I stopped and turned. “When we raided his last known residence, there was a bomb waiting for us. Probably more where that came from.” My heart picked up pace. Two nights, two nights, two nights, my mind chanted. I started pacing again.
“Considering how much potion he stole from Aphrodite and me, he’s got to have a large facility to store all this stuff while he prepares.”
My pacing trail took me past John’s bar. With the cogs of my mind spinning, my gaze barely grazed each item I saw. “The BPD’s already searched all the warehouses at the docks,” I said. “And all the abandoned factories along the tracks. It could be any—”
I stopped in my tracks as a wine label on the bar captured my attention: a dancing satyr playing a lute. The name of the brand was Veritas. I grabbed the bottle and pointed it at him. “Where’d you get this?”
John shrugged. “A client sent it to me. Haven’t had a chance to try it.”
“When did you get it?” I looked down at the bottle and flipped it over.
“About a week”—he paused as if it had just clicked for him, too—“ago.”
The label on the back held the typical jargon about alcohol percentage. The description said, “This sexy red should be consumed when you’re ready to lose all your inhibitions.” I held up the bottle and recited the name of the vineyard. “Dithyramb Winery—Babylon, Ohio.”
John’s eyes widened. “You’re shitting me.”
Dithyramb was the term for an ancient hymn to Dionysus.
I shook my head and handed the bottle over. My brain was busy thinking about the call from Val. Pulling my phone out, I checked the image she’d e-mailed me. “I’ll be damned.”
“Hmm?”
I looked up. “Last night, Dionysus hexed a couple of sororities on campus with a rape potion. We arrested one of his followers on site thinking he’d slipped it into their drinks. But I found out earlier the potion had been in the wine when it was bottled. The labels of the bottles on the scene match this one.”
John hefted the bottle in one hand. “Who else you think he sent these to?”
I glanced toward his door. “I’d bet our friend across the hall received some, or it was hand-delivered.” I made a mental note to call my friend Val at the BPD CSI lab and see if they’d logged any opened wine bottles at the crime scene.
“Let’s see what we can find on this winery.” John walked over to the counter, where a sleek, silver laptop sat open like he’d abandoned it when I’d arrived. He quickly shut down a window filled with what looked like accounting spreadsheets. The only number I saw on it had so many zeros I couldn’t count them.
He pulled up a browser and entered the name of the winery. Two seconds later we found it. “Jesus this guy’s got a pair. Creating an entire online presence for his secret lair?”
The front page had a picture of a bottle of wine bearing the same label as the one John had received. Along the top were typical links: Home, About, Discussion Boards, Map.
The map showed a location on the far side of Babylon, along the Steel River before the city’s pollution got ahold of the water. The area was a popular destination for Babylonians looking to get away for a weekend. Lots of charming bed-and-breakfasts and antiques shops. And, apparently, the headquarters of a madman masquerading as a winemaker.
“I’ll be damned. I’ve driven by that place before. Back then it was called Babylon Cellars.”
John clicked on the Discussion Board link. And immediately ran into a password-protected page. A large red warning claimed this area was for members only, but there was no place to request membership. “Wonder if this is how he spread his instructions to his followers.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and punched a number. “Gardner, it’s Prospero, can you call the team together at the gym.”
“We’re all here,” she said. I cursed realizing that while I’d slept off the potion from the night before, they’d been working all day to break the case. “You coming in?”
“I’ll be there soon.”
“Everything okay?”
“I found him.”
“Get your ass here yesterday.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hung up. “All right. I’m headed in.”
John stood. “You’ll be careful, right?”
I grimaced at him. “Don’t pretend you care about anything other than getting credit for breaking the case.”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “Shut up. You can convince yourself I’m your enemy, but deep down you know it’s because we have unfinished business.” His hands kneaded my flesh and his pupils had that special light men’s eyes get when they think you’re going to allow them access to one of your holes.
“Thanks for reminding me.” His lips started to curve into a charming smile. I removed it with my knuckles.
His head snapped back. Pain shot through my hand and wrist. When I pulled it back, blood coated the skin. John’s blood. It was my turn to smile.
A rivulet of blood leaked from his left nostril. He didn’t wipe it away. Instead he watched me with red-flushed cheeks. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or turned on, but I suspected it was a little of both. I wasn’t naive enough to believe John actually wanted me; more that he wanted to assert himself over me. “That was… unexpected.”
“Shouldn’t have been,” I said, shaking my throbbing hand. “Stay away from Danny.”
He stepped forward, lording his height over me. “Or what?” he whispered.
I made a gun out of my fingers and stabbed it just over his heart.
His eyes flared. He caught my hand with his larger one and pulled it up to his mouth. His tongue flicked against the sensitive skin, sending lightning from my hand down to my toes.
Snatching my hand back, I closed it into a tight fist. I told myself the unexpected spike of arousal was an aftershock from the night before. But my libido called me a liar. Like magic, John was a dirty vice I couldn’t afford to indulge or I’d risk losing myself to it completely. Mixed in with the shameful attraction was a hefty dose of anger that left me unsure whether I wanted to fight him or fuck him. My breath coming faster, I pushed away. His eyes tracked me like a predator.
“This isn’t over,” he threatened.
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “It was over ten years ago.”
“Like hell it was.”