Belladonna’s Curse
Poisoner of Charm City: Book Two
E.M. Whittaker
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
1
Keith Travis hated chasing vehicles through the dark streets of Charm City.
The chases themselves didn’t bother him. In fact, the chases fed his adrenaline rush the longer he pursued his suspect. It came as a surprise, but Mye made it fun when she taught him how to drive his new Corvette. It was their hobby they did whenever they got off work.
Well—whenever she got off work. He stayed as a passenger until his doctor cleared him to return to work three days ago.
Now, he had a dilemma. His car couldn’t handle the strain of a chase and his magic at the same time. If he pushed her any harder, he’d total this car, too.
The engine whined.
The speedometer went wonky.
Something exploded.
His partner cursed.
Great. His magic finally reacted to machinery like he thought it would. He might total Sherri the Cherry yet.
Why couldn’t it be Saturday? He didn’t work Saturdays. He could’ve popped by that shop Mye liked—Tricksters where her menace of a werewolf best friend worked—gotten off with a warning, and kept her company for the rest of the day even if she became a chatterbox. But days off only worked for people who actually had regular schedules.
They didn’t. They were always on call.
So, how did Peters talked to his online girlfriend on Saturdays without leaving the office most of the time? Mr. Personality’s heart grew three sizes whenever he played games with his sweetheart. Well, at least for her. Any other time, he became the biggest dickhead on the planet.
It happened whenever something went wrong, no matter how small. He could have dropped a toothpick and would have ruined his day.
Today, he’d fly off the handle if they didn’t catch their suspect or he wrecked the car.
Either outcome didn’t look good.
“Go faster.” Peters cradled his smoking computer. “I’ll grab my backup while you’re chasing the Stingray. Just don’t lose the car.”
The silver Stingray almost eluded him.
Peters’s Focus strained to keep up its momentum.
He grabbed the automatic gearshift and clutched it.
Magic pulsated through his fingers.
His Corvette wouldn’t react like this. Somehow, his new car could handle his magical energy and outrace this puny Stingray in a heartbeat. Why couldn’t he have driven it tonight instead of the Focus?
Oh, right. The car needed modifications.
It worked fine the last time he drove it.
The Stingray veered to the right, whipping around a red light. It used the oncoming traffic as a distraction.
He followed it, holding his breath.
The car swerved and dodged a Toyota Camry.
“Will you stop screwing around?” Peters dropped the broken laptop beside him and whipped another one out of his bag. “Hurry up. Otherwise, we’ll lose our chance to question her.”
“This is the last time I bet against Mye.” Travis checked his mirrors, dodging traffic while he followed his suspect. “She’ll win either way.”
“Well, she lured Greene here. I bet she’s found a way to record your horrible driving.”
“Don’t give her any ideas.”
She pulled into an old gas station, parked near one of the pumps, and turned off her car.
Travis followed suit.
Smoke came out of the Focus’s engine.
Damn it, not another car. He couldn’t afford to buy Peters another one. He’d want the most expensive thing on the market, and it’d have payment plans.
Not ideal in their line of work.
“I told Mye having you drive was a bad idea.” Peters snatched his keys from the ignition. “I’ll call a tow truck while you talk with Greene.”
Fine. At least he’d handle something.
Travis left Peters with the smoking car, wiping his sweaty hands on his coat. Mye would pay for this travesty two-fold.
He’d never listen to her about driving again.
A short, blonde woman emerged from the small car, pulling her wallet out of her back pocket. She muttered something under her breath.
Travis came up behind her. “Karyn Greene?”
She tilted her head back. “Maybe.”
“I’m with the—”
“I don’t give a shit where you’re from.” Her biting tone carried across the gas station. “I filled up Speedy yesterday. Do you know how much gas costs? I just put a third of my paycheck into his gas tank at lunchtime.”
Great. Another car junkie.
Dealing with Mye was bad enough.
The woman sank thousands of dollars into her beloved Ferrari, but he couldn’t say the same thing about Greene’s car. Her Stingray had several dents in its frame. The yellow truck door clashed with its original color. Her scuffed tires and hubcaps had seen better days.
Just like her stained blue jeans.
She dressed like a grease monkey. Hell, grease even stained some of her bobbed hair. The tank top left little to the imagination while showing off the Hello Kitty tattoos on her arms and shoulders.
“Shouldn’t you be worried about your car?” Greene swiped her orange credit card through the payment system. “It’s smoking.”
“We’re not driving illegal muscle cars through the city.” He stepped toward her. “Aren’t you worried about the police impounding your car?”
“Nah.” She grabbed the pump. “What do you want?”
“I just need you to answer a few questions.”
“You’re not arresting me, are you?”
Travis flexed his hand. “That depends. I’ll overlook the car if you cooperate, though.”
“Look, you hang around a snooty bitch.” She dropped the pump into her gas tank and held down the lever. “You’re the guy hanging around the Vipers.”
Travis held his chin. “The name sounds familiar.”
“It should.” Her cold blue eyes met his. “You’re hanging around their leader. She drives a fucking Ferrari for Christ’s sake.” She leaned against her car, splaying her arms against the dingy frame. “You rub people wrong. The gangs don’t like outsiders, you know?”
Oh, he did.
Mye’s crash course taught him that much.
“Besides, why should I tell you anything?” Greene ran a hand through her hair. “Aviere’s supposed to meet me, but never showed up.”
Travis raised an eyebrow. “You expect Mye to take you seriously while driving this beater?”
She huffed. “Not everyone can afford a fancy set of wheels by breaking the law. Now, are you on her side or not?”
Her side? No. He wasn’t on anyone’s side. He stayed with Mye because it earned him a paycheck and he didn’t have a choice. Otherwise, he’d become the headless agent. He couldn’t work being headless.
The collar tightened around his throat.
Greene’s aura sparked with amber light, followed by tiny traces of darkness. It peaked when she turned away and grabbed the gas pump.
Then her aura crackled.
Travis jumped, tilting his head to one side. What the hell was that? Auras didn’t crackle. Not
even Mye’s crackled. In fact, not a single mage’s aura crackled unless they were an elemental, and Greene didn’t look like one.
Yet her aura resembled a flash of lightning.
Could she be an electric mage? One of the rarest kind of mages in existence?
With his luck, probably.
God would smite him one of these days.
“I’m not on anyone’s side.” He phrased his words carefully. “I’m here as part of an investigation. Answer a few questions for me and you can leave.”
“Fine.” She held the pump toward him. “Five minutes. I’m waiting for that snooty bitch and you might scare her off.”
Well, she had Mye down to a tee.
“I’m investigating a man linked to the Zodiac Cartel.” He slipped a hand in his pocket. “One source referred me to you, Miss Greene.”
Her cocky expression turned into surprise. “I’m sorry.” She held a fist to her chest and pressed into the metal railing of the gas pump. “I never thought someone else would ask about them. I left them behind when I lost important people years ago.”
“But you know of them.”
Greene’s aura gave off another bout of lightning. “Yeah.”
The lightning didn’t bother him until it reached her pained blue eyes. He nearly sunk into those depths but pulled himself back.
This was no time to get sentimental.
“Tell me about Reginald Rodriguez, then.”
Her magic manifested, singeing her fingers. “Why? Nothing good will come of this conversation.”
If he continued, she’d blow up the gas station. He didn’t need anything else blowing up tonight.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He took a cautious step toward her. “However, you might want to dampen your magic before we’re both discovered. We wouldn’t want to blow up the gas station, would we?”
The gas pump clicked.
Her lips quivered.
“Please.” Travis made his voice soft. “I can’t take anymore shit blowing up this evening. I’m probably going to have to pay for another car.”
“It’s just—Reggie’s dead.” She sniffled. “He died five years ago. When you mentioned the Zodiac Cartel, I thought you meant his friend—the one running the damn thing. He stopped though. So I hear, anyway.”
Golden energy dissipated the longer she held the gas pump. Her hands trembled. The nozzle fell to the ground.
Travis retrieved the nozzle, brushing his hand against hers.
An image came to him—a man trapped underneath the wreckage of the same Stingray she drove.
God, why did his powers have to manifest now?
He stepped back, rubbing his hands while the image stayed fresh in his mind. The man’s military haircut and prim clothes didn’t remind him of someone associated with a Cartel. He looked familiar.
Too familiar.
Rodriguez.
His facial features resembled his fiery colleague down to the pained brown eyes and dimples. The hair color didn’t tell him much. He met other Latinos with dark hair color. But his brown eyes told another story—one filled with regret while he was crushed to death inside a car.
“Is something wrong, detective?”
Travis snapped to attention at Greene’s voice. “You mentioned someone else.”
“Ah yeah.” She set the nozzle back in its spot. “People liked Reggie.” Her voice dipped to a murmur. “It’s been five years already, but it—well, it’s like it happened yesterday. It’s a hard thing to accept. But if the cartel is active again…”
She sealed Speedy’s gas tank.
“There’s a guy.” Disgust crossed her face. “His girlfriend said he dropped them, though. But Lim lies a lot, so who knows. He still smokes pot, so he’s not completely drug-free.”
Travis clenched his fist. “I see.”
It explained Mye’s weird behavior when she briefed him about their latest case. In fact, she asked him not to question anyone until she returned.
She didn’t wait for an answer before she left the office, either.
If big brother went back to his old vices, they’d have a hell of a problem on their hands. Mye’s family squabbles bled into their working relationship.
Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.
He’d need more than Captain Morgan to keep him company tonight.
“You shouldn’t be surprised if you’re in cahoots with Aviere.” She checked the pink kitty watch on her wrist. “Lim’s girlfriend is convinced he’s straightened up, but I remember what he does for his sister. He buys and sells drugs for her business. A runner, I think.”
He gave a curt nod.
“Part of me believes he’s innocent.” Greene played with her watch. “I mean, Reggie’s death cut him. They were close. If anyone would know about the cartel’s activities, it’d be Lim. Cel said some of his contacts remained even after being put on parole.”
Travis swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Where would I find his girlfriend?”
“Around.” She waved a hand. “I don’t suggest cornering her, though. She’s temperamental. You’d have a better chance talking to him yourself.”
“I see.” He turned back to the Focus. “Thank you for your time, Miss Greene.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me about Lim?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
He headed back to the Focus, catching the wisps of smoke still coming from the engine. He’d rather deal with interrogating suspects than buying another car.
Peters pointed to the car, arguing with someone over the phone.
Travis slipped inside the Focus.
This situation sucked.
A half-hour passed before Travis had company inside the Focus. He skimmed over the case file while the driver’s side door opened. For once, he’d tried reading the blasted file without interruptions.
He didn’t get far.
The vision he’d had haunted him. His powers never showed him visions. Ever. He struggled just hearing people’s thoughts.
Now, he had to deal with this bullshit.
He couldn’t hide this from Peters forever. His partner dug into people’s pasts. His magical aptitude was on record, but not this. They paid good money to keep his powers under wraps.
Still, Peters would find out about his accident eventually and he’d grill him until he wanted to shoot himself. Either he told him now or let him find out later.
He didn’t like either option.
“So, I’m responsible for paying for the tow truck.” Peters flopped into the seat, cursing under his breath. “I had to lie about driving the vehicle because I forgot you don’t have car insurance. What kind of idiot goes around uninsured?”
He dropped the file on his lap. “Me.”
“Besides you.”
“I don’t need car insurance.” Travis patted the file. “In fact, I was fine until Mye started speeding everywhere.”
If he were being completely honest, Travis would have been fine without meeting Mye or Peters. He’d be working alone without worrying about car insurance or destroying vehicles.
God really hated him.
“Let’s be honest—you need car insurance if you’re working with her.” Peters reached for a bag underneath Travis’s foot. “Driving without insurance is a daily fine in comparison to her speeding tickets.”
“Muscle cars are illegal.”
“I agree, but you’re working with her now. I’m not going back on field duty for another few months.”
Travis let out a dark chuckle. What happened while he was out on medical leave?
He’d have to ask Mye later.
She’d have an entertaining story to tell.
“Anyway, we got a half-hour to kill before the tow truck arrives.” Peters moved his seat back and pulled out his handy-dandy laptop. “Finish looking at the file before I have to hide it. I wasn’t supposed to let it leave the office.”
Oh right. That.
He didn’t remember anything inside the
file. The image of Rodriguez’s death killed his short-term memory.
“Greene mentioned Mye’s brother.” Travis opened the file again and flipped through a few pages. “She’s unsure whether or not he’s still connected to this cartel or not.”
“Dalara might be. He violated parole.” His partner paused and his voice lowered in disappointment. “Mye’s not related to this cartel, though. Such a shame. The director won’t let us arrest them and it’s pissing me off.”
Nice to know nothing changed between Mye and Peters. They’d still fight until one of them was incapacitated. At least he didn’t have to hear them fight over the phone anymore.
Nope.
He’d play referee instead.
“The thought of working with more people makes my skin crawl.” Peters powered on his laptop. “Handling Mye’s hard enough. Her family’s a different story.”
Travis chortled, flipping through the papers until he came to the photograph of Dalara. Stringy bangs hid his bright blue eyes. His face—similar to when they last met—had a hardened jawline and sunken cheekbones. Blisters formed around his nose. His bottom lip was cracked in two places.
Damn it. No wonder Mye had a coronary when her brother acted strange last month.
Dalara did the hardcore stuff.
“Travis?”
“You could have mentioned Dalara’s involved.” He took a deep breath. “Damn it. This is going to complicate things.” His voice turned sharp as he glared at Peters. “And for God’s sake, don’t discuss this in front of Mye. I don’t need another fight breaking out between those two.”
Peters scoffed. “I’m not sugar coating anything.”
“You’re back behind a desk.” Travis’s voice turned icy. “I’m stuck dealing with her in the field.”
“Then stop pretending to be friends with her.”
One day, he’d make Peters understand the difference between civility and partnership. Until then, he’d pretend to strangle him.
Someone would kill him one day.
“You haven’t seen her brother’s abilities.” He lowered the page and skimmed the paper again. “He’s not a moron. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if his behavior is a front like Mye’s.”
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