Eldritch laughed bitterly. “I was arresting potion cookers before you were born, Prospero. Have I imagined a world free of dirty magic? Shit, yeah. But then I grew up and realized that the minute you get rid of one asshole, another one takes its place. Usually worse than the last one. Face it: In order to get rid of dirty magic, you’d have to figure out how to rid all humans of their greed, vanity, and fear of pain.” He took a deep breath, as if resigning himself to something. “The best we can do is try to help the victims and minimize the impact of the dirty potion trade on innocent people. That means making it as tough as possible for the corner guys to ply their wares and chasing down the bad guys after they victimize the innocent to feed their habits. It’s good, honest work.”
“So you think the MEA’s wasting their time going after the covens?”
“I’m saying I’m terrified of what would take their place once they’re gone. Better the assholes you know, right?”
I shook my head at the jaded bastard. “I’m sorry you think I’m choosing sides, but I’m just trying to do my job.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Prospero.” His eye twinkled like he was in on some joke I didn’t catch. Finally, with a sigh, he said, “I’ll buy us some time with the mayor. But you tell Gardner that if you guys take Volos down, I want some camera time.” His phone started chirping during the middle of his speech. He ignored it until he was done and then pulled it out to check the screen.
I tried not to feel disillusioned. I’d been around the politics of policing long enough to understand how important face time was to the brass. Still, his opportunistic approach left the taste of bile heavy on the back of my tongue. “Understood, sir,” I forced out. “If that’s all, I need to head back inside.”
He nodded absently and read the screen on his phone. “Fuck me,” he whispered as I turned to go.
I stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
He looked up slowly. “There’s been another murder. According to the responding officer, the body appears to have similar wounds to the Sprote woman from the other night.”
I stilled. “Another Gray Wolf murder?”
“Maybe,” he said. “But that’s not the bad news.”
I frowned at him. How could a mutilated body not be the bad news?
“She’s going to gloat now.” He looked like he’d been sucker punched.
“Sir?”
“Gardner,” he said. “She’s going to love this.” I continued to look at him with a confused expression. Finally, he shook himself and looked me in the eye. “You’re going to tell her.”
I shook my head. “Tell her what?”
“The body was found at Volos Towers.”
Chapter Fourteen
Volos Towers loomed over the Steel River like a shiny hypodermic needle. Far below, the cul-de-sac and parking lot in front of the building were cordoned off with police tape. The rest of the scene was clogged with crime-scene investigators, cops, and the morbidly curious.
As Morales, Mez, and I made our way toward the crime scene, several looks were aimed our way—some merely curious, others downright hostile or smug. I guess word had spread through the station house that I was working with the MEA. I wasn’t a mind reader, but at that moment I could have given Carnac a run for his money. They were all thinking: Who’d she fuck to get that gig?
I ignored them and focused on looking as if I belonged with the MEA guys instead of with the uniformed cops who were dealing with less glamorous duties, like crowd control and traffic direction. It didn’t help that I was lugging one of Mez’s tackle boxes like a wizard’s apprentice. Meanwhile, he carried one of those old leather doctor’s bags and a special padded backpack containing all sorts of glass tubes and bottles filled with herbs and elixirs. Morales, naturally, didn’t offer to help carry any of the magical gear. Made sense considering he was already weighed down with that huge ego.
“Hey, Mez?” I said as we walked to distract myself from the stares.
“What’s up?” He raised a single brow, which, now that I was really looking, also sported a new hoop piercing I hadn’t seen the day before.
“Did you do something different with your hair today?” I asked with awkward diplomacy.
He chuckled. “I get bored a lot, so I like to change things up.”
“This is nothing,” Morales said. “Remember that day you tried the potion that turned your skin purple?”
“Hey, I liked that look.” To me, he said, “Anyway, if you ever want a makeover, I brew up vanity potions on the side.”
I shook my head. “Thanks but no thanks.” I was fine with my quarterly twenty-dollar trim from the Snip ’N Curl on Juniper Sreet.
“You sure? It’s clean magic, but I sell it to friends at a discount.”
Luckily we’d reached the crime scene then, so I didn’t have to get into the whole thing about how I avoided all magic, especially when it changed my skin color.
The CSI guys had erected a tent in front of the bank of glass doors. The covering protected the body from the drizzling rain and the helicopters full of cameramen hoping to get the money shot for the five o’clock news. Eldritch stood just outside the tent, speaking to Gardner. Behind them, an Adept CSI supervisor named Valerie Frederickson examined the body.
“Oh good,” I said to Mez. “The CSI lead today is a friend of mine. That should help if you need access to any of the samples the BPD gathers.”
“Cool.” The wiz looked over to where I was pointing. “But I’ve never had problems charming samples out of cute lab wizes.”
“You will if Eldritch cock-blocks us first,” Morales said, nodding toward Gardner and Eldritch, who looked as if they were trying very hard not to shout in front of so many subordinates.
The three of us skirted them and headed toward the other side of the tent for a peek at the scene. Val was kneeling in front of the body as she discussed something with one of the other techs. But once they moved and I got a clear view of the body, I wished they’d come back and block it again.
Morales whistled low. “Brother done lost his head.”
I cringed. What was left of the cranium was a red and gray pulpy mess mixed with skull shards. Except for the generous coating of blood, the rest seemed intact.
“Jesus,” Mez said.
“Amen,” I quipped. I suppose I should have felt more horrified by the scene. Normal people don’t gaze upon mangled corpses without some sort of visceral reaction. Instead, I felt completely detached. The only emotional thread—and we’re talking dental floss–thin here—was feeling relief that I wasn’t responsible for identifying the deceased or notifying family.