For the last week, I’ve been in constant pain. I can’t sleep, I can barely eat, and I was so fucking exhausted.”
“You could have—”
“What?” she snapped. “Arnica didn’t do shit and you told Baba to stop giving me the philtres.”
“So the solution was to steal an old woman’s arthritis potion? Jesus, Pen.”
She blinked at me but didn’t respond for a long time. Just watched me like she was seeing me clearly but didn’t like what she found. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve judging me.”
Gut check. This time it was my turn to look away. With those words, she hit on the thin vein of guilt that I’d been suppressing ever since I got the call she’d been injured. If I hadn’t hidden my magic use from Pen in the first place, that damned party never would have happened and she never would have been in that car for that asshole to run into her.
Recriminations rose like bile in the back of my throat, but I wouldn’t let her off the hook completely. “Me cooking to save Danny’s life is light-years different from you stealing an old woman’s arthritis potion.” I was being nasty and I knew it, but defensiveness added venom to my tongue.
“I tried to fight it,” she snapped. Off my doubtful expression, she looked me in the eye. “Really, Kate. I tried. But when Baba left her purse on the bed, I saw the apothecary bag sticking out. I told myself to just ignore it. The pain was bad but I wasn’t dying or anything. But then this little voice in the back of my head starting whispering about how one little potion wouldn’t make me fall off the wagon. About how I could just do it this once and no one would have to know. Baba was going to be gone all afternoon. I could have a little relief and then I’d never take it again. I guess it’s what Rufus always talks about—the bargaining?”
I nodded. I knew that seductive voice all too well.
“Anyway, before I knew it, my hand was grabbing that bag and hiding it under my pillow. And then, once Baba was gone, that same hand was opening the vial and lifting it to my mouth. The weird t
hing was, it didn’t even feel like it was me taking it. It was like watching a movie of someone falling off the wagon.”
I grabbed her uninjured hand in mine and squeezed. “This doesn’t have to be you falling off the wagon. Maybe it’s just a wake-up call. You tried it and it sucked. Now you know and can never try it again.”
She looked down at our hands. Her teeth worried her bottom lip for a second. Then she whispered, “That’s the problem.” She looked up, and her eyes were bright with fear. “It didn’t suck, Kate.”
I closed my eyes and cursed. A memory elbowed its way to the front of my brain. Holding the Gray Wolf potion in my hand. The tingle of energy zinging up my arm. The rush of adrenaline making my pulse sprint. The surge of power that bordered on lust. No, I agreed silently, it didn’t suck at all.
Let her off the hook, my conscience begged.
But I couldn’t. In my gut I knew it was a mistake to enable her just to ease my own guilty conscience. “This ends today,” I said. “No more.”
Her expression morphed from regretful to rebellious. “Don’t take that tone with me, Detective. I’m not some freaker strung out on a five-dollar dirty magic potion.”
I raised a brow. “Not yet.”
She paled as if I’d struck her. “What are you gonna do, report me to your precious team? Send Morales over to put me in cuffs?”
I sighed. “It’s not like that and you know it. I’m worried about you, Pen. Have you forgotten the last time you got hooked on potions?”
Her gaze skittered away from mine. “This is different.”
I stared her down. “The pain you’re experiencing isn’t easy, but it won’t kill you. But we both know an addiction will. Your heart is still weak from the last time.”
A decade earlier, Pen had been a stressed graduate student who fueled her studying binges with an energy potion supplied to her from one of her classmates. On her twenty-third birthday, she had a massive heart attack.
A wave of emotion rose like a tide in my chest. I blinked quickly before I lost my ability to deliver the tough love she needed. “If I find out you’ve taken another potion, I won’t be coming back around.”