Death Match (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 2) Page 5

  Her expression turned serious. "And why would I do that?"

  "Because the mage killed people and he almost killed us."

  "And that qualifies you to do what exactly? Act as a vigilante?" She shook her head. "Nope. Sorry, Alyse."

  I folded my arms across my chest and glared. "So I guess this means Ghul School is closed for business."

  Her head snapped to attention. "You wouldn't."

  I pretended to examine my nails. "It's a shame, really. We were just getting to the good stuff."

  She leaned back in her chair and took the measure of me. Was I bluffing? Maybe. Maybe not. "What do you want to know?"

  "Just like Ghul School. I want to know whatever you know."

  "Close the door."

  "Why? Are you afraid the janitor might come in for his mop and overhear us?"

  Now it was her turn to glare. I got up and closed the door.

  "Okay," I said, settling into the wooden chair and leaning an elbow on her desk. "Let's hear it."

  "There was no evidence of drugs in the mage's system."

  Even though Pinky had told me as much, I was still surprised. I really expected drugs to be the cause of the magical meltdown.

  "So what's the theory?" I asked.

  "At this point, we don't know. Oscar Martinez claims it was the stress of preparing for the Colony Games." She threaded her fingers together on the desk. She didn't look convinced.

  "But you disagree."

  She tilted her head slightly, a subtle acknowledgement. "Before I got to PTF, I worked in narcotics. Saw plenty of what drugs can do to an otherwise sane person."

  "So you have experience with Luciano Bendetti?" Luciano was the head of the Mid-Atlantic Colony crime syndicate's drug trafficking group. I hadn't met him yet, but I'd heard talk about him.

  Her brow lifted. "You hanging out with all the mobsters now?"

  "I don't know him," I said. "Just his name."

  "Same here," she said, "He keeps a low profile. I hear he's not flashy like some of the other guys."

  "So he takes after his boss." The Dragon was the head of the crime syndicate in the Mid-Atlantic Colony. No one knew the Dragon's real identity and Thompson had made it her mission in life to find out and take him down.

  "More or less." Thompson unthreaded her fingers and reached for a pen. I thought she was going to write something down, but it seemed she just wanted to fiddle with it. She began tapping it on the desk. As annoying as it was, I was patient. The good detective had something on her mind.

  "What is it, Detective?" I finally prodded.

  "Do you know anyone who can do an autopsy?" she asked.

  "But I thought they already performed an autopsy."

  She pressed her lips together. "I'd like another one. More..." She groped for words.

  "Magical?" I offered. She nodded. "An autopsy more magical than the one performed by the Enclave's coroner?"

  "Their coroner is not a pathologist."

  "Your precinct has a pathologist."

  She gave me a pointed look. Okay, my comment was unfair. The regular human precinct had a regular human pathologist. PTF had almost no resources or training in the magical arts and sciences.

  "I might know someone." Last I'd heard, Ziggy had settled in New Hope, Pennsylvania. He was a former Shadow Elite lab geek who managed to make it to retirement without biting the dust. No small feat.

  "I'm keeping the body sequestered," Thompson said, "but it can't leave. I'll need your person to come here."

  I retrieved my phone and thumbed a text. "I'll let you know when." I stood to go. "With the caveat that whatever the results are, you share them with me."

  Thompson hesitated. Despite our recent collaborations, she was still on the fence about me. It was understandable. I didn't give anyone the warm fuzzies. It wasn't in my nature.

  "Detective, you get no help from your department. You rely way too much on the Protectorate. I'm offering my services." I held up my wrists to remind her of my cuffs. "What harm can it do?"

  "I don't have money in the budget to pay a consultant."

  I tried not to give her my deranged smile. "You can owe me one."

  She whistled. "Great Lakes of Shit-aqua. I know I'm gonna regret this."

  8

  Following a disastrous attempt at yoga when I first arrived in Philadelphia, Pinky took it upon herself to teach me tai chi. Like many others before her, she was convinced I needed more serenity in my life.

  We were in the back area of Tops and Bottoms, where we had room to experiment with flowing movements. The concept of constant motion appealed to me since that was second nature anyway.

  My phone buzzed so I dipped down in one fluid movement and scooped my phone off the red velvet chair. A text from Thompson.

  "Aha!" I said.

  Pinky paused her graceful posture. "What did I do?"

  "Not you." I waved the phone at her. "There was a drug in Kieran's system. I knew it."

  Pinky's blond ponytail bobbed from side to side. "No, there wasn't. The report said he was clean."

  "PTF got a second opinion." I didn't tell her the second opinion was courtesy of my old friend, Ziggy. I didn't want it to get back to Oscar that I'd stepped on his toes. As long as I was stuck in Philadelphia, it was best to stay on his good side.

  "Which drug made him light up like a Christmas tree?" she asked.

  I read through the text. "I've never heard of it. Apparently, it was designed to be untraceable." No surprise there. If a mage coroner couldn't see it, there was advanced engineering at work. "The report says it's called X-caliber. Like King Arthur's sword, but trendier." I glanced at Pinky. "You're young and hip. Have you heard of X-caliber?"

  Pinky's expression was blank. "Nope."

  I blew out a breath. "Guess it's time to meet Señor Bendetti."

  Pinky's expression quickly shifted from blank to alarmed. "Luciano Bendetti? Why?"

  "He controls the drug trade in this colony. Did you have any meetings with him when you worked for O'Leary?" Jimmy O'Leary ran the casinos for the crime syndicate and Pinky was his personal mage when we met. I knew O'Leary didn't see Pinky's true potential, so I was only too happy to have her join me as a fledgling skip tracer. So far, it was a win-win.

  "I met him, like, a dozen times." She pressed her lips together. "He likes the color purple."

  "The book?"

  "No, the actual color." She shuddered. "He even wore purple socks."

  "The horror."

  "He has a close-knit entourage," she said. "But not like Nico and Mickey. Younger." Nico and Mickey were O'Leary's goons. I liked Nico, but Mickey rubbed me the wrong way.

  "Does he have a personal mage like the other mobsters?"

  "He got one after everyone else did. He didn't want to be left out."

  "Those guys are like a bunch of cheerleaders with big bank accounts."

  Pinky popped out a hip. "Hey, I was a cheerleader."

  "I thought you dropped out of high school."

  "It was before then."

  It didn't come as a shock. Pinky was a petite blonde with big, blue eyes. She was, in fact, the stereotypical cheerleader.

  "So who's his mage?" I asked. "Can you get us a meet and greet?"

  Pinky bit her lip. "I don't know. Oscar might get pissed off."

  "Oscar gets pissed off if you don't wipe down the light switch after you've touched it. Don't worry about him."

  At the mention of Oscar's name, a gray pigeon flew overhead and I watched with interest as a rolled-up paper drifted to the ground next to my feet. I picked it up before a gust of wind blew it out of reach.

  "It has the Enclave's seal," I said.

  "Do you think it's for me?" she asked.

  "Wouldn't they just call your phone?" I asked. The Enclave was fairly bureaucratic.

  "Wouldn't they just call yours?" she countered.

  I shrugged and handed it to her. "Open it and find out."

  Pinky broke the seal and unrolled th
e paper. Her tan brow creased.

  "What does it say?" I prodded.

  She continued to stare at the piece of paper like it was written in Sanskrit. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  "What is it, Pinky?" I asked.

  "I've been chosen."

  That sounded ominous. "For what?"

  She blinked once and then her large eyes focused on me. She reminded me of an owl. "The Colony Games."

  "Wait, what?" Pinky couldn't compete in that cesspit. For starters, she was only seventeen. "Why would they choose you?"

  Pinky's glossy pink lips opened but only a squeak emerged.

  "Is this because of what happened to Kieran?" I asked.

  A single teardrop splashed onto the paper. "It must be. Each team has four people. The Enclave needs to replace him."

  "With a child?" I asked. "That doesn't make sense." Pinky had massive potential, I knew that, but she hadn't realized it yet. She wasn't even close.

  "I'm not a child," she snapped.

  "Sorry, but a seventeen-year-old human is a child," I replied. "I don't care what your arguments are."

  "My father was a Marid like you," she reminded me. "A blue djinni. The best of the best."

  "Yes, and I'm sure he lived a bazillion years before he died, but you won't." I paused. "In fact, you won't see your eighteenth birthday if we don't get you out of this."

  "Actually, I already saw it. I turned eighteen in August," she said.

  I snapped to attention. "You had a birthday? Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I didn't think you'd care," she said nonchalantly. "I went down the shore with a bunch of my friends. It was after we found the missing emerald broach for Mrs. Haymark."

  The emerald broach was the quickest and easiest job I'd ever had. We were hired, retrieved the item with nary a bruise to show for it, and were paid in full, all inside of a week. It was heavenly.

  "I would've bought you something," I said. Because that was what people did for birthdays. They bought things.

  "You haven't made that much money," Pinky said. "Besides, I got the first half of my trust fund, so I pretty much can buy whatever I want now."

  "The first half?" I queried.

  She nodded. "Daddy set it up so I get the first half when I turn eighteen and the second half when I turn twenty-five, in case I was a complete screw-up at eighteen."

  "Smart guy."

  She popped her gum. "It was my mom's idea. She wants to meet you, you know."

  "Can't say I blame her. I'm a bad influence. Ask anybody."

  "You're so not," she argued. "You teach me practical stuff. Life skills. O'Leary always wanted me to do things for him. He wasn't interested in my growth and development."

  I'd seen the way the older mobster looked at her. He was more than interested in her growth and development.

  And now Pinky was a legal adult.

  "Let's go," I said, snatching the paper from her shaking hand. "Take me to Oscar Martinez. We'll sort this out right now. They need to choose someone else to compete."

  "I can't just show up at the Enclave with you," Pinky said. "I need to make an appointment."

  "He's a mage, not a dentist," I said irritably. "The Colony Games are a big deal."

  "No kidding. I've been watching our team train. Oscar makes sure all their training sessions are open to the Enclave. It's part of his continuing education program."

  The Enclave had a continuing education program? The Marida royal court seemed more out of touch with reality every day. Of course, the Marida would never send their best djinn into battle in the name of entertainment. Battles and bloodshed were beneath my caste. Maybe one of the reasons I didn't quite fit in.

  I plucked Pinky's phone from the back pocket of her shorts and handed it to her. "Call him," I insisted. "I can't have you knee-deep in training when I'm struggling to keep my head above water."

  Pinky arched a pale eyebrow. "So this is really about you?"

  "Of course it's about me," I said. "Who else would it be about?"

  She tapped the phone without a response and promptly returned it to her pocket.

  "What was that?" I asked. "You didn't call."

  "I texted," she said.

  "How?" I asked. "I didn't even see your thumbs move."

  She cocked her head. "You're fast with a dagger. The phone is like my dagger."

  "But is Oscar as quick with a reply?"

  Her phone thumped in her back pocket. The ringtone sounded like a beating heart.

  She smiled. "Yes, he is."

  "No potions this time," I said. "I'm walking through the front door, fully conscious." The last time I went to see Oscar, I ended up sprawled across the lawn of Independence Hall with the unfortunate combination of a ravenous appetite and an upset stomach.

  "No potions," Pinky agreed, scanning the text. "But I still need to use a little magic."

  "Does the magic involve rendering me unconscious?" I asked.

  She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "There's something else I can try."

  "Whatever it is, yes." It had to be a far cry better than vomiting all over Mix's coffee table.

  She gave me a tiny smile. "Have you ever heard of twilight? It's what they give humans when we have our wisdom teeth taken out."

  "So he is a dentist," I said triumphantly.

  "No," she said. "I'm not going to actually use twilight, but the effect will be similar. You'll be loopy enough not to cause any trouble or remember where I've taken you. That should satisfy Oscar's concerns."

  "How do you guys get pizza delivered?" I asked.

  She laughed a tinkling laugh. "Oscar would never allow pizza at headquarters. The sauce gets everywhere. You know how he is with mess."

  "You've basically revealed his greatest weakness. If I ever need to immobilize him, all I need to do is vomit before I leave his office."

  She laughed again. I didn't bother to tell her I wasn't joking.

  Since I wasn't able to yell at Oscar until the appointed time, I decided to vent my frustrations elsewhere. I called my whipping boy, Flynn, and asked him to meet me at the warehouse for a quick sparring session. He was only too happy to oblige.

  "So where's Half Pint?" Flynn asked, once we were opposite each other on the concrete floor of the empty warehouse.

  I dodged a blow to my left shoulder and spun away. "Don't ever let her hear you call her that. She'll incinerate you."

  "If she could incinerate people, she'd have been chosen for the games," Flynn said.

  My expression darkened.

  "Don't go there, Flynn," Farah advised from the sidelines. A bag of weapons from the armory rested at her feet. She insisted on attending as many of our sessions as she could, probably because she was afraid of what Flynn and I would do to each other if we were left alone. Her fears were not unfounded.

  "It's not a safe topic," I said.

  Flynn stopped mid-shift so that his bottom half was mist but his finely sculpted top half was still human. He looked like the stereotypical genie emerging from the bottle.

  "Wait, she's been chosen?" he asked.

  I gave a crisp nod. I didn't want to discuss it.

  "Does she want to compete?" he asked. He must have sensed my mood because he returned his lower half to human form.

  "I think she's scared," I said. "I mean, she's eighteen. She's only scraping the surface of her powers."

  "Why select her?" Flynn asked. "There must be other mages with more developed talents."

  "That's what I've been trying to figure out," I said. "She has amazing potential, but it's still in the development phase. The games could kill her."

  "Would anybody want her dead?” Farah asked as she bounced a spiked metal ball from one knee to the other like a soccer ball. "Somebody from the crime syndicate? She did leave their service to hang out with you."

  I shook my head. "O'Leary gave his blessing. Besides, the Dragon doesn't call the shots in the Enclave."

  "It's got to be someone within the Encla
ve then," Flynn said. "She's too young to have made many enemies outside her own group."

  "Someone's forgetting his childhood," I said wryly. I stared at the single jade dagger in my hand. "I miss the mate for this."

  Flynn flashed a lopsided grin and spread his arms wide. "He's right here, my blue diamond."

  Without warning, I chucked the dagger at his head. He ducked and swiveled effortlessly. Show-off.

  "If you weren't so careless flinging them at everyone who annoyed you, you'd still have two," he said.

  "Kieran Morrow was lasering people. To death. I'd hardly call that an annoyance."

  "You still have your Glock," Farah said, running to retrieve my dagger at the far end of the warehouse. She was like our own Wimbledon ball boy, only with bigger boobs.

  "Guns are a last resort," I said. "I'm more comfortable with something I don't need to shoot." I was most comfortable with my djinn powers, but those didn't appear to be forthcoming any time soon.

  Farah placed my dagger aside and picked up the same black yantok that Pinky had twirled around in the armory.

  "What about something like this? The yantoks can come in pairs."

  "Hey, if you want to hold something that comes in pairs..." Flynn began.

  "Pipe down, Flynn," I interrupted. I could already see where his puerile mind was headed.

  Farah tossed me the yantok and I caught it easily, whirling it from hip to hip.

  "It's nice and airy," I said, "but hard to conceal. Do you have any retractable ones?"

  Farah looked thoughtful. "Not at the moment. I can certainly get some, though. Do you want to stick with the black?"

  I raised the yantok and pointed it at Flynn's chest. "I really wish it had Kieran Morrow's laser capabilities."

  "Then it would be a lightsaber," Flynn said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Which would be pretty awesome, actually."

  Even Farah seemed excited by the prospect. "That's the kind of spell you should ask Pinky to do on them."

  "It's probably too sophisticated for her," I said. "She'd need to know a good binding spell, as well as have an excellent grasp of energy infusion."

  "Is there anyone else?" Farah asked. "Would Oscar do you a favor for helping out with the Paulette issue?"