Dirty Magic

by Jaye Wells

  It was addressed to Danny in a neat hand. Probably a birthday card. But something about the carefully lettered words made my sensors flare up. I flipped over the card to see the return address and froze. Crowley Penitentiary.

  I didn’t hesitate to tear it open. It was a greeting card with a birthday cake on the front. Inside, the preprinted message said simply, “Happy Birthday!” But the handwritten note made my blood go cold.

  Danny Boy—

  Happy sixteenth birthday! My greatest regret is that I was unable to watch you grow into a man. Maybe one day you can come visit me and we can talk about magic. Has your sister started your lessons? Perhaps not. Regardless, I hope your next year is a good one.

  —Uncle Abe

  I tore the card up with slow, methodical movements. Tore the pieces so small that even I didn’t recognize the fragments of ink-marked shards as parts of words. Once that was done, I placed the pile at the bottom of the kitchen trash can. Then I gathered the bag, tied it closed, and set it outside the back door.

  After washing my hands, I continued to gather the ingredients I needed to make breakfast. The Mundane task felt normal and right. It helped me ignore the nausea in my gut, the residue of fear that Danny might have found that card before I had a chance to dispose of it. But I tried to remind myself that this time, like all the others, I’d managed to keep Danny from knowing that his Uncle Abe had been reaching out to him on his birthday every year for the last ten. And if I had my way, he never would.

  Over the years I’d tried to convince myself that I hid the cards to protect Danny. But the truth was, I was also protecting myself. Hatred was an easier emotion to live with than fear. As long as I could keep Abe far from us both physically and emotionally, I could go on loathing him. But if Uncle Abe somehow managed to get a fingerhold in our lives, I would suddenly be thrust from anger’s warm embrace into the frigid waters of fear. Fear that he’d woo Danny into cooking dirty. Fear that he’d take Danny away from me. But most of all, I was afraid that if he came back into my life, he’d be able to pull me back into the place I’d run from all those years ago. Maybe it was silly to credit him with so much power and myself with so little, but it seemed downright stupid to chance it and give him the opportunity to try. So I’d go on intercepting those cards and doing everything in my power to keep him well away from both of us.

  By the time Danny joined me, the room was filled with sizzling sounds and the smoky aroma of cooked bacon. His sneakers squeaked against the faded linoleum floor.

  I turned to see him frozen in the doorway. “Oh God,” he said. “Who died?”

  My eyebrows slammed down. “What?”

  He nodded to the stove. “The only time you cook breakfast for me is when there’s bad news.”

  I dismissed his concern with a wave of the spatula. “Not this time.” I jerked a thumb toward the fridge. “Get the OJ, will ya?”

  He shot me a dubious look before he shuffled to grab the juice. Once he’d set it on the table, he said, “So … you going to tell me why you’re suddenly pretending to be June Cleaver?”

  I sighed and turned to face him. “All right. I guess I felt bad that we fought on your birthday yesterday.” I picked up a strip of bacon I’d already cooked and offered it to him.

  “So … what?” He took the bacon. “You’re bribing me with pork?”

  I nodded. “Pretty much.”

  He raised it to his mouth and chomped a large bite. “Works for me.”

  I smiled at him, realizing suddenly that I was looking up at him. When had that happened? He used to be the kid who clung to my knee and now he was almost a full head taller.

  I turned away quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears that suddenly threatened to give me away. I hadn’t been lying when I told him breakfast was a makeup birthday peace offering. But it hadn’t been the whole truth, either.

  “So what do you have going on at school today?” I asked.

  The sounds of the silverware drawer opening and shutting told me he was setting the table without being asked for once. I’d bribed him with bacon, and he was responding by being helpful. I could get used to this quid pro quo.

  “Not much,” he said. “There’s some assembly this morning.”

  “About what?”

  “Oh, you know, one of those Just Say No to Magic programs.”

  I stopped and looked at him. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Guess after what happened to that one kid in the lower school, they’re cramming the antipotion campaign down our throats.” From the look in his eye, he expected me to launch into another lecture about the dangers of magic. My conscience prickled because it had been a couple of days since I’d talked to Pen about anything other than my own problems. No doubt she was hurting over that kid’s death, but here I was calling her for favors to save my brother from suspension. Yet another personal thread that ended up neglected because of the job.

  “All right,” I said instead. “Sit down and eat before this gets cold.”

  He did as instructed, but before he dug in he stopped and looked at me. Really looked, as if he was seeing me as a real human instead of the harpy who made him do his homework every night. “Look, I—I know I give you a tough time a lot.”

  I opened my mouth to dismiss it, but he held up a hand.

  “Let me finish.”

  I sat back and nodded.

  “But I just want you to know that I get how hard you try. You know, to raise me and stuff. I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk lately, it’s just”—he sighed and shrugged—“I don’t know. It’s just becoming more and more clear that I’m different from the other kids.”

  I tilted my head. “How?”

  He raised his left hand, which held his fork. “This for one thing. I’m one of the few Lefties at school. I might as well be wearing a sign that says ‘Freak’ on my back, you know? But I’m a freak to the Adepts, too, because I’m not allowed to touch magic.”

  “Look, I know it’s not easy, but kids your age? They jump on anything that’s different. In my school, where most everyone was Adept, they picked on the only kid with red hair. It has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with kids needing to persecute others to make their own insecurities less painful.”

  His lips quirked. “You’ve been hanging out with Pen too long.”

  “It’s true.” I laughed. “But she’s pretty smart.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, she basically said the same thing when I told her.”

  My chest tightened. How many other issues had Danny gone to her with first because I was working? Or because he thought I wouldn’t listen? I reached across the table and grabbed his left with my left. “We’re Adepts, sure, but that’s just genetics. Same as your blue eyes or the color of your hair. Your choices make you who you really are.” I paused to let that sink in. “When I was young, I didn’t have a choice. Cooking potions was expected of me and I went along because I didn’t know any better.”

  “But don’t you see? You’ve dictated a magic-free path for me, so I don’t have a choice, either.”

  His words were like a bucket of ice water waking me from a deep sleep. I’d been telling myself I was doing right by him to forbid magic. Instead, I’d managed only to drive a wedge between us. Danny and I were on the other side of the same fucked-up coin Uncle Abe had used to control me. And for the first time, I felt deep in my gut that if I continued to forbid Danny I would lose him—just as Abe had lost me.

  “Okay. I get it.” I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat. “Maybe later we can go through the boxes in the attic together. You at least deserve to know more about where you come from. If you still want to learn about magic once you learn what it did to our family”—I took a deep breath, as if I were about to jump off a cliff into deep, dangerous waters—“I won’t stop you.”

  His eyes widened. “Really?”

  I nodded because I couldn’t trust myself to speak.

  He jumped out of his chair and came to hug me. In his excite
ment he didn’t notice the stiffness of my limbs. Worry made my chest ache. I closed my eyes and tried to absorb some of his happiness into my skin.

  He pulled away too quickly. Before I felt any better. Before I was ready to let go and head out to face Bane. Before I could pretend I wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  “There’s something else,” I said, removing the small box from the pocket of my robe. I set it on the table. The simple brown paper wrapping looked so unexciting on the white tablecloth. I suddenly was afraid he’d find the contents unexciting, too, but it was too late to take it back and give him some electronic gizmo instead.

  He paused and stared at it. “What’s that?”

  “Happy birthday, Danny.” I nodded at the box. “Open it.”

  He smiled self-consciously, an expression that took years off his face. His fingers fumbled with the paper, but soon enough he pulled the lid off the box and tossed the cotton square aside. Then he stared into the box with a face I couldn’t read for a good, long time. “Was it hers?” he whispered finally.

  I licked my lips. “Passed down from her father. She told me once she always intended to give it to you once you were old enough.”

  When he finally looked up, his eyes were shiny and red-rimmed. “Does it work?” He lifted the pocket watch from its cotton cocoon and raised it to his ear. Hearing nothing, he pulled it away and gazed at the surface of the clock with the blue-enameled night sky and smirking moon.

  “We could take it to a shop to have it repaired if you want.”

  He shook his head. “I can use my phone to tell time,” he said. “But I’ll keep it with me—for good luck.” He smiled at me. “Thanks, Kate. This means a lot to me.”

  I swallowed hard against the emotion stinging in my throat. “No sweat, kid. I lo—”

  A horn sounded from outside. Danny had told me his friend Aaron was driving him that morning because Pen had to be at the school early for a meeting with the principal. The sound shattered the insulating silence that had protected us for a few moments from the outside world. Danny jerked his head to look out the window. “Gotta go!” He grabbed his backpack and leaped out of his seat, shoving the watch into his jeans pocket.

  “Wait!” I got out of my seat. With my napkin, I wiped a smear of bacon grease from his chin.

  His smile transformed his face from boyish to almost-mannish. On impulse, I grabbed him and pulled him in hard for another hug. This time, I didn’t let go until I was good and ready.

  “Um, Katie?”

  The horn honked again.

  “Just one more second,” I said, closing my eyes. He smelled like cologne and bacon. I suddenly wanted to tell him to skip school. That I’d unplug the phone, lock the doors, and pretend I didn’t have to be anywhere. We could spend the day watching old movies and eating popcorn. And then, after Gardner called to tell me I was fired, I’d pack our things and we’d move far away. Somewhere that didn’t have a dirty magic problem. A deserted island or the frozen tundra—anywhere I could protect Danny from the world twenty-four/seven.

  The horn honked again. This time the sound was more insistent, angry.

  “Kate,” he said, “I really gotta go.” Danny pulled back, extricating himself from my clinging arms. He looked down at me. “You okay?”

  I nodded and widened my too-dry eyes to add credence to the lie. “Just feeling sentimental.”

  He laughed. “Since when?”

  I forced a smile. “Since now.” I swatted his arm. “Better go before Aaron storms the house.”

  “Thanks again for the watch!” He waved and headed toward the door. “Have a good one!”

  “You, too,” I said weakly. “Be careful.”

  “I’m just going to school, Katie.” He stopped and looked back at me. “You’re the one who needs to be careful.”

  That comment combined with the worry in his eyes told me he knew the score. There was no point trying to reassure him. He knew my job was dangerous. “True enough, kid.” I forced a smile. “Now get out of here.”

  With that he waved and disappeared out the front door. I looked around the kitchen, which seemed so barren without his youthful energy filling it up. Then I shook myself and went to prepare for the raid.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The sun stabbed the eastern horizon, painting it caution-yellow and bloodred. The assault teams moved in two groups like flocks of heavily armed crows. Our team joined four tactical wizards called in from the county sheriff’s office and two BPD guys to attack the main gate of the tunnels. Another team of ten would attack from another entrance and meet us somewhere in the middle of the labyrinth.

  As our feet moved silently across the barren lot, Eldritch issued last-minute warnings through our earpieces. My heart thumped like a wild thing under my ballistics vest. The patch Mez had given me when we suited up burned on my arm like hellfire. He’d said the potion was one that would increase my stamina and speed, as well as allow my team to track me if we got separated. All good things, but I still felt off balance and nauseous with it against my skin.

  Closer now, almost there.

  To the right of the gate, the bright-white sign announcing Volos’s ground-breaking ceremony in four days mocked me. I dragged my gaze from it and counted each step to maintain my calm.

  Morales and Shadi were in front of me carrying large assault rifles. Mez was to my right. He wore the same black uniform as the rest of us, with his dreads tucked under the helmet. But unlike the rest of us, he also had a bandolier loaded down with potions strapped to his chest. I had a Glock .22, two salt flare guns, two canisters of S&P spray, and a ton of adrenaline ready to go.

  Morales would act as the ram man for the raid. In his right hand he carried a large metal cylinder by the handle. When we finally reached the gate, Shadi stepped to one side and one of the other tactical wizards, a large guy they called Diesel, took the other with their guns at the ready.

  Morales stepped forward with the ram. He did a quick scan of the team. “On three,” he whispered.

  I pulled my Glock from the holster and blew out a deep breath. Morales counted.

  “One.” He stepped forward.

  “Two.” Pulled the ram backward. Muscles strained for action.

  “Three.” The ram crashed into the gate. Metal shrieked and surrendered.

  Shadi and Diesel rushed forward into the tunnels. Morales stood to the side while the rest of us hurried in. I moved with the tide, yelling along with the rest of them. Morales fell in behind me, his shouts joining mine.

  There were two rules about entering the tunnels. First, never, ever go without backup. Second, only the suicidal enter the tunnels after sundown. Night belonged to the blood fiends.

  The instant we spilled through the entrance, the stench of shit and stale urine, the tinny bite of blood, and the noxious odor of decomposition bodychecked us. Somewhere inside the fetid slurry was the less disgusting, but no less menacing, scent of ozone that indicated heavy magic use.

  “Jesus,” said Morales.

  I handed him a tube of menthol spray. “This won’t help much.”

  He shot me a look. “Then why bother?”

  I shrugged. “Better than nothing.” I rubbed absently at the patch on my arm, which bothered me more than the disgusting scene we’d entered.

  I figured Morales would take three steps down and lose his lunch all over the place. But when he didn’t pause or gasp or bitch, just simply forged ahead like a man pushing his way through a particularly foul windstorm, I grudgingly admitted to myself that maybe some of his swagger was warranted.

  The other cops, however, hadn’t fared so well. No one vomited, but their movements weren’t as assured as they’d been in the fresh air. I caught up with Mez and tried to hand him the menthol. He smiled and shook his head. “Already ahead of you.” He pulled nose plugs from his nostrils. “They’re filled with menthol and I took a tincture of ginger before I came.”

  I shook my head at him. He really was good.
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br />   “Hand that shit over,” Shadi said, grabbing the tube from me. “Damn!” She didn’t look upset as much as angry that her concentration was being compromised. But once she squirted the spray, she threw it back at me and didn’t mention the stench again.

  Only seasoned officers could handle this kind of vulgar scene. When I’d run into my first putrefied body years earlier, I’d puked until I felt as if I’d left my stomach lining on the pavement. Took me a couple of years before I could be around the sickly sweet scent of death without my stomach’s revolting. It’s not that I didn’t still smell it, just that my body had lost that self-protective instinct to avoid rot and decay. So, like my grim-faced team, I put my disgust on the back burner and moved forward into the dark, yawning mouth of the Arteries.

  I pulled a glow rod from my belt. Unlike a flashlight that would take up a valuable hand, this could be attached by a carabiner to my belt loop and provide a large halo of light around the immediate area. Unfortunately it would also make a very large target for the fiends, but since they tended to avoid bright lights, they’d give us a wide berth.

  Once we reached the bottom of the staircase to the main tunnel, the light revealed the dump that the tunnels had become. A repository for used condoms, empty potion vials, dead rodents, and discarded self-respect. A fucking still life depicting the most savage sides of humanity.

  “Charming.” Morales kicked aside a discarded baby carriage filled with doll parts and hypodermic needles.

  “Which way?” Diesel asked.

  “Through this area, there’s a clearing with a four-way fork.” Even though I was speaking in a low voice, my words echoed off the damp walls. “We’ll probably run into some hexheads, so be ready.”

  I used my free hand to scratch the patch again. Fucking Mez with his “slight burning sensation.” It felt as if the damned thing was eating through my skin. I glanced up at the rest of the team, but everyone’s eyes were too busy scanning the immediate area for threats to pay attention to my moral dilemma. I took two seconds to make the decision.