Dirty Magic (27 page)

“He’ll know we’re there the instant we breach the tunnel,” I warned. “Probably has an emergency escape route, too.”

“Eldritch will post cops at every exit. Gardner will make sure of it if Eldritch doesn’t.”

“And if he has a secret tunnel or something?” Shadi asked. “Do we chase?”

“Gardner said our goal is to find the stash. That way even if Bane slips away we’ll at least have the evidence we need to charge him.”

“Okay,” Morales said. “Shadi, let’s go over weapons.”

“Prospero?” she said. “You got any experience with assault rifles?”

I grimaced. “Yes.” My mind went back to that day at the academy where I managed to take out the lighting system on the target rig when recoil knocked me on my ass. “None of it good.”

“Really? Hmm. There’s really nothing like the kick of a Colt in your hands.”

“I’m more comfortable with a Glock and a salt flare.”

“We’ll have to work on that. Maybe hit the range together so I can give you some pointers.” She pursed her lips. “In the meantime, Morales and I will lead the charge. You two will have our backs. You with your Glock and Mez with his potions.”

I smiled. Not because I was looking forward to shooting anyone, but because her offer to take me to the range meant she considered me part of the team—one who might be sticking around for a while.

“Okay,” Morales said. “We’re supposed to meet up with Eldritch and the raid team at oh-nine-hundred. Shadi and Mez, go to the gym and make sure we have everything we need. Then try to get some sleep.”

They stood and gathered their things, chattering excitedly about how tomorrow we’d finally blow this case wide open. Morales, though, didn’t look excited as much as resigned. After Shadi and Mez left, he hung back a second. “I need to talk to you about something.”

I stuck my hands in my pockets. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t want to talk about this in front of everyone else because I know it’s a sensitive topic for you.”

I frowned. “Okay.”

“Defensive potions are required of all officers taking part in the raid.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand.

“That’s handed down from both Gardner and Eldritch. No patch, no play.”

My shoulders drooped.

“I know how you feel about using magic, so I figured I’d talk to you about it now. If you throw a shit fit in front of Eldritch about it, Gardner will cut you from the case. Period. So make your decision now.”

“I’ll have my wand and salt flare, and I’ll be wearing a ballistics vest with salt slabs. Isn’t that enough?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t a traffic stop, Prospero. Raids are no joke. It’s going to be chaos down there and we can’t chance you getting hit with a potion from one of Bane’s people. If you go down, it’ll put all of us in danger.”

I knew he was right. If I got hit, he and the rest of the team would be too distracted trying to render aid to complete the mission. Also if I got separated from the team, they’d risk valuable minutes trying to locate me. So I couldn’t blame Gardner or Eldritch for requiring the potion for all the cops involved. But that left me with either sitting out and depriving my team of the extra manpower or compromising my principles for the job.

“If it’s any consolation, Gardner said that she’s really pleased with your contributions to the team. If we’re successful tomorrow, it will ensure the MEA giving the green light on us having a more permanent presence in the Cauldron. And that would mean a spot for you, too. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Of course that’s what I want,” I said, raising my hands. “But how would you feel if the MEA required you to do something you didn’t feel comfortable with to get the job done?”

He laughed as if I’d made a joke. “Sooner or later, we’re all asked to do something we don’t want to do, Cupcake.” His ironic tone hinted it was a more common than an every-now-and-then thing. “Why did you become a cop?”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, just walking away from your coven would have been enough. But you walked away and became a cop. Why?”

I wasn’t about to get into my mother’s death or how being a cop was a form of penance, so I just shrugged. “I guess I thought I’d see how the other half lived.”

He shot me a look that told me bullshit wasn’t going to cut it.

I sighed. “Fine. I decided to go to the academy because after so many years of being part of the problem I guess I wanted to make a difference.”

“Did you feel like you were making a difference on patrol?”

“Not enough of one,” I said honestly. He’d smell the lie anyway. “That’s why I talked my way onto the task force.”

“Because you wanted to go after the source of the magic?”

I nodded.

“Well, this is your chance. Do you really want to blow it because you’re afraid to wear a stupid protection patch?”

I raised my chin. “I’m not afraid.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I almost believed it, too. “I’m just worried it’s a slippery slope. Today it’s a simple protection spell. What about next month when Gardner wants me to go undercover and I have to use a glamour potion? Or next year when she asks me to cook because Mez needs help?”

“You’ll have to take it as it comes, I guess,” he said. “For the record, I think you’re making a mistake if you walk away from this. You’re a good cop, and anyone can tell how much you care about this city. Don’t let your pride stop you.”

I crossed my arms and chewed on my bottom lip, thinking it over. If I said no, I’d be put back on patrol once the paperwork clearing me of the Harkins shooting came through. That would mean endless nights trolling the streets for low-level pushers while wizards like Bane and Volos got away with murder—both figuratively and literally. Was I really willing to walk away from the real game? Go back to arresting the same junkies over and over while the real criminals lived it up?

I stood straighter. “No,” I said. Morales’s eyebrows slammed down and disappointment washed over his face. I held up a hand. “No, I’m not going to walk away. I’ll wear the patch. Just this once.”

A brilliant smile lit up his handsome face. “’Atta girl.”

I
woke up the next morning on a gasp. The dream I’d been having clung to my subconscious with razor claws, but I couldn’t remember the details. All I knew was my skin was coated in sweat and my limbs were sore as if I’d been fighting.

The blue lines on the clock slowly focused to form a seven and two zeroes. I briefly considered trying to go back to sleep, but Danny would be up for school soon and I didn’t want to miss the chance to see him off. With a sigh, I scrubbed my hand over my face and rose to confront the day. I threw on my ratty robe and walked into the kitchen.

Danny wasn’t up yet, so I started pulling out the eggs. As I did, I noticed the pile of mail that I’d tossed on the counter yesterday when I’d arrived with Morales. I flipped through quickly, ignoring the junk mail and bills in favor of a single red envelope, which stuck out from the bottom of the stack like a wound.

It was addressed to Danny in a neat hand. Probably a birthday card. But something about the carefully lettered words made my sensors flare up. I flipped over the card to see the return address and froze. Crowley Penitentiary.

I didn’t hesitate to tear it open. It was a greeting card with a birthday cake on the front. Inside, the preprinted message said simply, “Happy Birthday!” But the handwritten note made my blood go cold.

Danny Boy—

Happy sixteenth birthday! My greatest regret is that I was unable to watch you grow into a man. Maybe one day you can come visit me and we can talk about magic. Has your sister started your lessons? Perhaps not. Regardless, I hope your next year is a good one.

—Uncle Abe

I tore the card up with slow, methodical movements. Tore the pieces so small that even I didn’t recognize the fragments of ink-marked shards as parts of words. Once that was done, I placed the pile at the bottom of the kitchen trash can. Then I gathered the bag, tied it closed, and set it outside the back door.

After washing my hands, I continued to gather the ingredients I needed to make breakfast. The Mundane task felt normal and right. It helped me ignore the nausea in my gut, the residue of fear that Danny might have found that card before I had a chance to dispose of it. But I tried to remind myself that this time, like all the others, I’d managed to keep Danny from knowing that his Uncle Abe had been reaching out to him on his birthday every year for the last ten. And if I had my way, he never would.

Over the years I’d tried to convince myself that I hid the cards to protect Danny. But the truth was, I was also protecting myself. Hatred was an easier emotion to live with than fear. As long as I could keep Abe far from us both physically and emotionally, I could go on loathing him. But if Uncle Abe somehow managed to get a fingerhold in our lives, I would suddenly be thrust from anger’s warm embrace into the frigid waters of fear. Fear that he’d woo Danny into cooking dirty. Fear that he’d take Danny away from me. But most of all, I was afraid that if he came back into my life, he’d be able to pull me back into the place I’d run from all those years ago. Maybe it was silly to credit him with so much power and myself with so little, but it seemed downright stupid to chance it and give him the opportunity to try. So I’d go on intercepting those cards and doing everything in my power to keep him well away from both of us.

By the time Danny joined me, the room was filled with sizzling sounds and the smoky aroma of cooked bacon. His sneakers squeaked against the faded linoleum floor.

I turned to see him frozen in the doorway. “Oh God,” he said. “Who died?”

My eyebrows slammed down. “What?”

He nodded to the stove. “The only time you cook breakfast for me is when there’s bad news.”

I dismissed his concern with a wave of the spatula. “Not this time.” I jerked a thumb toward the fridge. “Get the OJ, will ya?”

He shot me a dubious look before he shuffled to grab the juice. Once he’d set it on the table, he said, “So … you going to tell me why you’re suddenly pretending to be June Cleaver?”

I sighed and turned to face him. “All right. I guess I felt bad that we fought on your birthday yesterday.” I picked up a strip of bacon I’d already cooked and offered it to him.

“So … what?” He took the bacon. “You’re bribing me with pork?”

I nodded. “Pretty much.”

He raised it to his mouth and chomped a large bite. “Works for me.”

I smiled at him, realizing suddenly that I was looking up at him. When had that happened? He used to be the kid who clung to my knee and now he was almost a full head taller.

I turned away quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears that suddenly threatened to give me away. I hadn’t been lying when I told him breakfast was a makeup birthday peace offering. But it hadn’t been the whole truth, either.

“So what do you have going on at school today?” I asked.

The sounds of the silverware drawer opening and shutting told me he was setting the table without being asked for once. I’d bribed him with bacon, and he was responding by being helpful. I could get used to this quid pro quo.

“Not much,” he said. “There’s some assembly this morning.”

“About what?”

“Oh, you know, one of those Just Say No to Magic programs.”

I stopped and looked at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “Guess after what happened to that one kid in the lower school, they’re cramming the antipotion campaign down our throats.” From the look in his eye, he expected me to launch into another lecture about the dangers of magic. My conscience prickled because it had been a couple of days since I’d talked to Pen about anything other than my own problems. No doubt she was hurting over that kid’s death, but here I was calling her for favors to save my brother from suspension. Yet another personal thread that ended up neglected because of the job.

“All right,” I said instead. “Sit down and eat before this gets cold.”

He did as instructed, but before he dug in he stopped and looked at me. Really looked, as if he was seeing me as a real human instead of the harpy who made him do his homework every night. “Look, I—I know I give you a tough time a lot.”

I opened my mouth to dismiss it, but he held up a hand.

“Let me finish.”

I sat back and nodded.

“But I just want you to know that I get how hard you try. You know, to raise me and stuff. I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk lately, it’s just”—he sighed and shrugged—“I don’t know. It’s just becoming more and more clear that I’m different from the other kids.”

I tilted my head. “How?”

He raised his left hand, which held his fork. “This for one thing. I’m one of the few Lefties at school. I might as well be wearing a sign that says ‘Freak’ on my back, you know? But I’m a freak to the Adepts, too, because I’m not allowed to touch magic.”

“Look, I know it’s not easy, but kids your age? They jump on anything that’s different. In my school, where most everyone was Adept, they picked on the only kid with red hair. It has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with kids needing to persecute others to make their own insecurities less painful.”