Dirty Magic (14 page)

Poor kid, I thought, she couldn’t be more than a week or two sober. She had a tough road ahead.

Closer to us, a few people over, was a guy in his mid-forties. His skin had a definite yellowish tint, except for where the angry flush into his cheeks made them appear orange. His arms were crossed and the foot perched on his knee bobbed up and down. I’d come to enough of these meetings over the years to recognize a court-order case when I saw one. Probably he’d be defiant and sullen during the meeting until it was time to ask Rufus for a signature on his forms.

“Welcome, everyone. Congratulations on taking the first, most important step in recovery: showing up. We gather here every week to share our experiences and help each other through the maze of recovery from dirty magic.” He paused and looked around the circle. Naturally, the new people kept their eyes downcast. Typical. They thought not making eye contact would spare them from having to share, but Rufus always called on those types first.

“Mr. Callahan?” Ru said finally. “Do you have anything you’d like to share tonight?”

The jaundiced man shook his head, refusing to meet Rufus’s gaze.

“Just so you know,” he said, his tone friendly, “I don’t sign court documents for people who don’t do the work.”

Callahan’s head snapped up. His lids squinted over ice-blue irises. “What do I have to talk about?”

“Anything that’s on your mind.” Ru spread his arms wide. “We’re here to listen.”

“I shouldn’t even be here.” His lips puckered like a bitter lemon. “That fucking judge had it out for me.”

Ru’s expression remained calm. He’d heard all of this before. “So you don’t think you have a problem with potions?”

Callahan adjusted his ass in the chair, warming up to having a sympathetic ear. “Of course not. I mean, sure, I take a little nip of a virility potion every now and then. Just to give me a little edge with the ladies.”

That explained his color. Virility potions attacked the liver first. However, if he kept up with it, he’d turn bright red, like a horny baboon’s ass.

Rufus looked down at the clipboard in his lap. “According to the notes I was sent, you were arrested for masturbating in your car at a red light.”

Callahan’s cheeks pulsed orange. “I was in the privacy of my own vehicle. Wasn’t my fault that school bus pulled up next to me. I don’t have a problem.”

“When the medic wizards checked you out, your penis was covered in friction blisters.”

Callahan started rocking back and forth. “I can’t help it that I have a healthy libido.”

On my left side, Jacob, who used to be addicted to sex magic, too, snorted. “Is that the same excuse you’ll use when you rape someone?”

“Hey!” Callahan’s eyes flared. “I would never—”

“Before you started that virility potion, I bet you also swore you’d never masturbate in front of school kids, either.” Jacob was six feet tall, covered in tattoos, and bald. He’s served five years in the pen for stalking a woman after he’d taken a dirty love potion to attract her. After he’d been released, he joined the group and redirected his addiction into a successful career as a sculptor. “Face it, man. You’re an addict. Unless you stop taking that shit, you’re going to end up seriously hurting someone besides yourself.”

“Can he talk to me like that?” Callahan sputtered.

“Yep.” Rufus smiled. “This isn’t show-’n-tell, brother. Recovery ain’t pretty. Jacob there has been potion-free for three years now. You’d do well to listen to him.”

Callahan crossed his arms and scooted farther into the seat. The move revealed that he was sporting an erection. He quickly realized his mistake. Scooting his butt back, he lowered his head into his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know how to quit,” he whispered.

I pressed my lips together. Part of me wanted to shake the guy and tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself. The other part felt some compassion for him. Using potions changes who you are in the most fundamental ways. Probably Callahan was a guy who lacked self-esteem and started taking the virility potion to feel more confident and attractive. He’d had no idea when he started using that he’d turn into the type of guy who’d jack off in front of kids.

“Being here is the first step,” Rufus said. “Come talk to me after and I’ll hook you up with some other resources, okay?”

Callahan nodded and wrapped his arms around himself protectively.

“Miss Pen?” Rufus prompted.

Next to me, Pen sat up straighter. “I’ve been feeling really tested lately. Some of these kids I talk to at school?”

Rufus nodded.

“Their parents got them so messed up they don’t know their assholes from their elbows.”

“That’s horrible.” This from Darla, the fortysomething mother of four, who’d been sober for six months after kicking her addiction to vanity potions. When she’d first attended group, her size 42 GG breasts had defied several laws of physics, but now the pendulous lobes drooped over the distended shelf of her stomach.

“It’s the truth,” Pen said. “Some days I don’t know why I even try. Money doesn’t buy class or morals. Today, this kid was brought into my office because she got caught taking a diet potion. She’s eleven.”

Darla made a distressed sound and shook her head. I raised a brow, but not much shocked me anymore. Working the Cauldron beat helped me develop a nice, tough callous where my naïveté used to live.

“What did you say to her?” Rufus asked.

“I asked her where she got it. Said her mama gave it to her because she wasn’t losing her baby fat fast enough.”

“How does dealing with these kinds of cases make you feel?”

“Frustrated. Angry.” Pen sighed. “Powerless.”

Rufus leaned forward. “Sometimes you got to fight the good fight even if you’ll probably lose the war.”

Pen nodded. “I have a call in to CPS, but they’re so backlogged it’ll be a long time until a social worker gets over there.”

“Did you talk to the principal?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She grimaced. “He said as long as the diet potion is clean magic, we can’t get involved. But you ask me, he’s just worried about losing that family’s fat fund-raising checks.”

“Pen, we’ve talked about this before—” Rufus began.

She waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know—I can’t control other people’s behavior.”

“I was going to say that you can’t save everyone.”

Pen laughed bitterly. “You just said I had to fight the fight even if I’d lose.”

Rufus shook his head. “Sometimes the fight’s not even worth starting.”

My best friend went silent. Rufus had just poked her most sensitive bruise. She raised her chin. “Maybe not, but at least I have to try to save them.”

Rufus winked. “Just be sure you’re doing it for them and not because your savior complex has replaced your old addiction to energy potions.”

Pen had been addicted to potions that helped her stay awake and energized during her rigorous master’s-level work in psychology. She’d purchased the potion patches from some two-bit cook on campus, who put God-knows-what in the formula. After using the potion for six months, she’d had a minor heart attack that almost ended her life and her future career and definitely ended her love affair with dirty magic.

Instead of being angry for being called out on her issues, Pen simply nodded. She’d put enough people through the psychotherapy wringer to know Rufus was not only justified, but also right in his assessment.

“Kate?” Rufus said.

I jerked my head up. Usually I didn’t talk much at group. I wasn’t mad he’d called on me, just surprised. “Don’t have much to report,” I lied.

Beside me, Pen leveled me with a look. “Mmm-hmm.”

I swiveled to stare at her. She raised her brows. When I looked at Rufus, he had a knowing look on his face. “What?”

Pen nudged me with her elbow. “Your anniversary.”

My first reaction was relief. For some reason, I’d been expecting Pen to call me on lying about my problems. But then I remembered she’d have no idea about my fight with Danny or the fact that my first love was now a suspect in the most important investigation of my career.

My second reaction was frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you guys I don’t feel right celebrating anniversaries?”

All these years I’d resisted because I was never actually addicted to using magic. I’d never taken a token or anniversary pin because I felt it was disrespectful to those who’d been through hell to kick their dependencies. I’d just showed up to a meeting one day with Pen and kept coming because it helped me remember why I didn’t cook anymore.

“But this is ten years,” Rufus said.

“It’s still a couple months away,” I added loudly over the round of applause from the group. I’d stopped cooking the day my mother died. The anniversary Pen was referring to was of my first time attending a meeting. After I’d started working at the restaurant where she was already a waitress, it had taken a few weeks for us to feel each other out, and even longer for her to convince me to come to a meeting with her.

“Ten years?” the new girl asked. “How did you do that?” Her eyes were wide, as if the answer to this question would dictate her own failure or success on the road to sobriety.

I looked at Ru for help, but he simply raised a brow and smiled. “One day at a time, baby girl. One day at a time.” To me he said, “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

With a nod, I crossed my arms and slid down in my seat. Part of me was kicking myself for not using the opportunity to talk about my shit, but the rational part reminded that part that I couldn’t discuss a case in front of these people. And I simply wasn’t ready to talk about Danny’s sudden interest in magic because it brought up too much shit.

“Kate?” Rufus was saying.

I looked up. “Hmm?”

“Will you lead us in the pledge?”

Inside, my sense of irony laughed and laughed. On the outside, though, I rose and said the words I’d memorized and repeated more times than my own name in the last decade. “Magic is a tool. If I am unable to use it responsibly, I will not use magic at all. I am responsible for my own actions, and I pledge to act with compassion for myself and others, always.”

* * *

At the top of the steps leading up from the basement, Rufus stood by the door to say good-bye to everyone. When he saw me coming, he smiled, showing a full mouth of strong, white teeth. “What’s shaking, white girl?”

I smiled and went in for a hug. The familiar, pungent-sweet scent of Mary Jane clung to his clothes like cologne. Rufus might be a magic-recovery counselor who met with addicts in a Catholic church, but he worshipped at the altar of Mother Ganja. He’d overcome a pretty devastating addiction to performance-enhancing, dirty magic potions that ruined his career as a pro baller in the early ’90s. Now he worked at a gas station by day and led junkies toward salvation at night.

“Can’t complain,” I said. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know, SSDD.” Same shit, different day. He laughed. “So about this anniversary.”

I was shaking my head before he finished the last word. “Don’t start on me.”

“I know, it’s just—” He reached into his pocket. “Your success gives the newer ones hope.”

He nodded toward the new girl, who scurried out of the basement and sped by without looking up to see Ru’s wave.

“Think she’ll be back?” I asked, watching her retreat.

“We’ll see.” He shrugged. “Look, just think about it. If you don’t do something here, at least do something privately to mark the occasion. Rituals matter, Kate.”

I nodded because I didn’t want to lie to him. I’d think about it, all right. About how the anniversary brought up all sorts of complicated shit for me. Like guilt that I hadn’t visited my mother’s grave since her funeral. About how my little brother was poking his nose into magic because I’d been such a hard-ass about keeping him away from it. About how after ten years I should have been able to relax, but instead John Volos was sniffing around the edges of my life again.

“Hey,” Rufus said, “you okay?”

I smiled quickly. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“You ready to go grab that drink?” Pen asked, approaching us. “Great talk tonight, Ru.”

He smiled and gave her a hug. She’d been coming to group longer than I had. Her ten-year anniversary had been a couple of years earlier.

“You know,” I said, “I think I’m gonna pass tonight. I’ve got some work to do.” I still had some files to review for Shadi. “I’ll call you tomorrow, though, okay?”

Once we’d said our good-byes, I walked away feeling relieved. I felt guilty for not wanting to hang out with Pen, but part of that decision had been self-preservation. No way could I get through one beer with her without spilling my guts about the case, and I really needed not to be analyzed right then. I knew I was taking risks, but I also knew the possible benefits outweighed any of the risks. If I could make this case, I’d make the team and then Danny and I would be set. And if John Volos had to go down to make that happen, I’d do whatever it took.

W
hen I pulled into work the next morning, I was determined to make it go smoother than the day before. Sure, Danny hadn’t spoken to me over breakfast, but the sun was shining, I found a new penny in the parking lot, and I’d brought coffee and a box of bagels for the team. No bad days begin with free money, good coffee, and warm carbs.