Unfortunately, destiny had other plans. I stuck the cake in my mouth and the key in the ignition. Sybil made a sound somewhere between a cat coughing up a fur ball and a congested demon. “Thit!” I cursed through my mouthful of carbs.
I considered trying to get under the hood and figure out what was going on, but traffic getting into the city was always horrible this time of morning. Any delay on my part would mean being late.
Decision made, I gulped down the mouthful of food, hit a couple of buttons on the cell phone, and ordered up a taxi. Looked like destiny had just decided what I’d be using my first MEA paycheck to cover.
* * *
The address Gardner had given me led to a decrepit building on the outskirts of the Cauldron. Abandoned train tracks—relics of Babylon’s steel empire—lay behind it like rusty veins, and in the distance Lake Erie glowed in the smog-dulled morning sun. The scents of dead fish and a faint chemical odor warred with the acrid exhaust from the freeway a few blocks over.
The cabbie pulled into a trash-strewn lot near two unmarked cop cars that screamed “Nothing to see here.” The taxi he’d picked me up in was one of those new potion-fueled jobs. I’d been in such a hurry to get there on time, I hadn’t given a second thought to getting inside. I had, however, seen Baba’s curtains twitch as we’d glided away from the curb outside my house. Considering I’d just poured the Sexy Juice she’d given me the day before down the drain, I had a little twinge of conscience over my hypocrisy. Still, potion fuels were clean magic and it wasn’t as if putting a potion into a car’s gas tank was the same as sticking a needle full of dirty magic into someone’s neck to help escape reality. Plus, I was pretty sure if I’d been late, Gardner wasn’t the type to accept excuses.
Still, I had to admit the taxi was a sweet ride. The potion fuel made cars hover above the streets, so the government had given them special lanes on the roads. Being able to fly literally down the freeways meant we avoided all the gridlock caused by the Mundane vehicles clogging the asphalt. We’d sailed across the Bessemer Bridge with a few minutes to spare before I had to report for my new job.
“We’re here,” the cabbie snapped as he threw the car in Park. A whirring sound accompanied the tires lowering to the pavement for landing. “Forty bucks, not including tip.”
I grimaced. While the ride had been pleasant, the expense of the magic taxi left a lot to be desired. “Do you take credit?”
“I guess.” His lips pursed like a schoolmarm’s. “There’s a service charge, though.”
Forget having philosophical qualms about using a magical taxi. The real issue was I couldn’t afford to use them. Especially since I’d spent part of the ride over calling in a favor from my neighbor, Joe the Mechanic, who said he’d give me a discount on the labor and parts for the repair, but that he couldn’t get around charging me for the tow into the shop.
“Fine.” I shoved the card across the seat at the taxi driver. While he ran it through the machine, I glanced out the window and up at the building. Gardner had told me the offices were on the second floor.
“Here,” the cabbie said. He passed the receipt over along with a pen. As he did, I saw that his fingertips were green.
I hesitated taking the receipt. “What’s that?”
“Oh, this?” He held up his fingers and wiggled them. “It’s from the special fuel.” He lovingly stroked the headrest of the passenger seat. “Makes this baby fly like a dream, but you get a little on your skin and you’re green for days.”
“Hmm.” People thought clean magic was safe no matter what. They never questioned the weird little side effects that were sometimes worse than the thing they were supposed to fix. I kept my opinion to myself, though. If he wanted to turn green it was his own business.
I took the receipt and prepared to sign it, but when I saw what he’d done, I forgot all about my impending meeting with my new team and his green fingers. “The service charge is five bucks? That’s bullshit.”
He shrugged. “Convenience is costly, lady. The potion-fuel it took alone cost more than that a gallon.”
“And how do you explain the additional ten-dollar tip you added here?” I stabbed a finger at the receipt.
“For service with a smile?” He grinned, exposing crooked front teeth. “Plus seeing how I got you here so quick since ya had your panties in a twist about not being late.”
That much was true, but my annoyance didn’t reduce any as I signed the receipt. The time I’d gained by taking the stupid special taxi to begin with was burning with each second I sat there arguing with the asshole. “Fine.” I threw the receipt over the seat at him.
“Have a nice day,” he said in an overly friendly tone that made the back of my teeth itch.
“Whatever.” I exited the cab and slammed the door. A muffled “Hey” reached me from inside. I turned my back on the hexed cab and started across the lot. A whoosh of wind flirted with the hem of my skirt as the driver zoomed away.
On my way toward the door, I could feel eyes on me through the cloudy windows. The inspection made me feel self-conscious and I hated that my new colleagues had the benefit of checking me out first. Regardless, I threw my shoulders back and strutted toward the building like I owned the shithole.
The faded sign bolted to the roof told me the second floor used to be an old-fashioned boxing gym. Thugs once worked out their aggression in places like this where they could kick each other’s asses with the law’s blessing. Now that gyms like this one weren’t around anymore, they fought in the streets with guns and potions instead of gloves and fists.
On the ground floor, a small bodega clung to existence by the quicks of its nails. A door next to the one for the grocery had faded gold lettering, which told me the place upstairs used to be called Rooster’s Gym. Under that someone had spray-painted the word cock with a helpful graphic of a penis for the illiterate. I pushed it open and was faced with a tall set of narrow wooden steps. As I climbed, the scent of old sweat and decayed wood assaulted my nose.
My low heels clomped on each riser and echoed through the space above no matter how much I tried to have a light step. When I reached the top and found my new team waiting for me, I wasn’t all that surprised. I’d made enough noise to raise the dead.
The room behind them opened up like a cathedral. The large windows made up two walls. Two doors led off the back, maybe to an office and a john. The old ring still stood in the center. Its ropes were cracked and smelled of old vinyl and even older sweat. The once-white mat was now yellowed with age and boasted some dubious stains. In the center, they’d placed a large table and a whiteboard—a makeshift war room.