Cursed Moon

by Jaye Wells

  He motioned for me to turn around. As I did as instructed, I felt as if I was turning to face a firing squad without a ballistics vest. Clearly unaware of my sudden panic, the members of the team all had smiles, except Morales, who looked uncharacteristically solemn. A couple of neighbors Baba invited smiled politely but looked ill at ease to be witnessing such a private moment. Most of the rest of the faces belonged to members of the group. Darla, the former vanity-potion-addict homemaker, stood beside Jacob, a very large bald man with tattoos, who spent his days crafting delicate sculptures out of scrap metal. The only member I didn’t see was Callahan, who only attended the meetings because a judge ordered it after he exposed himself to a busful of schoolkids while freaking on a sex potion.

  But it wasn’t until I’d turned completely around that I saw the last face I expected to see in my living room.

  Our eyes didn’t just meet—they collided. The impact ricocheted through my midsection.

  I knew instantly who’d invited the devil into my house. Danny’s admiration for John Volos was vocal and mind-numbingly repetitive. I’d stopped trying to mitigate the hero worship because it was a waste of breath. As far as Danny knew, his life had been saved by the Cauldron’s version of King Midas.

  He wore a three-piece suit, but I wasn’t egotistical enough to believe he’d dressed up special for the occasion. He always looked like he’d stepped off the cover of Handsome Millionaires Quarterly.

  On some level I was aware of Rufus speaking again. Felt his hands brush my neck as he put the necklace around it. His fingers fumbled with the clasp. The metal was cold on my skin. John’s eyes were hot.

  “There,” Ru said in a triumphant tone. His hands rested on my shoulders. They urged me to turn around again. Not having to look at John anymore was a relief, but I could feel his gaze on my back like a visceral touch. “Let’s all give her a hand, folks!”

  The next five minutes were a blur of applause, hand shaking, and hugs. Danny threw himself at me, like he used to when he was five and hugs weren’t yet embarrassing. “I’m proud of you, Katie.”

  “I’m proud of you, too, kid,” I whispered, holding him tight. Deflecting the compliment was self-defense. If I let myself wallow in the guilt, I’d combust.

  “Isn’t it cool John showed up? He said you wouldn’t want him here, but”—he pulled back—“you’re fine with it, right?”

  My smile froze in place. “Sure.”

  Pen cleared her throat beside us. “Congratulations.” Her tight smile looked more like a grimace. With all the expectant eyes around us, she reluctantly pulled me in for a tense hug. “We still need to talk,” she whispered.

  I didn’t respond. Not because I couldn’t speak, but because I knew if I let myself give voice to the words gathering like bile at the back of my throat, I’d never be able to take them back.

  Her grip tightened for a second before she pulled away, turning her back on me.

  Danny watched her go with a confused expression. “What crawled up her butt?”

  “It’s an emotional night.” I forced a casual shrug. “I think I need a little fresh air.”

  “ ’Kay,” he said. “I need to go help Baba get the cake ready anyway.”

  I nodded and smiled what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I get cake, too?”

  His smile was so bright it hurt my eyes. “Of course! It’s your big night.” He gave me another impetuous hug and skipped off toward the kitchen.

  I turned away with a boulder pressing on my chest. Moving across the room, I avoided looking in the direction where I’d last seen John. I smiled and waved at well-wishers but avoided getting trapped in any conversations. On my way out toward the back patio, I grabbed a bottle of wine. If I didn’t get outside, all the pressure building up behind my eyes would explode.

  Chapter Eight

  The screen door’s squeaky old hinges announced his arrival. As the first fine leather loafer stepped onto the cracked concrete step, I had the wine bottle tipped back like a wino. Since I was sitting on the steps, the position allowed me an upside-down view of his face. But that’s usually how I felt around John Volos—disoriented.

  In the last decade, time had polished his features into a distinguished but brutal handsomeness. His dark-blond hair was slicked back in the style preferred by sociopaths masquerading as CEOs. He’d shucked his suit jacket and loosened his tie, but I didn’t for a minute think his appearance wasn’t about business.

  The stems of two wineglasses were tucked between his fingers. “Thought you might like a glass.”

  I pulled the wine away from my lips with a small gasp and smacked my lips. “Prefer it this way. Bye now.”

  I turned away and licked the cheap red from my lips.

  Movement to my left as John lowered himself onto the step beside me. His broad shoulder brushed mine as he got settled. “Well, pass it over, then.”

  I shot him the side-eye. “What?”

  He set down the two glasses and held out a hand. He didn’t repeat himself. Just raised a brow in challenge.

  I licked my teeth. “Get your own bottle.”

  “Ah.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What’s that mean—ah?”

  He sighed and shrugged, moving his eyes over my backyard, like he was taking stock. “Let me guess: You’re drinking because you’re feeling guilty about lying to them.”

  My eyes shot toward the door first to ensure no one heard him. Through the open door, the sounds of the party filtered down, but I didn’t detect anyone on the lower level where Danny’s room was located. I turned back to John and leaned in. “You don’t know shit.”

  His lip twitched. “Does this mean you’re still angry with me?”

  “You give yourself way too much credit if you think I care about you enough to get angry.”

  He grabbed the bottle from my hand and took a long swallow before I could snatch it back. When I wrenched it from his hands, a few drops of red landed on the pocket of his pristine white shirt. “Oops, sorry,” I said, not bothering to sound like I meant it.

  “I have others.”

  I was sure he did. Dozens and dozens of dress shirts. Probably handmade by tiny Bangladeshi children in a run-down factory without air-conditioning or sanitary restroom facilities. Or hand-spun by blind Irish women who worked their fingers to the bone to produce shirts good enough for Babylon’s Golden Hope.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, suddenly wary.

  “Because I hate you.” I shrugged.

  I hated him for being in my home. I hated him for blackmailing me to lie to my team. I hated him for tricking me into cooking that antipotion. But most of all, I hated myself for feeling anything for John Volos.

  His eyes widened as if it hadn’t occurred to him that I could possibly hate him. “I came tonight because I thought it was important to maintain the facade that we are on good terms since everyone believes I saved Danny’s life alone. I asked you to lie because we both know I have a better chance at making Abe pay for siccing Ramses Bane on Danny. And I blackmailed you because I knew it was the only way to ensure your cooperation.”

  My mouth fell open at this last part. In John’s world ends always justified means. Even if the ends themselves were immoral or illegal. “Get out.”

  “One of these days my reasons for blackmailing you will become clear and you will forgive me for what I had to do.”

  “Get out.”

  “That’s two,” he said, “what are you going to do on the third strike? Go get your team and tell them I’m bothering you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m going to arrest you for trespassing on private property.”

  “I was invited.”

  “Not by me, you weren’t.”

  “Have you heard from Abe?”

  The question caught me off guard, just like he’d hoped it would. I lowered the bottle and looked at him. “Why? Have you?”

  John snorted. “Please. The only way that man would contact me is
by inscribing a message on a bullet.” He leaned over and took the bottle. Took a sip before asking again. “So have you?”

  Here’s the thing. I couldn’t tell the team about the phone call because it would open the door on all sorts of questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. But John already knew the story. Hell, he’d been the reason there was a story to begin with. Even though I didn’t trust the guy, I was genuinely curious to see his reaction to my answer. I took the bottle back. “He called today.”

  John’s entire body stiffened. “And?” He kept his voice calm, but I could feel the anger coming off him. The heat of it made the scent of his expensive cologne—a heady mix of chypre and sandalwood—stronger. “What did he say?”

  I took a casual swig from the bottle, making him wait for it. Enjoying it. “I refused the call. Told the prison’s operator to take me off his call list.”

  John relaxed a fraction. “He won’t stop trying.”

  I nodded. “Of course he won’t.”

  “Do you think he knows you know he was behind Bane’s plot?” When John and I had taken Bane down for his crimes, the wizard had admitted that the plan to frame John for unleashing the dangerous potion Gray Wolf had been Uncle Abe’s idea. But when the team figured out the plot to frame John, Bane had gone after Danny to try to derail the investigation. John wanted Uncle Abe to pay for trying to frame him, and I wanted him to suffer for instigating the events that led to my brother almost dying.

  I shook my head. “Who knows?” I glanced at him. “You decide what you’re going to do there yet?”

  When John had asked me to keep Abe’s involvement a secret from the BPD and MEA, I’d been so angry with Abe that I agreed. I knew that if anyone could make my uncle suffer, it was John. But in the time since then, I’d also realized that I’d made a colossal mistake—and not just because John had proven to be a lying snake himself since we’d made our agreement.

  “Now’s not the right time,” John said. “Abe’s expecting retribution. Suspect that’s why he’s calling. He wants to find out if you know what he did and plan to make him pay.”

  I sighed. “He can keep waiting. Between the Blue Moon bearing down on the city and this new case, I don’t have time to think about Abe.” I handed the bottle to John. He hesitated, then took it without a word. I’m not sure why I decided to share it freely, except it felt nice to have the call off my chest.

  “What case?” he asked, taking a drink.

  “You haven’t heard?” I looked at him with wide eyes. When he shook his head, I made a surprised sound. Surely the great John Volos knew everything that went down in the Cauldron. “Someone knocked over Aphrodite’s temple.”

  John grimaced. “That’s why I haven’t heard. Hermaphrodite and I aren’t exactly friendly.”

  “Ah,” I said, “s/he’s mad at you for turning Abe in to the cops.”

  He smiled behind the mouth of the bottle. “Among other things.”

  The detective in me wanted to press him for more details, but I didn’t want him thinking I was interested in his life.

  He handed over the bottle. I took it and polished off the last mouthful. “Well, I wish I could say this has been fun, but, well—you know.” I pushed my hands against my thighs for leverage and rose to stand over him. Standing made me finally feel the effects of the wine, and I swayed a little. John rose quickly to try to steady me, but I pushed him off. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” I took two steps away from him. “Stay away from Danny or I’ll break your kneecaps.”

  “How about you, Katie?” He crossed his arms and smiled. The way the porch light hit his face, he looked like a devil standing on my back porch. “Do I have to stay away from you, too?”

  The problem is, as devils went, he was one I knew all too intimately. In my life I’d seen that look in his eyes more times than I could count. It was the expression he wore when he’d decided to prove me wrong about something. The only thing John Volos loved more than power or money was being right.

  I took a step forward and poked a finger into the wine stain over his heart. “You come near me and I’ll put a bullet right here.”

  He captured my finger and pulled me in closer. I could smell the wine on his breath when he whispered, “You already did that ten years ago, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Nine

  October 19

  Waxing Crescent

  The next morning Morales and I were driving around looking for Little Man and Mary again. I was nursing a wicked wine hangover, so I wore dark shades and clung to a bucket of coffee like a life raft.

  After the conversation with Volos the night before, the party had wrapped up pretty quickly. Pen had slipped out while I was outside, so I hadn’t had to deal with that awkwardness, but I knew it was only a matter of time before we had a real come-to-Jesus.

  After the party ended, Baba had stuck around to help clean up. She’s been so enthusiastic about reliving every second of the event that I’d resorted to drinking another bottle of wine. By the time she’d waddled back home, it had been one in the morning. What’s worse, after only getting about five hours of sleep, I’d had to drive Danny to school when Pen didn’t show up to take him. I’d tried calling a couple of times, but she hadn’t answered. It was unusual for her to ditch the kid like that, but I figured she just needed some space after our argument.

  The fact we weren’t having much luck finding the Wonder Twins didn’t do much to help my disposition. “Where the hell are they?” I said after about an hour of driving by all their usual spots.

  Morales shot me a sharp glance, but before he could call me on my mood, both of our phones buzzed at once. I read Gardner’s message out loud: “Get your asses to the gym ASAP.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Morales said.

  “You do anything to piss her off recently?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “You?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Guess this means some other shit has hit the fan.”

  I groaned and winced from the flare of pain in my head. “Next time I decide to drink a bottle of wine, remind me of this moment, okay?”

  Morales made a clucking sound. “Serves you right.” He shot me a sideways glance as he turned the car back toward the office. “What were you and Volos talking about out there anyway?”

  I kept my head down and sent Gardner a quick text that we were on our way.

  “Kate?”

  “Hmm?” I said, looking up.

  “Volos?”

  “What about him?”

  “What gives?”

  “He wanted to ask me how Danny was doing.”

  “You two were outside talking for a good hour.”

  I filed away the knowledge that Morales had been paying enough attention to time our talk. “Oh, then I asked him if he’d heard any gossip about the Aphrodite break-in.”

  Morales’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “And?”

  I shook my head even as I patted myself on the back mentally for the evasive maneuver. “Hadn’t even heard about it. He and Aphrodite aren’t on good terms after John testified against Abe.” I paused to glance over and see if Morales looked suspicious. When he merely nodded, I continued. “I told him he might want to make sure his security is tight just in case.”

  “Why? Do you have a reason to think he’s a target?”

  “Just a precaution. Last time we had a Raven in the Cauldron, we almost had a turf war break out. Figured it was better to warn him in case someone was dumb enough to target him, too.”

  “What’s a Raven?”

  “That’s what we call rogue wizards who steal from other wizards’ labs.”

  “Ah,” Morales said. “In LA we called them Scavengers.”

  I nodded. “Right. Anyway, we don’t have proof the guy who knocked over Aphrodite is a Raven, but if all the coven leaders are on the lookout for one they might see something useful.”

  Morales laughed. “That’d be great if we believed for a minute a wizard would
call the cops to report suspicious activity.”

  He had a point, but I wasn’t really trying to argue a case here. Mainly I just wanted to cover my ass so he didn’t keep asking about my conversation with Volos.

  You did that ten years ago, sweetheart.

  What game had John been playing anyway? Like I was supposed to believe he’d been heartbroken all this time? Give me a break.

  Luckily, it was about this time that Morales turned his car into the lot outside the gym, so I was saved having to analyze that train wreck of a thought.

  Moments later we walked up the steps to find Gardner tapping her sensible low-heeled pump. “What the hell took you so long?”

  I paused with one foot hovering above a riser. “We came straight here.”

  She pressed her lips together like she wanted to tell us that wasn’t good enough, but thought better of it. Gardner was tough, but she was fair. “In my office,” she snapped and walked away, obviously expecting us to follow.

  As I trailed her, Mez poked his head from behind the walls of his lab. That day, his dreadlocks were deep purple, which made the metal charms and beads shine like stars in his twilight hair. “Come see me after,” he called. I nodded and continued on.

  “Sit,” Gardner said when we walked in. Morales and I took our seat and waited for her to shuffle through some file folders. “Just got off the phone with Mayor Owens,” she said without preamble.

  My stomach sank. I glanced at Morales, but he only shook his head, like he couldn’t think of any reason we should know why the mayor was calling, either.

  “Seems His Honor got a call from an attorney this morning.” She stared at me while she said this.

  “Why?” Attorneys never called with good news.

  “Not why—who.” She slid a piece of paper across the desk. It was one of those pink phone message slips. I’m no handwriting expert but my boss’s chicken scratch looked like a cross between a doctor’s and a serial killer’s scrawls.

  Despite the incomprehensible symbols, my eyes managed to make out a pair of words: Abraxas Prospero.