Cursed Moon (Prospero's War) (31 page)

“Interesting.” Now the voice had changed.
She
was in charge again.

“What’s interesting?” I asked. “The fact I didn’t screw you over.”

She nodded. “Can’t say I would have blamed you if you had. All’s fair in the war on magic, right?”

“Don’t misunderstand,” I said, “I think you’re guilty as hell
for a dozen other crimes. But if and when I take you down, there won’t be any doubt about the facts of the case.”

She laughed, a deep, rich sound that probably had seduced more people than I’d arrested in my career. “This is going to be fun.”

“What is?”

She tilted her head. “Didn’t they tell you?”

“Who?”

“Your bosses?” She waved an elegant hand, as if dismissing an insignificant thing. “Even after I was cleared of the murder of our beloved mayor”—she said it like he was a stranger and not a customer who no doubt paid her very well—“your Special Agent Gardner still saw fit to charge me for obstruction for breaking into Dionysus’s apartment.”

“Which you deserved.”

A slight tip of the chin was the only acknowledgment of that comment. “However, I managed to convince handsome US Attorney Stone that a person in my position might prove useful in future cases.”

“And they believed you?”

The feline smile was back. “I can be quite persuasive.”

“I’m sure. So what? They offered a reduced sentence in exchange for future snitching services?”

That half-painted mouth pursed in distaste. “Kate, please, I am no bitch’s snitch. Let’s just say I’ll be a consultant, and leave it at that.”

I barely managed not to roll my eyes. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Oh, honey, you have no idea.” She chuckled. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you personally for taking care of my little problem.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I mean it, Prospero. A person doesn’t have as many enemies as I’ve collected without also fostering allies.”

I opened my mouth to tell her we weren’t allies, but she held up a hand.

“Relax, I understand where things stand. I’m just saying I like to pay my debts. And I owe you three. One for clearing me for the mayor’s murder, and two more for punishing that fucking Raven and my treacherous priestess.” She spat the words out. “Day’s gonna come when I can be of service to you and yours.” That shrewd gaze met mine. “Consider these my markers.”

She held out her hand and dropped three tokens into my palm. I held one up to the streetlight. Most sex magic temples got around having their girls deal with cash by selling tokens to customers. Each temple had its own custom design, and some people even collected them, like other people collected stamps. Aphrodite’s tokens bore her pentagram and spiral logo on one side and the words
DULCE POMUM QUUM ABEST CUSTOS
on the reverse.

“What’s this mean?” I asked.

She smiled. “Forbidden fruit is the sweetest.”

I clasped the coins in my fist until the metal bit into my skin. Seeing the tokens reminded me of my mother and Shayla’s taunting words on the boat. “What happened to her?” I asked, looking up. “My mother.”

The Hierophant’s smile faded and she sat back, totally in shadow. “Are you sure you want to know?”

I held up one of the tokens. “I’m calling in my first favor. Tell me what happened.”

“Telling you would do you no favors.” She pushed the token away. “You want to know what really happened, you need to ask your uncle. But I’ll give you some advice free of charge.”

I raised my eyebrows and waited.

She leaned forward so I could see her full face again. “Some ghosts need to remain buried for the living to have peace. Don’t go digging for secrets you aren’t prepared to learn.”

My stomach dipped. It wasn’t an admission that Shayla was right, but it was damned close. I slipped the tokens into my pocket. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

She smiled, sadly this time. “No you won’t, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Good night, Detective.” She flicked a hand to signal the driver.

I stepped back and watched the limo drive off into the night. Pen ran over to join me.

“What was that about?”

I released a deep breath. “It seems I have a new friend.”

She flicked a suspicious glance at the retreating limo. “With friends like that, who needs enemies?”

November 6

Waning Gibbous

T
here are twenty-seven steps from street level to the door of city hall. With each one I climbed, my uniform felt tighter and tighter. By the time I reached for the handle of the huge wood-and-brass doors, the damned thing felt like a straitjacket.

I let out a breath and paused before allowing myself to enter the lion’s den.

I hadn’t seen Morales since the night we’d been fished out of Lake Erie. I knew he’d been released from the hospital. I knew that, like me, he’d had to report to the gym to make an official statement because Gardner mentioned when I was finished that he would be in that afternoon.

Debriefings were always framed as closure, but sometimes they felt like ritualized reopening of wounds. Having to stand
in front of someone with the power to steal your badge and defend the choices you made in the line of fire felt like its own sort of hell. Not the watery hell of that lake with the monster and the madman, but a hell lorded over by the demons Would Have, Could Have, and Should Have.

Anyway, I also knew Morales hadn’t tried to contact me. But then, I hadn’t tried to call him, either.

The summons to report to city hall came from Gardner on Thursday night. “Just a press conference,” she’d said. She tried to keep her tone casual, but there was an undercurrent of tension. “Be there at nine in your blues.”

Considering all that had happened under that Blue Moon, part of me was worried the press conference was some sort of ambush where I’d be exposed for the liar I was. It wasn’t my most rational thought ever, but then my life hadn’t been unfolding in any sort of rational pattern lately, anyway.

I closed my eyes and pulled open the doors to surrender myself to the inevitable.

Flashes of light behind my lids. I opened my eyes. Hard to see through the blinding lights and the shouted questions and the spastic clicking of camera shutters.

I blinked a few times before trying to locate a familiar face among all the parasites. The first one I recognized belonged to John Volos. He stood near the front of the room next to fellow mayoral candidate Anton Rebis. Both men smiled broadly, more for the benefit of the cameras than me.

As if in slow motion, I looked down and saw the seal of the city of Babylon inlaid in the marble floor. On it, a proud lion protected the gates to the city. And in my head, I was telling myself to paste a smile on my face.

Morales’s voice echoed inside:
Don’t let them see your fear.

“There’s Detective Prospero now.” Eldritch’s voice boomed
through the room via a microphone. I blinked and tried to force my feet to not run the other direction.

But then, Gardner was coming forward with her hand extended and a smile on her face.

And all I could think was,
He didn’t tell them. Of course he didn’t
, my conscience argued in a dry tone. Morales wasn’t a rat.

The next few moments were a blur of handshakes and smiles and pats on the back. Gardner led me to the front of the room, where a podium had been set up. Two large photographs stood on easels—one with my unsmiling picture and the other with Morales looking uncharacteristically serious.

“This is bullshit,” I whispered to Gardner.

“Play nice,” she warned under her breath.

My eyes scanned the room for Morales, but I didn’t see him yet. Part of me wouldn’t put it past him to skip the dog-and-pony show on principle.

John drew my gaze again. I wasn’t sure whether his gesture was congratulatory or an I-told-you-so nod. Regardless, I pressed my lips together and looked away quickly.

The doors to the hall opened again, prompting another round of excitement. The broad-shouldered shape of Drew Morales was backlit by the bright morning sunlight outside. He paused at the threshold like I had, but recovered from his surprise more quickly.

He wore a charcoal-gray suit with the collar of his white dress shirt open at the neck to reveal his muscled neck. Shock hit me upside the head. He looked so at ease in the business attire, but no less lethal despite the buttoned-up formality.

It wasn’t until he limped forward a few steps that I noticed the black cane. On some men, the aid would have signaled weakness. But in Morales’s hand it looked like a weapon.

His eyes snapped toward me. Despite his poker face, I saw a glimmer of relief in his gaze.

At that instant, I knew part of him had expected me to rat on him, too.

I tipped my chin. His expression went from guarded to solemn. A lot passed between us in that look. Relief. Confusion. Respect. Promises. Maybe even a little intimacy, but I didn’t have a lot of experience with that concept.

Soon enough, he was standing next to me. But we didn’t have a chance to talk because suddenly lots of people were jockeying for the mike to take credit for our accomplishments.

First, Interim Mayor Hernandez spoke at length about the courage Morales and I displayed under fire, and how we offered our city hope despite the recent loss of our beloved Mayor Owens.

Soon, but not soon enough for my taste, he surrendered the mike to Eldritch. “The BPD is extremely proud of Detective Prospero, and we offer our sincere thanks to Special Agent Gardner’s MEA task force for their assistance in bringing Scott McQueen to justice.”

Gardner cleared her throat.

Eldritch ignored her censure and continued. “I would also like to offer a sincere apology to Aphrodite Johnson, who was framed by McQueen. She has been cleared of all charges.” He said it in a tone that implied she’d threatened to sue if the public apology wasn’t broadcast all over Babylon’s airwaves.

“And now, I’d like to invite Special Agent Miranda Gardner to the podium.”

Gardner pasted on a polite smile as she joined him. She stepped forward to say something, but Eldritch swooped in to say something else. “She’ll be formally presenting Agent Morales and Detective Prospero with their medals.”

Gardner paused briefly, as if she was considering saying a few words despite the snub. But then she thought better of it and accepted from Eldritch the boxes containing our medals.

“For their dedicated service to the city of Babylon and bravery in the line of fire,” Eldritch said, “we formally present Agent Andrew Javier Morales and Detective Katherine Athena Prospero with the bronze medal of courage.”

Gardner pinned Morales’s medal first, since he held rank. When she leaned in she whispered something to him that made him chuckle. He responded in a low, rumbling tone that had her cracking a big smile. They shook hands and then she moved to me.

Standing before me, Gardner removed the second medal from the box. When she looked up, the smile was gone and a solemn frown took its place. She pinned the medal over my left breast. “You’re a good egg, Prospero,” she whispered. “Keep up the good work.”

“I will, sir,” I replied.

“This is a historic day in Babylon,” Eldritch said. “Detective Prospero is the first Adept to ever receive the medal of courage.”

I froze. It wasn’t until that moment that the weight of receiving the medal hit me. Something resembling pride shivered through me. But then, past Gardner, movement on the front row caught my eye. It was John Volos rising to give me a standing ovation.

I met the twinkle in his gaze with suspicion. That’s when I knew the awards ceremony had been orchestrated by the man who happened to be the city’s first Adept candidate for mayor.

But before I could take that thought too far, the entire room burst into applause. And then there were more flashbulbs and shouted questions from the media. I tried to smile and answer the questions, but the entire thing passed in a blur and I have no idea if my answers made any sense.

Once the furor died down about half an hour later, Volos found me standing alone near a large potted plant, where I’d gone to escape everyone for a moment of privacy.

“Looks like you’re the hero of the hour,” he said.

I looked up and frowned at him. “Nice play.”

He smirked. “That transparent, am I?”

“To me, anyway.”

He raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Why do you insist on thinking the worst of me?”

“Because you keep giving me so many reasons.”

He let a beat of silence pass before changing the subject. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

I crossed my arms. The move made the muscles in my back scream. Even though Morales had gotten the worst of the injuries, I hadn’t escaped totally unscathed. “I’m just glad we stopped him.”

He nodded. “Have you given any thought to how to deal with Abe?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He scooted closer and looked around to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard. “He’ll be in touch. To gloat, if nothing else.”

I shrugged. “I’ll leap off that bridge when I come to it.”

“He’ll want to stir some shit.”

“I’m more than used to dealing with men who want to cause trouble in my life, John.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. He started to reach for me, but just as I pulled away a throat cleared behind him.

We both turned to see Morales standing proudly with his cane and his medal glistening in the light coming through the rotunda skylights. “Am I interrupting?”

“Yes,” Volos said.

“No,” I said at the same time. “Mr. Volos was just leaving.” I shot John a level stare that dared him to argue with me.

He tipped his chin with dignity. “Congratulations again.” He turned to Morales. “To you both.”

He held out a hand to Morales, who accepted the gesture. I might have been imagining things, but I could have sworn I saw both of their arms tense in a way that indicated they were both gripping harder than necessary.

“Yeah,” Morales said. “And good luck with the campaign.”

Volos pulled his hand away. “Luck doesn’t win elections, Agent Morales. It’s all up to the people.”

Morales laughed. “By ‘people’ you mean Ben Franklin, William McKinley, and Grover Cleveland, right?” he shot back, referring to the faces that appeared on high-denomination bills.

Volos didn’t take the bait; he simply shot us a parting politician’s smile and walked away with his shoulders back.

“I can’t believe you dated that asshole,” my partner said.

“No shit.” A laugh escaped with my exhaled breath. “How you doing, Macho?”

“Can’t complain. Chicks dig the limp.” He tapped the cane on the marble floor. “So… Athena?”

I punched him in the arm. “Fuck off. My mom loved Greek mythology.”

“The warrior goddess of wisdom,” he said. “Kinda suits you, Cupcake.”

The warmth in his tone made me look up again. There was something bordering on… tenderness in those brown eyes that made my flight-or-fight instinct flare up. Stupid, maybe, since this brave guy standing in front of me, the one looking so handsome in his suit, the one who knew my darkest secrets, should have been the last person on earth to scare me.

“You want to go grab a drink?” he asked suddenly.

I blinked. “It’s ten in the morning.”

“So we’ll get Bloody Marys and call it brunch.”

His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of tension that told me he had plans for us after those Bloody Marys. And damned if I wasn’t suddenly intrigued by the twist of events.

But hot on the heels of my discussion with Volos, a plan had formed in my mind—and as it happened Morales would be the perfect wingman.

“Actually, how about we skip the Bloody Marys and go check out this other place.”

He stepped closer. The spicy scent of his cologne mixed with his natural Morales-ness made him Dangerous—with a capital
D
.

“Which other place?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

“You’re going to love it. It has several bars.”

His eyes widened. “All right. Am I dressed okay? I can lose the suit.”

I enjoyed the view too much to encourage that plan. “I have a feeling the other guests won’t care much what you’re wearing.”