by Jaye Wells
My partner came around the desk, and an audible gasp of appreciation filtered through the room. In the girl’s defense, Morales did sort of look like an alpha hero from one of Baba’s romance novels. His dark hair and scruff gave him a dark and mysterious presence. Add to that biceps bulging against his shirtsleeves and a world-class ass cupped in worn jeans and you had yourself the stuff of carnal daydreams. No doubt about it, Drew Morales was totally swoon-worthy.
When he wasn’t being an ass, my practical side amended silently.
His weapon lay on the desk with the beakers, defensive wands, and brass cuffs we’d brought as props. He lifted the gun and cleared the chamber as a safety precaution before holding it up for the class. “Glock 22 .40-caliber.” He cleared it again before returning it to the holster. Silence followed as everyone waited for him to elaborate, but he was clearly not in a chatty mood.
“What about you, Mr. Ren?” called Mr. Hart.
Mez stepped forward, and another round of dreamy sighs came from the girls. He wasn’t brawny like Morales, but he had his own sort of man-of-mystery appeal. That day he wore a duster-length black coat with a black silk vest with alchemical symbols embroidered in red and black thread. His high cheekbones, shrewd brown eyes, and broad forehead were enhanced by the mane of dreadlocks. He stood just under six feet tall in his socks, but he typically wore black lace-up wing tip boots that edged him just over the mark.
“As a civilian employee of the MEA, I’m not cleared to carry Mundane firearms.” A ghost of a smile flirted with his lips as he spoke, proving he was very well aware of the effect he was having on his audience. “But I still have plenty of Arcane weapons at my disposal.” He snapped and a shower of purple sparks danced from his fingertips.
I tried not to roll my eyes. Mez was an impressive wizard, but the little display he’d just done was nothing more than a cheap illusion. However, the kids, most of whom were cocooned in Mundane life, ate it up and clapped like he’d just made a building disappear.
After Mez’s showboating, I stepped forward to answer. “Each MEA agent and BPD officer is allowed to choose from a list of approved weapons. I use the same gun as Morales.” I pulled a different weapon from my left-hand holster, cleared it, and then held it up. The girls didn’t even look at me as I spoke, but now that I was talking about firearms I had a lot of the boys’ attention. “But I mostly use this salt flare gun.” I tapped the barrel. “It holds two rock salt shells. The salt isn’t lethal, but it’s a great deterrent and it works to disperse magic in potion freaks.”
“You ever been shot?” The boy who asked looked to be about seventeen or eighteen—a senior. He had the features of a Kennedy and the entitled posture of a young man used to privilege.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“What’s it like?”
“It hurts.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” I didn’t like the way his eyes got a little too bright at the prospect.
“No,” I lied.
The kid sneered, as if he assumed this answer meant I must not be a real cop. He turned to Morales. “What about you, Slick?”
“Special Agent Morales,” my partner corrected. Clearly he’d gotten a rotten-apple vibe from the kid, too.
Richie Rich nodded. “Well? Have you?”
Morales looked the guy in the eye. “No, I have not.”
A disappointed groan filtered through the room. These kids thought they were grown-up enough to handle the truth, but we knew better. Most of them came from wealthy families and had never had their safety threatened. They wouldn’t last five minutes in the Cauldron after sundown. The kids I grew up with—the same kind Danny would have known if we’d stayed in the Cauldron—would have eaten these kids for dinner if they’d turned down the wrong street in their mothers’ BMWs.
“Detective Prospero,” Mr. Hart called out, “what’s it like being an Adept arresting other Adepts?”
The room went quiet. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised Mr. Hart brought up the topic, but I was. “Um,” I began, “it’s really no different from arresting anyone else. I’m a woman but I don’t have a problem arresting another woman. Why would I feel differently about arresting someone just because we both happened to be born left-handed?”
“But didn’t you grow up in a coven?” This from the same guy who had been interested in whether we’d killed anyone.
“So?” I shot him a look that should have warned him it was in his best interest to change topics fast.
“So”—he dragged the word out, totally ignoring my fair warning—“I heard you and your brother used to live in the Cauldron.” He turned in his seat to look at Danny. “Your whole family was in the dirty potion business, right?”
I shot a quick glance toward Danny, who slid down in his seat as if he wished to dissolve into the floor.
“What’s your name, son?” I asked the guy.
He smirked and leaned an elbow back over his seat. “Pierce Rebis.”
The air dropped lower in my lungs. “Any relation to Anton?”
A viper’s smile. “That’s my daddy. You know him?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure.” Anton Rebis had been the candidate who ran against John Volos for mayor. The family had a long history in Babylon and came from old steel money. Rebis had run on a platform of traditional Mundane values, and had gone hard against Volos’s being the first Adept to run for mayor in the city. In the end, the conservative candidate had been undone by his own hubris when it came to light that his traditional lifestyle included spending money on underage hookers.
Pierce looked primed to follow in his father’s footsteps. He was the kind of guy whose voice caused the weaker members of the herd to retreat into themselves. Considering all that, it didn’t surprise me that he was the one who asked about my notorious past in such a blunt manner. However, the looks some of the kids were now shooting Danny worried me.
Meadowlake accepted very few Adept students. Besides Danny and his friend Luna, who was also looking uncomfortable, there were only two other Adept students in the upper school—a freshman and a senior, neither of whom was in the club.
“It’s true that I grew up in a coven,” I said. “But the day I was sworn in as an officer of the law, I vowed to protect and serve all the people of Babylon. I take that responsibility quite seriously.”
Morales stepped up. “Detective Prospero’s background has been a huge asset to our team. Without her expertise and experience with the covens, we wouldn’t have been able to have the success rate we’ve had.”
Next to Danny, Luna raised her hand. A riot of black curls surrounded a delicate pixie’s face. Her eyes were wide and intelligent, and when she blinked they appeared downright owlish. “You caught the Babylon Bomber, right?”
I shot the girl a grateful smile for helping to defend my honor. “Special Agent Morales and I stopped him together,” I corrected. “In fact, the entire task force as well as the BPD pitched in. It was a team effort.”
Luna raised her hand again. “Is it ever okay to use dirty magic?” Her voice was timid and her hands trembled, as if having all the attention on her was physically painful. Pierce groaned and rolled his eyes. She kept her large eyes trained on me, as if it felt safer than looking his way.
“That’s actually a great question.” Mez stepped in to give me some breathing room. “The truth is that there is no such thing as good or bad magic. Whether you’re using clean methods or unregulated dirty cooking, there are risks involved. Either way, you’re ingesting products that alter your body’s chemistry in some way.”
“But people who cook dirty magic are criminals,” Pierce shot back.
I motioned to Mez that I’d field that one. “Not everyone can afford the expensive ingredients and licensing required by the government to cook clean. Not everyone cooks dirty to turn a profit. Some people do it out of desperation.”
Pierce snorted. “Liberal bullshit.”
“But as agents of the government,” I said louder to drow
n out his pessimism, “it’s our job to make sure those unsafe and unregulated products aren’t sold on the streets.”
“Mr. Ren, you’re an Adept, too, right?” Luna asked.
The wizard nodded. “Yes, although I was trained in clean methods of cooking at Thoth University.” The mention of the most prestigious university of the Arcane arts in the world didn’t even make them blink. After a moment passed without applause, Mez cleared his throat. “After I graduated, I got a job working for Sortilege Inc., developing new products for the home consumer—vanity potions mainly. But then I got recruited away by the MEA to support their agents with crime scene investigation, potion analysis, and defensive magic potions—all using clean magic.”
I frowned because I had the feeling he’d skipped a few steps in there. But considering how the kids’ eyes were glazing over now that the guns were put away, I didn’t blame him.
“Clean potions hurt people, too,” Luna said in a soft voice.
Mr. Hart rose from where he leaned against a table. “I think we’re out of time for today!” he said in an overly cheerful tone. Mez snapped his mouth shut on the answer he was about to deliver. Once at the front of the room, the teacher turned to face the class. “Let’s give the officers a hand for taking time to speak with us.”
A smattering of halfhearted clapping rose from the mostly ambivalent crowd. My gaze sought Danny again, and found him staring at the floor like he wanted to bore through it with his gaze alone.
My chest felt heavy. I’d intended to impress the kid and maybe help raise his stock among his classmates by speaking to the class, but I was worried I’d only managed to make things worse.
The kids started to collect their things to head to their next class. Danny moved more slowly than everyone else. I prayed he would wait until we got home to lay into me.
“Thank you all so much for coming,” Hart said. Mez nodded, but Morales busied himself with packing away the items we’d brought to show the kids.
“It was our pleasure,” I said.
Hart put a hand on my arm. The warmth of his palm radiated through my shirt. “I was hoping I could chat with you a minute?” he asked. “In private.”
From the corner of my eyes, I saw both Danny’s head pop up and Morales’s gaze zero in on that hand on my arm. I kept my gaze aimed at Hart’s pleasant face and tried to ignore the looks being shot our way. “C’mon, Morales,” Mez said. “Help me carry this stuff to the car. And you have class, right?” he asked Danny.
Danny nodded and trudged out of the room. Since he saw himself as Mez’s apprentice, he wouldn’t dare question the wizard. Meanwhile, Morales hefted a large box from the table and shouldered past the teacher. I cringed inwardly at his rudeness. He’d been in a mood ever since we arrived, but I chalked it up to him being restless about the detour. Probably he just wanted to get back on the case.
Once they were gone, I turned to Mr. Hart. “What did Danny do?” The kid was usually pretty good, but for the last six months he’d had these outbursts of rebellion, which arrived as unexpected and fiery as solar flares.
“Huh? Oh! No. Danny’s been great. Perfect.”
I tilted my head. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s illegal to lie to a cop?” I softened the tease with a grin.
A golden eyebrow rose in response. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Does this mean you’re going to cuff me?”
Probably, he felt he was being shocking, but I spent my days busting the scum of the earth. A little flirtatious innuendo was hardly going to make me blush. Still, I found his effort adorable.
I opened my mouth to play along, but a loud gagging sound erupted behind me. Turning my head, I saw Danny in the doorway miming sticking his finger down his throat. When he saw me glaring at him, he stopped and scowled at me. “Forgot my algebra book.” He grabbed it from the desk and turned to go, casting disturbed glances between his teacher and me. Just before he walked out the door he whispered, “Gross.”
With my cheeks hot, I turned back toward Mr. Hart. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
“I’m so sorr—”
“Do you want to grab a drink with me?” Hart blurted.
My mouth snapped shut. We’d flirted a little here and there, but I never thought he’d actually ask me out. Now that he had, my mind swirled with questions. What would Danny say? Was it unethical for a teacher and a student’s guardian to meet socially? Did I even want to go out with him? He was cute, sure, but totally Mundane in all senses of the word.
I was quiet so long, his shoulders drooped. What the hell, Kate, I thought, grabbing a drink together isn’t a big deal. “How about tomorrow night? Spinelli’s—say six o’clock?”
The color on his cheeks was high as he expelled a relieved breath. “It’s a date, Detective.”
I grinned at him. “All things considered I think you can call me Kate.”
His responding smile had a twist of impishness to it. “It’s a deal, Detective Kate. And you can call me Brad.”
“Prospero.” Morales loomed in the doorway like a dark cloud. He didn’t spare a glance for the teacher. “We got an appointment at the junkyard.”
I cleared my throat. “Yep.” I turned to Brad. “Just call me if anything changes, okay?”
This time it wasn’t a charming grin he flashed, but a wolfish smile. “See you soon, Detective Kate.”
Chapter Nine
On the way to find Harry Bane, Morales was pretty quiet. Both hands flexed on the steering wheel, and his eyes focused on the road with too much intensity.
“Any word from Shadi?” I asked.
He jumped, as if he’d forgotten I was there. “No. Gardner called while we were taking stuff to the car,” he said in a distracted tone. “Not much new to report.”
I frowned at him. “All right. What gives?”
He glanced at me but looked away quickly. “What?”
“You’re acting weird.”
His spine straightened. “No, I’m not.”
“Whatever.” I turned away from him, knowing he’d tell me when he was good and ready—not a moment before. There’s this odd sort of intimacy that grows with someone when you spend the bulk of your waking hours together. That’s how I knew he was pissed about something, but damned if I was going to drag it out of him.
“Is that why we went to do that stupid talk today?” He turned to look at me.
“What?”
He paused a beat before laying it on the table. “You’re hot for teacher.”
My head whipped around so fast I gave myself vertigo. “Excuse me?”
He shot me a quick glance before looking at the road again. “Are you really going out with that guy?”
My cheeks heated immediately. While I had no real reason to be guilty, that’s exactly how I felt.
“Well?” he prompted.
“I think so.”
Morales nodded slowly and his expression didn’t change, but a muscle in his jaw contracted. “Bad idea, Cupcake.”
My eyes narrowed. “I don’t recall asking your opinion on the matter.”
“Right,” he said stiffly. He took a turn a little too fast, and the weight of the SUV shifted to bump me against the door.
“Watch it,” I snapped. “I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape. What I do in my free time is none of your business.”
He shot me a raised brow. “What about Danny, Kate?”
Now I knew he was pissed. He only called me by my real name when he was upset. “What about Danny, Drew?” And I only used his when I was pissed off.
He must have finally heard the warning in my tone because he softened his posture. “It’s going to be awkward for him at school once it ends badly.”
I lowered my brows. “Where do you get off?”
“It’s my duty as your friend to let you know when you’re being an idiot.”
My mouth fell open. “If anyone’s being an idiot it’s you, you smug asshole.”
“Fine, what
ever.” His voice was hard as concrete. “I still don’t trust the guy.”
“Why? Because he’s nice?”
He snorted. “You’re letting your hormones blind you. The man’s got a past. I’d bet my badge on it.”
“First of all, fuck you for the hormone comment.” Months ago, under the influence of a truth potion, I’d been forced to admit it had been a while since I’d had sex. Throwing it in my face now was a low blow. “Second,” I said pointedly, “we all have pasts, don’t we, Drew?”
The glare he shot at me should have set my eyebrows on fire. I met the look without flinching. Finally, he took a deep breath and released it slowly, as if releasing the pressure valve on his temper. “I’m just saying be careful.”
“I don’t know whether to feel insulted that you think I wouldn’t be careful or pissed that you think I’m not capable of knowing that without you tell me. I’m a grown-ass woman, and what I do with my hormones is my own fucking business.”
He grumbled something under his breath. But I was saved from having to respond when he turned onto the street leading to the junkyard. About halfway up the road, a set of tall gates barred entrance to the Babylon Refuse and Recycling Center. A fancy name for a dump more likely to feature dead bodies than a recycling machine.
The Sanguinarian Coven used to be headquartered in the Arteries, the old abandoned subway tunnels that ran under the Cauldron like an ant colony. But after the city sealed all the entrances to the tunnels, the Sangs had to scramble to find new turf. Luckily for Harry, before his father died, Ramses Bane had diversified his empire into the sanitation business, of which this junkyard was the putrid crown jewel. Now Harry ran the coven from a throne of trash, which was fitting since he was about as friendly as a junkyard dog.
We pulled up to the gates in front of the dump around a quarter till two—late enough for the brat prince to be awake. Morales punched the red button on the intercom. The box buzzed and crackled for a moment before a confrontational voice shot out from the speaker. “Fuck you want?”
“It’s Morales and Prospero.”
“So?”
