Cursed Moon (Prospero's War) (21 page)

October 27

Waxing Gibbous

T
wo days later Morales and I were on our way out of the medical examiner’s office with a folder full of papers we weren’t supposed to have about Owens’s death. We’d spent a couple of days chasing down every possible lead on Dionysus. But so far we’d come up with a big fat goose egg. With each passing day Gardner was getting more and more pissed, which meant we were getting closer and closer to the edge of the law when it came to tracking down leads. Luckily the media circus surrounding Owens’s death and Aphrodite’s arrest was keeping the BPD too busy to pay attention to what we were doing.

Since Franklin is a tad touchy about things like cell phones going off in his morgue, I’d turned mine off when we arrived. But the instant we walked out with the illicit lab reports he’d given us, I fired up the phone again. A voice mail from Baba
was waiting saying she couldn’t pick Danny up from school since she had to take Pen to a follow-up with her doctor. A sharp spike of guilt speared me. Poor Baba had been working double duty with both Danny and Pen so I couldn’t very well complain about the inconvenience. Still, stress was a constant aching burn in my gut, and the added complication ratcheted my cortisol a couple of notches.

I had Morales drop me off at my Jeep, Sybil. Before I got out, he said, “I’m going to go check in with Gardner and then see if I can get a bead on Aphrodite’s guard. Maybe he can be convinced to share some information about what they found at Dionysus’s apartment.”

“Take Shadi with you.”

He smirked. “You worried about me, Cupcake?”

“Nah. Just don’t trust you not to beat that guy’s ass when he lies to you.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. Give me a shout once you get the kid settled and I’ll let you know where to meet up.”

Thirty minutes later I pulled up in front of Danny’s school. Despite the chilly air outside, my back was sweaty from sitting in traffic. I pulled up in front of the school with fifteen minutes left to spare before DUDE let out. Instead of sitting at the curb, I decided to go in and introduce myself to the teacher sponsoring the club. If he was cool, maybe I could arrange for the team to do a demonstration at an anti-dirty-magic rally or something. I knew Danny said they weren’t going to invite guest speakers, but I figured I could talk this Mr. Hart into it.

A woman I’d never met was working the front office, and she informed me that the club met in the library on the second floor. Over the years I’d been in the school several times both as a parent and to catch up with Pen. Even though a lot of the parents who sent their kids to Meadowlake could be snobby and
exclusive once they found out Danny and I were both Adepts as well as lower middle class—wasn’t sure which ranked lower in their esteem—there were some cool ones, and I liked almost every teacher Danny had over the years. It helped that Pen was popular among the staff, and I knew she often smoothed things over for the kid.

The library was nothing like the one at the public school I’d attended in the Cauldron. My school basically had what amounted to a broom closet full of books. Mostly the shelves were taken up by musty-smelling encyclopedias and unused thesauruses. An ancient woman named Mrs. Strahan had been in charge of the “library.” She was nice, but basically ignored by the kids and staff.

I have to admit that back then I was so full of myself for being the heir apparent to the most powerful coven in the city that I didn’t think it was worth exerting much effort on book learning. It wasn’t until I enrolled in night school at Babylon Community College that I realized how deprived I’d been not growing up a reader. Now I read most nights before bed to unwind. Nothing literary or anything. Just cheap paperbacks where I knew the good guys would always win the day or the couple would live happily ever after.

But this library? Double doors opened up into a two-story temple to books. The main floor held the circulation desk, rows of computers and study carrels, and dozens and dozens of shelves of books. Steps led up to the second-floor, U-shaped balcony that held shelves so tall, you needed a ladder to reach the top. Mrs. Strahan would have peed her adult diapers to see this place.

Since school was done for the day, there weren’t a lot of students present. I glanced around and saw a group of kids gathered in an enclosed classroom off to the side of the circulation desk. Laughter echoed and when voices spoke, they sounded
excited and passionate. I smiled, glad Danny had found a group that encouraged such a positive energy.

Moving toward the doorway, I peeked inside. At the front of the room, a tall guy who looked maybe three years out of college was standing in front of a white erase board. His sandy-blond hair flopped into his eyes as he jumped around. I suppose he was handsome in a white-bread-and-missionary-position sort of way. He wore a corduroy blazer, a skinny tie with a wrinkled white button-down, dark-washed jeans, and a pair of battered Converses.

Kids called out the names of famous dirty potions and he wrote them on the board. His movements were so animated, I realized this was a teacher who absolutely loved his job. Not one of those pruney government employees who never went off the script the state curriculum provided. This guy was too new to be cynical, and I liked him immediately.

“Yes, Josh, that’s right,” he was saying, “some people use vanity potions to impersonate other people. The stronger the potion, the more convincing the transformation, but those stronger ones are almost more addictive.” As he turned back to write this on the board, his gaze blew past the door, where I stood. He paused and stood up straighter. “Oh, hi. Can I help you?”

“Sorry. I was early for pickup. Thought I’d come watch.” My eyes scanned the young, eager faces for Danny’s.

When I spotted him, he slid down in his seat as if he wanted the floor to swallow him. I frowned.

The teacher glanced at the clock. “Okay, everyone, time’s up.”

A collective groan of disappointment filled the room.

“I know, I know,” the teacher continued. “But don’t forget: Next week we have a very special speaker stopping by.” He took a deep breath to draw out the drama. “We owe a huge thanks to Danny for inviting the one and only John Volos—”

He said more, but the instant he’d said that name, anger flared in my belly, like flames licking the inside of an alchemist’s athanor. “I’m gonna kill him.”

The room fell silent. “Pardon?” the teacher asked.

I jerked upright, realizing too late I’d said it out loud. “Nothing,” I said with a lame chuckle, “carry on.”

My gaze slashed toward Danny, who was busy smiling at his classmates’ praises and studiously avoiding any glance in my direction.

“Remember to bring in your lists next week, too,” the teacher continued. “Other than that, have a great weekend, guys!”

I ducked farther inside the room to get out of the way of exiting teens. The teacher approached with a hand extended. “Brad Hart.”

“Kate Prospero,” I said, returning the shake. “I’m Danny’s sister.” Who, I noted, was lingering at the back of the room, instead of coming to greet me.

He tilted his head. “The cop?”

“Guilty,” I said, forcing a smile.

Hart smiled back. Something about the expression gave me pause. It took me a minute to realize there wasn’t a problem with it at all. Instead, Brad Hart’s smile was totally lacking in guile and his eyes were clear, like maybe his conscience was, too. In my line of work, it wasn’t often you ran into anyone who didn’t have some sort of secrets or ulterior motives behind their smiles.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah sorry, long day,” I said.

He crossed his arms and leaned in a fraction. “Cleaning up the streets is tough work.”

I gave him a sideways glance. Despite his fashionably shabby clothes, the guy didn’t look like he’d spent much time on any
street that didn’t boast large houses with top-dollar alarm systems and security gates.

“Sure,” I said. He was a nice guy. He didn’t deserve my sarcasm or jaded comebacks. “Listen, thanks for putting this group together. Danny’s very excited.”

Hart beamed. “We’re thrilled to have him. I have to admit, I was a little disappointed when he told me you wouldn’t be able to be one of our monthly guest speakers.”

If he’d knocked me upside the head with a two-by-four, I would have been less shocked. “Huh—”

“I understand you’re busy and all,” he continued, oblivious to my distress, “but I think these kids could really benefit from your stories from the front lines of the War on Dirty Magic.”

My gaze sought Danny out like the red beam of an assault rifle’s laser. The kid looked up and paled at whatever he saw on my face. “Yeah, actually,” I said, holding my brother’s wide gaze, “I could probably make some time if you think the kids would enjoy it.”

Hart’s expression opened up. “Really? That would be awesome!” He thought it over for a second. “We have Mr. Volos in this month, but maybe in November.”

I shot a glance at my brother, who was working hard not to look like he was trying to hear our conversation from the other side of the room. I smiled real wide for his benefit. “I’d be happy to help.” I pulled out my wallet and handed him my card.

He glanced down at my newly minted MEA business card. His eyes widened. “Wow. I’d heard you were a cop from some of the other teachers, but I had no idea you were a detective working with the MEA.” He waved the card. “If it’s okay, I’ll call you soon to set up a date.”

I frowned.

“To speak to the, uh, class and stuff,” he finished lamely.

Something in my belly warmed. Brad Hart wasn’t my normal type. He was more like a puppy dog than a guard dog. But, I thought, it’s not like hanging out with the assholes I normally went for was getting me too far lately.

“Definitely do,” I said with an encouraging smile that felt foreign on my face.

“Great.” He smiled that sweet smile again. My poorly socialized inner voice whispered something about devouring him. I hushed her and reminded the minx it had been so long since we’d both had sex with something that didn’t require batteries that we couldn’t be too choosy. “In the meantime, try to behave yourself, Detective.”

I looked up and paused. Those clear, guileless eyes had darkened to reveal the promise of a few intriguing shadows in Brad Hart. And on top of that, I was pretty sure he was flirting with me.

Well, well, I thought, things just got a lot more interesting.

“Ditto.” With that, I walked away, careful to put a little English in my stride, and went to go deal with my disloyal little brother.

By the time we burst through the back door of the kitchen I was a volcano ready to blow. The drive home was painfully tense and quiet. Danny spent the entire ride trying to curl himself into the smallest space possible and kept his eyes focused on the stained floor mats. I tried to focus on not wrecking the car and resisting the urge to go take my anger out on Volos for accepting the invitation to speak.

The kitchen door slammed shut behind us. I threw my purse and keys on the table. “Sit.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded too quiet, too full of banked rage.

On some level, I knew I was overreacting. Teenagers lie. They get embarrassed by their parents. But for this to happen so soon after my fight with Pen was just too much. It felt like everyone I cared about was slipping away, and deep down I was painfully aware of my own responsibility for that. What was worse? Pen was right. None of theses issues would exist if not for my job.

Needing something to do to put some space between me and my unpredictable, singeing emotions, I went to the fridge. Naturally, I was all out of beer, so I settled for a wine cooler Baba had left there after the party. The cap hit the floor with a ping. Two seconds later, the sickly sweet flavor of fake strawberry and malt liquor hit the back of my throat. But it was cold and fizzy and scrubbed the taste of guilt from my tongue.

When I finished every drop, I pulled the bottle from my mouth with a loud exhalation. The sugary liquid sloshed in my stomach, making me instantly regret chugging it.

“Kate?” said Danny’s small voice.