Dirty Magic

by Jaye Wells

  “Hold on,” Volos said to the wiz-medic. “Kate?”

  “John! Let’s go,” she called from the stairs.

  He grimaced but didn’t respond to her. His eyes searched mine, pleading with me to approach him. With a sigh that hurt way more than it should have, I placed a hand over my ribs and limped over. I bent over to hear him, but not so close as to invite heartfelt bullshit. “Thanks,” he said, his breathing rapid. “I know this could have turned out ten other ways that didn’t involve me breathing.”

  I bit my lip to hide the smile. “Don’t think about it.”

  “I will, though.”

  Before those words could sink in, he reached up and grabbed my neck to pull me closer. I’m sure to those who watched us it looked like a tender moment. But what really happened was he pressed his lips next to my ear. “Don’t tell them about Abe.” His hold relaxed and I pulled back to glare into his cool, blue gaze. “I’ll get the antipotion to you within twenty-four hours.”

  In other words, he’d send the new dose of antipotion for Danny once he was sure I hadn’t told the BPD and Gardner about Uncle Abe’s involvement during the debriefing.

  I gritted my teeth to keep in the angry words that were clawing at my tongue. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the asshole had manipulated the entire situation just to put me in this corner. Of course, no one was that powerful. Not even the amazing John Volos. Still, my resentment burned like acid in my chest.

  “Kate?” he said quietly.

  I swallowed hard and nodded because I couldn’t force myself to utter the words out loud in front of the people he wanted me to lie to in exchange for my brother’s life.

  John nodded back to let me know we understood each other. Then he motioned to the medic and glided away.

  And I was left there, dumbfounded, wondering how after I saved his life—twice!—John Volos had just managed to get the upper hand again.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jeez, Kate,” Danny said, swatting my hand away. “I’m fine.”

  I pulled my hand back and fisted it to keep from touching him again.

  “Get used to it, kid,” Pen said from the doorway of Danny’s bedroom.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, I feel pretty awesome.”

  Honestly, he looked great. He was still a little thin, but his color was high and his eyes had the sparkle of mischief in them again. All signs of the Gray Wolf infection were gone, so only the memories remained like the echoes of a nightmare. Oh, and the track marks on his body from all the IVs and potions he’d received in the hospital to keep him alive.

  “I don’t know what was in that stuff John sent, but I feel awesome.”

  I gritted my teeth. Every time he or Pen praised Volos for saving Danny’s life, I wanted to scream that I’d been the one who’d figured out the formula. But doing so would be an admission of working dirty magic, which would only damn me.

  As promised, the antipotion arrived by special courier exactly twenty-four hours after the debriefing that proved my bullshit was convincing as ever.

  The cure arrived with the following note:

  Inject in jugular. Plenty of fluids and rest. Everything will be as it should.

  —J

  I’d waited until all the nurses and doctors had left the room. Then I stared at the liquid inside for a good long while. On some strange level, when this case had started, the last outcome I would have guessed was John Volos’s saving the day. Yet there we were. I might have figured out the formula, but he’d been the one to get the saving dose to Danny. Irony was a major bitch.

  Finally, I injected the neon green liquid into Danny’s jugular. Unlike John, whose reaction to the antipotion had been unpleasant but manageable because he hadn’t had the Gray Wolf in his system long, my brother’s recovery was … Well. Let’s just say that after several days under its hold, his body had some issues with the cure.

  The doctor had helped Danny through the transformation as much as he could. Mostly he offered generous doses of painkiller and barred the media from the hospital so Danny could recover in privacy. Every nurse on the floor knew we’d given Danny a dirty magic potion, but none of them said one word about it. They all seemed just as relieved as we were to see him finally free from Gray Wolf’s claws. However, the official medical records reported that the recovery was due to the patient’s youthful immune system and a cocktail of very clean magic potions.

  After a final battery of tests, Doc declared Danny recovered and released him to my care. It had been two days since we’d been home and I’d begun to stop bracing for side effects. But it appeared that in the end, despite the serious tarnish on his armor, Volos had turned out to be the big hero.

  Asshole.

  “You feel awesome, huh?” Pen asked my brother with a raised brow. “Guess that means you’re ready to head back to school?”

  A sudden, very fake coughing fit greeted the comment. “Maybe I could rest a few more days,” he rasped. “Just to be sure.”

  I laughed. “If you think that’s best.”

  He stifled a yawn.

  “All right, my friend,” I said. “You stay here and rest. We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”

  He nodded but his eyelids were already getting heavy.

  Pen and I went to the kitchen, where Baba was cooking something at the stove. Pen made a beeline for the fridge and removed three beers.

  “How’s the patient?” Baba asked, stirring a large pot of something that smelled pleasantly of browned meat, tomatoes, and cheese. “Polish soul food,” as she called it.

  “He’ll live.” I lowered myself into a chair, cringing at the pain in my leg. Bane’s bullet had scored a nasty trough into my thigh. I’d live, but the doc was pretty sure I’d have a permanent scar to remind me of that fucked-up day.

  “He really does seem completely cured,” Baba said. “It’s a miracle.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, he’s all good, I think.”

  “I hate to admit it,” Pen said, “but it looks like Volos really came through for you guys.”

  The idea of anyone praising Volos made me feel all itchy, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. I’d told her the same revisionist tale I’d told Gardner, so she had no idea I’d cooked magic, not once but twice. I just couldn’t stomach the get-back-on-the-wagon speech that admission would require. Or risk her accidentally saying something about it to the team. So instead of agreeing with Pen’s praise of John, I just took a long swallow of beer to wash down the acrid taste of resentment.

  “So, is Agent Hottie coming by today?” Baba asked too casually.

  “No, Drew has some meeting with Gardner.”

  Baba’s hopeful expression fell, but Pen’s brows rose. “About the task force?”

  I shook my head. “No idea.”

  Baba tapped the wooden spoon on the lip of the pot. “Maybe I should make some Sexy Juice for him, eh? Maybe his schwanz needs a little encouragement.” She arced the spoon upward to illustrate her point.

  “Absolutely not,” I said in my best and-that’s-final tone. “And since when do you speak Yiddish?”

  She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Gladys at the senior center’s been teaching me so I can make the moves on the widower Goldman.”

  I shook my head at her. “Just promise me you won’t give Morales any of your witch’s brews, okay? And for that matter, please don’t bring any more over here. I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but I really prefer for my home to be free from magic.”

  Baba’s face went pale. Across the table, Pen froze with the beer at her lips and her eyes were wide as if she expected the old woman to have a heart attack or a conniption fit. Instead, Baba cleared her throat, slowly removed her “Witches Do It Magically” apron, and flipped the burner off with a resolute click.

  My conscience reared up in the face of her strained dignity. “Baba—”

  She raised a gnarled finger. “Shh,” she said. “Baba understands. You think you’re too good
for my low magic.”

  I rose. “No, it’s not that. It’s just”—I sighed—“I don’t trust myself around any magic.”

  The words tumbled out before I’d realized I was going to say them. And in the wake of the confession, the two women both went utterly still and silent. My cheeks flamed and recriminations echoed through my head. Why had I said such a stupid thing out loud? Did I want them to figure out what I’d done in that brewery?

  “Kate,” Pen said, “that was really brave of you.” Her tone didn’t hold any judgment. Maybe I even detected a hint of pride, as if she’d been waiting for me to make that breakthrough for years.

  “You’re a moron,” Baba said.

  I pulled back in shock. “Excuse me?”

  She waved a hand, finally getting animated. “You two with your recovery meetings and your ‘one day at a time.’” She made a disgusted sound. “You sound like children afraid of shadows. Magic is a gift from God. A divine tool given to us to make life easier. But you act like it’s your master. That’s farkakte!”

  I blinked at her. I didn’t speak Yiddish, but I got the idea. “No offense, Baba, but those homespun poultices and tinctures you brew are nothing like dirty magic. You can’t begin to understand the power it holds over people.”

  Baba made another disgusted noise and waved a hand through the air. “People allow things to have power over them. You want to get your head right, girlie?” She snapped her fingers together as if she were grabbing something from the air. “You gotta snatch that power back!”

  I crossed my arms. Arguing with Baba was like trying to herd drunken cats. “Regardless, I’d appreciate it if you’d respect my decision not to bring magic into my home.”

  She sniffed and looked away. “Suit yourself,” she said in a tone that implied a silent idiot at the end of the sentence. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home before the girls arrive for our book club meeting.” With that, she made an incredibly hasty and elegant exit for a woman who walked with the assistance of a cane.

  Once she was gone, Pen and I stared at each other, dumbfounded. “You’re going to have to apologize.”

  I shook my head. Even though I felt justified in my request, I knew I could have handled it better. If nothing else, I’d make it up to her somehow just to assuage my stinging conscience. I dropped back in my chair and took a long pull from my warming beer. “I’ll add it to my to-do list.”

  “Speaking of, any word from Eldritch?”

  I shook my head. “Not since the debriefing. I guess he and Gardner have been pretty busy helping Stone prepare the case against Bane.”

  She sighed. “Still, sucks for them to leave you in limbo like that.”

  “I’m kind of enjoying limbo.”

  She toasted me with her bottle. “Nice that it took almost being killed to force you to slow down.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever works.”

  She toyed with the label of her beer. “I got some news.”

  I leaned forward, glad to talk about something other than my issues for a change. “Spill it, sister.”

  “Detective Duffy called last night. They formally charged that mom with supplying illegal potions to a minor.”

  “That’s fantastic, Pen!”

  She nodded. “They need me to testify in court, but Duffy thinks it’s a slam dunk.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Sometimes we do win, Kate.”

  I nodded and smiled. “Sometimes.” I wasn’t sure whether I considered the fight with Bane a full victory, though. I didn’t trust the system enough to believe he’d receive the punishment he deserved. And even if he got the life sentence he’d earned, there was no guarantee that he’d survive long inside once Uncle Abe realized how badly he’d botched up the plan. Although, frankly, I wouldn’t put it past Abe to torture Bane for a few years before he finally did him in.

  And then there was the whole issue that my deal with Volos meant Uncle Abe would escape any sort of legal punishment for his role in the whole fiasco. I assumed Volos had some plan to make the old man pay for what he did, but I hadn’t worked up the energy to talk to him to find out.

  “Have you made any decisions about what you’re going to do?” Pen asked quietly.

  I sighed and shook my head. “You mean once Eldritch calls to tell me I’m off the task force?”

  “If he does,” she corrected.

  “He will,” I said. She hadn’t seen the conviction in his eyes when he’d kicked Morales and me out of the station. “Shit, I don’t know, Pen. I can’t go back to patrol. That much is sure.” I played with the beer cap. “But what the hell else am I qualified to do?”

  She smiled. “Lots of things.”

  I tilted my head and shot her a don’t-blow-sunshine-up-my-ass glare. “Get real, Pen. I’ve had two jobs in my life besides cop: potion cooker and waitress. I quit the first one and got fired from the other. Not exactly a sparkling résumé.”

  “You could go back to school.”

  I snorted. “With what money?”

  She sighed like she’d lost her patience. “Guess you should just give up then.”

  I grimaced at her. “That’s helpful.”

  “Look, you know as well as I do you could do just about anything you set your mind to. But you ask me, you haven’t made other plans because you don’t want to be anything but a cop.”

  Was that true? I wasn’t sure anymore. I knew I used to want to be one. I’d loved it while it lasted. But the job came at too high a cost. “Sure,” I said, my voice dripping in sarcasm, “I’d love to keep getting shot and having psychopaths go after Danny.”

  She didn’t say anything, but I could tell by her look she was just letting me vent my spleen.

  “Besides, maybe it’s time to grow up and settle down. Get a nice, safe job behind a desk. One that doesn’t require me to carry a gun. Like, I don’t know, a secretary or something.”

  She looked up quickly. I thought she was about to say something insightful. But then the first giggle escaped.

  I crossed my arms and leaned back to glare at her. “Shut up.”

  The laughter increased until tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she gasped through the giggles. “But that’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said. You’d be a terrible secretary.”

  I flipped her the bird and chugged the rest of my beer. “I’m serious, Pen. I’m tired of the bullshit politics.” I pointed toward the phone. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to tell those fucking reporters that Mike Hanson was a hero?”

  Even though I’d told Eldritch and Gardner the truth about Hanson’s involvement, they had decided it was best not to muddy the waters by making his betrayal public. Therefore, the media had been told he’d died helping me take down Bane. Since the shoot-out at the brewery, I’d received several phone calls from reporters, and every time I uttered the word “hero” in the same sentence as Hanson’s name it tasted like a shit sandwich. But Babylon was already healing from too many wounds for me to make it worse by telling the truth. Plus, I was already lying about so many things I figured one more couldn’t damn me any more than I already was.

  “So Hanson gets a hero’s funeral and I can’t even get anyone to tell me if I have a fucking job?”

  She set down her beer. “I know. Trust me. But maybe you should wait to hear from Eldritch and Gardner before you decide to move to the suburbs and spend your days filing and getting coffee for some mid-level manager.”

  I chewed on my lip and watched the clock tick. Every minute that passed without a phone call felt like a year.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Two days later, I stood outside the police station, looking up at the seal of the city of Babylon. The sun sparkled off the symbol of a large gate guarded by a roaring lion. For some reason, it called to mind the day I’d earned the badge that bore the same insignia.

  Back then, I was a starry-eyed recruit, fueled by a craving for justice and the conviction that I was finally one o
f the good guys. That I could make a real difference. I imagined myself as that lion, guarding the innocent from the bad guys.

  But now, less than five years later, I stood in front of the building where I graduated waiting to hear if I still had a job. The stars had dimmed and the conviction was wavering. I didn’t feel like a lion anymore so much as a kicked dog. The only thing that hadn’t changed since that day was the desire for justice.

  But that had to count for something, right?

  I sucked in a deep breath, stuck my shoulders back, and marched through the doors to hear the verdict on my future. My bravado lasted only as long as it took me to cross the threshold.

  Every officer I passed wore a black ribbon across their badge. To them it was a way to honor their fallen comrade, Mike Hanson. To me, it was a reminder of a system that favored politics over truth.

  Eldritch greeted me near the sergeant’s desk. He made a big presentation of giving me a hug. “Welcome!” he said in a forced tone that made me want to turn around and leave. But before I could, he urged me toward his office while smiling for the troops and claiming I was the woman of the hour.

  Once we reached the office, some of his joviality dimmed but he remained friendly.

  “Sit, sit,” he said, waving to the chair. He sat on the edge of the desk near me and sighed. “First, how’s Danny?”

  “He’s good.” I smiled. “Ornery.”

  “Excellent!” Eldritch slapped his knee. “One thing I’ll say for you Prosperos: You’re all fighters.”

  I nodded to accept the backhanded compliment. “We got the casserole from Francine. Thank her for me.” I’d thrown it out in the garbage the day it arrived. Why did everyone send casseroles in times of crisis? Why didn’t anyone ever send brownies and Jack Daniel’s?

  “Ah, it was nothing.” He chuffed out a breath. “Anything you two need, just call.”

  I need to know if I have a job, I thought. “Thanks.”

  An awkward pause followed. The kind that happens when the pleasantries are done with and it’s time to get to the uncomfortable business but no one wants to be the asshole.