Cursed Moon

by Jaye Wells

“No,” she said. “He knew we’d eventually put this wine thing together. Didn’t you say they found a bottle at Owens’s murder scene?”

  I nodded. On my way back to the gym, I’d called Val at CSI, who confirmed they’d collected a half-empty wine bottle from the scene with the same label. She’d tested it for the plant-based poison that had killed Owens. Naturally, it was a match. Since Aphrodite was their suspect, they’d used that information as justification for arresting her. But now that we knew the source of the wine, it was looking more and more like Dionysus had framed the Hierophant. However, even if Eldritch would listen to us, the fact remained that jail was probably the safest place for Aphrodite Johnson while Dionysus was still on the loose.

  “Val said she’d take the information to Eldritch. But we still need proof Dionysus is the one who gave Owens that wine.”

  “We still have two nights until Halloween,” Mez said. “We can go in tomorrow.”

  I shook my head. Deep in my gut—down by the place I stored my resolve—the cop sensor that told me I was close to nabbing the bad guy flashed like a homing beacon. I knew I was asking Gardner to ignore her own instincts to protect her team. I knew I was putting us all in danger. I also knew I didn’t deserve their trust. But that’s the part they didn’t know.

  So it was difficult to find the words to convince them to trust me. “Sir, may I speak with you a sec?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Speaking to me in private won’t change my mind on this, Prospero. I won’t let you get hexed again.”

  Panic pressed like icy air against my sternum. “I’ll wear a protection amulet,” I blurted. “And use Mez’s new magic sensor.”

  The entire team looked at me like I’d just sprouted horns and a tail. I crossed my arms. “What?”

  “But you never voluntarily use magic,” Mez said.

  I forced a casual shrug. “Whether I want to or not, the Blue Moon makes me twice as vulnerable to getting hexed, as we learned last night.”

  “You won’t have to worry about it at all since I’m not signing off on this raid,” Gardner said in her favorite because-I-said-so tone.

  I looked her in the eye and went for her jugular. “If we do not stop Dionysus you can forget the team’s safety, because the entire city will be on its knees. And it will be your fault.”

  She jerked back like I’d struck her. “You are out of line, Prospero.”

  “No she’s not, sir.” Morales stood. “She’s right. It’s our safety versus millions. We have to do this.”

  Thunder rolled behind her eyes. “You’re going to risk your life based on evidence that is circumstantial at best?”

  He shook his head and glanced at me. “No, I’m putting my life on the line because my partner believes it’s the right play.”

  Gardner looked at the others to gauge their reactions. Shadi nodded that she was in, too. Mez sat back and hooked his elbows over the back of his seat. “Now or never.”

  My gut shriveled with doubt. They didn’t know they were putting their faith in a liar. I opened my mouth to say—

  Shit, I didn’t know what to say. They’d just given me the answer I wanted. I couldn’t very well try to talk them out of it now. Still, a small cluster of synapses in the back of my head was urging Gardner to pull the plug and send us all home.

  She looked around the circle at all of us. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but the tension between my eyes told me I was failing. She walked over to the whiteboard and studied the map for a moment. Her shoulders were tense, and her hands clasped and unclasped at her side like a beating heart.

  With her back to us, she finally spoke. “You will wear every anti-Arcane weapon at our disposal.”

  My heart lurched and then broke into a gallop.

  “You will not split up. You will not be out of radio range for even a moment. You will abort the mission the instant there is a sign of trouble.”

  “Yes, sir,” Morales said in a strong, true voice. Thank God he had one because I suddenly had a fist blocking my throat.

  She turned to address us like a general speaking to troops. Her eyes burned with determination and something hotter than fear. “You will find this asshole. And if he makes one off move, you will shoot to kill.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  October 30

  Waxing Gibbous

  It was midnight by the time we made our way out of the city. The moon was at our back over Lake Erie, but in the rearview it loomed like a neon warning. Out here in the rural area east of the city, electric lights were scarce. The moon’s light cast the fields and wooded areas bordering the highway in an otherworldly silver glow.

  Before we’d headed out, I’d called Baba again to ask her to stay with Danny. She didn’t ask why. She’d heard the tension in my tone. The promise of danger. “Watch your ass, Katie.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Now we were speeding away from Baba and Danny and safety. Inside the SUV, the air was heavy and thick with tension.

  “Shadi, what did you find out about the winery?” Morales asked.

  She was in the backseat with her laptop, pulling up everything she could from online city records. I sat beside her while Morales and Gardner took the front seats. Mez was dialed into the car through the phone speaker. The wiz was in a van behind us that would serve as the command post for the mission. Gardner decided the wiz needed to stay back while we went in so he could monitor all of the sensors and amulets we had strapped to our bodies.

  “According to the real estate records,” Shadi said, “the place was foreclosed upon about ten years ago. A couple by the name of Daniels bought it three years back with the hopes of reviving the vineyards and restoring the buildings to serve as a bed-and-breakfast. They reopened eighteen months ago under the name Babylon Cellars.” She clicked a couple more times. “I just pulled up the website and it has a banner announcing the B and B is temporarily closed for the month of October.”

  “Interesting,” I said, “considering this should be peak time for them with the grape harvest and all.”

  “Question is did Dionysus kill them when he took over the place or brainwash them like he did the others?” I asked.

  “Be ready for anything,” Gardner said, her tone tight as piano wire. To Morales, she said, “Your turn’s coming up.”

  He leaned forward in the seat. The lights from the dashboard controls lit up the determination in his expression. A few moments later the car slowed. On the left a single-lane road veered off into a stand of trees. “You sure this is it?”

  I tried to see down the dark throat, but the darkness was as impenetrable as a black hole.

  Gardner nodded. “This will take us around the outer perimeter of the vineyard. We’ll be able to approach from the back of the building this way.”

  “Everyone go ahead and engage their bio-monitors now,” Mez said. I turned and saw the headlights of the stopped van a few feet behind our vehicle. “I’ll go camp out toward the entrance of the winery and monitor you all from there.”

  Turning back, I reached down and flipped the button on the monitor at my waist. About two inches round, the contraption sent a signal to Mez’s computers with my heart rate, temperature, and whatever other biorhythms he thought it necessary to watch. Using the pin that attached my badge to my wallet, I pricked my finger and milked a few drops from the skin. The instant I touched the amulet with my blood, it warmed and started glowing in my hand. The magic inside allowed the wiz to track us without the need for satellites. The blood also engaged the magical force field of sorts that helped dampen potion attacks. When I put the amulet back around my neck, it felt heavy, and my skin crawled like someone had walked over my grave. I hated the sizzle of magic on the skin, but I reminded myself that if I hadn’t agreed to this compromise, Gardner never would have let us move forward with the raid.

  Pen’s voice nagged at me, ticking off yet another principle pushed aside in favor of duty. I pushed it aside ruthlessly. Refusing magical protection when
I was about to face down a psychotic wizard was damned near suicidal.

  “Everyone good?” Morales looked back. I nodded despite the nausea roiling in my gut. When we all confirmed we’d engaged our defensive items, he told Mez we were a go.

  “I see everyone on the monitor,” Mez said through the speaker. “Happy hunting, guys. See you all in a few.”

  With that, the van pulled out and continued down the highway. I watched the taillights recede like two red eyes in the distance.

  “All right, everyone,” Gardner said. “Radio silence starting now.”

  Morales cut the lights and turned into the dark. The lack of light and sound created a dark vacuum in the car. The visceral pressure built in my chest and head until I wanted to claw my skin off and run through the woods like a night thing.

  I wasn’t sure if the journey took five minutes or fifty, but eventually a sliver of light up ahead signaled our exit from the tree tunnel. Morales pulled the SUV to a stop at the border between dark and dim light. Without speaking, we all exited the vehicle, bringing with us the tools of our trade: salt flares, S&P spray, hawthorn wood wands, potion bombs, and lots and lots of guns.

  A wide field was the borderland between the woods and the first rows of vineyard. Grapevines snaked up wooden spikes in row after row after row. Far to our right, dim lights identified the winery’s main house. And straight ahead, over the tops of the vines, the moon danced off the serpentine waters of the Steel River.

  Crouching low, I jogged toward the fruit-heavy vines. My heart trotted in time with my steps, and a fine sheen of sweat coated my skin despite the smoky autumn chill. Out here in the countryside, the air smelled of yawning earth preparing for a winter’s hibernation. The silence was broken only by the repetitive crack of my defensive wand against my cuffs and the creak of leather. Toads sang night songs along the riverbed, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuated the night with a question mark.

  Gardner and Shadi ran into one row of vines, which would dump them out toward the right of the winery house. Morales motioned toward me to follow him down a left-facing row. This course would bring us almost directly to the back door of the building. As I entered the track, I pulled my Glock and prayed Mez’s detection amulets would warn us before we stumbled into a trap.

  The uneven ground forced me to feel my way slowly across the terrain. Up ahead, Morales’s shoulders filled my vision, and their width was a reassuring sort of shadow, blocking my view of what was coming. But just like he trusted me to go forward with the raid, I trusted him to warn me of danger.

  We were almost at the end of the row when his left fist came up. I halted immediately and listened. At first, my ears were buzzing too full of adrenaline to hear it. But soon the noise in my head was drowned out by the sound of a shouted argument from somewhere in the compound.

  I glanced at Morales. He shrugged, but tightened his grip on his gun like he suspected a trap.

  Just beyond the vines, a low fence separated us from the gravel yard surrounding the house. A large barn-like structure that I assumed was the place where the wine barrels were stored stood probably fifty yards from the old Victorian, and an open stable-turned-garage held a rusty old truck. I couldn’t tell which building the argument originated in, but I was pretty sure if we found the source, we’d find Dionysus.

  I punched a button on my vest. “Chief, I smell trouble.”

  “Roger that,” she replied in my ear. “Mez, you listening?”

  “What’s up?” came the reply.

  “We got indications of an altercation on the premises. Call BPD and have them send backup stat. If Eldritch denies the request, call in the tactical wizes from the sheriff’s office.”

  “Got it.” With that the wizard clicked off to call in the cavalry.

  “All right,” Gardner said to the rest of us. “Hang back until we have confirmation of backup. But keep an eye out for imminent threats.”

  I wanted to argue with her that we needed to move now, but I knew better. Rushing in without confirmation of imminent danger to a civilian was a recipe for a shit show.

  Morales pulled his binoculars from his vest and aimed them at the house. “All the windows are shaded.”

  “Might be coming from the barn,” Shadi said through our ears.

  Our earpieces crackled with Mez’s voice again. “No go, sir. Eldritch is shitting himself because a group of costumed demonstrators have started a riot outside city hall.”

  “What about the tac wizes?”

  “Bomb threat at the county jail.”

  Doubts crept like vines over the instincts that convinced me Dionysus was at the vineyard. “Shit,” I said. “Maybe I was wrong.”

  Morales opened his mouth to say something. But before he could, the unmistakable sound of a shotgun blast exploded.

  “Holy shit,” Mez said. “Tell me you guys heard that.”

  Gardner replied, “Get us backup now! I don’t care what you have to do. The rest of you, approach with extreme caution.”

  “But, sir—” Shadi began.

  “I don’t know if Dionysus is in there, but we can’t afford to ignore shots fired. Shadi and I will take the barn. Morales, Prospero, clear the house. Everyone watch your asses.”

  Morales glanced at me and nodded.

  I nodded back because I didn’t trust myself to speak. Once I heard that shot, my adrenaline spiked and my muscles twitched with the need to run toward trouble.

  In the next instant Morales burst forward like a sprinter from a block. His large body moved with surprising agility, hurdling the wire fence with ease. I followed behind him, my own legs shorter and less graceful. But I managed to leap the fence without too much trouble. Landing on the other side, we crouched, ready for ambush. To my left I saw Gardner and Shadi clear the fence as well, and run, blending in with the shadows closer to the barn.

  Morales waved me on, and together we ran toward the house. Lights illuminated rosemary bushes with their sharp green scent all around the perimeter of the house, but all of the lower-level windows were dark, like closed lids on sleepy eyes.

  When we got to the back door, Morales walked up the two steps and carefully touched the knobs. My eyes scanned the grounds for movement. Except for the leaves waving on the large tree in the center of the courtyard, the place was still, almost as if holding its breath.

  The door cracked open easily. I turned to Morales and pointed my gun forward to cover him as he rolled into the room. Darker here. The air hot and heavy, like someone had punched the thermostat too high. The coppery scent of blood like a slap.

  The chunk-thunk of a racking shotgun. Instant adrenaline.

  Me rolling left. Morales lunged right. Blinding flash. Booming assault to the eardrums. Wood and glass splintered over my head. Stinging skin, cold welling of blood. Deafening silence. Then—

  Chunk-thunk-BOOM!

  I don’t know where the second shot hit, but I knew it was only a matter of time before a bullet found my vulnerable fleshy parts. Scrambling on my belly, I crawled behind a chair. My heart pistoned in my chest. Thoughts scattered like buckshot.

  Where’s Morales? Where’s the shooter? Can I get a clear shot? Can the shooter? Shit, this chair won’t protect me. Need to move. But where? Gun’s cocked. Don’t get shot, Kate, Don’t get shot, Kate, Don’t get shot, Kate.

  I peeked around the edge of the armchair. A shadow moved near another doorway. Shooter reloading.

  “MEA,” Morales shouted from the other side of the room. “Put down the gun.”

  “You got a warrant, secret agent man?”

  I frowned. The voice was female. Definitely not Dionysus. I remembered what Shadi said about the property belonging to the Daniels couple.

  “Mrs. Daniels,” I called, “put down the gun before you get hurt.”

  Chunk-thunk. “Maybe you should be taking your own advice, Detective Prospero.”

  My stomach contracted. How the fuck did this chick know who I was? I scooted over to look around
the chair to locate Morales. His eyes flashed like dark marbles where he crouched across the room. His brows rose as if to ask if I knew this woman. I shook my head to tell him no, shit was just a lot more serious than we expected. Because if this chick knew my name, chances were pretty good Dionysus did, too.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Mrs. Daniels continued, “you’re gonna lay down your weapons—all of them, and then we’re gonna go to a party.”

  “What kind of party?” Morales asked. To me he made a motion with his hands. I nodded.

  She made a dismissive sound with her lips. “A moon par—”

  I burst up from my hiding space, yelling like a banshee. Time slowed. Mrs. Daniels’s face opened into shock. She spun toward me, raising that double-eyed monster high. My fingers tightened on my trigger. But before she or I could make good on our promises, a third weapon exploded from across the room.

  The bullet hit her in the center of her neck. The impact forced her body into a death roll. The shotgun swept around. Her hand spasmed.

  Boom!

  The shotgun’s blast hit about three feet from Morales’s head.

  Daniels’s body slumped to the floor. Blood gushed from her neck like a fountain. I jumped toward her, kicking the shotgun to the side. I bent down to check her pulse, but there wasn’t much left of her neck. Her cornflower-blue eyes were wide enough to see the Pearly Gates.

  Two boots appeared in my peripheral. “You all right?” I asked without looking up. I couldn’t stop staring at those eyes. Those deep watery pools were glazing over, like a pond choked with algae—stagnant. Dead.

  “I’m good,” Morales said above me. “How much you wanna bet Mr. Daniels is nearby?”

  Something tickled the back of my mind. Some sensory memory. “Wait,” I said, “the blood.”

  Morales made a pitying noise with his mouth. “Yeah that happens when you hit their carotid.”

  I shook my head and stood, my eyes finally scanning the room as a whole instead of flashes of input from when we were being shot at. A ratty sofa under a pair of windows looking out on the courtyard. The chintz armchair I’d used for cover. In the corner, a small, warped wood table with an old gas lamp. A river-rock hearth and mantel with weathered pictures of proper ladies and dapper gentlemen in old-timey costumes. But no blood, except the rapidly spreading pool at our feet.