Deadly Spells

by Jaye Wells

  “I think we can both agree that our goal is for Danny not to follow in either of our footsteps.”

  He took a sip of his bourbon and watched me over his glass. “Oh, I don’t know. Considering the gutters we came from, we cleaned up pretty good.”

  He was the mayor and I was a detective on a federal task force, so I had a hard time arguing with the point. “Despite our résumés, we’ve both done things we wouldn’t want Danny to get messed up in,” I said pointedly.

  “Touché, Detective.”

  I nodded. “Anyway, I need to figure out how to get Pierce to admit what he did.”

  “To what end? Danny still attacked the kid using magic. The Rebis family is well within their rights to press charges.”

  “Not if they’re interested in keeping Junior’s little rape hobby out of the papers.” Off his frown, I quickly filled him in on that twist to the story without naming Luna as the victim.

  Volos’s face changed. Instead of looking amused by Danny’s exploits, he looked proud of me. “You should go into politics. You’ve got a killer instinct for blackmail.”

  “I know you meant that as a compliment, but I’m not taking it that way.”

  He shrugged and toyed with the crystal tumbler. “Where do I come in?”

  “I was hoping you could talk to Rebis. See if you can get him to drop charges… or whatever.”

  The corner of Volos’s mouth tilted up. “It’s the ‘or whatever’ that interests me. Are you really asking me to use my office as mayor to put pressure on a political opponent?”

  “I’m asking you to do whatever you’re comfortable with to help Danny.”

  He took another drink of the bourbon and rose.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, panic seeping into my voice.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m going to call Rebis and see if he’s free for a chat.”

  I sat back in my chair. Despite the fact I’d manufactured the reason to approach him, I was shocked at how easily he’d agreed to help me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I just—I’m just surprised.”

  “That I would help you?”

  I nodded. “Something like that.”

  He touched my chin with the fingertips of his left hand. “You haven’t figured it out yet.”

  I jerked my chin away from his touch. “Figured what out?”

  He watched me for a moment. Panic surged like an electric shock under my skin. I absolutely could not handle Volos declaring his feelings for me right then. But something in my expression must have made him change his mind. He pulled back a fraction and held up the phone. “Be right back.”

  To make the call, he disappeared down the hallway leading to the restroom. I watched him go for a moment. As much as I liked to cast him in the role of archvillain, the truth was he clearly had a generous side. Unfortunately he usually used that generosity to manipulate and deceive. Or that’s what I told myself—what I had to tell myself—to do what I had to do to save Gardner.

  A waiter dropped a glass somewhere near the bar. The sound of shattered glass surprised me out of my thoughts. I shook myself and reached into my pocket for the ampoule. None of the tables nearby was occupied, and all of the nearby staff had pitched in to help clean up the spill.

  Now was my chance. My left hand closed around the small glass vial. My conscience flared. Less than a year ago, I wouldn’t have let a potion ampoule within ten feet of my person. And now here I was about to use one to incapacitate a man who’d just offered to help me. What was worse, I planned to hand him over to an enemy who’d proven himself a fan of torture.

  I blew out a determined breath. I assuaged my conscience by promising to do everything in my power to make sure we walked out of the confrontation with Souza with both Gardner and Volos alive.

  That decided, I quickly popped the top off the ampoule and poured the yellow potion into the glass of bourbon. Only half an inch of liquid remained, but it was enough. It had to be.

  I’d just stashed what was left of the potion in my pocket when Volos emerged from the hall. His expression was blank, and for a moment I had a spurt of fear that maybe he’d figured out my plot. Had he seen me?

  “Our friend answered,” he said. I managed to nod. “But he said if I wanted to speak to him I’d have to go to the hospital.”

  I feigned disappointment. “Damn.”

  Volos frowned at me. “Well?”

  “Well what?” Having him stare at me was making my palms itchy and damp.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Where?”

  “To the hospital,” he said slowly. “Are you feeling okay?”

  I licked my dry lips and tried to look like I was overwhelmed with worry. “I’m just worried about Danny.”

  “Don’t worry, Kate. We’ll figure it out.” He patted my shoulder. The patronizing tone set my teeth on edge. “I just need to call my driver.”

  Shit. I’d forgotten about his goon/driver. “Finish your drink and then we’ll go.”

  His eyes narrowed, but instead of calling me on my strange suggestion, he lifted the drink and drained it. I watched to the last drop, and only when he swallowed it all did I relax.

  “Happy?” he said, sounding exasperated.

  I forced a smile. “You know what? My car’s outside. I’ll drive.”

  He hesitated. “You still driving that shitty Jeep?”

  I nodded. “What’s the matter? Is your ass too important now to touch anything but Corinthian leather?”

  He laughed, pulling out his phone. “Let me just text my driver and let him know he’s off for the rest of the afternoon.” While he did that, I let out the breath I’d been holding. Once he was done, he shoved the phone in his pocket. “All right, Detective, I’m in your hands.”

  My smile wobbled a little. “Great.”

  An hour later I was sitting in an expensive leather armchair in Volos’s penthouse. Morales paced back and forth in front of the granite breakfast bar. “How much did you give him?” he demanded.

  “I told you, I was in a hurry. I think it was only a few drops.”

  He pointed at the man on the couch. His arms were sprawled toward the floor, and a line of drool dripped from his slack lips. “That doesn’t look like a few, Cupcake.”

  I threw up my hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  Morales ran a hand through his hair, making it all spiky. He would have looked handsome if he weren’t so busy being an ass. “How in the hell are we supposed to put him on the phone with Souza when he calls?”

  I leaned back against the chair’s back, which cupped me like a large hand. “We still have an hour. Maybe he’ll wake up by then.”

  He seemed to ignore me. “I’m going to check in with Mez and see if there’s an antipotion we could give him.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep in my retort. I knew Morales wasn’t really mad at me. He worshipped Gardner, and the stress of being responsible for her safe return was getting to him. “Do whatever you want.”

  He didn’t respond. Just grabbed his phone and left the room. His footsteps retreated down the hall and then a door slammed.

  Shaking my head, I rose from the cocoon of leather and went to the bar. If I had to wait for Mr. Mayor to wake from his beauty sleep, I decided to help myself to his very good bourbon. I poured two fingers of Pappy Van Winkle and went to look out the bank of windows overlooking Lake Erie. It was late afternoon and the sun had begun its descent on the far side of the horizon, bathing it in bloody hues.

  I closed my eyes against the sunset and stretched my neck muscles. It had already been a long fucking day, and I expected it to be an even longer night. Last night worries about Danny’s future had chased away sleep, which meant I wasn’t firing on all cylinders to begin with. “Christ,” I whispered. I almost envied Volos his unconsciousness.

  The door down the hall clicked. “Mez says the potion should wear off soon,” Morales said. �
��I’m going to run down to do a sweep of the lobby just in case Pantera decides to make a surprise appearance. Call me if he wakes up.”

  “Got it.”

  After he was gone, I took a mouthful of bourbon and let it burn against my gums and tongue before swallowing the smooth fire. In front of me, the luxurious apartment reflected in the wide expanse of glass like a mirage.

  The whole thing was surreal. Ten years earlier—no, more than that, twelve?—John and I had been working for Uncle Abe. While the Grand Wizard of the coven had plenty of money, he kept everyone working under him lean and hungry. Desperation made people more pliable, he’d said. As his niece, I was better taken care of than most—especially since my mother’s jobs brought in money in addition to what I earned doing basic potion work and running errands for Abe.

  But we’d never known luxury. Especially John, who’d been abandoned by his potion freak parents to a grandmother who’d let him run wild. Back then his hair was shaggy, his cheekbones were sharp blades on his too-thin face, and his eyes held hungry shadows. The streets had chiseled away his soft edges early. However, his innate talents for strategy and cooking served him well, and it wasn’t long before he found his way into Abe’s fold. Once he’d joined the coven, he’d learned quickly how to fit in and, even quicker, how to stand out in the right ways. I never questioned his ambition or his ability to turn his dreams into realities—by force, if necessary.

  But I never imagined he’d eventually live the way he did now. When we were teens, this frivolous display of wealth was something we saw only in the movies when we managed to scrape enough dollars together to pay for a show—or we snuck in, which was more common. We’d both had ambitions, sure. I was supposed to take over for Abe, and John would have been either my co-leader or my right hand. Sometimes we’d sit around and talk about what our house would look like once we ruled the coven. As kids, we’d imagined ridiculous luxuries like golden toilets and a bowling alley in the basement.

  Once I’d left the coven, I’d pretty much given up those dreams. And frankly, seeing John’s place now made me glad I had. His need to surround himself with the best of everything seemed like an attempt to absorb some of the class from those objects into himself. But under the designer duds and expensive haircut, he was still that lanky kid who had to wear the same black T-shirt every day because his grandmother was on the dole and spent most of her money on lotto tickets and luck potions.

  I drained the liquor from the heavy crystal tumbler. Despite his fancy apartment and designer clothes and his hard-won power, John Volos was as hollow as that glass. He could keep pouring expensive things into it, but a hole is a hole, even if it’s surrounded by crystal.

  A small voice in the back of my mind warned me to be careful. Romanticizing John Volos as some lost little boy role-playing as a mogul was dangerous. Whatever motivated him was less important than his actions. Over and over he’d proven himself a ruthless survivor. If I let my guard down, he’d have an opening to make me pay for my betrayal in spades.

  The sound started as a hushed whisper of fabric against leather. Subtle. In fact, it didn’t even register in my conscious mind until the groan sounded. My eyes flew open and I spun. My hand automatically went to my salt flare. It was my go-to draw when there was magic involved. It wasn’t lethal, but in a pinch the ability to strip skin from bone was a potent demotivator.

  I looked toward the couch. Volos no longer lay prone on the leather. Instead, he sat up with his head in his hands.

  “John?” I stepped forward, my flare still hot in my hands.

  “What did you give me?”

  A lump of fear in my throat. I knew better than to trust his quiet tone. “Knockout potion.”

  He nodded into his hands. “The bourbon.”

  I nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

  “Why?”

  I sighed. I really should call Morales back, but I hesitated. Adding my partner to the situation would be like adding a match to a bucket of gasoline. For the moment, Volos was calm, so I held off. “Souza has Gardner.”

  A bitter laugh escaped his mouth. He turned his head in his hands. His face was pale, almost gray, and shadows darkened his eyes. “A trade, then?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Shame washed through me. Up until that moment, the entire plan had been like a game. Figuring out how to outsmart Volos and get him to drink the bourbon had been like a match of chess. But now, with those haunted eyes watching me, I realized how very real the situation was and how very wrong I’d been to think I had the stomach to trade his life for Gardner’s. “I—it’s not—”

  “Not what?” he demanded. “You’re not about to tell me you have a plan where no one has to die, are you?” He made a disgusted sound. I pulled myself up to my full height, but before I could respond, he continued. “You’re a lot of things, Katie, but you’re not naive.”

  He let his weight fall against the back of the couch. “What I don’t get is why you felt the need to hex me.” He turned his head to look me in the eye. “You just had to ask me.”

  I snorted. “Sure.”

  “When have I ever denied you anything? Hell, I’d just offered to blackmail a political rival just so Danny could get back in that school.”

  Guilt bloomed cold in my gut. “You said it yourself: I’m not naive. Helping Danny get back in school isn’t the same as asking you to risk your life to save Gardner.”

  “Did you make up the story about Danny?”

  Something about his tone told me the answer to this question was important. I considered lying, but I couldn’t force it out of my mouth. “No, it was true.”

  He nodded, taking that in. “I guess it’s a moot issue now, isn’t it? We’re here now. The question is, how do we go forward?”

  “You don’t get it. You’re the reason we’re all in this situation. You don’t get to call the shots anymore.”

  “Can I ask if you plan on me being alive at the end of all this?” His tone was dry.

  “If you cooperate.”

  “Christ.” The heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. “What the hell was in that potion?”

  “It was clean.”

  He laughed and continued to squeeze his head. “Clean—sure. I feel like I was hit by a horse tranquilizer.”

  “Said it was clean—not weak.”

  He absorbed that with a nod. “May I have some water?”

  With the gun still in my left hand, I sidestepped toward the wet bar. I filled a tumbler with water from the faucet and brought it to him. He accepted it with a nod and drained it. I retreated to the far side of the coffee table. When he finished, he nodded resolutely as if he’d decided something. “I suppose if I’m going to die, I might as well tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” I asked.

  He looked up. The shadows in his eyes had retreated. Lines bracketed his mouth and his shoulders slumped, as if he’d surrendered. “You’re not going to like it.”

  My left hand clenched the gun I’d lowered to my side. “Tell me anyway.”

  “Come on.” He nodded toward the hall. Morales was still downstairs. I knew I should call and tell him to come back. But I hesitated. Something told me if I did, the secret Volos was about to tell would remain unshared. And something in my gut told me I’d regret that more than not calling Morales. Besides, I had my salt flare if Volos tried anything.

  “Morales is coming back any minute.” I wasn’t sure if I was warning him or reassuring myself.

  “It’s in my office.” He waved me on, and disappeared down the hall. I followed him slowly, gripping the brass flare in my damp left hand.

  The hallway contained four doors. It was the third one on the right that he turned into. I was surprised he hadn’t put his office in a room overlooking the lake view. In fact, the only windows here were set up high into the wall. They let in light, but no one could see in or out.

  He went about turning lights on in the office. “Come on in.” Something about the
tension in his tone put me on edge. Even if I’d been considering holstering my weapon, that alone would have convinced me to rethink the choice. I stopped at the threshold. He shot me a disappointed look. “Kate, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Something told me he was promising not to physically harm me, but knowing him, my emotions were fair game.

  A glass-and-steel desk sat in the center of the room with a black lacquered credenza behind it. Over that hung a massive painting of a black crow sitting on a golden egg against a blood-red background. A shiver passed over me. The living room had been warm with all its wood and leather, but this room was cold. The phrase war room came to mind. This was, after all, where John Volos planned all his campaigns, both political and criminal.

  He went to the credenza and pulled out a file. It reminded me of the folder he’d shown Morales.

  My stomach spasmed. “You’re going to blackmail me again?” I didn’t bother disguising the incredulity in my tone. Although, where Volos was concerned, I shouldn’t have been surprised by any form of manipulation he threw at me.

  His expression soured. “To what end? You already know if I go down you’ll go down, too, especially after tonight.”

  My stomach twisted at the reminder. By kidnapping and hexing Volos, Morales and I had tricked the devil.

  “So what is it?” I prompted.

  He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “You asked me before what happened to your mom.” He wouldn’t have surprised me more if he’d punched me. I could only stare at him.

  He waved a folder. “I have the answers you wanted.”

  I lurched forward to grab it, but he pulled it back. “Hold on.” He put his free hand up to hold me back. “You might not be ready for what’s in here.”

  “I’ve spent the last decade blaming myself for her death, John. I’m ready to know what really happened.”

  He released a long breath. “All right.”

  I snatched the offered folder from his hands. My eyes narrowed at the top page inside. It was a death certificate. The same version Cho had showed me. I blinked. “You lied to me.” I looked up. “You looked me in the eye and told me I really was responsible for her death.”