I marched back over to where Volos and Morales were standing. “You know what?” I said to Volos. “If you’re telling the truth about Bane and you really cared about this community as much as you claim, you would postpone plans for that community center.”
Volos raised a brow. “Are you claiming you’re not using this situation to advance your own ambitions, Officer Prospero?”
“Fuck you,” I said, stepping up to him.
“Kate,” Morales said in a warning tone.
Volos flicked an amused glance at Morales before aiming that knowing gaze back at me. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it, Kate?”
“It might,” I said, “if I believed for a second you knew how to tell it.”
“Kate?” Danny said in a small voice from the door.
I forced myself to relax and turn toward him, forcing a reassuring smile. “It’s all right, Danny.” I motioned to Morales. “Let’s go.”
Morales led the way with me behind.
“Bye, John,” Danny called as I dragged him in my wake.
“See ya, kid,” he said with a warm smile that made my skin turn cold. “If you can’t convince her to teach you, give me a call. Maybe we can work something out after all.”
I froze and turned, pushing Danny behind me. The speculative gleam I saw in Volos’s eyes scared me. “Over my dead body.”
He smiled sadly. “I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Chapter Twenty
Danny wasn’t speaking to me. Again. This time it was fine because I didn’t trust myself to speak to him, either.
Morales kept stealing glances at the two of us like we were bombs about to go off. Finally, he cleared his throat. “So I talked to Gardner.”
I jerked my gaze from the window I’d been glaring at. “And?”
“She wants us to meet her at the gym.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Mez found something from those samples we got at the morgue.”
My eyebrows popped up. “Good news?”
“She wouldn’t say.” He glanced over his shoulder at my pouting brother. “What do you want to do?”
I shot a look at Danny, too. The last thing I wanted to do was let him out of my sight. But the alternative was to take him to work, which didn’t sit well with me, either. Still, I was pretty sure Gardner would be more annoyed by a delay than showing up with the kid.
I sighed. “Go to the gym.”
“You’re sure?”
I looked at Danny as I spoke. “He’ll be on his best behavior,” I said in an or-else tone.
Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.
“Yes, ma’am,” Morales said.
About five minutes later, I realized he was headed in the wrong direction. “You should have turned right back there.”
He glanced at me with mischief in his gaze. “Figured a little detour wouldn’t hurt.” He pulled to a halt at a stoplight. On one corner of the intersection, a man huddled against a trash can. His skin was blue. Not a subtle tint, like Mr. Callahan’s jaundiced skin at group. No, this was deep indigo.
“What’s that guy’s deal?” Danny asked suddenly.
Morales winked at me. I nodded, catching on. He’d taken us to one of the worst parts of the Cauldron to help drive home my point about magic for Danny. Guess my partner finally realized Danny’s interest in magic was a big deal after all. “He’s hooked on an antidepression potion.” I kept my tone casual. “From the looks of it, he’s been using for a while. Before long, the addiction will drive him to commit suicide.”
“Wh-why would he do that?”
“That’s how addiction works,” Morales said. “After a while the potion stops being effective, so the user has to go to more and more extreme measures for relief. In the case of the antidepression potion, it makes him more deeply depressed until he can’t stand to live anymore.”
“Why is he so blue?”
“Because when you use them a long time they change you at a cellular level.”
“But that’s just dirty magic, right? Clean magic is safe.”
I turned fully and shook my head. “Danny, no. Magic is magic, and it all changes you. It’s just that clean magic companies use safer ingredients and are more controlled. There are still side effects.”
Danny crossed his arms. “Hmm.”
“And usually, you gotta take more potions to mask the side effects.” I added, “It becomes a vicious cycle, and before you know it, you’re on ten potions for that one defect you were trying to treat.”
“From the looks of that guy,” Morales added, “he’s been hooked for several years.”
I turned to see that Danny’s complexion had gone paper-white. “Can’t someone help him?”
“There are antipotions, but they’re too expensive for most potion freaks to afford since their addictions probably got them fired from their jobs. Some have success with recovery programs.”
“You mean like the group you and Pen go to?” Danny asked.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Morales’s head swivel toward me with a speculative gaze. I ignored him and spoke to Danny. “Something like that, but usually they have to go through a really painful detox period. Some people don’t survive that part. But before any of that, the addict has to want to stop.”
“If it makes him that sad, wouldn’t he want to quit?”
“Potions change a person’s brain chemistry, Danny,” I said. “He’s not thinking rationally. The addiction is controlling his decisions.”
The light turned green and Morales slowly pulled forward. As he drove, we passed more addicts. I pointed them out as we went. “That girl over there? With the lips that look like two sausages on her face? She’s addicted to a vanity potion.” I pointed to the other side of the street. “He’s probably hooked on a strength potion.”
“How can you tell?” Danny asked, almost grudgingly.
“No human can gain that kind of muscle mass without chemicals,” Morales said. “Soon his body won’t be able to carry all that extra weight and he’ll either have a heart attack or an aneurysm.”
“Oh, look at that one,” I began, “she’s definitely on a—”
“Stop,” Danny whispered. “I get it, okay? Becoming addicted to magic is dangerous. Just say no, blah, blah, blah.”