Cursed Moon

by Jaye Wells

  I lifted my hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right. I have compromised myself for this job.”

  Her expression bordered on smug, but I wasn’t done.

  “However, I’ve also done a lot of good.” I took a breath. “I’ve learned that there’s a positive side to magic that I never got to see before. One where I can use the skills I was born with to make a difference in this world.”

  Pen’s mouth fell open. “That’s some weak-ass bargaining, Kate.”

  “Is it?” I glanced at Rufus, whose expression gave away nothing. “I’m not so sure. Seems like I’d be more of a coward to run away from a major part of who I am.”

  She blinked. “That’s… actually pretty insightful.”

  I frowned at her. “Really?”

  She nodded. “If you want to be on the task force, I can’t stop you. But you’ve seemed so conflicted about what you were doing, and I couldn’t stand watching you self-destruct.”

  I raised an ironic brow. “Ditto, sister.”

  Her face paled. Without another word, she reached up and removed her own anniversary necklace. She turned to face the group with her chin trembling. “I have a confession, too.”

  She glanced at me. I bit my lip and nodded. She heaved in a shaky breath. “I used magic, too.” She paused, as if gathering her courage. “It was the pain after the accident. I—It was too hard. So I stole an old woman’s pain potion and started using again.”

  No gasps echoed through the group. No one called her out. I crossed my arms to keep from going to her protectively. She had to do this herself.

  “It was just that one time, but I guess that doesn’t really matter. I threw away years of sobriety for an easy way out of my pain.” She walked to Rufus on wooden legs. She held out the necklace, which he took reverently and without comment.

  She turned back to the group. “My name is Penelope Griffin and I’m a potion addict.”

  “Hi, Pen,” the group answered as one.

  Unable to hold myself back anymore, I went to my best friend. We collapsed into each other and held on for dear life. On some level, I knew that, unlike the Cuyahoga at the bottom of Lake Erie, our friendship was strong enough to weather a storm. But I also knew in my gut that this wouldn’t be the last time magic came between us.

  Rufus came forward and pulled Pen away. “Every day is a chance for salvation,” he said, repeating Jacob’s words. He slipped a small yellow disc into her palm. I recognized it instantly as the token AA gave newly sober members. In essence, it was a signal that Pen was starting over with a clean slate.

  He turned to me next. I raised my chin and looked him in the eye. “You realize of course this means you can’t attend AA anymore, right?”

  My heart dropped lower in my chest. I hadn’t thought about that part. “If that’s how it has to be, then I’ll respect it.”

  “I wish it were otherwise, but I think it’s for the best all things considered. But I do want to give you this.” He reached in his pocket and removed a small yellow disc. He walked to me and handed me the same token he’d given Pen. About the size of a quarter, the yellow plastic had words written on it in black: ONE DAY AT A TIME.

  I swallowed the emotion that reared up in my throat like a certain lake monster. “Thank you.”

  “All right, all right,” Rufus said in a gruff tone. He sniffed a little, but if I’d called him on it he’d say he was allergic to touchy-feely crap. “It’s time to get this meeting wrapped up. Round up for the recovery pledge. Pen? Why don’t you lead us?”

  My best friend grabbed ahold of my hand. “Magic is a tool,” she began. “If I am unable to use it responsibly, I will not use magic at all.” She squeezed my palm meaningfully. “I am responsible for my own actions, and I pledge to act with compassion for myself and others, always.”

  Half an hour later I emerged from the basement with Pen. We’d decided to go grab a drink at a nearby pub to catch up. So much had happened since our fight, and she had a lot of questions about what exactly went down with Dionysus.

  The night was chilly, and I pulled my jacket tighter. The sky was clear, which offered a stunning view of the three-quarter moon.

  Beside me, Pen’s steps faltered. “Kate.”

  I pulled my eyes from the moon to see what was up. Her eyes moved toward something down the street, and I followed their movement. A long, black limo idled at the curb. The brake lights added a sinister glow to the plumes of smoke billowing from the tailpipe. The license plate read SHEMALE.

  “Shit,” I breathed. “Wait here.”

  Pen grabbed my jacket sleeve. “Wait—”

  I shook my head to let her know she didn’t need to worry. “It’s okay. Just need to finish a little business. Then we’ll go grab our drink.”

  She didn’t look convinced by my reassurances, but nodded. “Be careful.”

  I walked toward the back of the car slowly. My piece was at my side, under my jacket, but it was too soon to tell if I needed it.

  A low whirring sound reached my ears. I paused, but quickly realized the noise had just been the window rolling down in the back of the car. A masculine hand emerged and flicked through the air to summon me.

  Placing one arm on the roof and keeping the other at my side for easy reach of my gun, I bent so my head was level with the open window.

  The hermaphrodite’s male visage was in shadow, except for a slice of light across the unsmiling mouth. “Katherine.” The voice was deep. Looked like Aphrodite had decided this solemn occasion called for a little testosterone.

  “When did they spring you?”

  “Yesterday.” His eye cut toward me. “In no small part thanks to your assistance.”

  I shrugged. “The evidence spoke for itself.”

  “That’s the curious part.” A single brow rose. “Considering my treacherous priestess’s involvement, it would not have been difficult for you to manipulate the evidence to implicate me as an accomplice.”

  I frowned at him. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  He smiled, turning toward me fully. Now I could see the smoky eye and subdued nude lip on the female half of the Hierophant’s face. Having both sides visible gave me the uncomfortable sensation of being regarded by two separate people. Almost like conjoined twins, only more attractive than the other set of twins I knew.

  “Interesting.” Now the voice had changed. She was in charge again.

  “What’s interesting?” I asked. “The fact I didn’t screw you over.”

  She nodded. “Can’t say I would have blamed you if you had. All’s fair in the war on magic, right?”

  “Don’t misunderstand,” I said, “I think you’re guilty as hell for a dozen other crimes. But if and when I take you down, there won’t be any doubt about the facts of the case.”

  She laughed, a deep, rich sound that probably had seduced more people than I’d arrested in my career. “This is going to be fun.”

  “What is?”

  She tilted her head. “Didn’t they tell you?”

  “Who?”

  “Your bosses?” She waved an elegant hand, as if dismissing an insignificant thing. “Even after I was cleared of the murder of our beloved mayor”—she said it like he was a stranger and not a customer who no doubt paid her very well—“your Special Agent Gardner still saw fit to charge me for obstruction for breaking into Dionysus’s apartment.”

  “Which you deserved.”

  A slight tip of the chin was the only acknowledgment of that comment. “However, I managed to convince handsome US Attorney Stone that a person in my position might prove useful in future cases.”

  “And they believed you?”

  The feline smile was back. “I can be quite persuasive.”

  “I’m sure. So what? They offered a reduced sentence in exchange for future snitching services?”

  That half-painted mouth pursed in distaste. “Kate, please, I am no bitch’s snitch. Let’s just say I’ll be a consultant, and leave it at th
at.”

  I barely managed not to roll my eyes. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

  “Oh, honey, you have no idea.” She chuckled. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you personally for taking care of my little problem.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I mean it, Prospero. A person doesn’t have as many enemies as I’ve collected without also fostering allies.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her we weren’t allies, but she held up a hand.

  “Relax, I understand where things stand. I’m just saying I like to pay my debts. And I owe you three. One for clearing me for the mayor’s murder, and two more for punishing that fucking Raven and my treacherous priestess.” She spat the words out. “Day’s gonna come when I can be of service to you and yours.” That shrewd gaze met mine. “Consider these my markers.”

  She held out her hand and dropped three tokens into my palm. I held one up to the streetlight. Most sex magic temples got around having their girls deal with cash by selling tokens to customers. Each temple had its own custom design, and some people even collected them, like other people collected stamps. Aphrodite’s tokens bore her pentagram and spiral logo on one side and the words DULCE POMUM QUUM ABEST CUSTOS on the reverse.

  “What’s this mean?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Forbidden fruit is the sweetest.”

  I clasped the coins in my fist until the metal bit into my skin. Seeing the tokens reminded me of my mother and Shayla’s taunting words on the boat. “What happened to her?” I asked, looking up. “My mother.”

  The Hierophant’s smile faded and she sat back, totally in shadow. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  I held up one of the tokens. “I’m calling in my first favor. Tell me what happened.”

  “Telling you would do you no favors.” She pushed the token away. “You want to know what really happened, you need to ask your uncle. But I’ll give you some advice free of charge.”

  I raised my eyebrows and waited.

  She leaned forward so I could see her full face again. “Some ghosts need to remain buried for the living to have peace. Don’t go digging for secrets you aren’t prepared to learn.”

  My stomach dipped. It wasn’t an admission that Shayla was right, but it was damned close. I slipped the tokens into my pocket. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  She smiled, sadly this time. “No you won’t, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Good night, Detective.” She flicked a hand to signal the driver.

  I stepped back and watched the limo drive off into the night. Pen ran over to join me.

  “What was that about?”

  I released a deep breath. “It seems I have a new friend.”

  She flicked a suspicious glance at the retreating limo. “With friends like that, who needs enemies?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  November 6

  Waning Gibbous

  There are twenty-seven steps from street level to the door of city hall. With each one I climbed, my uniform felt tighter and tighter. By the time I reached for the handle of the huge wood-and-brass doors, the damned thing felt like a straitjacket.

  I let out a breath and paused before allowing myself to enter the lion’s den.

  I hadn’t seen Morales since the night we’d been fished out of Lake Erie. I knew he’d been released from the hospital. I knew that, like me, he’d had to report to the gym to make an official statement because Gardner mentioned when I was finished that he would be in that afternoon.

  Debriefings were always framed as closure, but sometimes they felt like ritualized reopening of wounds. Having to stand in front of someone with the power to steal your badge and defend the choices you made in the line of fire felt like its own sort of hell. Not the watery hell of that lake with the monster and the madman, but a hell lorded over by the demons Would Have, Could Have, and Should Have.

  Anyway, I also knew Morales hadn’t tried to contact me. But then, I hadn’t tried to call him, either.

  The summons to report to city hall came from Gardner on Thursday night. “Just a press conference,” she’d said. She tried to keep her tone casual, but there was an undercurrent of tension. “Be there at nine in your blues.”

  Considering all that had happened under that Blue Moon, part of me was worried the press conference was some sort of ambush where I’d be exposed for the liar I was. It wasn’t my most rational thought ever, but then my life hadn’t been unfolding in any sort of rational pattern lately, anyway.

  I closed my eyes and pulled open the doors to surrender myself to the inevitable.

  Flashes of light behind my lids. I opened my eyes. Hard to see through the blinding lights and the shouted questions and the spastic clicking of camera shutters.

  I blinked a few times before trying to locate a familiar face among all the parasites. The first one I recognized belonged to John Volos. He stood near the front of the room next to fellow mayoral candidate Anton Rebis. Both men smiled broadly, more for the benefit of the cameras than me.

  As if in slow motion, I looked down and saw the seal of the city of Babylon inlaid in the marble floor. On it, a proud lion protected the gates to the city. And in my head, I was telling myself to paste a smile on my face.

  Morales’s voice echoed inside: Don’t let them see your fear.

  “There’s Detective Prospero now.” Eldritch’s voice boomed through the room via a microphone. I blinked and tried to force my feet to not run the other direction.

  But then, Gardner was coming forward with her hand extended and a smile on her face.

  And all I could think was, He didn’t tell them. Of course he didn’t, my conscience argued in a dry tone. Morales wasn’t a rat.

  The next few moments were a blur of handshakes and smiles and pats on the back. Gardner led me to the front of the room, where a podium had been set up. Two large photographs stood on easels—one with my unsmiling picture and the other with Morales looking uncharacteristically serious.

  “This is bullshit,” I whispered to Gardner.

  “Play nice,” she warned under her breath.

  My eyes scanned the room for Morales, but I didn’t see him yet. Part of me wouldn’t put it past him to skip the dog-and-pony show on principle.

  John drew my gaze again. I wasn’t sure whether his gesture was congratulatory or an I-told-you-so nod. Regardless, I pressed my lips together and looked away quickly.

  The doors to the hall opened again, prompting another round of excitement. The broad-shouldered shape of Drew Morales was backlit by the bright morning sunlight outside. He paused at the threshold like I had, but recovered from his surprise more quickly.

  He wore a charcoal-gray suit with the collar of his white dress shirt open at the neck to reveal his muscled neck. Shock hit me upside the head. He looked so at ease in the business attire, but no less lethal despite the buttoned-up formality.

  It wasn’t until he limped forward a few steps that I noticed the black cane. On some men, the aid would have signaled weakness. But in Morales’s hand it looked like a weapon.

  His eyes snapped toward me. Despite his poker face, I saw a glimmer of relief in his gaze.

  At that instant, I knew part of him had expected me to rat on him, too.

  I tipped my chin. His expression went from guarded to solemn. A lot passed between us in that look. Relief. Confusion. Respect. Promises. Maybe even a little intimacy, but I didn’t have a lot of experience with that concept.

  Soon enough, he was standing next to me. But we didn’t have a chance to talk because suddenly lots of people were jockeying for the mike to take credit for our accomplishments.

  First, Interim Mayor Hernandez spoke at length about the courage Morales and I displayed under fire, and how we offered our city hope despite the recent loss of our beloved Mayor Owens.

  Soon, but not soon enough for my taste, he surrendered the mike to Eldritch. “The BPD is extremely proud of Detective Prospero, and we offer our sincere thanks
to Special Agent Gardner’s MEA task force for their assistance in bringing Scott McQueen to justice.”

  Gardner cleared her throat.

  Eldritch ignored her censure and continued. “I would also like to offer a sincere apology to Aphrodite Johnson, who was framed by McQueen. She has been cleared of all charges.” He said it in a tone that implied she’d threatened to sue if the public apology wasn’t broadcast all over Babylon’s airwaves.

  “And now, I’d like to invite Special Agent Miranda Gardner to the podium.”

  Gardner pasted on a polite smile as she joined him. She stepped forward to say something, but Eldritch swooped in to say something else. “She’ll be formally presenting Agent Morales and Detective Prospero with their medals.”

  Gardner paused briefly, as if she was considering saying a few words despite the snub. But then she thought better of it and accepted from Eldritch the boxes containing our medals.

  “For their dedicated service to the city of Babylon and bravery in the line of fire,” Eldritch said, “we formally present Agent Andrew Javier Morales and Detective Katherine Athena Prospero with the bronze medal of courage.”

  Gardner pinned Morales’s medal first, since he held rank. When she leaned in she whispered something to him that made him chuckle. He responded in a low, rumbling tone that had her cracking a big smile. They shook hands and then she moved to me.

  Standing before me, Gardner removed the second medal from the box. When she looked up, the smile was gone and a solemn frown took its place. She pinned the medal over my left breast. “You’re a good egg, Prospero,” she whispered. “Keep up the good work.”

  “I will, sir,” I replied.

  “This is a historic day in Babylon,” Eldritch said. “Detective Prospero is the first Adept to ever receive the medal of courage.”

  I froze. It wasn’t until that moment that the weight of receiving the medal hit me. Something resembling pride shivered through me. But then, past Gardner, movement on the front row caught my eye. It was John Volos rising to give me a standing ovation.

  I met the twinkle in his gaze with suspicion. That’s when I knew the awards ceremony had been orchestrated by the man who happened to be the city’s first Adept candidate for mayor.