Home > Dirty Magic (Prospero's War #1)(58)

Dirty Magic (Prospero's War #1)(58)
Author: Jaye Wells

I licked my lips. “Passed down from her father. She told me once she always intended to give it to you once you were old enough.”

When he finally looked up, his eyes were shiny and red-rimmed. “Does it work?” He lifted the pocket watch from its cotton cocoon and raised it to his ear. Hearing nothing, he pulled it away and gazed at the surface of the clock with the blue-enameled night sky and smirking moon.

“We could take it to a shop to have it repaired if you want.”

He shook his head. “I can use my phone to tell time,” he said. “But I’ll keep it with me—for good luck.” He smiled at me. “Thanks, Kate. This means a lot to me.”

I swallowed hard against the emotion stinging in my throat. “No sweat, kid. I lo—”

A horn sounded from outside. Danny had told me his friend Aaron was driving him that morning because Pen had to be at the school early for a meeting with the principal. The sound shattered the insulating silence that had protected us for a few moments from the outside world. Danny jerked his head to look out the window. “Gotta go!” He grabbed his backpack and leaped out of his seat, shoving the watch into his jeans pocket.

“Wait!” I got out of my seat. With my napkin, I wiped a smear of bacon grease from his chin.

His smile transformed his face from boyish to almost-mannish. On impulse, I grabbed him and pulled him in hard for another hug. This time, I didn’t let go until I was good and ready.

“Um, Katie?”

The horn honked again.

“Just one more second,” I said, closing my eyes. He smelled like cologne and bacon. I suddenly wanted to tell him to skip school. That I’d unplug the phone, lock the doors, and pretend I didn’t have to be anywhere. We could spend the day watching old movies and eating popcorn. And then, after Gardner called to tell me I was fired, I’d pack our things and we’d move far away. Somewhere that didn’t have a dirty magic problem. A deserted island or the frozen tundra—anywhere I could protect Danny from the world twenty-four/seven.

The horn honked again. This time the sound was more insistent, angry.

“Kate,” he said, “I really gotta go.” Danny pulled back, extricating himself from my clinging arms. He looked down at me. “You okay?”

I nodded and widened my too-dry eyes to add credence to the lie. “Just feeling sentimental.”

He laughed. “Since when?”

I forced a smile. “Since now.” I swatted his arm. “Better go before Aaron storms the house.”

“Thanks again for the watch!” He waved and headed toward the door. “Have a good one!”

“You, too,” I said weakly. “Be careful.”

“I’m just going to school, Katie.” He stopped and looked back at me. “You’re the one who needs to be careful.”

That comment combined with the worry in his eyes told me he knew the score. There was no point trying to reassure him. He knew my job was dangerous. “True enough, kid.” I forced a smile. “Now get out of here.”

With that he waved and disappeared out the front door. I looked around the kitchen, which seemed so barren without his youthful energy filling it up. Then I shook myself and went to prepare for the raid.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The sun stabbed the eastern horizon, painting it caution-yellow and bloodred. The assault teams moved in two groups like flocks of heavily armed crows. Our team joined four tactical wizards called in from the county sheriff’s office and two BPD guys to attack the main gate of the tunnels. Another team of ten would attack from another entrance and meet us somewhere in the middle of the labyrinth.

As our feet moved silently across the barren lot, Eldritch issued last-minute warnings through our earpieces. My heart thumped like a wild thing under my ballistics vest. The patch Mez had given me when we suited up burned on my arm like hellfire. He’d said the potion was one that would increase my stamina and speed, as well as allow my team to track me if we got separated. All good things, but I still felt off balance and nauseous with it against my skin.

Closer now, almost there.

To the right of the gate, the bright-white sign announcing Volos’s ground-breaking ceremony in four days mocked me. I dragged my gaze from it and counted each step to maintain my calm.

Morales and Shadi were in front of me carrying large assault rifles. Mez was to my right. He wore the same black uniform as the rest of us, with his dreads tucked under the helmet. But unlike the rest of us, he also had a bandolier loaded down with potions strapped to his chest. I had a Glock .22, two salt flare guns, two canisters of S&P spray, and a ton of adrenaline ready to go.

Morales would act as the ram man for the raid. In his right hand he carried a large metal cylinder by the handle. When we finally reached the gate, Shadi stepped to one side and one of the other tactical wizards, a large guy they called Diesel, took the other with their guns at the ready.

Morales stepped forward with the ram. He did a quick scan of the team. “On three,” he whispered.

I pulled my Glock from the holster and blew out a deep breath. Morales counted.

“One.” He stepped forward.

“Two.” Pulled the ram backward. Muscles strained for action.

“Three.” The ram crashed into the gate. Metal shrieked and surrendered.

Shadi and Diesel rushed forward into the tunnels. Morales stood to the side while the rest of us hurried in. I moved with the tide, yelling along with the rest of them. Morales fell in behind me, his shouts joining mine.

There were two rules about entering the tunnels. First, never, ever go without backup. Second, only the suicidal enter the tunnels after sundown. Night belonged to the blood fiends.

The instant we spilled through the entrance, the stench of shit and stale urine, the tinny bite of blood, and the noxious odor of decomposition bodychecked us. Somewhere inside the fetid slurry was the less disgusting, but no less menacing, scent of ozone that indicated heavy magic use.

“Jesus,” said Morales.

I handed him a tube of menthol spray. “This won’t help much.”

He shot me a look. “Then why bother?”

I shrugged. “Better than nothing.” I rubbed absently at the patch on my arm, which bothered me more than the disgusting scene we’d entered.

I figured Morales would take three steps down and lose his lunch all over the place. But when he didn’t pause or gasp or bitch, just simply forged ahead like a man pushing his way through a particularly foul windstorm, I grudgingly admitted to myself that maybe some of his swagger was warranted.

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