by C. S. Wilde
“Is that what you believe?”
He seemed to mull it over. “I never had a hart before.”
“Sex is just sex, Bast.”
And the concept of soulmates was nonsensical.
“How very human of you. But if you don’t believe it, why does it scare you so?”
Touché.
Mera cleared her throat. “What’s next on your case?”
“Persistent, aren’t you?” With a low chuckle, he shook his head. Mera would never get used to feeling, no, seeing those flashes of him through their link. “I’m trying to lure Poseidon to land.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I haven’t the slightest clue. Wait, Corvus is calling me. Talk to you later, kitten.”
“Bast, be careful.”
But once again, he was gone.
On the third day after Morgan’s death, Mera studied the case file while Julian called his confidential informant, a woman named Emma Morrigan, who was one of his contacts in the Underworld.
A place hidden in the crevices and corners of this city, the Underworld bloomed after dark. Prostitution, forbidden spells, gambling, drugs—if the law prohibited it, one could find it in the shady alleys and forgotten streets of Clifftown at night. From eight p.m. to seven a.m., all misfits of this city came together to either make business or to party. After that, the Underworld vanished, only to come back to life the following night.
“Em,” Julian said on the phone. “Did your little birds twitter about a new drug on your side of town?”
Her side of town. A nice way to address the Underworld.
In any case, a detective shouldn’t call their informant “Em”. It sounded informal. Loving, in a way, not to mention highly inappropriate.
‘No judging,’ her siren warned.
Yeah, Mera was being a total hypocrite. Her relationship with Bast wasn’t appropriate, either.
Julian’s eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers at her, calling her attention. “Can we pay you a visit today?” The woman shouted so loudly, he pulled the phone away. “Come on. For old times’ sake.”
Old times’ sake?
Funny how Mera had worked with him for years, and never known about Em’s existence. Not that Julian owed her anything. Mera had her share of fun back in the day too, especially since they couldn’t be together. She’d had to release the tension somehow.
Apparently, so did he.
Julian cheered silently as he listened to Emma’s reply. “Thanks, Em. You won’t regret it.” Putting down the phone, he turned to Mera. “We have a date tomorrow morning!”
“Why not now?”
He gawked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “One doesn’t simply force a meeting on Emma Morrigan. If she gives you a time and place, you consider yourself lucky.”
“But—” Mera’s phone rang. When she saw who was calling, relief flooded through her. “Doctor Stone,” she answered, putting the call on speaker. “It’s been a while. What do you have for us?”
“Detective Maurea.” The woman sounded grim and exhausted. “Could you visit me at the hospital? We’re in the Final Ward, different room. Number 302.”
Mera exchanged a worried glance with Julian.
“We’ll be there in ten.”
The Final Ward was empty, as usual.
They soon reached a double door with the metallic number 302 attached to it, which led to a vast space that could pass for a makeshift emergency room.
All sorts of equipment lined one wall, and on the opposite side… Poseidon in the trenches!
One of the physicians they’d met at the other lab, Doctor Pascal if Mera recalled correctly, lay on a hospital bed. Ice packs surrounded her, and thick, black veins marked her skin.
She didn’t seem to be in pain, or out of herself. Still, the doctor’s wrists and ankles were restrained to the bed’s side rails as a precaution. She spoke normally to the other physician—Doctor Hendricks, if Mera’s memory served her right. He took notes and laughed with her as a machine next to them beeped with steady life signs.
Dr. Stone stood at the foot of the bed, watching her colleagues.
“What the hell happened?” Mera blurted.
“It’s not what it looks like,” the doc promptly assured. “We found out how Green infects hosts, and it’s not through undead bites. It’s much, much worse.” She motioned to a microscope at the other end of the room, nodding for Mera to sit on the chair facing it. “The pill you found doesn’t treat headaches. As soon as someone swallows it, the first layer of chemicals breaks apart, revealing a second layer that produces a high similar to fae crystal.”
“So it’s an opioid?” Mera walked over to the microscope and looked into it, quickly spotting the red blood cells with a slimy, lime-green coating. The slime was slowly spreading to other cells.
“It’s a lot more than that,” the doctor explained. “The second layer appeals to drug addicts which means, if distributed, the pills could become the next new high.”
“New drug in town,” Julian muttered from behind her.
Dr. Stone nodded. “However, when the second layer disintegrates, it reveals the final one. And that is Green’s essence.” She lifted her hands. “I realize it sounds crazy, but she found a way to transform her magical core into a virus. Fred Johnson was her first try, and the fact he became infectious is alarming.”
Mera focused on the lime-green slime, horror tightening her chest. “Green has been spreading her essence throughout the city, possibly creating an army of contagious dead at her whim. All right under our noses.”
“Fuck.” Spinning around, Julian ran a hand through his hair. “Do you know how many drug addicts there are in this town? Green can create an outbreak any time she wants.”
“Not quite,” Dr. Stone countered. “Stella’s initial assumption is correct. To kill so many infected at once, Green would need an immense amount of power. We believe she hasn’t gotten to it yet, which means we have time. That’s where Doctor Pascal comes in.”
The woman on the bed turned to them. “I volunteered to take the pill to test our theory. This way, we could study the infection and its spread rate on a human body before Green decides to strike.”
Pascal was either fearless or an idiot. Maybe both.
Dr. Stone tipped her chin at her. “The good news is that Doctor Pascal is much better today than in the last twenty-four hours, which is immense progress. It means our theory works.”
Mera crossed her arms. “And that is?”
Dr. Stone leaned forward, as if she was about to tell her a big secret. A certain madness glinted in her brown eyes, which hid behind her thick, black-rimmed glasses. “We mixed a healer’s essence with the host’s antibodies. They blocked any communication between Green and Doctor Pascal.” She pointed to the woman. “Also, she hasn’t stopped breathing, which means Green can’t kill her.”
“So there’s a successful treatment?”
The doc seemed to consider her answer. “Yes and no. The number of cells belonging to Green in Doctor Pascal’s blood work has gone down significantly since we started, but the doctor’s not out of the woods yet. Also, if this pill is being sold on the streets, we’ll need a way to detect the infected. I’m working on it, but the cure, and producing it en masse, is our priority.”
“We have to broadcast this,” Julian urged. “People have to know.”
“I already alerted the Center for Disease Control. They’re sending a team to help.” Dr. Stone arched an eyebrow at him. “As for alerting the population, do you want mass hysteria, Detective Smith? We don’t have a cure yet.”
“No, but—”
“I’ve run the projections and the hospital has the capacity to deal with an outbreak if I find a successful treatment soon. Trust me, I’m halfway there.”
“And if you don’t find a cure in time?”
“Then we’re all fucked, aren’t we?”
Pretty much.
Mera would check with
Ruth, but she knew the Cap would agree with the doc’s strategy.
“For now, please stay put,” Dr. Stone pleaded. “I’ll get us out of this. I have to,” she mumbled to herself.
Mera didn’t doubt the doc could handle it, but the burden she was willing to carry could very well crush her.
“Thanks for your help.” Getting up from the chair, Mera headed for the door. “Keep us posted.”
As soon as they walked out of the hospital, she called the Cap.
“I’m with the CDC, cookie,” she said down the line.
So, that’s what she’d been working on secretly. Super classified stuff, indeed.
“Things are getting hairy,” the Cap explained. “Stay safe, okay?”
“I will, Mom.” Mera nearly gasped as the word escaped her lips.
Ruth went deadly silent on the other side.
Calling her “mom” felt right, though. Not as terrible as Mera had imagined. Amma meant mom in Faeish. It was informal and implied love. Imma, mother, implied detachment and a certain fear.
Maybe Bast’s people were on to something. After all, Queen Ariella might have been Mera’s mother, but Ruth would always be her mom.
Mera didn’t know why she’d blurted the word, but she was glad she did. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “I-I finally said it.”
“You did.” Her mom’s voice wobbled with tears, followed by a sniff and a hitched breath. It surprised Mera. Ruth Maurea was the toughest woman she knew. Clearing her throat, her mom quickly recomposed. “Okay. I love you, cookie.”
“Love you, too.”
Julian stared at her, his mouth hanging open as she put her phone back in her pocket. “Did I just hear what I think I did?”
“Shut up.” She slapped his shoulder. “Hey, can you speed up our meeting with Emma? We need to trace the drug’s distribution, and the Underworld is the best place for that.”
“I can’t, Mer. If Emma said tomorrow, it has to be tomorrow. Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way. Besides, we have somewhere to be tonight, don’t we?”
“We do?”
He winked at her. “I’ll see you at eight.”
Crap!
Mera had forgotten about their date.
Chapter 13
Mera couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date. Meaningless one-night stands didn’t count, even if her romantic resumé had been built upon them.
She debated going with her usual attire: jeans, white shirt, and a black leather jacket, but it didn’t feel right for tonight. So, she put on a simple black dress that hugged her figure nicely, pulled her hair up in a loose bun, and donned some makeup. No heels, though, just flats.
The perfect blend between formal and informal.
When Mera looked at herself in the mirror, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her. She actually looked… beautiful.
Grooming herself for Julian and not Bast seemed wrong somehow, which wasn’t entirely rational. Mera could get pretty any time, and for anyone she wanted. Knowing that, however, didn’t help with the uneasiness in her belly.
By the time she met Julian at the Lucky Dumpling, she was starving. The mouth-watering smell of the steamed buns prevailed in the air, and the waiter soon seated them at a table in the corner.
They didn’t need long to decide, since Mera already knew what she wanted. Sure, the restaurant had revamped its menu, which was why they were here in the first place—or so she told herself—but Mera missed her Tia-lon baos too much to try anything new tonight.
They ordered, and while they waited, she and Julian stuck to small talk.
They discussed their case, talked about Mera’s new life working in different boroughs, and the new Treasure Quest movie—anything other than that day at the Johnsons’ house.
When the dumplings arrived, Mera shoved them in her mouth one after another, mostly out of hunger, but also because with a mouthful of food, she couldn’t talk to Julian about the things that still lingered between them.
Last time Mera was there, she’d had butterflies in her stomach, and a part of her—the same irrational part that surrendered to Bast’s kisses—had wished Julian would make a move.
That part still lived inside her, still thrummed in anticipation when he was near, though she refused to admit it.
Did that mean she still had feelings for him?
‘He’s easy on the eyes,’ her siren noted, as if it was a valid argument.
In any case, Julian seemed fine tonight, and not as uncomfortable as Mera. He ate his Hop-Sey noodles casually—a crime, really, to order that in a place with the best dumplings in town, but she respected his choice.
“When we meet Emma tomorrow,” he said through a mouthful of noodles. “Don’t be surprised, okay?”
“Why would I be?”
He winced slightly. “She’s a vamp.”
Mera placed a full dumpling in her mouth, chewing a bit before figuring out an answer. “As long as she has her permission stay, I don’t mind.”
“She does. I helped her with that after she got here.”
“Usually, it’s the other way around. You get the permission stay, and then you come in, especially if you’re a bloodthirsty vamp.” She narrowed her eyes at him while working on her dumpling. “If it were anyone else, would you have done the same?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem awfully intimate with her.”
“Do I?” He scoffed before taking a gulp of his drink. “You seem awfully intimate with Sebastian Dhay, too.”
“Jules,” she warned. Going there would open a giant can of worms, and Mera couldn’t tell if they were ready for that.
He raised his hands in surrender, then nodded to her nearly finished plate. “Don’t they have dumplings in Tir Na Nog?”
‘Man’s got incredible deflection skills,’ her siren remarked.
Well, as long as they didn’t address the elephant in the room, Mera went with it.
“Kind of,” she replied through a mouthful of dumpling. “They have something similar called porago, which tastes amazing. Bast cooks a mean porago, actually.” She swallowed, ignoring the longing that pricked her heart when she spoke his name out loud. “It’s not better or worse, just different.”
Was she talking about dumplings and poragos, or something else?
Poseidon in the trenches…
Mera had loved Julian for most of her adult life. They’d gone to the academy together, and he’d been her first and only partner. Her only major crush, too.
Until Bast.
A part of her would always love Julian, as a partner and as a friend. As a man… Mera couldn’t say if she still loved him, or if it was simply the memory of being in love with him.
Julian was a predictable choice. Safe.
Bast, on the other hand?
Uncharted territory.
“Of course you found a form of dumplings somewhere. It’s like you can sniff them, no matter where you are.” Laughing, he picked up a nest of noodles between his chopsticks. “Remember our contests?”
Mera swallowed her last steamed bun. Leaning back in the chair, she grinned and patted her full belly. “Cleared an entire plate in five minutes. You never stood a chance.”
In Mera’s defense, she loved food from Zhang Hon, a nation in the far East. Since humans had been persecuted by supernaturals there for centuries, many Zhang-honians migrated to other lands via Nightbringer, searching for human-friendly countries, such as Tagrad, Al Rhaelli, or Great Bensgog.
Mera heard that mermaids were welcomed in Zhang Hon, but she’d never travelled that far, even when she was a merling. The trip took months, since waterbreaking for a long period of time demanded a great deal of energy, which meant a lot of pit-stops. Also, when Queen Ariella had spoken of Zhang-honian waterbreakers, she’d called them “wimpy traitors.”
Mera shuddered at the memory of Queen Ariella. Every time she remembered Mother, she took a deep breath, reminding herself that the mad
queen couldn’t hurt her anymore. Mera had made sure of that when she’d buried her on land, more than six feet under.
“This is nice, Mer,” Julian offered once he finished his plate. “I didn’t appreciate the moments I had with you when we were partners, not as much as I should have. I’m glad we get to hang out one last time.”
“Don’t be silly.” She took a sip of her drink. “I won’t pull the disappearing act again, you have my word.”
“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have cared about the rules, is what I mean. We came so close to breaking them.” He held her gaze. “I should have been braver.”
“Rehashing the past is pointless.” And talking about it would stir up a hornet’s nest.
“Not always. Do you recall our last case? The one before the Summer King’s murder?” He sneered. “Before Sebastian Dhay came waltzing into our lives.”
Mera tried to keep her composure, but her heart raced a thousand miles per hour, a warm flush rising to her face. “What about it?”
He ran a hand over his blond hair. “The pier?”
Oh. The pier.
They had just wrapped up their case, and the sun was setting in the horizon, drenching pier number seven in warm shades of orange and pink.
Maybe it was the rush of the win, maybe a pent-up mess of feelings, but for a moment, they locked stares as the wind blew softly around them. An invisible pull drew them closer, until she and Julian stood inches apart, her chest nearly touching his.
They’d never been so close to kissing than they were right then, but at the last minute Julian stepped away.
“I should have kissed you,” he admitted lowly, a hint of lust flashing in his hazel eyes. “Also, we’re not official partners anymore, Mer.”
Meaning, there was nothing standing in his way.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Her siren chuckled. ‘Exactly.’
You horny ass bitch!
His hand rested atop hers. “We finally have a chance to try what we’ve both wanted for a long time, Mer. Aren’t you at least curious?”