by RJ Blain
“I know.”
“It’s important information,” I stuttered. How much dust would I need to turn him into my personal living, breathing sex machine? “It really is.”
“The answer is yes.”
I now had proof God loved me and wanted me to be happy. Nice. “So for the past five or six years I’ve been sending you to work as a tortured, sex-deprived sex fiend.”
Quinn sighed. “You’re far too happy about this, Bailey.”
I smiled. “Of course. I’m very happy over this.”
“She won that round, little Samuel. Just accept it. I think I see what she’s trying to imply, however. If Bailey drugged you with pixie dust, your behavior would have changed, especially if your relationship wasn’t as, ah, intimate as some might think. Audrey may have linked Bailey to your whetted appetite, thus giving her the impression Bailey was more than she seemed.”
“Demon between the sheets,” my mouth contributed.
Quinn turned scarlet. “Bailey!”
I was not sorry. “Oops.”
“She’s not wrong. Pardon us, Chief Hollands. My grandson has a bit of incubus in him from his mother’s side of the family.”
While I expected some sort of reaction, did Chief Hollands really need to dissolve into helpless laughter? Men. “It’s not that funny.”
Quinn walked across the room and banged his forehead into the wall. “Damn it. I managed to hide my heritage for a long time, too.”
I stared at Quinn’s back as I realized he had never been at risk of being encased in a glass coffin and buried. Gorgon dust could petrify even gorgons, but there was no evidence it did anything other than inconvenience anyone with gorgon blood. I had worried for nothing.
Well, shit.
Still, I needed to know for certain. “Hey, old man. If I dumped your grandson in a vat of gorgon dust, what would happen?”
“You’d piss him off.”
Damn it. The answer didn’t help at all; I’d be pissed off, too—I’d be alive, stink of gorgon, and want to kill whoever had dumped me in, but I’d be fine. Would Quinn? I needed to know. “After he’s been petrified?”
“You’d piss him off,” my grandfather-in-law repeated.
Grandfather Quinn needed to have his pretty snakes braided and tied off with pretty little bows. “Let me rephrase this: I’ve been terrified that if Quinn was exposed to dust, they would lock him in a glass coffin and bury him due to his magic rating. What would happen?”
Quinn sighed and banged his head into the wall a few more times.
“He wouldn’t be buried. First of all, the Quinn family wouldn’t allow it.”
With a low groan, Quinn bumped his head into the wall again. “I’m very cautious around dust and bile. Don’t worry, Bailey.”
“I torched a skyscraper for you!”
Ouch. Even to my ears, my voice turned painfully shrill.
Quinn turned to face me and sighed. “I’m sorry. I had no idea that was bothering you. There’s a reason I’m cautious around bile sites.”
If he could be reasonable, so could I. I wouldn’t yell nor would I shriek again. “Okay. Can you tell me this reason?”
With a soft clearing of his throat, Quinn’s grandfather shut the door to Chief Hollands’s office. “He is his father’s son, that’s why. While he’s technically human, he does have an exceptionally high magic rating.”
Quinn shook his head. “I’ll tell her.”
“Then do it.”
Quinn approached and sat beside me on the couch. He took hold of my hand and rubbed his thumb against my palm and traced my fingers. “It’s a matter of gorgon biology. In most circumstances, bile won’t petrify another gorgon. Their dust, on the other hand, can petrify many gorgons—most, in fact. Gorgon kings and their scions are only petrified by the dust created from a stronger gorgon.”
“So it’d be difficult to petrify a gorgon king—and princes, like you.”
“Right.”
I clacked my teeth together to bite back my growing irritation. “Did the pixie dust bring out your incubus tendencies?”
“Yes.”
I pointed at the whiteboards. “On the timeline, put when you remember coming to Mary’s shop for coffee and I served you. Does it line up?”
“Before we continue,” Chief Hollands lifted his hand and waited for silence. When he had it, he continued, “I’m not sure I understand why this is relevant, Mrs. Quinn.”
Oh, right. I was interrogating and filleting my own husband. Crap. “He’s a demon between the sheets without pixie dust. On it, he must be like a god. If they were only together when I was dosing him…”
The chief snapped his fingers. “Sex addict.”
Quinn groaned. “You’re really going to make me detail this, aren’t you?”
“It’s important information.” At the very least, I’d make sure I wasn’t messing up and driving him away. Of course, I had already pushed my luck with him as it was. “That, plus if I ever see the bitch again, I can tell her I don’t need any damned pixie dust to rile you up. Then I’ll shove her own snakes down her throat and punch her in the mouth until she swallows her teeth.”
With a soft laugh, he shook his head. “There you go running your mouth again. Should I fetch you a shovel so it’s easier to dig the hole you’re trying to bury yourself in?”
“Quinn!”
“All right, all right. I’ll detail my lackluster sexual exploits with my ex-wife. For the record, I think this is ridiculous.” Hopping to his feet, Quinn went to work, and to my surprise, he pulled out his phone to reference it.
“You note when you have sex?”
Crap. I clapped my hands over my blabbering mouth.
“No, I noted when I saw you, actually.”
Stunned, I lowered my hands. “What? Why would you do that?”
“I record where I go and interesting people I meet. You disliked me from the start. It’s odd for women to dislike me. I cheated and checked the facial recognition database to find out who you were and saw you were a promising CDC student. That made you interesting. Honestly, though, you made good coffee, and that was more important.”
“I should have known you bothered me because I made you coffee.”
“You made the bed, sweetheart. You know what they say about that.” After flashing his sexiest smirk at me, Quinn filled in the dates and times of his encounters with me that led up to Audrey’s first infidelity. “That should be all of them.”
Chief Hollands pointed at a two-month gap prior to Audrey cheating on him. “Were you together during this period of time?”
“Not often.”
“Why not?”
“I had a lot of work. Audrey knew my job was time-consuming when we got married. She liked my wealth and looks, but she didn’t bring a whole lot to the marriage for me. She did help me dodge the bachelorettes, which is what I needed from her at the time. I did not anticipate my general lack of interest in her as a woman.”
“You are incredibly young to be a police chief.” Chief Hollands snatched up a folder and flipped it open. “Thirty. That must be a record.”
Quinn flinched. “Manhattan has ten police chiefs spread across the island, and all of us have the same magic rating. I enrolled at the police academy at eighteen, three years before the legal enrollment age because of an exception due to my rating. My predecessor was murdered. I was the only one in the force with the required rating, so I got the job. I had six months of field experience. Since the reporters liked me, I got recruited to do the majority of the talking and ended up with blanket jurisdiction over the entirety of Manhattan Island.
“With no experience.”
“I said the same thing, trust me. I even tried quitting once. The commissioner laughed at me.”
While I had wondered why Quinn had looked so young for a police chief, I had assumed he had been promoted due to some stunning act of heroism or something equally impressive. I tried to imagine him as a cadet, and instead I got the mem
ory of the dipshit I’d gone into 120 Wall Street with. Yuck. “If you don’t come home at acceptable intervals, I will come to the station, steal your car, and start breaking laws so you’re forced to chase me down and put me in cuffs.”
Oh, shit. Stupid mouth. I groaned and leaned forward, bowing my head and running my hands through my hair.
“Bailey probably doesn’t mean it. She just forgets to think before she speaks when she’s embarrassed over something.” Quinn chuckled. “She’s also the jealous type.”
“Quinn,” I groaned.
Chief Hollands clapped his hands. “All right, back on subject. Sam, is there any chance Audrey McGee might have associated your heightened interest with Bailey?”
Quinn froze and his eyes widened. “Excuse me for a moment.”
In four long strides, he left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Through the room’s window, I watched him straighten. He spewed curses so loudly I could hear him through the wall. The cops in the main room jumped.
I grimaced. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
It took Quinn’s grandfather almost twenty minutes to calm my husband down. A whispered suggestion brought Quinn’s tirade to a halt, and he let out a breath in a gusty sigh. “Fine. I’ll go.”
A few minutes later, he left with an off-duty cop to go to a gym down the street. It amazed me the former gorgon king had managed to soothe the raging police chief and convince him to leave the station without me.
“That was amazing. How did you do that? I need to know so I can use it against him. What did you tell him?”
“I merely suggested he might lash out at you by accident. He’s been wound tight since you were taken. An hour in the gym should take the edge off and soothe his frayed nerves. His father is the same way.”
I saw so many problems with the idea of him going out unsupervised I wasn’t sure where to begin. When Quinn decided to do something, he did it. The man took stubborn pride and determination to the extreme. I thought of everything he had done to lure me to him without me suspecting a thing.
I shook off the feeling Quinn had just hoodwinked us all and turned to Chief Hollands. “Can you shine some light on his little freakout there?”
“It’s a typical reaction when a husband or father figures out he may be to blame for something that happened to someone he loves. Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Quinn. He likely realized there was something he had said or done that may have suggested to Audrey McGee you were somehow responsible for his behavioral changes. He may also be trying to come to terms with being the one questioned instead of the one doing the questioning.”
I turned to Quinn’s grandfather and waited.
“That sounds about right to me. Don’t look so alarmed, Bailey. The only one in any danger is Audrey. If their paths cross, I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to deal with her himself. He’s well within his rights to kill her for her crimes without a trial or jury. Gorgon laws trump human laws in cases like this. The kidnapping and attempted coercion of a prince’s bride is punishable by death. He’ll feel better about the situation if he deals with Audrey himself.”
A man capable of becoming a predominant police chief with only six months of field experience could do just about anything. One off-duty cop didn’t stand a chance against Quinn. Worse, I expected the off-duty cop would be happy to do anything to please him.
Most people did.
A headache brewed behind my eyes. “You really don’t think he’s not going to do something stupid like ditch his cop babysitter? I can see it now. He gets nice and sweaty doing whatever it is manly men do in the gym and pretends to take a shower so he can slip out the back and do what he wants. Are we talking about the same person here? The one I know, Mr. Police Chief Samuel Quinn, does not tolerate people who are a threat to his peace of mind or his people. I could see him doing something like ditch his babysitter so he can resolve this problem in the most expeditious way possible, especially since it’s legal for him to do so.”
Over the years I had seen him tear strips off his cops for taking unnecessary risks only to go and do the incredibly stupid and risky thing he had just scolded his officers for doing. Him entering my apartment to activate the glass coffin came to mind. It wouldn’t have cost him anything except his peace of mind to request someone from the CDC do the work.
“I find that unlikely,” Chief Hollands replied with a scornful sniff.
“Oh, no. I think it’s absolutely likely. Probable, in fact. His new wife was taken from him on their wedding night,” my grandfather-in-law countered. “He left her in a station full of capable cops and me. Most importantly, he waited for his other grandfathers—yes, the angel and the incubus—to leave before blowing his lid. Want to make any bets? I’ll win.”
I sighed. Quinn could take care of himself, couldn’t he? If he wanted to do something about his ex-wife, I couldn’t really stop him—I wanted her out of the picture, too. Too many lives had been lost for her to be allowed to run loose. Bad luck had put me in the line of fire more than once, and I viewed it as a miracle I had survived to tell the tale.
Maybe a better wife would have trusted her husband more. Then again, I had met his family. They were nuts, all of them. They had started a brawl in a courtroom and viewed it as good entertainment. Not even an angel had wanted to break that party up. Quinn would be fine, wouldn’t he?
I massaged the bridge of my nose and willed my headache to fade. It didn’t obey. “I’m going to have to go rescue him, aren’t I?”
“He’s only going up against a handful of gorgons, Bailey. That’s hardly reason for concern.”
Right. Quinn’s entire family was utterly insane. I should have known his gorgon grandfather wouldn’t think there was any reason for concern. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t want to know. Let’s assume the idiot decides to run off and cause trouble. Where would the trouble be found and can I get in on it?”
Chief Hollands groaned and hung his head. Quinn’s grandfather grinned and dug a glass bottle out of his pocket, giving it a shake so the pills inside rattled. “I happen to have transformative pills with me. Who am I to say no to a fire-breathing unicorn? In gorgon culture, it is perfectly acceptable for a young prince’s bride to go and correct her wayward male for failing to do as told. I see no reason you couldn’t make an appearance and encourage him to return a little faster.”
I no longer knew whether I hated or loved gorgons. Damn it. “How about a canister of neutralizer and some handcuffs instead? I’ll hide behind the gorgon king and watch—and help if he really can’t handle it on his own.”
“Former king.”
“So you’re not up to par with a human prince? How disappointing.” I shrugged. “Oh, well. I had to try. Chief Hollands, assuming Quinn gets himself into trouble, is it legal in Vermont to use restricted substances to put an end to a serious gorgon infestation?”
“If the handler is certified, yes, it is legal.”
I smiled. So many substances, so little time. I could bring absolute chaos to the gorgon hive with five minutes, a phoenix feather, and some magical napalm. “How nice. I have an idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The CDC refused to give me napalm, not even the non-magical variety. I scowled, drummed my fingers on Chief Hollands’s desk, and wondered how else I might incinerate a batch of gorgon dust without napalm. Well, I already knew, but it involved me getting close and personal with the dust and breathing it in since someone in a hazmat suit couldn’t handle a phoenix feather.
Immune or not, I’d end up in a glass coffin again if I didn’t handle the situation perfectly. “Can you get me the phoenix feather at least?”
The CDC representative on the other end of the line sighed, and she didn’t sound happy with my request at all. “I can authorize you to have a phoenix feather for the purpose of dust removal.”
“And a glass coffin somewhere in the general vicinity should it be required.”
The woman clac
ked her teeth. “Yes.”
If the idea of a phoenix feather bothered her, the rest of my list would drive her to the brink of insanity. With a little effort, I bet I could push her right over the edge. “I have some other items I’ll need.”
“What?”
“Pixie dust, the highest grade you’ll give me, and if possible, a succubus and an incubus.”
“You want pixie dust, a succubus, and an incubus. What are you attempting to do? Single-handedly raise the birthrate in Vermont?”
Nice. So few CDC representatives had any sense of humor at all. How refreshing. “I also would like a vial of ambrosia, your best sedative, a jar of honey, two hundred empty gel pill capsules, and three eyedroppers rated for both substances.”
“You want ambrosia.” The disbelief in her tone almost made me laugh—almost. No sane person asked for the essence of a god. No one wanted the stuff, not unless they were the descendent of a god. For mortals untouched by divinity, ambrosia did one of three things: it killed fast, it killed slow, or it killed spectacularly. A single taste—not even a drop—killed. Most died within a few seconds. The unlucky ones lasted longer, a few minutes to a full hour.
The spectacular deaths worried every trained CDC member. Gods entered the world as they pleased. To the relief of everyone, they didn’t visit often. Earth bored them. Humans bored them. Everything about our little lives, our magic, and our sciences bored them.
It still shocked me Anubis had stuck around long enough to meet the Sphinx, convince her she wanted him, and make a child together on Earth. It astonished me he had cared enough to come to a courthouse to brawl while I married Quinn.
“You want ambrosia,” the CDC representative repeated.
I really needed to stop woolgathering and start browbeating the woman on the phone so I could hurry and hunt down my wayward husband. “A full vial of ambrosia and the sedative, a jar of honey, and three eyedroppers. Don’t forget the two hundred gel capsules, either.”
