Dirty Magic

by Jaye Wells

  After I’d hung up with the captain, I started the car and pulled away from the curb. Since I had a little time to kill before I hit the precinct, I decided to celebrate the good news with a double-double from the Slaughterhouse. A quick hunt through the cup holder, ashtray, and under the seats of the Jeep netted me four petrified french fries, a Pretenders CD I’d misplaced months earlier, and five dollars and sixty-seven cents in change.

  I pointed my car in the direction of the second-best burger joint in the Cauldron. I told myself I wasn’t going to the first-best place—Mickey’s on Hughes Street—because it was too expensive even though it was only two blocks from the precinct. The Slaughterhouse actually was cheaper, but the real reason I chose it that day was it sat only three blocks from Volos Towers.

  I had to admit that when Little Man mentioned John’s name in relation to the new potion I hadn’t been surprised. From the instant Gardner told me Gray Wolf was alchemical, I’d thought of him. Of course I had. Yet, my stomach dipped anyway because if LM was right, now that I’d made the team, I’d probably cross paths with Volos sooner rather than later.

  It had been about a decade since I’d spoken with him. I saw him on the news all the time, but it was a different drama altogether to think about being in the same room with the man.

  Complicating matters, too, was the worry that once Gardner found out about my past relationship with a potential suspect, she’d kick me off the case. Which was the real reason I was praying John wasn’t behind this. If I was lucky, some new evidence would surface that pointed the investigation in another wizard’s direction. And if I wasn’t lucky … Well, I guess I’d leap off that bridge when the time came.

  * * *

  Forty minutes later, I pulled Sybil into the parking lot along the Riverwalk. I told myself I chose the spot because it had a lovely view of the Steel River and Bessemer Bridge. But the tall tower looming over the river mocked me. I’d come here because I was horrified yet intrigued about the prospect of investigating the man who owned that tower.

  Shoving a few fries in my mouth, I decided all I could do was show up at Gardner’s office the next day and see what shook out. After a deep, calming breath, I settled back and lifted the burger. For a few moments, the savory, mustardy, dill-pickle deliciousness distracted me from the prospect of the return of John Volos drama in my life.

  Overhead, birds swooped and called as they danced over the surface of the river, looking for a good catch. If this had been a shoreline on another part of the river, I would have laughed at their fruitless attempts. But this stretch of riverbank was part of the renovated Riverwalk District. Just beyond the twenty-story tower, the rust-brown waters of Steel River acted as a moat between the Cauldron and the less shameful sections of Babylon. Used to be this stretch of riverfront property was dotted with shanties and run-down factories, but over the last few years—thanks in big part to Volos’s friendships with the city’s leaders—the area was on the upswing.

  The new Riverwalk boasted boutique stores and upscale restaurants. There were even some luxury condo developments in the works for upwardly mobile Mundanes who wanted to feel edgy and hip by living in the more “colorful” part of town.

  In addition, Mundanes flocked across Bessemer Bridge on the weekends to visit the flea markets and artisanal goods stands set up along the water. Naturally, since it was still officially the Cauldron, there was always lots of overtime work available for the BPD at the Riverwalk so that the Mundanes weren’t bothered by the magical dregs of the city. And high above all of that was Volos Tower, which had become a symbol in the city for progress and hope for the Cauldron.

  I couldn’t help but wonder at the irony. John Volos had gone from being Uncle Abe’s heir—after I left—for one of the biggest magical crime syndicates in the city to a respected community leader and successful businessman in little more than a decade.

  I shook my head and swallowed another delicious bite of my burger. As I chewed, I became aware of a strange rhythmic sound outside the car. I rolled down the window and realized it was the swoop, swoop, swoop of an approaching helicopter. I stopped chewing to stare at the speck of black rapidly approaching the tower.

  That’s when I realized that the parking lot sat right next to the tower’s helipad. Frozen in indecision, I could do nothing but stare, slack jawed, at the approaching aircraft, which had probably a 90 percent chance of containing the very man I’d been worried about seeing.

  By the time I realized I was being ridiculous and rolled up the window, the helicopter was lowering itself onto the helipad. Looking around, I saw I was probably five rows back from the border between the pad and the lot. I reached my free hand toward my glove box and removed the binoculars I always kept there.

  The helicopter landed and the blades overhead were powering down. The door popped open. A long, slim female leg emerged first, followed by the rest of a statuesque redhead. The winds from the river and the slowing rotors loosened strands of titian hair—probably a vanity potion since no one was born with that shade—from her formerly neat chignon. She wore a black skirt with a cream silk shirt and break-your-neck stilettos. I squinted at her through the binoculars. She looked familiar, and I realized I’d seen her just that morning on TV as she stood next to Volos at the mayor’s fund-raiser.

  Before I could speculate much about her position in his life, I was distracted by a shadow moving in the helicopter’s door. I held my breath. In the next instant, a dark-blond head and tall, trim physique emerged from the shadowy opening. He unfolded up, up, up and scanned the immediate area looking like a god of capitalism surveying his domain.

  Awareness skittered up my spine—or maybe it was a warning. All around me, the air tightened with anticipation as I waited for him to spot me. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed when he simply turned to the chick and said something. She threw back her head and spread her ruby lips into a wide smile that exposed a row of pearly white teeth. A French-manicured left hand rested lightly on his arm as she gazed up with her no doubt witty retort.

  Oh yeah. They were fucking all right.

  I grabbed a notebook and jotted down that theory. But lots of CEO types screwed the help. That didn’t mean Volos was cooking or, worse, dealing potions again.

  I took another bite of my rapidly cooling lunch. But now the burger tasted bland and greasy. I was suddenly ashamed at my lack of willpower. I shouldn’t have been in that part of town to begin with, much less sitting in that particular parking lot. As much as I liked to think I’d moved on from my past, that decision proved I still enjoyed prodding those old bruises.

  I wiped my hands and face clean with a napkin, threw the trash in the bag, and—

  Pound, pound, pound.

  I jerked my head toward the driver’s side window and cursed. A dirty, near-toothless man stood at the window, holding up gray rags and a bottle of blue liquid. “Wash your windows, lady?” His voice came muffled through the glass.

  I shook my head. “Get out of here.”

  The toothless smile morphed into a scowl. “You ain’t gotta be so cunty about it.”

  I made a shooing motion with my hands while I glanced toward the helicopter. Volos and the lady were starting to walk away.

  Bang!

  The window washer took issue with my dismissal and banged the bottle against the outside of the window. “Fuck you, bitch!”

  With a sigh, I removed my Glock from under my seat. I figured a quick wave of the weapon would end the one-sided discussion.

  “Oh really?” He lifted the stained Grateful Dead T-shirt to reveal a potbelly and the frayed waistband of his jeans. Nestled in the matt of grizzled hair covering his abdomen was the stock of a pistol.

  I guess he’d wanted my attention, but now that he had it I was pretty sure he wouldn’t enjoy it.

  I threw open the door and yelled, “Hands on your head!” I flashed my badge as I raised my gun.

  “Relax, bitch. I waddn’t gonna shoot ya!” He put his h
ands in the air and stumbled back. “It’s just a pellet gun.”

  I jerked it from his waistband, careful not to touch skin. Sure enough, it was a Merlin Px4, which was a sixteen-shot air pistol. It looked just like a Mundane semiautomatic pistol, but instead of bullets it used BBs or pellets as ammo and had a CO2 cartridge to provide realistic blow-back action. Lots of street toughs used these peashooters or dart guns to deliver nasty potion-filled projectiles at their enemies. The weapons weren’t illegal because the pellets and BBs weren’t as dangerous as bullets, but they were regulated because they were so commonly used in Arcane crimes.

  “You got a permit for that peashooter, ace?”

  “Not sure.” He thrust his hips up. “Why don’t you check my pants?”

  I grimaced at his pelvis. “How about we check it down at the station?”

  “Ah c’mon. I didn’t do nothin’.”

  I raised a brow. “You flashed a weapon at an officer.”

  “Ah man! I didn’t know you was a cop. Thought you was just an uppity bitch.”

  “As it happens, I’m both. Do not move.” I grabbed his arm. “What’s your name?” I spun him around and applied cuffs.

  “Bob.”

  “Bob what?”

  “Just Bob.” He shrugged.

  While I patted him down, I tried to ignore the stench of brimstone coming off his clothes. “Are you on any potions, sir?” I swung him back around and removed his sunglasses. Sure enough, the irises were mottled brown and light blue.

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  The track marks on his neck told a different story. Probably any profits he made from the window washing went straight into the vein. There was a satchel on the ground that probably represented all his worldly possessions. “You live around here?”

  “Over at Saint George’s Mission.” He shrugged and glanced over my shoulder. “Heeey, isn’t that what’s-his-name?”

  I glanced back to see Volos and the redhead were watching us. My stomach dropped as though it had been thrown off the Bessemer Bridge. In my annoyance over the homeless guy, I’d completely forgotten about Volos. They were a good bit away from us, but I definitely didn’t want that kind of attention. I pulled my baseball cap lower over my forehead.

  I pushed Bob toward the Jeep. “All right, sir. We’re going to head down to the precinct. On the way maybe you’ll remember where you left your permit.”

  Bob reared back like I’d asked him to hold a snake. “I ain’t ridin’ in that thing.”

  “Relax, it’ll be fine.”

  “How do I know where you’re really taking me? Maybe you got a plan to kidnap me and make me your sex slave.”

  I scanned a dubious gaze over the man’s ratty gray hair, serious dental hygiene crimes, and the dirt caked black under his nails. “It’s tempting, but I think I can control myself today.”

  A quick glance in their direction and I realized Volos was starting toward us. When Bob realized this he said, “Maybe I should ask what’s-his-name to be my witness so if you decide to take advantage of my body I got proof.”

  “I swear on my mother’s grave that I will not touch you.” Not a hard promise to make to a man who smelled as if he hadn’t showered since Nixon was in office. “Now let’s go.”

  Touching him as little as possible, I helped Bob into the car and strapped him in with his hands cuffed behind so he wouldn’t bolt. As I jogged around to the passenger side, I saw Volos and the girl had gotten bored watching us and were getting into a waiting limo with the license plate VOLO$. Just before he got into the car, Volos looked back in our direction. Just in time to see me put the car in drive and peel out of the lot like a woman with the devil on her tail.

  “That was who I thought it was, right?” Bob said.

  “Yep.”

  “Too bad you didn’t let me say hi. I bet he woulda offered to bail me out on account of me being a victim of the system and all.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, Bob. The system’s treated you a lot better than that guy would.”

  Chapter Six

  I escaped processing an hour later after leaving Bob in the capable hands of the intake sergeant. Since Eldritch hadn’t officially signed the paperwork that put me on leave yet, no one gave me any hassle about arresting someone, but I didn’t get lots of speculative looks. Guess the gossip train had left the station to spread the word about the shooting.

  By the time I reached Eldritch’s office, I was exhausted.

  “You’re late,” he said without looking up.

  “Sorry, sir. I had to arrest someone.”

  He looked up quickly. “How the hell did you manage that? You said you were on your way to the station.”

  I shrugged. “Window washer flashed a piece at me.”

  He shook his head. “What’s this world coming to?”

  “So you have some paperwork for me?”

  He made quick work on explaining the forms I needed to fill out to make the temporary assignment with the MEA official, as well as paperwork regarding overtime—to be paid by the MEA—and some releases saying that if I got killed in the line of duty the MEA claimed zero fiduciary responsibility.

  “Fucking Feds,” Eldritch said after I’d filled them all out. Guess he wasn’t a fan of their red tape, either.

  “Listen—thanks for talking me up.”

  He waved it off. “Just remember who you really work for.”

  “Does that mean I’ll still be reporting to you?”

  “Technically you’ll report to Gardner, but I’ll want you to keep me up to speed on any major moves in the case.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head and barreled on. “Shut up and listen, okay? If Gardner thinks she can just stroll into my precinct and swing her dick around”—he paused, as if he caught the incongruity of that statement a second too late—“anyway, I won’t have them making moves that could compromise ongoing investigations or put the cops on my command in harm’s way.”

  I nodded. “Understood.”

  He ignored my tone. “Anyway, good luck with it.”

  “Sir,” I said, bringing up something that had been bothering me ever since I found out the MEA was taking lead, “if Harkins was anything to go by, every foot-patrol officer is at risk as long as that shit’s on the streets.”

  He blew out a breath. “Budgets are tight, so I can’t put extra officers on each shift.”

  “With all due respect, I’m pretty sure once the media gets hold of this, the mayor’s going to be asking why something wasn’t done.”

  He pursed his lips as he thought it over. “I suppose I could have foot patrols partner up for the time being. Let’s just pray Gardner’s team is on the ball. Because if it does get to the mayor, it’s going to be a shit storm.”

  “Plus we don’t want any officers harmed, right?”

  “Of course,” he said too quickly. The phone on his desk buzzed. He punched a button. “What?”

  “Sir, you have a visitor.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Ramses Bane.” The voice speaking through the intercom sounded as shocked as Eldritch looked and I felt to receive that news. “He said it’s regarding Officer Prospero, sir.”

  My stomach flipped inside out. “What the hell?” I whispered. This day could not get any weirder.

  “Send him in,” Eldritch said. He disconnected and looked up at me. “Any clue?”

  I shook my head. Bane was the grand wizard of the Sang Coven, and I knew him because he’d been allied with Uncle Abe for years. But I had no idea why he was showing up at the station to talk to my boss about me.

  “Stick around,” Eldritch said. “But play it cool.”

  I nodded and went to stand behind the captain.

  A few minutes later, a guy about my age with long white hair, dark sunglasses, and an ankh tattoo in the center of his forehead strolled through the door. This wasn’t Ramses Bane, but his son, Hieronymus.

  When he saw me standing behind
the captain, his face morphed into a sneer. Harry and I had grown up together in the Cauldron. He was two years younger, but light years ahead of me in the asshole department. Apparently, he didn’t have much warmer feelings for me because after making a face, he looked away as if the sight of me made him ill. “You Eldritch?”

  The captain didn’t rise. “Yes. Where is your father, Mr. Bane?”

  Harry looked pleased that the captain knew who he was. “He’s out in the car.”

  Eldritch frowned. “Why was I told Ramses was here to see me?”

  Harry shrugged. “Figured you’d be more likely to agree if I said I was him.”

  “You were correct. Why is he out there while you’re in here?”

  “My father doesn’t do well in the sun,” Harry said. I snorted. Ramses Bane had lived down in the Arteries for so long he was basically a mole rat. His addiction to his own blood potions didn’t help things since the side effects included severe anemia and rickets. Personally, as much as I didn’t like Harry I preferred dealing with him to his father, if for no other reason than Harry was the less creepy-looking of the pair.

  He removed a smart phone from his pocket and held it up. “But he’d like to speak with you.”

  Ramses Bane appeared on the screen, dashing my hopes of avoiding him that day. He was ensconced in a cocoon of black leather from the back of a limo. The dome light overhead glowed dully off his bald scalp and did little to warm up the complexion of his moon-pale skin. But his most distinguishing features were his eyes. Long-lashed, brilliant-blue doll’s eyes. On a woman they’d be beautiful, but on his masculine face they were unsettling. When he looked at you, cold dread coated the skin.

  “Captain Eldritch.” His high voice sent frozen nails skittering down my spine.

  “Mr. Bane,” Eldritch said, his voice hard. Just like me, he expected this was all bullshit.

  “Officer Prospero, it’s been far too long.”

  Not long enough, I thought. “Bane,” I said instead.