Change of Heart (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 3)

by Hailey Edwards

  “How soon do you think he can have it ready for distribution?”

  “Within the week.” I set my phone aside. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”

  “They’re making progress. That’s all we can ask of them. Magic isn’t a cure-all.”

  “Sadly not,” I agreed. “What are your plans for the night?”

  “I’ve been recalled to the den to brief Mother and the other elders on recent developments.” He waited a beat then prompted me. “How about you?”

  “Patrolling the streets, searching for coven members, and hoping not to run into any naked wargs.”

  “Bishop going with you?”

  “Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s attached at the hip until our heart quota is met. No one else can guarantee they’ll reach the box before they stop beating.”

  He’d timed me with a potato enchanted to beat like a heart, which put me off French fries forever, give or take a week. First, I had excised the organ from a dummy, taking care not to damage it. Then I ran like heck or called a Swyft to carry me to HQ. The potato was DOA every time.

  “Any new leads on that front?”

  While the espresso machine mocked me, I filled him in on the fae at the club, the trail, and the visit from Lizzy. I had been too preoccupied with getting him safely into bed to brief him last night. Then he went and dropped the bomb about wanting to learn more about me, and everything else scattered.

  I had worried we would come to this, and I still had no clue what to do about it.

  Mortifying as it would be, I might have to ask Linus for romantic advice.

  Gulp.

  “Bishop is breathing down my neck now that he thinks that fae has a vested interest in me, so I can’t go to him and request another dose of the sight.” I turned it over in my head. “I’m not sure if he led me to the Martian Roaches because he guessed that was my more immediate need, or if he just wanted me out of his hair and figured that was the quickest way since there were so many of them.”

  Given the debt we had racked up with Natisha, I ought to nix the idea of incurring more with another fae, but I feared the day might come when I had no choice.

  A knock on the door drew my ire away from the espresso machine, which had earned itself a one-way ticket to the new storefront’s breakroom, whenever Remy got it up and running. Assuming I didn’t murder it for denying me that which was rightfully mine before then.

  “Listen to Bishop.” Midas headed to the bathroom. “He knows what he’s talking about.”

  Unsure if that meant Midas was aware of Bishop’s fae nature, or if he just assumed that since Linus had left Bishop in charge of the final stages of my education that meant he knew what he was talking about when he warned me away from the fae in general.

  Ambrose slid toward the door, announcing the arrival of a person of interest, and I could guess who.

  “I’ll consider it.” I crossed the room, pitching my voice louder as I traveled. “I don’t want to give him a big head. His barely fits through the door as it is.” I opened the door and gasped. “Oh, hey, Bish.”

  “I brought you this.” He lifted a tray with four steaming cups of what smelled too chocolatey to be anything but café mochas. “But since my head won’t fit through your door, I guess I’ll take them and go.”

  “How long were you listening in before you knocked?”

  “Long enough to know that espresso machine’s days are numbered.”

  “I apologize for my rudeness. I haven’t had coffee, chocolate, or caffeine in any form today.”

  “Poor baby.” He thrust the tray at me. “That’s why I made a pit stop. I figured you would pout if I didn’t leave the espresso machine, and I also figured you wouldn’t believe it’s a bitch to operate if you didn’t try it for yourself.” He glowered at it. “Do yourself a favor and buy a Mr. Coffee.”

  Or a hammer. Or a Mr. Coffee and a hammer. I might need to show the new machine what happens when you hold out on me.

  “You got the update from Reece? Good.” He breezed past me. “You did good work last night, kid.”

  “Thanks.” I tossed back the first cup and let it burn all the way down. “Do you think we could—?”

  “Ain’t happening.” He jabbed me on the forehead, right between the eyes, in the same spot his buddy had touched. “You think Natisha is scary?” He jabbed me harder. “She ain’t got nothing on Ruel.”

  Ruel.

  “About this money thing,” I began while I filed away the name in case I needed to invoke it later.

  “Not this again.”

  “I want half of it put into a trust for the next potentate,” I blurted. “I want to pay it forward.”

  Bishop measured me for the span of a few seconds, and then he smiled. “Of course you do.”

  Halve my debt to Linus and put my future replacement in a position to focus solely on their sworn duty? Talk about your win/win situations. “You’ll help?”

  “It’s your money.” He shrugged. “Do with it what you like.”

  Remy would probably murder me in my sleep for this, but it felt right. The next person to take office might have fewer resources and less powerful friends than I did. I had grown to love Atlanta in my time here, and I wanted her left in capable hands when it was time for me to pass the baton.

  A text chime brought Bishop’s attention to his phone, and a feral grin spread across his face.

  “We’ve got a lead on an ex-coven member.” He snapped his fingers. “Let’s go.”

  Taking a second cup with me, I went to get dressed for the night in the clothes Lisbeth had bought me.

  By the time I had yanked the tags off my new outfit and emerged wearing it, Midas was gone.

  “His mom called.” Bishop didn’t snicker, but it was a near thing. “He had to go.”

  Mouth thinned while I sipped my third coffee, I asked, “What do we know about this ex-coven member?”

  “They got tagged for selling Martian Roach spermatophores as aphrodisiacs.”

  The mention of sperm paired with aphrodisiac sent my brain to a bad place. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “For the record, it’s a capsule full of roach sperm.” His expression soured. “Do you think I would do the research to find out what that is, let alone imagine someone desperate enough to try it, for a laugh?”

  “Your face says no, but I think deep down the answer is probably yes.”

  Ambrose swirled around Bishop’s ankles, eager to get out on the streets, which made me suspicious.

  “That never gets less creepy.” He shuddered. “He’s worse than the spermatophores.”

  “Ambrose isn’t worse than roach sperm.”

  “You named it Ambrose, and that’s what makes it worse. Names have power. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Ambrose came with the name, whether it had been his originally or one he adopted later, I couldn’t say. I hadn’t realized Bishop didn’t know that choice nugget of intel. Maybe he wasn’t as all-knowing about my situation as I thought.

  “I know, I know.” I kicked at Ambrose, not that he felt it. “He just had that Ambrose look about him.”

  “Midas hasn’t seen him?”

  “Midas can’t see him, or he would have brought it up by now.” I thought about it. “No pack member has mentioned it, not even Abbott, so I’m guessing no one can.”

  It happened like that sometimes, even among the supernatural set. Creatures who could practice magic, like necromancers or witches, could often see beyond the veil if they had enough power. Creatures whose magic was sewn into their bones, like wargs or Atlanta’s gwyllgi hybrids, were more grounded. They might sense a presence or catch a glimpse from the corner of their eye, but they couldn’t see things like Ambrose unless he manifested. And to do that, I would have to be feeding him a lot more than I ever planned on.

  “That’s going to make for an awkward conversation,” he said on the ride down to the lobby.

  “You have no idea.”


  Ambrose was our third wheel, but Midas had no clue our every move was catalogued by the creep. He was always around, always snooping, always interrupting our private time. I definitely needed a stronger barrier between us now that things were escalating between Midas and me in the romance department.

  No one stopped us on our way out, but I got looks from several pack members. Mostly curious. None hostile. I called that a win.

  “Ares was looking for you earlier.” Hank held the door for us. “She’s back at the den now.”

  News of my relocation must not have made the rounds yet then. Too bad it wouldn’t stay that way.

  “Thanks.” I called for a Swyft, and Bishop stared at me. “What?”

  “You and Ares are friendly, right?” He held the door for me. “What’s with the tone?”

  “I overheard the tail end of a conversation not meant for my ears, and I’m not sure where we stand.”

  “Ah.” He gave the driver an address. “You’re coming up in the world, and there will be people you pass along the way.”

  The situation wasn’t that black-and-white, but then nothing was, really. “I get that, but it still sucks.”

  When the driver stopped at our destination a few minutes later, I pulled out of my head enough to gawp. “This guy is operating out of a church?”

  “He’s the janitor.” Bishop led the way out of the car and up the stairs. “He should be on shift.”

  A sour taste coated the back of my throat as I wondered if I was about to collect heart number two. The analytical part of my brain that warned he was no longer coven and therefore might not count was no easier to swallow. Who had I become that these decisions fell to me? How much worse would it be once I bonded with the city? I had a feeling I wasn’t ready for the answer.

  A thin man with hollows under his eyes answered the door before Bishop could knock. “Yes?”

  Bishop flashed the man a roll of cash. “Are you Lucas?”

  “Luke,” he corrected out of habit then nodded. “Who sent you?”

  “Ben Franklin.”

  Luke cracked a smile and waved us in. “What’s the problem?”

  “This one is a succubus.” Bishop hooked his thumb at me, wisely positioning himself out of striking range. “She keeps me wrung out, if you know what I mean.”

  “We don’t get many of those in the city.” Avarice glittered in his eyes, as if I were one more object for him to buy or sell. “I have just the thing.” He swept his gaze over me. “Though there’s a free solution.”

  The portrait of innocence, Bishop leaned in. “Oh?”

  “Let her feed on multiple partners.”

  Ugh.

  I never saw that one coming.

  “She’s got a taste for me, I’m afraid.” Bishop rubbed at his mouth. “I heard you’ve got a fix for that.”

  “I’ve got a stimulant that will keep you going for days.” He dialed the ick factor up to ten when he waggled his eyebrows at me. “How’s that sound?”

  Like he wanted me to punch in his teeth. “Great.”

  “Let me check my supply.” He scanned the massive open room from left to right. “Give me a minute.”

  Once we were alone, I glared a hole through the side of Bishop’s head. “A succubus?”

  “He’s a little blue pill dealer. I had to pitch him a plausible issue.”

  “You couldn’t have told him you were an incubus?”

  “How sad would that be? An incubus who couldn’t get it up?” He shook his head. “I flattered you. Why would you want to insult me?”

  The cover did fit the situation, but sheesh. All this sex talk was squicking me out. For the most part, Bishop treated me like a kid sister. Hearing the fictional state of his erection made me super uncomfortable.

  And, if I was being honest, it might have also slid my thoughts in a different direction. One with blond hair, blue eyes, and a spot reserved in my bed.

  Truth be told, I had trouble relaxing when his hands roamed in his sleep. It made me wonder if I could get away with blaming my subconscious for my hands wandering too.

  Probably not.

  “This is the last batch.” Luke jogged over with a vial in hand. “You’re lucky you got here in time.”

  That line didn’t really work on people, did it? I bet he had a box full of the stuff hidden away.

  “Good enough?” I checked with Bishop, who nodded. “Excellent.”

  I stuck out my hand to accept the vial then tossed it to Bishop. He caught it while I clamped my hand over Luke’s wrist and twisted his arm behind him. I leveraged his arm higher until he squeaked and trembled, and then I got down to business.

  “You’re ex-coven.” I gave him time to answer, but he shut his mouth. “That’s what I’ve heard. The thing is, you’re peddling roach Viagra out of a church, and that makes me curious how you came by it if you’ve cut ties with them.”

  “I left with my supply after some psycho bitch killed Iliana.” He struggled against me. “I haven’t had contact with them since.”

  “How did you come into possession of the spermatophores then?”

  “Spermawhat?” He wrenched his head toward me. “What is that?”

  “You’re selling mutant roach sperm. Did you not get that memo?”

  Pallor swept through him, and he sagged. “I didn’t know.”

  “No one ever does,” Bishop chimed in. “The I didn’t do it disease is sweeping the nation.”

  “A friend gave them to me to unload,” he protested. “She said they were too hot for her to move.”

  “She’s coven, I assume.”

  “Yeah.” His knees buckled, and I had to help him sit or let him fall. “She’s still in.”

  “Hadley,” Bishop warned, taking a step closer. “Get back.”

  “Where are they?” I used my modified pen to draw a restraining sigil on his wrists. “Help us, and we’ll go easy on you.”

  “You can’t…” He toppled onto his side. “I can’t believe she…”

  His eyes rolled back in his head, and froth dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

  “No, no, no.” I rushed over and checked for a pulse but found nothing. “He’s dead.”

  “He recognized you.” Bishop cursed under his breath. “He took something when he went to the back. That or he tucked a pill into his cheek just in case.”

  Coven members probably kept a wanted poster with my name on it stuck to their refrigerators, but he was supposed to be out, frak it all.

  The heart was viable for the next few minutes, so I had to ask, “Do you think he was still active?”

  “There’s no way to tell.” He loomed over the body. “We better err on the side of caution.”

  Natisha didn’t strike me as the forgiving sort, so I nodded quick agreement.

  “The coven must have invested a chunk of time and money into creating the Martian Roaches.” He crouched and went through Luke’s pockets. “Maybe they cut a dead one up into little pieces to find out what, if anything, the other bits and pieces were good for. Luke might have been placed here to peddle spare parts to parishioners. Easier to track folks, and their reactions, when you know where they’re going to pop up every Sunday.”

  “Or his partner, if he was telling the truth about having one, might have thought it was a great way to make extra cash. The coven is focusing on the saliva for use in Faete. She might have determined what parts were worth selling then drafted him to work in the last place a coven of witches would expect him.”

  Given how many various eyes, fins, organs, feet, and everything in between got marketed as medicinal, I couldn’t say I was surprised the coven had experimented with various other, potentially lucrative uses for the creature. But I couldn’t decide if this particular sideline was officially sanctioned or not. I couldn’t see it furthering their overall goal of dominion over the city. Still, I couldn’t afford to make assumptions. We needed more information.

  “Safe to assume he called his girlfriend, or girl fri
end, whoever she may be, to warn her away.” I hated when that happened. “You got his cell?” Bishop held it up. “We’ll hit the nearest drop box and alert Reece he’s got a special delivery.”

  “I’ll handle the data recovery.” He pocketed the phone. “Reece has his hands full.”

  The fission of doubt that swept through me was unwelcome. I trusted Bishop. Just because he wanted to keep me as far away from Blithe and his fae friend as possible didn’t mean he would tamper with evidence to do it.

  Probably.

  We called the cleaners to dispose of the body, and we did it from the backseat of the Swyft we took to HQ to prevent segues like did he have a phone or where is his phone or everyone has a phone these days or other lines of inquiry that might incriminate us.

  It’s not like the cleaners didn’t get their turn with it, just sometimes after we did. I didn’t begrudge them their priorities, but they were spread thin at times. When we needed more immediate results, and we had a person who could get them, we tended to ask forgiveness later.

  With no other pressing leads, Bishop and I resigned ourselves to patrol. A crucial part of the job was maintaining a street presence, and Milo had been putting in overtime on that front as the others worked on various facets of the job, but this was one night I wished I had a target for our frustrations. And if it had antennae, so be it.

  Sixteen

  The first four hours slogged past, business as usual. I should have been grateful to catch a break, but the normalcy made me twitchy when so much tension bubbled beneath the surface of the city. I didn’t trust the quiet. I knew Atlanta, and she was primed to boil over at any moment.

  When the status remained quo, Bishop and I decided pizza sounded good and went to get some.

  We cut our last quadrant short to hit the part of town where para-owned food trucks congregated late at night. About halfway there, I heard a click-clack-thump on the pavement behind us.

  “Turn left.” Bishop urged me toward the darkness rather than the light. “Head to Brunner’s Sports Bar.”

  We kept our pace easy, our shoulders relaxed, and waited for our pursuer to reveal themselves.