by Jaye Wells
An army I’d deserted.
I glanced at the Ouroboros tattoo on my left wrist. There were specks of blood on the snake. Just like there was metaphorical blood on my badge.
“Look at me, damn it!” This time it wasn’t a whispered plea, but an order.
I looked up. Volos’s face was solemn, not angry. From the sound of the conversation across the room, Gardner and Morales were about to rejoin us. Not much time, then. “I want you out of my life.”
He looked like I’d slapped him. I wished I had. Wished I could feel the sweet sting of his pain on my skin again. “You’re not a child, Kate. Wishing me away won’t make me disappear.”
But before I could respond, Gardner and Morales returned.
“You okay?” Gardner asked, shooting me a worried look.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
She tipped her bruised chin to acknowledge she’d heard me. “Here’s the deal.” She paused and lifted a hand to her side, as if to ease pain. “We don’t have much time if we’re going to make this believable, so we need to get the story straight.”
Volos closed his eyes briefly in relief. Morales looked like he’d been forced to swallow poison. I knew how he felt. Bile climbed the back of my throat, but I swallowed the bitter fluid. There’d be time enough later for being sick over my actions; right then we couldn’t afford to contaminate the crime scene we had to create.
Gardner had been speaking while I struggled to get a grip on myself. “… Morales and Shadi will stay and call it in. Kate?”
All eyes turned on me. I cleared my throat. “Huh?”
Morales tilted his head. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” I lied.
“Good,” Gardner said. “Mez and I both need medical attention.”
“Hospital’s out,” Shadi said.
I nodded. “We can go to my place. Baba will keep things under wraps.”
Gardner nodded toward the gun on the ground. I realized that Volos had used the gun Souza had discarded before he’d shifted into the panther instead of the one Gardner had held on the shaman. “Take that and dispose of it in the lake.”
I paused, eyeing the murder weapon. Volos stepped forward and held it out. Setting my jaw, I stepped forward and took it in my left hand, which was wrapped in the cuff of my shirt so my prints wouldn’t land on it. But he refused to let it go and held my eyes. I narrowed my eyes and focused the full weight of my hatred into my glare.
“Mr. Volos,” Gardner prompted. “Kate promises to properly dispose of the weapon. Don’t you, Prospero?”
My left eye twitched. His eyes burned into mine, but I refused to look away. “Of course,” I said. “I’m an expert at taking out the trash.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. He finally released the gun into my hand. Stepping away slowly, I wrapped the weapon more carefully in the cloth.
“Good,” Gardner said. “Now, Volos will say he was kidnapped by Souza.”
“Wait, he’s staying?” I asked. “Why?”
“It’s my ship.” The look in his eye dared me to get pissed again, but I was beyond that now. I just wanted to leave.
“Of course it’s your ship,” Morales said, his tone heavy with irony. He turned to Gardner. “How in the hell are we going to explain him looking like he went three rounds in the ring?”
Volos licked at the wound in the corner of his mouth. “Souza brought me here to kill me. He roughed me up, but before he could finish the job a Votary Coven member showed up and killed both the shaman and his friend.”
I frowned. “Votary—” I stopped as the realization hit me. “You’re going to frame Puck for this?”
He raised a brow and began to speak. I held up a hand to interrupt him. “You know what? Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. I’m going to go get the car.” To Morales and Shadi, I said, “Bring them when you’re ready.”
With that, I turned my back and did something I should have done months ago. I walked away.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Two hours later I covered Mez with one of Baba’s quilts. He was passed out from the sleepy tea Baba had forced on him after she’d treated his wounds. I sighed and turned off the lamp before going to the kitchen.
When I’d arrived with two injured cops, Baba had transformed into Florence Nightingale. She brewed teas and issued orders for clean sheets and blankets for the patients. Because I didn’t want to think anymore, I followed her instructions. I’d put fresh sheets on my bed for Gardner and set up a pallet on the couch for Mez. I’d boiled water and gathered bandages. I’d gone down to check on Danny, who thankfully was sound asleep.
Once all that was done, I closed myself in my bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the water scald my skin. I’d expected tears, but they never came. I was simply beyond the place where self-pity could touch me. Maybe I was in shock. Or maybe I was simply too afraid to let myself feel anything because the emotions would consume me.
By the time I’d done a final check on Mez and joined Baba in the kitchen, I needed a drink more than I needed oxygen. My roommate was sitting at the table sipping something from a mug. She looked up when I walked in and shook her head. “You look like shit.”
I smiled. “Feel like it, too. That tea in your cup?”
“Bourbon.” She pulled a flask out of the pocket of her blue housecoat.
“Thank Christ,” I breathed. She rose and grabbed me a mug while I plopped into the chair. Bless the old witch, she filled it to the rim.
I took the mug and took a greedy sip. Unlike the expensive brand I’d had at Volos’s earlier, this brand was cheap, hot, and spiced with aluminum from the flask. But I swallowed it eagerly, enjoying the liquid fire searing a path down to my gut.
“You want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.
I stared down into the mug and shook my head.
She reached across the table and touched the abrasions on my knuckles. “Let me get some ointment for those.”
“It’s fine.” I raised my left hand and clenched it into an experimental fist. The skin pulled taut, sending a sharp sting through the knuckles. Memory of that fist connecting with Volos’s face made me grimace. Not because I regretted hitting him, but because I wished I’d done more damage.
“Kate—”
“Am I interrupting?” I looked up quickly and found Gardner standing in the doorway of my bedroom. She had on one of my old T-shirts and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Her face still looked like hell.
Baba clucked her tongue. “You should be in bed, missy.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” She took an experimental step into the kitchen. “You got anything to drink?”
Baba rose. “I can make you some tea that will help you sleep.”
My boss shook her head. “I was hoping for something with more of a punch than tea.”
I lifted my mug. “Bourbon?”
“God yes.” She limped to the chair across from mine. I rose and got her a glass. Baba’s flask was empty, so I poured half my mug into hers and handed it over.
Baba yawned so wide her jaw cracked. “I think I’m done.” She turned to Gardner. “The liniment I put on the wounds will prevent infection, but your body needs rest.”
Gardner raised her glass. “I’ll hit the sack once I finish this. Thank you for everything, Baba.”
The old woman flushed, but waved a hand. “It was nothing. Just take it easy on yourself.” She turned to me. “Same goes for you.”
Since I wasn’t wounded, she’d meant I should take it easy on myself emotionally. I hadn’t told her exactly what had happened, but she was well acquainted with the emotional hangover that always followed a particularly fucked-up case. “Yes, ma’am.”
Once Baba left, the kitchen fell into silence. I sipped my drink and studied the wounds on my knuckles. I didn’t believe for a moment that Gardner had come out because she couldn’t sleep. She had something to say, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it.
She cleared her throat an
d shifted on her seat. The movement forced a hiss of pain out of her mouth. I finally looked up. “You need anything?”
She shook her head and tried to adjust to a more comfortable position. Once she found it, she took a long, bracing gulp of her bourbon. “Jesus, that’s horrible.”
I chuckled. “Baba likes her hooch cheap. Says she can afford to drink more of it that way.”
She met my eyes. “I knew I liked her.”
I nodded. “Me, too.”
She sighed and leaned forearms on the table. “I think we need to talk.”
My stomach flipped over. “No, we don’t.”
Despite the swelling around her eyes, I could see the moment the steel entered her gaze. “Fine, I’ll talk. You can just listen.”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. My palms cradled the mug against my chest. “Go ahead.”
She nodded and licked her cracked lips, as if gathering her thoughts. “You were right.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected her to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. “About what, exactly?”
“A lot of things.” She ran a finger along the lip of her mug. “When you caught me cooking the potion, when you talked me out of killing Souza, when you beat the shit out of Volos.” Her lips twitched. “You’ve got a mean left hook, by the way.”
Her attempt at levity fell flat. I just watched her, waiting for her to continue.
She cleared her throat. “But the thing is, being right isn’t always enough.”
I frowned. “How do you figure?”
“Did you know I didn’t finish the potion you saw me cooking? I realized you were right and tossed it.” She paused to let that sink in. “I did the right thing, and for my effort I was ambushed outside my own front door by Souza. If I’d used the potion I would have been able to meet him on my own terms. But since I didn’t, I was kidnapped and tortured.” She shrugged off the irony, but her fingers were trembling.
“Sir, I can’t imagine how horrible that was for you. But you did the right thing.”
She laughed bitterly and took a bracing sip of her bourbon. “The truth is, Kate, sometimes you gotta get your hands dirty before things come clean. Until you come to terms with that, you’ll always be at odds with the job.”
I gaped at her. “You sound like Volos.”
She shrugged, letting the insult slide off. “Maybe. I’ve been in this job a long time. Seen shit that would make most people lose all faith in humanity. It takes a toll. Changes you. Makes lines blur.”
“Do you remember my first day on the team? When you read me the riot act about how things were done in the MEA?” I shook my head at how nervous I’d been that day. “You warned me that if I wanted to stay on the team I’d have to do things by the book.”
Her lips thinned into a narrow line.
“But tonight,” I said, “you didn’t just ignore the book—you set it on fire.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What should I have done, Kate? Arrest Volos and let him take all of us down with him?”
“I’m not talking about that part,” I said. “No one understands what it’s like to be trapped in Volos’s snare more than I do.” I looked up. “You were going to kill an unarmed man.”
“One who’d tortured me and killed my team.” Her voice shook. “Did you know I was engaged to one of the men he killed, Kate? Or that his funeral was on the day we were supposed to be in Vegas getting married?”
I closed my eyes and muttered a curse. My stomach cramped imagining how horrible that must have been for her. Especially when, hot on the heels of that loss, the MEA had treated her like it was her fault. “I’m sorry.” I opened my eyes. “I knew you were involved with one of the agents, but not the rest.”
She nodded curtly to accept my apology. “The point is that if the tables were turned, you would have considered killing him, too. Hell, before Morales stopped you, you were trying your best to end Volos.”
I looked at my hands and swallowed to ease the ache in my throat. “Point made.” I looked up, my eyes stinging. “I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of the game. When I became a cop I thought I’d make a difference, you know? Make things better. But after tonight?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not sure we aren’t part of the problem.”
“You don’t like the way the game’s played? Change it.”
“Every time I try, I get the shit kicked out of me.”
“I didn’t say it’d be easy.” She smiled sadly. “Your problem is you’re too rigid. It’s like you’ve created all these criteria for what it means to be good, to be righteous. But those rules don’t leave any room for being human.”
I frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You deny yourself what you want because you’re convinced everything you want is wrong. Then you beat yourself up for not being able to follow your impossible rules.”
I looked at her for a moment. “No offense, sir, but I don’t need this bullshit. You’re my boss, not my shrink. And I’m not going to sit here and be told that wanting to do the right thing is a weakness.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Fair enough. But let me ask you this: Do you know what you want?”
“Of course I do.”
She raised a brow. “Name it.”
“I want to bring down the covens.”
“How much?”
“With every cell in by body.”
“Enough to kill for it? Enough to lie? Steal? Cheat the system?” She leaned forward. “Because that’s what it’s going to take to make it happen. The game is rigged, Kate. The covens aren’t bound by rules. They don’t have to deal with budget shortfalls and political bullshit. They aren’t hamstrung by conscience.”
I held my ground. “Which is why they’re criminals. Those rules keep us honest.”
“You want honesty? How’s this: The rest of us on the team are only tourists in this world, Prospero. It’s your home. You want to make it a better place? You’re gonna have to get over yourself and start fighting the war in the real world, not some fictional battle where the lines between the good guys and the bad guys are clear-cut. In a perfect world our moral choices would be simple, but our world is far from perfect.”
The room fell silent as her words soaked in. A moment later, my phone buzzed on the table. “It’s Morales,” I said. She leaned forward and nodded for me to answer. “Hey.”
“It’s done.”
“Where are you?”
“On my way home.” He sounded tired. “Duffy’s working the scene. Jade came to go with Volos to the station to make his statement. They’ve already picked up Puck.”
“Any problems?”
“Went just as the bastard said it would.”
I sighed. “You want to talk to Gardner?”
“In a sec. How are you?”
“Good.”
“Liar. If you need me, I’m here.” There was weight to his words that implied he was speaking about more than being a shoulder for me to lean on. But I was very aware of Gardner’s eyes on me, and didn’t care to get into that particular discussion with her looking on.
I smiled because it was surprisingly nice to be worried about, to be wanted. “ ’Night, Macho.”
Gardner took the phone and turned in her seat to speak with him. She mostly listened, but occasionally clipped off a question. I sipped my bourbon and tuned out the conversation. As much as I didn’t want to think about anything, Gardner’s words echoed in my head.
You’re going to have to get over yourself and start fighting the war.
Fight for what, though? A long time ago, Captain Eldritch told me he didn’t believe it was possible to bring down the covens. He said even if it was possible, he was more afraid of what might take their place.
I realized then that I hadn’t been totally honest with Gardner. My goal wasn’t really to bring down all the covens. My goal was to balance the scales. Maybe it wasn’t possible to rid the world of evil, but it damned sure was p
ossible to make it harder for evil to win. To protect the pockets of good and help them expand a little.
But balancing the scales also meant I needed to make those who’d wronged me feel the boot heel of justice. The top of that list was Uncle Abe. Just under him, but rapidly working his way up to a tie for first, was John Volos. The man who would have been third on my list, Charm Parsons, had died before I even knew he belonged there. But Abe and Charm hadn’t been the only ones responsible for my mother’s death. Thanks to Volos’s revelations, I now had a fourth name to add: leader of the Quincunx supercoven. Because of The Philosopher’s attempts to screw over Abe, my mom was dead. For the last ten years, the scale had been weighted in favor of the guilty. It was time to fix that.
If I left the MEA, I’d give up access to resources that would allow me to settle those overdue accounts.
Which brought me to the other part of Gardner’s assessment. The part about me denying what I really wanted in an effort to be righteous. The truth was that ever since I’d left the covens, I’d overcorrected to compensate for my past.
As a cop, I’d tried my best to prove to everyone I wasn’t that same girl who killed her mom and had once wanted to follow in my uncle Abe’s footsteps. However, to do that, I’d had to deny and push down a lot of things I wanted because I believed myself to be inherently tainted by my upbringing.
But I was exhausted from constantly beating myself up for wanting. Maybe it was time to start taking.
Gardner clicked off the call with a sigh. “Christ. Volos has us by the balls.”
I polished off my bourbon. “You were right.”
She pulled her head up. “Yeah?”
“If we don’t like the game, we have to change the rules. Eventually he’s going to fuck up, and when he does we’ll take him down.”
Her brows rose. “Why does that sound like you have a plan?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really. Not yet.”
“Right.” She stood and took the last sip of her drink. “When you figure it out, let me know. In the meantime, I’m going to go pass out.”
I rose, too, but not because I was headed to sleep. “Good night, sir.”
