by Fitz Molly
“What?” That couldn’t be right. “Is there another Davis?”
“There are three,” she said. “One of them started in 1977. I think that’s a year you’d remember if you were there for it. Another one retired in 1972, lived for another 20 years of an unremarkable life, died of a heart attack. And another one served from 1968 to 1993 and retired. No commendations no scandals. Still alive and in a retirement community.”
I curled up next to Val and watched her computer screen. “So the criminal racketeering Davis, let’s look at his career. Maybe there’s something there.”
“Of course,” Val said, scrolling through the page. “He received a commendation in ’75 for heroism. The Martel crime family ambushed Davis and his partner in an alleyway. Davis managed to kill three of them, but his partner was shot in the ensuing gunfight. He was dead on arrival at the hospital.”
“That’s weird,” I said, tilting my head to look at the screen. “Martel’s boys were just some two-bit thugs. They ran numbers and some small stuff. They wouldn’t try to hit the cops. Three of them getting killed would’ve been almost half their guys.”
“Interesting,” Mason said, but my eyes were locked on the picture of Officer Davis. Benjamin Davis. My old partner.
The dark bricks of the alley whizzed past as I chased after Officer Davis. After three years of working together and several near misses with our cases, I’d finally found what was wrong. Davis was dirty.
My arms and legs pumped like a well-oiled machine, keeping me within sight of the rat. He was done. He just didn’t know it yet. I’d sent the information to the Chief, and Boston PD was about to be one dirty cop cleaner.
“Stop runnin’!” I shouted after him. “It’s over, Davis. I don’t wanna have to shoot you.”
He ducked down another side alley and a small smile crossed my face. That was a dead end. Checkmate, you snake. I stopped just before the alley and peeked out. He fired another shot at me and I was forced back a bit.
“Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?” Davis shouted. “What would it take to make this go away? Huh? You want in? The money’s good.”
I stepped out into the alleyway, gun drawn and aimed squarely at the badge on Davis’s chest. “You took an oath, Davis. We all did! And you betrayed us! And for what? Dirty money from a sleazeball like Scavo?”
click
Davis’s revolver was out. He was finished. He knew it now as he put his hands up. I pulled my cuffs and tossed them at his feet.
“Cuff yourself,” I ordered, my gun still trained on him.
“What’s going on out here?” a familiar voice boomed out.
“Captain Flaherty, I found Scavo’s mole in the department,” I said, not bothering to check behind me. “Keep your hands up, Davis.”
“Davis,” the captain said, his voice hard. “Is this true?”
Davis nodded.
“Such a pity,” Captain Flaherty said.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light and then, darkness.
Chapter Nine
I came to on the bed. Where was Davis? Or the captain? Had I been shot? Oh, when I figured out what was going on, I was going to march the two of them to the deepest, darkest prison I could find, toss ’em in, and throw away the keys.
“Jack!” Mason. Val. She was rubbing under my chin. She seemed worried about something. Jack. Was that me? Did I have whiskers? “It’s okay, Jack, just your memories coming back.”
I stretched. Right, I was a cat. “He shot me,” I said as my bearings returned to me.
“Who did?” Val asked. “Davis?”
I shook my head out, trying to make sense of everything. “No, I’d cornered Davis and was about to take him in. But the Captain. He was there. They must’ve been working together. He shot me!”
Something overtook my entire body. It felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I darted wildly around the room, dodging over furniture, leaping off the walls and diving under the bed. My claws finally stopped me when they snagged into the comforter on the bed, flipping me while I dashed.
“Benjamin Davis is in prison, serving the last of his time. He’s not expected to be released before he dies,” Val said softly as she extracted my claws for me. “Officer David Jackson was your name. Do you want me to call you that from now on? A piece of normalcy for you in what has to be a crazy world?”
My breath came in ragged gasps as I considered her offer. No wonder Jack had felt close to right for me. I had been David Jackson, a police officer in the Boston PD. And I’d been shot by my captain while confronting my partner. It’s who I was. But part of me…
“No,” I said, finally composing myself. “Officer David Jackson died doing his job and trying to root out corruption in his department. He was betrayed by those closest to him. No, I think it’s best to let Officer Jackson rest in peace. But Valeria Mason’s partner, her familiar Blackjack? He’s gonna help you solve these shifter robberies and watch your back for as long as you need him.”
Her eyes were watery, but I could feel through our connection that she was happy more than sad. I nuzzled her hand.
“All right, no waterworks, Mason,” I chided. “Get your bag, we got a crime ring to bust.”
She laughed and wiped her eyes, grabbing her bag and leading the way down to the car. “You know, Jack, for years I fought them on doing the familiar ritual. It just seemed like an unnecessary complication to witchcraft and my work with the Paranormal Division. But I’m glad to have a partner like you with me.”
“Me too,” I said as I hopped into the passenger seat and curled into a ball. “You’re quite the step up from my last partner,” I added with a hissing laugh. “And you’re a lot easier on the eyes, kid.”
We laughed together as we drove off to the docks.
“You know,” I said around a mouthful of sushi. “The Vega guy could be holed up on this side of the island. If he’s workin’ with shifters, it could be a way to throw off any manhunt by hiding where there aren’t magical types.”
We’d parked on a hill overlooking the ferry and the warehouses around the docks. My pops used to say that only an idiot tests the water with both feet. Of course, he’d also pushed me off the dock where he was giving me that lecture. I hadn’t been a fan of swimming ever since, but I had learned, just like he’d claimed. For hours we watched the docks and how the ferry operated, how long it took to load up, how long it was in the slip, how long between trips.
Val shook her head, picking up another piece with her chopsticks. “No. There’s nowhere for him to fence the goods here. He’d have to have another guy on the Caraway Island side fencing stuff, and that means a bigger operation with more eyes and more potential problems. These guys have been good about staying hidden from the local cops.”
“Yeah,” I responded. “But they’re shifters. If I was a cop here investigating some robberies, I wouldn’t pay any attention to the strays. I’d be checkin’ boxes and dock workers.”
“Yeah, but something you wouldn’t have noticed is right there,” Val said, pointing at a group of people coming off the ferry.
I watched for a moment, unable to put my paw on it until I saw the polka-dotted lady from before. She was carrying a tabby off the boat. But she wasn’t the only one. Several people had dogs with them and others had pet carriers and the like. Leashes seemed to be optional.
“I looked into some things,” Mason said, her fingers pulling up something on her phone. “Caraway Island boasts a premiere luxury pet resort park open to the public. The ferry is free for passengers, so the shifters can slip on and off as either people or pets, making it much harder to track them.”
“Rocky said that Mr. Vega was at the docks, but now I’m thinking—”
“He’s at the pet park,” we said at the same time.
“So what’s the plan, boss?” I asked with a kitty salute.
Val laughed and scratched behind my ears. “I think that we cross over with the evening rush hour for those people that
work off the island. Then we’ll get a room at a hotel for now and we’ll scope out the Caraway Island docks. Once we find the stolen goods, then we confront Vega at the pet park.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My claws flexed in and out of my paws. No longer badge and gun, now I had to rely on wit and claw. This Vega wasn’t like what had happened in Boston. Mason and I were a solid unit. But there was still trepidation in my gut. I shook myself out. This wasn’t like the Scavo problem. Like Val said, this was a second chance to make a difference.
Chapter Ten
Despite growing up in a port town, I never felt comfortable on boats. With the engines rumbling underneath us, I kept a weathered eye on the water. The last movie I’d seen, there’d been a tidal wave that flipped a boat and trapped everyone inside. Sure, they hadn’t had a witch with them, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I mean, I’d been a decent swimmer as a human, but who knew now that I was a cat?
“What’s going on, Jack?” Mason was posted up on the railing, looking out at the dock we’d just left as the sun was dipping behind the horizon.
With a quick check to make sure there weren’t any humans near us, I said, “Just jittery, I guess. I’m not a boat guy.”
I thought for sure she’d make a joke and maybe I’d laugh, but instead, she picked me up and set me on her lap. No complaints from me—I mean, who doesn’t love being petted? Okay, maybe a lot of people, but now that I was a cat, I was starting to understand why humans and cats had gotten along since the ancient Egyptians.
We sat like that for I don’t know how long. But all too soon, Val nudged me in the side to get my attention.
“We’re about halfway there,” she whispered. “Let’s go down and see what’s in hold F.”
I hopped down from her lap and followed along, staying in sync with her and sticking to the area around her feet. Honestly, there was no way to know why I chose to dart from side to side between her feet, but with the familiar bond, she wasn’t exactly going to trip over me. Like most of the actions I seemed to take now, it was mostly involuntary.
With silence and grace that matched my own newfound lithe agility, Val led us down to the service access to the cargo holds. There was a flash of purple light from her fingers and the door swung open, its electric lock still engaged. Despite that being my first glimpse of Mason’s magical abilities, it felt perfectly natural to me. Like it resonated deep down.
I padded along behind Val, double checking behind us from time to time to make sure we weren’t being followed. Neither of us talked, but I could feel her apprehension and determination. When we got to the door marked with a large F, the purple light flashed again, but this time, it rebounded and knocked Val into the opposite wall.
“Val!” I whisper yelled. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She dusted herself off and smiled ruefully. “It’s warded. It means someone with magic sealed this hold off.”
“What can we do?” I scanned the hallway for other access points.
Val pointed to the vent in the ceiling. “They have to have air pumped into sections of the ship. You can slip in through the grate and get into the hold.”
“Yeah, but then what? I’ve got trouble even opening a car door,” I growled.
Before I could complain more, Mason grabbed a piece of chalk out of her pocket and stuffed it in my mouth. With her other hand, she produced a shining light symbol in midair.
“When you get into the hold, draw this exact symbol on the floor,” she said. The symbol flared brighter momentarily and then faded away, but in my mind’s eye I could picture it perfectly. “That should let me in past the wards.”
I nodded and Val scooped me up and stuffed me into the air vent. I wriggled along through the vent shaft, feeling like an old TV dinner more than anything else. How James Bond managed it, I couldn’t figure it out. How about Dr. No Way That Happened?
I found another vent, this one on the floor of the duct. Perching on top of it, I mentally cursed my lack of forethought to how I would get down. With an experimental bounce, the vent popped open, spilling me out into the hold. Once again I was lucky that cats land on their feet. As a human, I probably would’ve broken my ankle.
No time to waste, I fiddled with the chalk in my mouth and started to draw, seeing the outline of the symbol perfectly on the floor in front of me. It took a bit longer than I would’ve liked, but after a few minutes and a couple of sore teeth, I finally finished the symbol. Almost immediately, there was a pop and a golden flash of light. The door swung open noiselessly, and Val stepped in and stopped to give me a scratch behind the ears and to take the chalk back from me. Bleh. I needed a mint or something to get rid of that taste.
“Over here,” she whispered. I rushed over to where she had opened a large crate and hopped up onto the edge of the lid. Inside, instead of electronics or jewels or even tire rims were glass bottles packed in hay.
“What’s all this?” I asked, tapping the stopper on one bottle with a paw.
“Potions,” she whispered back breathlessly. “Vega’s running a black-market alchemy ring.”
“How do you know just from looking at them?” I asked, even as I began to see the slight luminescence of the bottles. “Oh.”
“Yeah, these aren’t labeled or sealed properly, which means they’re home brewed potions.” She picked up a bottle and unstoppered it, wafting a bit of the substance into her nostrils. From where I was, I could smell the cloying aroma of black licorice and dandelion. “We regulate these pretty heavily because there have to be safeguards to keep them out of the hands of normal humans. And because if someone got jacked up on an illegal potion they could do a lot of damage.”
“So, they’re like drugs?” I asked. That I knew about. Davis and I had seized thirty kilos of illicit narcotics off the streets. Of course, he’d only logged in fifteen and I assume had turned around and delivered the rest back to the streets for a hefty profit. The hackles on my back rose.
“What should we do?” Val asked. “I mean, we could light them on fire to destroy them, but that’s going to put everyone’s lives at risk on this boat. If we pour them out, there’s a potential for explosion and that leads us back to—”
I put a furry paw on her mouth to stop her before she worked herself into a tizzy. “Val,” I said gently. “I’m from Boston, where we got a tradition with stuff on boats that we think people don’t need.”
Fire sparked behind her eyes as she caught my drift. I didn’t need to say another word. With the chalk in hand, Val darted from crate to crate, marking all the potions with a symbol.
“We have to put this same symbol on the deck at the back of the ferry. That will connect the two symbols and bring all the crates up there. Then we can toss them off the back.” She smiled, her eyes bright.
“Welcome to the Blueberry Bay Tea Party.” I chuckled.
Chapter Eleven
A faint green light burst up from the deck of the ferry, followed by the large shapes of cargo crates suddenly moving from the cargo hold.
“Okay, Jack,” Val said, her purple hair rumpled with the exertion of her magic. “Let’s make like some colonials and dump this crap over.”
A low growl emanated from the shadows behind us. Spinning around, we found ourselves facing down three large dog shifters and two human allies, although with as bad as they smelled, they could’ve also been dogs.
“Not so fast, ya dumb witch,” the lead dog, a less than menacing Dalmatian, growled.
Immediately my hackles were up. Nobody talked that way to my witch. We were severely outnumbered, and unfortunately, as a cat, I was outgunned—or at least out-toothed. But if I could take out the weakest of the bunch, it could give us the opening we needed to make a run for it. Where we could run on the limited confines of the ship, I didn’t know, but it was better than being cornered.
I focused my thoughts and tried to push them on the familiar bond Val had used to show me the symbol when I was breaking the wards for her. The
Labrador on the left didn’t look as tough as the others, and some claws in the belly would surely send him yowling away.
Almost immediately I got the response in a resounding “no” that echoed in my brain. Instead, I got images of me on one of the cargo crates and Mason using her magic to blast the five thugs across the ship. Well, excuse me for not knowing how magic worked.
With a quick leap backward, I found myself perched on the crate, and Val stretched her hand out, fingers bent at odd angles. Before she could get the spell off, though, the two humans on the side shifted into large Malamutes and rushed her.
Instantly I sprang into action, throwing myself off the crates and toward the face of the closest mutt. But it felt like one of those nightmares where you’re moving super slow, unable to do anything. I floated into the air and one of the Malamutes collided with Val, spinning her around. If he’d been a half second slower, the spell would have hit him. Instead, a gout of pink energy washed over me and the crates, sending us all into the briny ocean.
Everything exploded into chaotic action again as I was knocked around by the crates and flipped around by the churning motor of the ferry. My eyes stung. I breathed a bit of ocean water before I realized I’d gone under, and between the dark of the sky and the murky depths of the water, I couldn’t tell which way was up.
I don’t know if Val had sense my confusion or had simply been fighting for her life, but there was another flash of light to my right and I swam for it as quick as my legs could carry me. My head broke the surface of the water, and I sputtered for air as I struggled to swim. In front of me was the rapidly shrinking form of the ferry as it continued to Caraway Island.
There was no time to feel sorry for myself, only time to keep swimming. Val had most likely been captured, and it was up to me to rescue her. I was all she could count on. There wasn’t backup I could call on, no dispatch to send other officers. There was Mason and there was me.
