Cursed Moon

by Jaye Wells

  Mez said something like, “This is gonna be cold.”

  “Do it,” Morales said, his tone grim.

  One second fire licked under my skin like acid. The next, a whooshing sound. Cold wetness splattered my skin. I screamed from the icy-hot pain of it. From the effects of what felt like gallons of salt water invading my mouth and nose. I was drowning. Choking.

  Through it all, strong arms supported my weight. Later, I’d remember his encouraging whispers, promising everything would be okay—that I was safe. But as the salt did its job and consciousness returned, gut-wrenching shame surged through my midsection, dousing every spark of lust.

  My cheeks burned like twin coals, and my pride didn’t feel much cooler. I was in the back of an ambulance while the med wizes worked on me to make sure I wasn’t suffering any lingering or long-term effects from the potion. The back doors to the ambulance were open, which gave me a good view of the cluster of cop cars a short distance away. Morales leaned his arm against the roof of one of the black-and-whites while he listened intently to the guy who’d hexed me. The horns hung from a cord around his neck, and his waterlogged chaps dripped on the street.

  In the distance several other ambulances were lined up as they treated victims. They’d separated the female attackers from the males they’d raped for obvious reasons, but everyone there was a victim.

  After a few moments, Morales left the goat guy in the hands of the unis and jogged over to my ambulance.

  “Anything?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the med wiz, who was removing an IV from my arm.

  “According to the school, the sororities were hosting some sort of charity dinner tonight. Best guess is Dionysus had this asshole pretend to be a waiter and spiked all the wine with the potion they stole from Aphrodite.”

  “He say anything about how he got hooked up with Dionysus?” I asked. Talking was good. Kept my mind too busy to play the endless loop of me propositioning him.

  “Dionysus has been recruiting people for a few weeks. Guess he promises them that after the Blue Moon, they’ll run the city or some shit.” He shrugged. “Classic cult tactics.”

  I nodded. “That research Shadi did on the god Dionysus said he had a couple of cults. One was a group of satyrs and the other was a gang of lustful women called Maenads. They were known for frenetic sex rites. Maybe this was our Dionysus’s homage to those myths.”

  “I’d say this counts.” Morales’s expression was grim.

  The med wiz took the cuff from my arm. “Your blood pressure has leveled out. I’m going to release you, but promise that you’ll get plenty of fluids and rest for the next twenty-four. The saline drip should have cleared out any lingering potion, but the magic he used was pretty dirty. You need to take it easy.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a nod.

  He handed me a bottle of water. “Take your time. I’m going to go check on the others.” With a parting nod to us both, he ducked out of the ambulance.

  Sighing, I rolled my sleeve down and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The sudden movement made blood rush to my head. Morales was at my side in an instant.

  “Easy there.” He placed a steadying hand on my shoulder.

  I shook him off. “Just moved too fast,” I snapped. “I got it.” My defensiveness was due partially to embarrassment, and partially to the lingering tenderness between my legs.

  He grimaced like he wanted to argue but backed away.

  I kept my eyes focused on my shoes so I wouldn’t have to look directly at him.

  “Kate.”

  “Yeah?” Eyes on the wall right behind his right shoulder.

  He stayed silent until I was forced to look at him. The instant my gaze touched his face it ricocheted back to the wall. “What?”

  “Look, if you’re worried that what happened let your secret out, you shouldn’t worry.”

  I frowned. “What secret?”

  From the corner of my eye I saw those lips curl up. “That you’re totally hot for my bod.”

  My mouth fell open and, all traces of embarrassment forgotten, I rounded on him with a glare. “You fucking—”

  His laughter cut through the anger and cut me off. “Gotcha!”

  I punched him in the arm. “Asshole.”

  “Relax. You were under the influence, right?” His mischievous eyes danced toward the gurney I’d just vacated. “Or did you want to bang right here and get it over with?”

  “Bang? Really? What are you? Fourteen?”

  He reached out and chucked me under the chin. “That’s some of my best material, Cupcake.”

  The problem was I knew that if he ever dropped the charming rogue routine and got serious, most women—me included—would be pretty powerless to resist. Even though I didn’t harbor a secret crush on Morales, it was hard to deny he was sexy as hell. An asshole, sure, but that’s the kind of lover I preferred. Assholes were uncomplicated. They didn’t get all emotional or confuse sex with promises. I didn’t have room in my life for more feelings or complications. And somewhere deep in my gut—probably in the same spot the potion had lit up like a Roman candle—I knew that Morales would be one hell of a lot of fun in the sack.

  All of these thoughts rolled through my brain while we stood in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. We were practically plastered against each other, each trying to pretend that we weren’t both suddenly wondering what it would be like to give that gurney a workout. And I was suddenly very aware of the heat coming off him and the scent of his cologne and the sheer size of him. A man like Morales could make a self-sufficient woman believe she’d like being treated like a randy wench for a couple of hours of naked fun.

  A throat cleared nearby. I turned quickly, leaving Morales at my back. Mez was standing on the ground by the ambulance’s bumper. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You weren’t,” I squeaked. “I mean—we were just—”

  Mez shuffled his feet. “Sure, yeah. Anyway, I, uh—they’re taking the goat dude to the precinct for booking. Shadi’s going to meet them there to make sure he doesn’t get lost in the shuffle.”

  A warm hand landed on my shoulder. The shit of it was I didn’t have any potions to blame for the heat the contact conjured. “Sounds good, Mez.” His deep voice was so close to my ear that hairs stood at attention on my neck. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll just be going then.” Mez said.

  A sudden realization hit me: If I let Mez go, I’d be stuck with getting a very awkward ride home from Morales. “Wait!” I all but leaped out of the ambulance after him. “Can you drop me?”

  Mez frowned, and his gaze pinged back toward Morales. “You sure?”

  “I don’t mind—” Morales began at the same instant.

  I turned, looking at his shoulder again instead of his face. “It’s on Mez’s way. Besides, I’m sure you need to hang out and wait for Gardner, right?”

  He was quiet for a suspicious few seconds. Long enough that I chanced a peek at his face. “Yeah.”

  “And the med wiz said I needed to rest, so I’ll just go home and get some sleep so I can be back in commission later today.”

  “Okay, yeah. That makes sense.” Morales cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Just let me know if you need some more downtime.”

  “I’m good,” I said. “Just tired.”

  Mez had a pained expression on his face. “All righty, I’ll just—uh—go get my car.” With that he practically ran away.

  Morales jumped down. When he stepped up, he was too close for my comfort. I stepped back a little. I knew I was acting like a skittish colt, but that potion had left me all raw and on edge. I didn’t want to do something—well, more—that I’d regret the next day. When I backed up, he frowned. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded too enthusiastically but didn’t speak.

  “Kate, listen—”

  Mez’s black sports car pulled up, offering me the perfect escape. “Gotta go. See you tomorrow!” With
a quick wave, I left my confused partner standing in the middle of the road with his hands at his sides.

  “That was awkward as hell,” I breathed when Mez pulled away.

  “No shit,” Mez said. “You two really need to just get it over with.”

  I swung around. “What? No we don’t.”

  “Please, Kate. The rest of us have a pool going.”

  I slapped his arm. “Shut up. You do not!”

  “Yep.” He smiled.

  “Did you bet?”

  “Of course,” he said without a trace of guilt. “My money’s on this month, too. So it’d be great if you’d get the show on the road. I got some new lab equipment I’m gonna buy if I win.”

  “Sorry, Mez, but I’m not going to fuck Morales just so you can get a few new beakers.”

  “You know you’re gonna fuck him eventually anyway. Why wait?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The sun was high by the time Mez dropped me off at home. My head hurt so bad my vision was blurred, and my skin was tight and itchy thanks to the brining I’d received courtesy of the tactical wizard’s saltwater-cannon. Every step was a painful reminder of the synthetic arousal that had gone unfulfilled. So the last thing I wanted when I walked in was to find Baba waiting for me at the kitchen table.

  She had a steaming mug of something grasped between her gnarled fingers. “We need to talk.”

  I dragged my ass across the threshold. “Not now, Baba.”

  She pointed at the chair. “Sit.” The tone she used put my cop voice to shame.

  I could have just ignored her, but she didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect. Not when she helped us out so much, and especially now that my fight with Pen meant I wasn’t pitching in on her care.

  I plopped into the chair with a bone-deep sigh. “What are you drinking?”

  “Hones-tea,” she said. “One of my mother’s recipes. You want some? It’s very cleansing.”

  I grimaced. Even though Baba’s magic was more folk remedy than actual magic, I avoided consuming her brews as a rule. Besides, a tea designed to encourage honesty would be a mistake given my brittle mind-set.

  “I need something with a little more kick.” With a grunt, I started to stand, but she held up a hand.

  “Enough with the booze, Katie.”

  I froze and raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

  “People drink heavily for one of two reasons: to hide or to forget.” She leaned forward. “Which is it?”

  I sat back and crossed my arms. After the night I’d had the last thing I needed was a fucking intervention in my own goddamned kitchen. “You don’t like watching me drink, you’re welcome to leave.”

  She crossed her arms to indicate she was staying put. Pursing my lips, I reached for the fridge handle. “The people I deal with day in, day out? They’d kill you for your last nickel.” I glanced up from the door. “Being around that shit takes a toll.” Returning my gaze to the fridge, I searched until I turned up one lone beer hidden behind a head of wilted lettuce. After popping the top and having a couple of long gulps, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “You’ve always dealt with those assholes, but the drinking is new. Ever since you joined that task force.”

  “Jesus, not you, too.” I shook my head and took another pull from the beer.

  She toyed with the spoon next to her mug. “What happened between you and Pen isn’t my business.” She paused to give me the opportunity to fill her in anyway. I raised a brow and watched her with an unblinking gaze. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Anyway, it’s not right, you two love each other too much to be acting this hateful.”

  “You’re right,” I said. Her face cleared. “It’s not your business.”

  Her expression soured and she sat silent, watching me. Judgment came off her pale, wrinkled skin in hot waves.

  I took another drink. “I got hexed this morning.” I said it so suddenly it shocked us both. But I kept my gaze on the ground because I couldn’t handle watching her eyes see through me. Almost out of instinct, my hand went to the AA token, as if I expected her to revoke it after that admission.

  “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

  I nodded and picked at the label on the beer bottle.

  “What kind of potion was it?”

  “Lust,” I said, looking up. My face was hot with shame. “I threw myself at Morales. They had to hose me down with a saltwater-cannon.”

  A shocked laugh escaped Baba’s lips. I frowned at her. “It’s not funny.”

  “Like hell,” she snorted. “It’s hilarious!”

  I bit my bottom lip. My mind chose that moment to flash up an image of Morale’s shock when I tackled him, followed by the consternation on his face after they’d doused us both with freezing water. My own laugh caught me off guard. But soon I was doubled over with it. On some level I was aware this wasn’t actual humor, but a hysterical reaction to the stress of the night. I fell into my chair with tears streaming down my face. Baba’s cheeks were red as beets, and her laughter whooped through the room like a large bird. We laughed until no noise escaped our mouths. And then the mirth subsided into watery chuckles.

  “Woo,” Baba said, finally, wiping tears from her cheeks. “I needed that.”

  I smiled, genuinely for the first time in what felt like weeks. “Me too.”

  She swallowed some tea and leaned forward. The mood shifted immediately. “Were you wearing a protective amulet?”

  I shook my head. “Of course not. A potion like that shouldn’t have affected me at all.”

  “Then why did it?” Baba asked.

  “The damned Blue Moon.” I raised my beer in a mocking toast.

  “Ask me, the Blue Moon is a blessing, not a curse.” She took a delicate sip of her tea.

  “How can you say that? They make magical energy go haywire and everyone’s emotions get all out of whack.”

  “Shaking things up isn’t always bad, Kate.” She stared at me in a way that felt like she could see through my skin. “You’ll stop the Dionysus.”

  My chest tightened. I didn’t bother pretending I didn’t know she was talking about Dionysus. “What if I can’t?”

  “Is that what’s scaring you? Why you’re drinking?”

  I made a noncommittal shrug.

  “That reminds me. I got something for you.” She reached into the pocket of her housecoat. She held up a tiny vial filled with a glowing blue liquid.

  I frowned. “What is it?”

  “Gideon’s Dew. Found it at the apothecary yesterday when I went to refill my Maslin’s prescription. I asked the wizard behind the counter about it. He said with the Blue Moon coming, lots of people want some sort of souvenir.”

  “It can’t be true Gideon’s Dew unless it’s collected on a Blue Moon.”

  She waved this off as unimportant. “Do you know the story behind it?”

  “You mean like the biblical story?” I shook my head. “They weren’t too big on teaching scripture at Albertus Magnus High.”

  “According to the wiz at the apothecary, the story comes from the book of Judges. This guy named Gideon was a poor farmer living in a land filled with heathen tribes. God came to him and said, ‘Hey, you need to kick those heathens out of Canaan.’ ” She leaned back, toying with the vial. “Naturally, Gideon was skeptical. How could one poor farmer beat an army? So he asked God for a sign to prove he would prevail. So God put some dew on a fleece.” She crossed her arms like she’d just made a brilliant point.

  I blinked, but I kind of got the gist of what she was saying. “In alchemy, Gideon’s Dew is closely aligned with aqua permanens. It’s used in potions requiring answers or solutions. It’s a symbol of divine wisdom and the need for faith.”

  “Exactly. The point of the Gideon story is that you have to trust that answers will present themselves when you’re ready for them.”

  I sighed. “Baba, that’s great and all, but I’m afraid police work doesn’t jibe too well with faith.”<
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  “You came down hard on Danny today.” The comment was so unexpected, it nearly gave me whiplash.

  “He lied.”

  “He did.” She nodded and took a sip of her tea. “Volos hasn’t called him back.”

  My brow rose. “I won’t take the blame for that, too.”

  She shook her head. “No one expects you to.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Christ. Sometimes I wish I’d never taken this damned job.” The words spilled out before I realized I said them.

  Baba, bless her, didn’t pounce on it like Pen would have. Instead she slowly set down her mug and looked me in the eye. “You’re doing good, Katie.”

  I laughed bitterly. “By whose definition? Pen thinks the task force is going to lead me down a path of self-destruction.”

  “I’m not saying you haven’t made some damned fool choices, but you’re a smart girl. You’ll do what needs to be done when the time comes.” She raised her teacup at me in a toast. “Think about our friend Gideon. He probably had to make some sacrifices, too. But he fought the battles because no one else could.” She reached across the table and grabbed my hand with her own. The cool touch of her papery skin felt like a balm. “You’re doing noble work, Katie. Never forget that.”

  “That’s funny,” I said, polishing off the beer. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel very noble.”

  “You tell that to all the mothers who don’t have to bury their kids because you busted a potion ring. Tell that to the kids who don’t have to go to foster care because their mamas didn’t die.”

  A memory of my mom’s funeral roared to the front of my mind like a phantom. The day had been sunny. The bright light glinting off Lake Erie in the distance had felt wrong, like the sky was mocking my pain. My skin had felt so tight, and my chest filled with a pulsing bruise where my heart used to live. I hadn’t cried, though. Because standing next to me at that gravesite was six-year-old Danny. His hand had felt so small in mine. So fragile. I remember looking down at that sweet little face with the tear streaks and the heartbreaking loss of innocence in his eyes and vowing to protect him no matter the cost.