“Good. Oh, and you’re in the MEA now. Try to dress the part.”
My hand went to the frayed collar of the T-shirt I’d thrown on to go meet LM. No doubt she was thinking about the scrubs I’d worn the night before. “Yes, ma’am.”
“‘Sir,’ Prospero,” she snapped. “Call me ‘sir.’”
With that the line disconnected. I sat looking down at the phone for a minute, unsure whether to do a victory dance or crap my pants. For a woman offering me good news, she sure didn’t sound too happy.
“Ahem.” LM stared at me expectantly.
“Sorry,” I muttered. He looked curious about the call, but I wasn’t ready to show that particular hand to him yet. I needed to change the subject and fast.
“So what are you gonna do?” LM asked.
“What do you mean?” I frowned at the homunculus’s impish smile.
LM shrugged and leaned back on his elbow against Mary’s chest. “Way I remember it, you and Volos used to be sweet on each other.”
I sighed. “Right. Used to be. That was a long time ago, LM. Besides, I’m not convinced he’s involved. He’s got too much to lose to go back to cooking.”
“Still,” LM said slowly, “you know what they say, right?”
I raised a brow and waited.
“The wizard can leave the magic, but the magic never leaves him.” He winked at me. “Ain’t that right, Prospero?”
The insinuation made me want to tell the homunculus to go fuck himself, but I knew better than to react. Betraying any defensiveness about my own relationship—or lack thereof—to dirty magic would be ammunition in his little hands. Especially if any of the lowlifes I was trying to arrest were more generous tippers than I was.
“Thanks for the help.” I tipped my chin.
LM nodded back, but a speculative gleam in his eye told me that brain of his was already strategizing the best way to use our conversation to his advantage.
“See you around, Mary.”
The giantess smiled, revealing an abundance of sickly white gums and a handful of crooked, decaying teeth. “Be careful, lady.”
I smiled and turned away. There was no use telling her that if I’d been the careful sort, I would have moved the hell out of Babylon years ago.
Chapter Five
I sat in the car for a moment before turning over the ignition. After five years of working my ass off on the beat, I finally had my big break.
I closed my eyes and savored the sugar rush of excitement. Joining the MEA was like making the big leagues. No more blisters on my heels from walking the beat. No more washing my hands twenty times a day to get the sour, junkie stench off my fingers. No more disappointment when the promotion was passed to someone else. Now, I’d finally be able to go after the big dicks. The wizards who orchestrated the covens. The master cookers who developed the potions. The moneymen who made sure cash and magic flowed through Babylon’s veins like tainted blood.
My cell shouted in the car’s quiet interior. Opening my eyes, I scrambled to grab it. “Prospero.”
“Gardner called?” Eldritch said by way of greeting.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Need you to come in today to sign some paperwork before you start.”
“What kind of paperwork?”
“A couple of payroll forms since MEA will be footing the bill for you while you work with them.”
I rolled my eyes. The brass was always downplaying the amount of paperwork we needed to fill out. His “couple of forms” were probably more like ten pages filled out in triplicate, signed in blood with the promise of my firstborn. “I’ll be there within the hour.”
After I’d hung up with the captain, I started the car and pulled away from the curb. Since I had a little time to kill before I hit the precinct, I decided to celebrate the good news with a double-double from the Slaughterhouse. A quick hunt through the cup holder, ashtray, and under the seats of the Jeep netted me four petrified french fries, a Pretenders CD I’d misplaced months earlier, and five dollars and sixty-seven cents in change.
I pointed my car in the direction of the second-best burger joint in the Cauldron. I told myself I wasn’t going to the first-best place—Mickey’s on Hughes Street—because it was too expensive even though it was only two blocks from the precinct. The Slaughterhouse actually was cheaper, but the real reason I chose it that day was it sat only three blocks from Volos Towers.
I had to admit that when Little Man mentioned John’s name in relation to the new potion I hadn’t been surprised. From the instant Gardner told me Gray Wolf was alchemical, I’d thought of him. Of course I had. Yet, my stomach dipped anyway because if LM was right, now that I’d made the team, I’d probably cross paths with Volos sooner rather than later.
It had been about a decade since I’d spoken with him. I saw him on the news all the time, but it was a different drama altogether to think about being in the same room with the man.
Complicating matters, too, was the worry that once Gardner found out about my past relationship with a potential suspect, she’d kick me off the case. Which was the real reason I was praying John wasn’t behind this. If I was lucky, some new evidence would surface that pointed the investigation in another wizard’s direction. And if I wasn’t lucky … Well, I guess I’d leap off that bridge when the time came.
* * *
Forty minutes later, I pulled Sybil into the parking lot along the Riverwalk. I told myself I chose the spot because it had a lovely view of the Steel River and Bessemer Bridge. But the tall tower looming over the river mocked me. I’d come here because I was horrified yet intrigued about the prospect of investigating the man who owned that tower.
Shoving a few fries in my mouth, I decided all I could do was show up at Gardner’s office the next day and see what shook out. After a deep, calming breath, I settled back and lifted the burger. For a few moments, the savory, mustardy, dill-pickle deliciousness distracted me from the prospect of the return of John Volos drama in my life.
Overhead, birds swooped and called as they danced over the surface of the river, looking for a good catch. If this had been a shoreline on another part of the river, I would have laughed at their fruitless attempts. But this stretch of riverbank was part of the renovated Riverwalk District. Just beyond the twenty-story tower, the rust-brown waters of Steel River acted as a moat between the Cauldron and the less shameful sections of Babylon. Used to be this stretch of riverfront property was dotted with shanties and run-down factories, but over the last few years—thanks in big part to Volos’s friendships with the city’s leaders—the area was on the upswing.