by SM Reine
Killick’s arm twitched, aiming the gun an inch closer to Domingo’s head.
Pops shoved with all the force of his will.
A silent explosion rocked the room. The light fixture swayed. The IV bag pulsed like a drum.
Killick staggered, doubling over.
When he lifted his head again, blood streamed from his hairline and right nostril.
That was dark magic. Powerful magic. And here my grandpa was, wielding that power like it was something he did on a daily basis.
Killick gave a dry laugh. “You’re the Hawke I should have hired, aren’t you?”
“I don’t need money,” Pops said serenely.
But even though he sounded chill, I could see him cracking. His hand was shaking. He’d emptied himself stopping the assassins and didn’t have much left to deal with the priest.
I couldn’t help him. I was empty, too.
See, this is why witches carry guns. At least you can load up on extra ammunition. Can’t load up on extra magic.
I tried to catch Domingo’s eye, silently demanding that he get out of the goddamn hospital bed and help Pops. But either he was wimping out or he was still too weak from the arsenic poisoning. Domingo wasn’t moving.
Killick strained against Pops’s magic. Sweat trickled down my grandpa’s jaw.
“I’m going to break through your magic in a few seconds. I can think of a thousand things to do with this much Mejía blood, if I drain both of your boys,” Killick said softly. “Or you can release me, I’ll kill only Domingo, and then leave.”
“You can’t have either of them,” Pops said.
But Killick wasn’t bluffing.
The remaining magic in the circle strained, then snapped.
Pops lost control. He dropped at Killick’s feet and the high priest swung the gun around to aim at him instead of Domingo. He was smart. He knew who the real threat was.
“Don’t!” Domingo shouted.
Killick tried to fire with the muzzle aimed squarely at Pops’s head.
His gun clicked.
It had jammed. Killick looked at his gun in confusion, frowning.
I wasn’t confused. I knew exactly why it had jammed.
Lenox had arrived with a curse of her own.
The high priestess of the Half Moon Bay Coven entered the room and touched my shoulder. The magic holding me like a statue lifted. “There you go, Agent Hawke.” She smiled coolly. “Good to see you too, Domingo.”
“Lenox,” he said in a way that was much less friendly. “Nice work on the gun.”
“We would have been faster, but these spells take time to cast.” Several members of the Half Moon Bay Coven were in the hallway behind her, working furiously on scrubbing the circle they’d just cast so that they could make a fresh one.
This spell wouldn’t just unravel Killick’s magic and jam his gun. Whatever they cast now would be deadly.
It was easy to spot the divorced couple in the room. Even without magic involved, the way that Lenox and Killick glared at each other looked like it should have set the room on fire.
“You never could let me have a goddamn thing for myself,” Killick said.
Lenox gave a short laugh. “What is it you’re trying to get for yourself now, exactly? Making another lame power play? There are no artifacts on this Earth strong enough to make you anything but impotent.”
“We’ll see if you’re still mouthing off once I’ve unlocked that box,” Killick said.
They were so wrapped up in each other that he didn’t even notice when I stood up, backing to the doorway.
Aisha was among the witches casting outside. They’d taken over the entire hallway. That was going to be hard for the OPA to gloss over with the mundane hospital administration.
“Here,” she hissed, sliding her gun across the floor to me.
Her firearm was smaller than I was used to. Felt awkward to wrap my fingers around it. But the safety was easy to find, and the trigger was on the same spot as any other gun.
Lenox and Killick were still talking.
“You’re pathetic, Jeremiah, and you’ll always be pathetic,” she said. “I didn’t know you were pathetic enough to attempt to slip arsenic in the well at my house, though—which didn’t work.”
“What’s the arsenic for anyway?” I asked, holding the gun behind my back so Killick couldn’t see it. “I never found a spell that used both arsenic and rowan.”
“The poison has nothing to do with Killick’s pentagram, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s a weaselly way to murder. He’s too yellow-bellied to risk killing someone face to face,” Lenox spat.
Killick’s cheeks purpled. “Oh yeah? Is that what you think? That I can’t murder someone with my own two hands?” He shoved his gun against Pops’s head. “Let me show you!”
I fired my gun first.
The fact that I shot at Killick at all, without hesitation, shocked me as much as the sound. It was deafening in such a small room.
What shocked me even more was that I moved the gun an inch at the last second.
Instead of shooting Killick in the stomach, like my first instinct had told me to do, I shot him in the thigh. The leg buckled underneath him. He fell hard.
I was on top of him an instant later, leaning my knee on his spine, twisting his arms behind his back.
I’d picked up my handcuffs while at the office earlier that night, and I snapped them over Killick’s wrists with no small amount of satisfaction. The cuffs were warded to prevent Killick from casting magic. In my custody, he was, as Lenox had said, impotent.
“Finish him off, Cèsar,” Domingo growled.
He wanted me to kill. He wanted me at his level.
I was too disgusted to even respond.
Killick wasn’t going anywhere for the moment. I left him on the floor and helped Pops to his feet. The fact that my grandpa let me assist him at all meant he was even more beaten than he showed.
“You’re not bad at what you do, son,” Pops said, patting me on the shoulder.
Was someone cutting onions in the hospital? Jesus.
I accepted his almost-hug the way that real men do, which meant I didn’t make eye contact and stepped back as soon as I got the chance. “Yeah, thanks.” I tried not to look at Domingo, either, but there was no missing his stunned expression out of the corner of my eye. Pops had never complimented him like that.
Killick groaned at my feet. I hauled him off of the floor, keeping a tight grip on his elbow.
“You’re going somewhere very dark for a very long time, ‘Gareth,’” I said. “Hope you’ve enjoyed the sun while you could.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Killick said.
The cuffs jangled.
He’d gotten them off while I was distracted by Pops.
Lenox took a step back, white with shock. “Jeremiah!”
His fists lifted as he lunged at her. He had to know he was sunk—there was no way he’d be able to take down his ex-wife without the entire coven in the hallway killing him. He just didn’t seem to care anymore.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out in the hospital room.
Killick never reached Lenox. He stumbled, skidded, fell to the hospital floor.
Dead.
Domingo held my gun in both hands. And his aim wasn’t just better than mine—his resolve was better, too.
He’d shot Killick squarely in the temple.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“THE POWER OUTAGE CONTINUES through much of western Los Angeles as the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power performs repairs on the gas lines after last night’s colorful eruption.” The news channel showed a picture of the flames. The photo had been altered—instead of fire reaching to the clouds, it was only a couple stories tall. Big, but not apocalypse-big. “It’s not certain how long gas will remain unavailable, but electricity is expected to be available by this afternoon.”
There were mild memory modification spells in the newscast.
I could hear it as a hum rolling underneath the volume of the anchors’ voices. It would sound to a layman like an audio problem, but I recognized it for what it was.
People who heard that noise wouldn’t forget what they’d seen the night before, but they wouldn’t think or talk about it, either. The memories would be dimmed. Uninteresting. I’d have been surprised if anyone was even discussing the event come sundown.
I was mostly immune, of course. Nothing could make me forget what I’d been through.
At least not until my scorched eyebrows grew back.
On the bright side, I didn’t feel the urge to sneeze at all from that magic. My weird head cold seemed to have passed and my allergies were back to a normal level of embarrassment.
The news switched to another story. Pops turned the TV off. “Fuck ‘em. Only idiots buy that crap.”
“Most people buy it,” I said. “Our magic’s pretty good.”
“You kidding? I felt it all over the show. Nobody’s got a sense of subtlety in their art these days.” He spit into the hospital’s sink in distaste, like he needed to get the taste of magic out of his mouth.
It wasn’t real surprising that the OPA wasn’t good enough for his approval. If his own flesh and blood couldn’t get it, some government agency wouldn’t, either.
Domingo’s room had been cleaned up since the night before. It was impressive what Lenox’s coven could do when unleashed. Between the dozen pairs of hands they’d brought to the hospital, a couple of mops, and a carefully orchestrated cleaning spell, there wasn’t a single drop of blood left behind.
The Half Moon Bay Coven was almost as efficient at making crimes disappear as the OPA.
Good thing they weren’t the bad guys after all.
“I’m going home to take a shower,” Pops said, stuffing the last of his spell supplies into his duffel bag again. “Then I’m going to clean your old bedroom, Domingo. And as soon as you check out, you’re going to come to me. You got that?”
Domingo was still watching the blank TV. He didn’t reply.
“I’ll pick him up when he checks out,” I said.
“Yeah, you will.” Pops snapped his fingers in front of Domingo’s face, forcing him to pay attention. “Hey. Look at me. Did you hear what I said? You’re going to spend the next few months with me. However long it takes to knock some sense into your fool head.”
“I heard you,” Domingo said dully.
Pops grunted. Slung the duffel bag over his shoulder. Patted me on the back. “See you later, Cèsar.”
And then he was gone.
Domingo and I were alone. Finally.
There was a chair beside Domingo’s bed for visitors. I didn’t take it. Didn’t want to be that close to him.
But I couldn’t leave until we talked.
“Let me get this straight,” I said, pacing at the foot of his bed. “You were a member of the Half Moon Bay Coven—not high priest of a coven you started—and you defected with Killick when he got kicked out for being a murderer.”
Domingo glared at his hands in his lap. “There’s always two sides to a story.”
“Let me hear the side of the story that doesn’t make it sound like you aligned yourself with a homicidal maniac.”
“Killick’s not a maniac. He just doesn’t care how he gets the job done.”
“But you should. You should, and you don’t. You killed Aisha’s brother when he crossed paths with Killick.”
Domingo fiddled with the IV taped to his wrist. His arms were mottled with bruises. Looked like it had taken a few tries to stick another vein after Killick had pulled the first needle out. “I don’t know who Aisha is, but sure. I’ve killed a few people before.”
I’d been hoping he’d deny it. I’d been hoping so hard that I probably would have even believed him.
“Who else?” I asked.
“Witches,” he said. “Soldiers in a war.”
“Human beings. Fuck, Domingo.” I wanted to smash, wanted to rip and tear and break things. I settled for sitting in the chair next to him and gripping the bedrail tightly. “Stealing was one thing, but this… Why?”
“Our blood’s special,” Domingo said. “It’s worth money. And I needed money. Sofia cleaned me out when she left. You know how much the divorce courts favor women? You have any idea how much spousal support I have to pay that bitch?”
“That’s your wife you’re talking about.”
“Ex-wife.”
“You loved her, and she’s family,” I said. “Don’t talk about her like that.” He tried to speak again, but I didn’t let him. “What did Killick pay you for your blood?”
“A lot,” Domingo said. “More money than you can even dream about.”
“I hope it was worth it. Sofia only divorced you because you’d gotten into magic again. Didn’t she?”
Domingo’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, Sofia left me because of the coven. And Sofia is why I left with Killick. I’d just gotten divorced, he had an offer for me, and all he wanted was my blood. Mejía blood. Said he wanted to use it to make a better coven than Lenox’s.”
“And you ended up helping him sacrifice all those witches.”
“No,” Domingo said emphatically. “Everyone who got sacrificed? They were loyal to Killick. He poisoned them and used their deaths to fuel his spell. That’s goddamn sick.” As if killing strangers wasn’t sick. “I went into hiding with other members of the coven to keep Killick from getting them. I was trying to protect my people.”
I couldn’t listen to this anymore.
Pops was right. Domingo needed an intervention.
If it wasn’t already too late for him.
I checked my watch. “I’m going to work. I’ve gotta clean up your mess. But I’ll be back when you get discharged this afternoon, all right?”
Without waiting for him to answer, I went to the door.
Domingo spoke from behind me. “It’s so easy for you, ‘cause you’ve got no interest in money or power or blood. It’s not easy for all of us. Most people want things. It’s hard not to.”
I shut my eyes. Wished I could shut my ears, too. I didn’t want to hear anything else.
“It’s not that hard not to kill people, man,” I said. “It’s really not that goddamn hard.”
Fritz Friederling was leaning against the wall opposite the door when I left Domingo’s room.
Don’t ask me how he knew where to find me. The guy knew everything.
It looked like Fritz had just gotten back from his trip to Nevada. His cheeks were sunburned. His normally polished loafers were dusty. He’d rolled back into Los Angeles and immediately sought me out.
Too bad I didn’t want to talk to him.
I headed down the hall without acknowledging him, eyes on the linoleum. It felt like I’d died and my body was operating on its own. My brain had moved on, going somewhere dark, somewhere far away.
My kopis paced me. I couldn’t ignore him completely. The bond made sure of that.
Only a week apart, and I was already feeling weirdly happy to see him—happier than I had any right to be. Something to do with the sickness Aisha had talked about.
We got on an elevator. It was brown. The overhead light was flickering. I hit the button for the level with the parking garage.
“How much of our conversation did you hear?” I finally asked.
“Most of it,” Fritz said.
“You know what Domingo did.” It wasn’t a question. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Fritz had known before Killick tried to burn down Los Angeles. “Gonna have him arrested?”
“Do you want him to be arrested?”
I looked at him again. Really looked at him. His shirt was untucked, collar sticking up, eyes bruised with exhaustion. He looked as sick and tired as I felt.
“No,” I said.
“I won’t report anything.”
I wanted to thank him for that. He was the director, even more responsible for upholding the OPA’s laws than I was. It mean
t a lot that he’d keep it to himself.
The words wouldn’t come out. I felt too heavy.
He rested his hand on my shoulder, just for a second. Silently sympathizing.
Then the doors opened and we were at the parking garage. I ran my hands through my hair, took a deep breath, shook out my arms. I was tense. Didn’t feel good.
It would hurt to carry around this much anger.
Normally, I’d let it go. I didn’t hang on to feelings that weren’t helpful. Like when I’d killed the half-succubus assassin in my apartment—I hadn’t felt good about that. Never felt good killing a woman, even if she had demon blood.
But I’d let it go.
I couldn’t let Domingo go, dammit.
I’d keep this anger for his sake. I’d use it to fuel me. And I’d be back to deal with Domingo later—after he was out of the hospital, once he was living with Pops and the ghosts of what he’d done were haunting him. That was when my anger would be useful.
He deserved at least that much.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BY THE TIME FRITZ and I got back to the theater, agents from the Magical Violations Department had dug another couple hundred feet into the ground.
It was pretty impressive how fast the OPA could get work done when it wanted to. We made murderers disappear into black bags before you had time to blink, and we could clear a ritual scene in the time it took most people to have lunch.
Digging a big hole was nothing for us, even when it had to be done covertly.
It helped that we had the flaming statue up and running again.
Suzy was monitoring the containment circle, cast in a tight radius surrounding the flaming crater. It was good to see her working. Only a day after she’d drained herself and she was back at it. Made me optimistic that I might be back to brewing potions soon, too.
The containment circle was open at the bottom, allowing the statue to dig into the soil without damaging the rest of the building. All that flame was pretty cool to see—especially now that it was safely walled off with magic. The OPA had built scaffolding around the sturdier parts of the theater so that we could look into the crater safely.