To Kill A Warlock

  A wave of unease blew through me and I pulled away. He was my boss and as such, I shouldn’t be kissing him. He didn’t drop his arms from around my waist.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, flashing an embarrassed smile.

  I nodded. “I, um, I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”

  He laughed. “Good surprised or bad surprised?”

  “Good surprised.” I glanced away, trying to calm my frantic heart. “I just never thought you felt this way about me.”

  “I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

  I was spared the need to respond when the shrill ring of the phone interrupted. I lunged for it, breaking from Quillan’s embrace. “Huh-Hello?”

  “Dulce, it’s Sam. You’ve gotta get to Trey’s house now. I haven’t been able to reach Quillan…”

  “Trey?” Shock jolted me like a splash of cold water.

  “Quillan’s here,” I said.

  “Good. He needs to come too.”

  “Why, what’s going on?”

  She sighed as if it was too long a story to get into over the phone. “Just come over as fast as you can. I’ll explain when you get here.”

  “Okay, but tell me—is Trey…okay?”

  “Yes, just hurry.”

  I hung up and faced a puzzled Quillan. “Something’s wrong with Trey. Sam said we should go over there now.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. She just said we need to hurry.”

  He shook his head. “You’re off any cases, Dulce.”

  My mouth dropped open. “That’s not fair. What am I supposed to do, Quill?”

  “Wait here. I’ll take care of Trey.”

  “But—”

  “Relations Office orders, Dulce.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And what if the creature comes here while you’re gone? How will you feel then?”

  He looked like he was going to fight me about it but ended up laughing and shook his head. Then he pulled his keys from his pocket and started for the door. “How do you to talk me into these things?”

  I followed him outside to his black Ford F150 and got in before he changed his mind. Not that I thought he would—he never had in the past. But then, we’d never kissed in the past either. This kissing thing was really going to screw things up—I could see it already.

  “You look pissed off,” Quillan said and pulled into the street.

  I glanced out the window. “I’m just wondering where we…stand now.”

  “Where do you want us to stand?”

  Hmm, I wasn’t sure. I’d imagined kissing Quillan so many times but my daydreams hadn’t ever progressed past the kissing stage. “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me you don’t regret it.”

  I threw him a consoling smile, even though the verdict was still out over whether or not I regretted it. “Not at all, Boss.”

  He glanced at me and put his hand on my knee. “We’ll figure it out, Dulce.”

  Five minutes later, he pulled in front of a white stucco building with an unkempt front yard. Turning off the engine, he offered me a consoling smile before opening the door and jumping down. He started for the apartment building, me in tow.

  As soon as we reached the top step, a worried Sam burst from the door of the first apartment down the hall. “Good, you’re here.”

  Quillan disappeared inside Trey’s apartment. Sam held the door for me, distress evident in her frown lines.

  “What’s wrong with Trey?” I asked as she closed the door behind me. Trey’s apartment was dark—the thick curtains barring any sunlight. The furniture was mismatched and old—stuff even Good Will would throw away. The place smelled of stale beer and trash lined the floor like it had a right to be there. I glanced at the other side of the room and made out the shape of Trey lying prone atop a filthy sofa.

  Sam took a deep breath like she was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “He’s under a sleeping spell.” Then she took another breath. “I called him on the way home from work today to see how he was since he was still freaked out about that vision he had. But when I called, he didn’t answer. I decided to swing by and found him like this.”

  “He looks dead,” I started.

  “What vision?” Quillan asked.

  “Trey called me the other night because he’d seen a vision of Fabian’s murder. He knew it was a female creature and someone else was involved,” I said.

  “Why didn’t he tell me?” Quillan snapped.

  I shook my head. “I told him to, but he was really upset at the time. I guess he didn’t want you to think he was a wuss.”

  “I don’t care about that,” Quillan said, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I should’ve been told. It’s part of the case details. Dulcie, you should’ve told me.”

  I held up my hands. “Hey, I’m off the case, remember?”

  He frowned. “What else?”

  “He was worried that whoever was involved in Fabian’s murder would know he’d had the vision and would come after him.”

  Quillan nodded, like he was letting it all sink in. Then he turned to Sam. “Are you sure it isn’t worse than a sleeping spell?”

  Sam brushed her hair back from her face. “I did a couple divination spells on him. I know it’s a Sleeper; it’ll take me a while more to figure out what strain. Whoever did it is well-versed in magic”

  “Do you think it’s a witch?” Quillan asked.

  Sam shook her head. “I have no way of knowing. But I’d guess it was a witch, fairy, elf, warlock…someone with ready access to magic.”

  “None of that matters now, though,” I interrupted. “Can you break the spell?”

  “I’m going to need some supplies. Since Fabian’s is closed, I have to drive to Harmony tomorrow to get what I need, Quillan.” Even though it was a statement, there was a question in her tone.

  He nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “So, you can’t break it until tomorrow?” I asked.

  “No way I can do it tonight. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to break it tomorrow—depends on what I can find in Harmony.”

  “Will he be safe until then?” I asked, trying not to look at Trey. It was uncanny how dead he looked—it was like we were at his funeral and taking turns looking at the body. Only this funeral parlor reeked of old beer.

  “He’s fine. Think of him as Sleeping Beauty,” Sam said with a forced laugh. “But he shouldn’t stay here tonight. Who knows if the person or thing who did this might come back?”

  “He should stay with me,” I said. “Between Sam’s spell and the gremlins, my place would be like trying to bust into a military base.”

  “Wow, Dulce, you trying out for the Girl Scouts?” Sam asked.

  I shrugged. “Just trying to do my part.”

  Quillan nodded. “It’s a good idea, Dulce. I’ll get the big guy to your apartment.” Then he faced Sam. “As soon as we get Trey situated, I need to take your statement.”

  “Say hi to Lottie for me,” I said with a wink.

  ###

  Sam and Quillan took off twenty minutes later, leaving me alone with my comatose guest. We’d set Trey up on my couch and now he lay there with my blue blanket stretched out over him. I felt like I was living Weekend at Bernie’s or something.

  I glanced at Trey and not finding him in need of anything, returned my attention to my email inbox where I’d just opened three more rejection letters for Captain Slade. Big goddamit.

  The phone rang and I picked it up mindlessly, not even glancing at the caller ID. “Hello?”

  “Dulcie.”

  It was Knight.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Ah, just the person I wanted to talk to.”

  He chuckled flirtatiously. “Is that so?”

  I stood up and rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, jerkoff, I didn’t appreciate that stunt you pulled at the Relations Office to get me off the squad.”

  Total silence. “Hello? Are you still there?”

&
nbsp; “Too bad.”

  I sputtered. “You arrogant…”

  “It was for your own good.”

  “So now I have nothing to do all day, I’m not getting paid and I have two ugly gremlins running amok in my yard. I really got the short end of the stick on this one.”

  “Sorry about the pay thing, but it was necessary. And I didn’t order the gremlins, so I have no idea what that’s about.”

  “Oh, you didn’t order the gremlins? So, what I have like a secret admirer who sends me monsters instead of candies?”

  Knight laughed, pissing me off more. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe the Relations Office thought you needed them. I’ll check into it.”

  I sat down again and faced my inbox, the rejection notices staring back at me like they were laughing. Well, screw them. “Where the hell have you been?” I asked, wondering why I hadn’t heard from him in the last four days or so. I checked the caller ID, but the number wasn’t listed.

  “Before you answer, what’s your number?”

  He gave me the number and then added, “I’ve been running background reports on all the creatures in Splendor.”

  I sank back against my chair. Yeah, that would probably take a good three to four days. “Let me guess; was I in that batch of reports?” Knight chuckled again, and even though it annoyed me to admit it, it was damned sexy.

  “I ran a report on you before we ever met.”

  Great, that was comforting. “Well, I have news for you.”

  “Do tell.”

  I explained the Tad Jones and Guy Riley murders, how they each had something to do with the illegal potions trade and finally, the Trey situation.

  “Is your friend a good enough witch to break the spell?” Knight asked.

  “Yes, she is,” I snapped.

  “If she can’t, I could. She’s meeting you tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” I answered, rolling my eyes. Holy Hades, the man was arrogant.

  “Okay, I’ll meet you both at your place, then.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of involving Headquarters in your little secret case?” I asked, my tone thick.

  “If your friend is trustworthy, I’ll swear her to secrecy.”

  “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I didn’t wait for a response before I hung up.

  TEN

  Sam came to my apartment around midday, loaded with two shopping bags full of herbs, potions and other less appealing things like freeze dried bat wings, newt legs and sheep intestine. I watched her dump the contents of both bags onto my kitchen table and made a mental note to disinfect the area once she finished.

  “Dulce, can you get some bowls and spoons? We’re going to need to mix up a few different concoctions.”

  I nodded and threw open the cupboard doors. I gathered up three bowls—one small and orange, one Tupperware and one large blue one. All covered in a fine layer of dust.

  Just as I finished rinsing them off, the doorbell rang, announcing Knight’s arrival. “Can you get that, Sam?” I asked, holding up the orange bowl as if to say my hands were occupied. “Check the peephole first,” I added.

  She threw me a smile. “A little paranoid?”

  “Better to be paranoid than taken by surprise.”

  “Who is it?” she called and peered through the peephole. “Hello tall, dark and handsome.”

  “Knight Vander,” he answered.

  “Happy?” she asked as her hand rested on the knob.

  I just nodded.

  Sam threw open the door with a large smile. “Hi, I’m Sam.”

  I craned my neck as far as I could without actually moving from my position against the kitchen counter and watched Knight as he walked into the living room. He was dressed in dark jeans and a long sleeved black t-shirt. His hair looked freshly cut—the ends no longer curled up. His dark golden tan seemed to emit a light of its own.

  He extended his hand toward Sam. “Pleased to meet you, Sam.”

  Sam smiled and accepted his offered hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said in a soft voice.

  Knight turned and caught me staring at him like a lovesick schoolgirl. “Dulcie,” he said, a grin breaking across his handsome face.

  I muttered an unenthusiastic “hi” and busied myself with drying the bowls, which I’d already dried. I then retrieved two spoons and placed everything neatly on the kitchen table next to the hideous ingredients Sam had pulled from the shopping bags.

  Knight neared the table and examined everything as if he were a health inspector. Apparently satisfied, he turned his attention to Trey who still slept on the couch. Knight approached him and picked up his hand, checking his pulse.

  “He’s not dead,” I started but was interrupted by Sam, who turned toward me and mouthed: “he’s hot.”

  I just shook my head.

  “Should we get started?” Knight asked.

  Sam clapped her hands together like a cheerleader excited for the big game and took a step closer to him. “Well, I went to Harmony and got everything I could to break the spell.” She paused. “Are you a…witch too?”

  Knight shook his head. “No…”

  “He isn’t magical like us,” I blurted, then immediately wished I hadn’t sounded all of thirteen. Knight grinned, apparently taking no offense to my Tourette’s Syndrome moment.

  “No, I’m not magical but I can tell whether something might break the spell on your friend. I thought I might be able to help you pick the right anti-potion.”

  “Okay, sure. If you don’t mind my asking, what are you?” Sam asked.

  “I’m a Loki.”

  Sam’s confusion was evident by her vacant expression.

  “He’s from the Netherworld,” I said. They don’t have Lokis here.”

  Was Lokis even the plural? Lokae? Knight didn’t correct me, so I just went with it.

  “Oh,” Sam said, trying to quell her surprise. I knew she was bursting to ask him a million questions but, knowing Sam, she wanted to be polite. That, or she was intimidated by Knight. Probably the latter.

  “What have you got?” Knight asked, facing the table with his arms crossed against his broad chest.

  “I’ve got every herb you can think of. And I picked up a white tincture, an erasing potion and a PH 3 potion.”

  Knight nodded like he understood what she was talking about. I couldn’t help but scoff—as if he knew! Although my magic allows me to create stuff with my fairy dust, I don’t know the first thing about potions. Unless you’re a witch or warlock, one who relies on creating magic rather than possessing magic, there’s really no reason to study potions. And Knight wasn’t a witch or warlock—he was a bullshitter.

  And I was going to call him on it. “What do those potions do?” I asked, then noticed Sam about to respond. “Knight?”

  He nodded at the challenge in my tone. “A white tincture will combat any colored potions and pull the strength from them, an erasing potion will erase whatever charm was put on your friend; and a PH 3 potion will negate any spells put on him by means of acid.”

  Sam smiled; I didn’t. “Well done. You know your witchcraft,” she said, beaming at him like he was her star pupil.

  I frowned and brought the bowls to Sam. She took them and handed one to Knight. “What do you think we should try first?” she asked him. “Maybe the tincture?”

  It didn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t ask me. But, hey, I didn’t feel sorry for myself.

  “You know this better than I do, Sam.” Knight responded, giving me a grin. Bastard.

  Sam laughed and started reaching for ingredients. Goddamn Knight for winning over my best friend.

  “Well, I’m thinking that maybe the white tincture might work best. That way we can find out if any colored spells were used on Trey. From there, we can probably just use the erasing potion to break down the potency of whatever’s left,” Sam said.

  “Sounds good to me,” Knight concurred.

  “Yeah, me too,” I added, though they mig
ht as well have spoken Aramaic.

  I leaned against the kitchen counter, thinking maybe I should go work on something else since I clearly wasn’t needed. Let the Bobsey Twins figure it out for themselves. Just as I was about to make my escape, Sam stopped me.

  “Dulce, can you boil some water please?”

  I nodded and watched her dump a quarter of the white tincture into the bowl. Then she broke off a piece of the bat’s wing, snapping it like a dried leaf. Yuck. She paused and glanced at me.

  “Here, take this.” She handed me a lemon.

  “What, are we making lemonade?”

  “Cut it in half and once the water comes to a boil, squeeze the lemon into the water. Make sure you don’t get any seeds in it, though.”

  I pulled out a knife and sliced the lemon in half. Then I pulled out the seeds. “What’s the lemon juice for?”

  “It pulls all the impurities from the water and air so they don’t taint my spell,” Sam answered. I’d been half hoping her star pupil would answer. I just liked the sound of his voice—like deep, rumbling thunder.

  “Oh,” I said and turned to watch the water boil.

  Meanwhile, Sam and Knight continued to work together on the spell, laughing and comparing spell notes as if they were in a college biology class and about to dissect a frog.

  The water started bubbling and grabbed my attention. I reached for the lemon half and squeezed it over the hissing water. The sharp scent of citrus wafted up in the steam. Is there a better smell than freshly squeezed lemon?

  “Okay, the water’s boiling and I squeezed the lemon. Now what?”

  Sam turned toward me, propping her hands on her hips. “Can you bring it here and carefully pour it in the bowl?” Then she faced Knight. “Would you get some of Trey’s hair?”

  “Sure, Dulcie where are your scissors?”

  I reached into my knife block and considered throwing them at him. Instead, I handed him the scissors. In return, he winked. Actually winked!

  The smug jerk walked over to Trey and cut off a good tuft of hair. Knight then handed the tuft of hair to Sam, who set it on the table.