“I’m so sorry, Pen. I was so wrapped up in fighting my demons, I couldn’t help you with yours.”
“God, stop it,” she snapped. “Just stop.” She heaved in a breath, as if preparing to yell, but when she let it out her shoulders lowered. “Like you’re some martyr. Jesus, Katie, you know damned well you did all that lying to protect your job on the task force.”
I lifted my hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right. I have compromised myself for this job.”
Her expression bordered on smug, but I wasn’t done.
“However, I’ve also done a lot of good.” I took a breath. “I’ve learned that there’s a positive side to magic that I never got to see before. One where I can use the skills I was born with to make a difference in this world.”
Pen’s mouth fell open. “That’s some weak-ass bargaining, Kate.”
“Is it?” I glanced at Rufus, whose expression gave away nothing. “I’m not so sure. Seems like I’d be more of a coward to run away from a major part of who I am.”
She blinked. “That’s… actually pretty insightful.”
I frowned at her. “Really?”
She nodded. “If you want to be on the task force, I can’t stop you. But you’ve seemed so conflicted about what you were doing, and I couldn’t stand watching you self-destruct.”
I raised an ironic brow. “Ditto, sister.”
Her face paled. Without another word, she reached up and removed her own anniversary necklace. She turned to face the group with her chin trembling. “I have a confession, too.”
She glanced at me. I bit my lip and nodded. She heaved in a shaky breath. “I used magic, too.” She paused, as if gathering her courage. “It was the pain after the accident. I—It was too hard. So I stole an old woman’s pain potion and started using again.”
No gasps echoed through the group. No one called her out. I crossed my arms to keep from going to her protectively. She had to do this herself.
“It was just that one time, but I guess that doesn’t really matter. I threw away years of sobriety for an easy way out of my pain.” She walked to Rufus on wooden legs. She held out the necklace, which he took reverently and without comment.
She turned back to the group. “My name is Penelope Griffin and I’m a potion addict.”
“Hi, Pen,” the group answered as one.
Unable to hold myself back anymore, I went to my best friend. We collapsed into each other and held on for dear life. On some level, I knew that, unlike the Cuyahoga at the bottom of Lake Erie, our friendship was strong enough to weather a storm. But I also knew in my gut that this wouldn’t be the last time magic came between us.
Rufus came forward and pulled Pen away. “Every day is a chance for salvation,” he said, repeating Jacob’s words. He slipped a small yellow disc into her palm. I recognized it instantly as the token AA gave newly sober members. In essence, it was a signal that Pen was starting over with a clean slate.
He turned to me next. I raised my chin and looked him in the eye. “You realize of course this means you can’t attend AA anymore, right?”
My heart dropped lower in my chest. I hadn’t thought about that part. “If that’s how it has to be, then I’ll respect it.”
“I wish it were otherwise, but I think it’s for the best all things considered. But I do want to give you this.” He reached in his pocket and removed a small yellow disc. He walked to me and handed me the same token he’d given Pen. About the size of a quarter, the yellow plastic had words written on it in black: ONE DAY AT A TIME.
I swallowed the emotion that reared up in my throat like a certain lake monster. “Thank you.”
“All right, all right,” Rufus said in a gruff tone. He sniffed a little, but if I’d called him on it he’d say he was allergic to touchy-feely crap. “It’s time to get this meeting wrapped up. Round up for the recovery pledge. Pen? Why don’t you lead us?”
My best friend grabbed ahold of my hand. “Magic is a tool,” she began. “If I am unable to use it responsibly, I will not use magic at all.” She squeezed my palm meaningfully. “I am responsible for my own actions, and I pledge to act with compassion for myself and others, always.”
Half an hour later I emerged from the basement with Pen. We’d decided to go grab a drink at a nearby pub to catch up. So much had happened since our fight, and she had a lot of questions about what exactly went down with Dionysus.
The night was chilly, and I pulled my jacket tighter. The sky was clear, which offered a stunning view of the three-quarter moon.
Beside me, Pen’s steps faltered. “Kate.”
I pulled my eyes from the moon to see what was up. Her eyes moved toward something down the street, and I followed their movement. A long, black limo idled at the curb. The brake lights added a sinister glow to the plumes of smoke billowing from the tailpipe. The license plate read SHEMALE.
“Shit,” I breathed. “Wait here.”
Pen grabbed my jacket sleeve. “Wait—”
I shook my head to let her know she didn’t need to worry. “It’s okay. Just need to finish a little business. Then we’ll go grab our drink.”
She didn’t look convinced by my reassurances, but nodded. “Be careful.”
I walked toward the back of the car slowly. My piece was at my side, under my jacket, but it was too soon to tell if I needed it.
A low whirring sound reached my ears. I paused, but quickly realized the noise had just been the window rolling down in the back of the car. A masculine hand emerged and flicked through the air to summon me.
Placing one arm on the roof and keeping the other at my side for easy reach of my gun, I bent so my head was level with the open window.
The hermaphrodite’s male visage was in shadow, except for a slice of light across the unsmiling mouth. “Katherine.” The voice was deep. Looked like Aphrodite had decided this solemn occasion called for a little testosterone.
“When did they spring you?”
“Yesterday.” His eye cut toward me. “In no small part thanks to your assistance.”
I shrugged. “The evidence spoke for itself.”
“That’s the curious part.” A single brow rose. “Considering my treacherous priestess’s involvement, it would not have been difficult for you to manipulate the evidence to implicate me as an accomplice.”