Chapter Twenty-Seven

October 30

Waxing Gibbous

It was midnight by the time we made our way out of the city. The moon was at our back over Lake Erie, but in the rearview it loomed like a neon warning. Out here in the rural area east of the city, electric lights were scarce. The moon’s light cast the fields and wooded areas bordering the highway in an otherworldly silver glow.

Before we’d headed out, I’d called Baba again to ask her to stay with Danny. She didn’t ask why. She’d heard the tension in my tone. The promise of danger. “Watch your ass, Katie.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Now we were speeding away from Baba and Danny and safety. Inside the SUV, the air was heavy and thick with tension.

“Shadi, what did you find out about the winery?” Morales asked.

She was in the backseat with her laptop, pulling up everything she could from online city records. I sat beside her while Morales and Gardner took the front seats. Mez was dialed into the car through the phone speaker. The wiz was in a van behind us that would serve as the command post for the mission. Gardner decided the wiz needed to stay back while we went in so he could monitor all of the sensors and amulets we had strapped to our bodies.

“According to the real estate records,” Shadi said, “the place was foreclosed upon about ten years ago. A couple by the name of Daniels bought it three years back with the hopes of reviving the vineyards and restoring the buildings to serve as a bed-and-breakfast. They reopened eighteen months ago under the name Babylon Cellars.” She clicked a couple more times. “I just pulled up the website and it has a banner announcing the B and B is temporarily closed for the month of October.”

“Interesting,” I said, “considering this should be peak time for them with the grape harvest and all.”

“Question is did Dionysus kill them when he took over the place or brainwash them like he did the others?” I asked.

“Be ready for anything,” Gardner said, her tone tight as piano wire. To Morales, she said, “Your turn’s coming up.”

He leaned forward in the seat. The lights from the dashboard controls lit up the determination in his expression. A few moments later the car slowed. On the left a single-lane road veered off into a stand of trees. “You sure this is it?”

I tried to see down the dark throat, but the darkness was as impenetrable as a black hole.

Gardner nodded. “This will take us around the outer perimeter of the vineyard. We’ll be able to approach from the back of the building this way.”

“Everyone go ahead and engage their bio-monitors now,” Mez said. I turned and saw the headlights of the stopped van a few feet behind our vehicle. “I’ll go camp out toward the entrance of the winery and monitor you all from there.”

Turning back, I reached down and flipped the button on the monitor at my waist. About two inches round, the contraption sent a signal to Mez’s computers with my heart rate, temperature, and whatever other biorhythms he thought it necessary to watch. Using the pin that attached my badge to my wallet, I pricked my finger and milked a few drops from the skin. The instant I touched the amulet with my blood, it warmed and started glowing in my hand. The magic inside allowed the wiz to track us without the need for satellites. The blood also engaged the magical force field of sorts that helped dampen potion attacks. When I put the amulet back around my neck, it felt heavy, and my skin crawled like someone had walked over my grave. I hated the sizzle of magic on the skin, but I reminded myself that if I hadn’t agreed to this compromise, Gardner never would have let us move forward with the raid.

Pen’s voice nagged at me, ticking off yet another principle pushed aside in favor of duty. I pushed it aside ruthlessly. Refusing magical protection when I was about to face down a psychotic wizard was damned near suicidal.

“Everyone good?” Morales looked back. I nodded despite the nausea roiling in my gut. When we all confirmed we’d engaged our defensive items, he told Mez we were a go.

“I see everyone on the monitor,” Mez said through the speaker. “Happy hunting, guys. See you all in a few.”

With that, the van pulled out and continued down the highway. I watched the taillights recede like two red eyes in the distance.

“All right, everyone,” Gardner said. “Radio silence starting now.”

Morales cut the lights and turned into the dark. The lack of light and sound created a dark vacuum in the car. The visceral pressure built in my chest and head until I wanted to claw my skin off and run through the woods like a night thing.

I wasn’t sure if the journey took five minutes or fifty, but eventually a sliver of light up ahead signaled our exit from the tree tunnel. Morales pulled the SUV to a stop at the border between dark and dim light. Without speaking, we all exited the vehicle, bringing with us the tools of our trade: salt flares, S&P spray, hawthorn wood wands, potion bombs, and lots and lots of guns.

A wide field was the borderland between the woods and the first rows of vineyard. Grapevines snaked up wooden spikes in row after row after row. Far to our right, dim lights identified the winery’s main house. And straight ahead, over the tops of the vines, the moon danced off the serpentine waters of the Steel River.

Crouching low, I jogged toward the fruit-heavy vines. My heart trotted in time with my steps, and a fine sheen of sweat coated my skin despite the smoky autumn chill. Out here in the countryside, the air smelled of yawning earth preparing for a winter’s hibernation. The silence was broken only by the repetitive crack of my defensive wand against my cuffs and the creak of leather. Toads sang night songs along the riverbed, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuated the night with a question mark.

Gardner and Shadi ran into one row of vines, which would dump them out toward the right of the winery house. Morales motioned toward me to follow him down a left-facing row. This course would bring us almost directly to the back door of the building. As I entered the track, I pulled my Glock and prayed Mez’s detection amulets would warn us before we stumbled into a trap.

The uneven ground forced me to feel my way slowly across the terrain. Up ahead, Morales’s shoulders filled my vision, and their width was a reassuring sort of shadow, blocking my view of what was coming. But just like he trusted me to go forward with the raid, I trusted him to warn me of danger.

We were almost at the end of the row when his left fist came up. I halted immediately and listened. At first, my ears were buzzing too full of adrenaline to hear it. But soon the noise in my head was drowned out by the sound of a shouted argument from somewhere in the compound.

I glanced at Morales. He shrugged, but tightened his grip on his gun like he suspected a trap.

Just beyond the vines, a low fence separated us from the gravel yard surrounding the house. A large barn-like structure that I assumed was the place where the wine barrels were stored stood probably fifty yards from the old Victorian, and an open stable-turned-garage held a rusty old truck. I couldn’t tell which building the argument originated in, but I was pretty sure if we found the source, we’d find Dionysus.

I punched a button on my vest. “Chief, I smell trouble.”

“Roger that,” she replied in my ear. “Mez, you listening?”

“What’s up?” came the reply.

“We got indications of an altercation on the premises. Call BPD and have them send backup stat. If Eldritch denies the request, call in the tactical wizes from the sheriff’s office.”

“Got it.” With that the wizard clicked off to call in the cavalry.

“All right,” Gardner said to the rest of us. “Hang back until we have confirmation of backup. But keep an eye out for imminent threats.”

I wanted to argue with her that we needed to move now, but I knew better. Rushing in without confirmation of imminent danger to a civilian was a recipe for a shit show.

Morales pulled his binoculars from his vest and aimed them at the house. “All the windows are shaded.”

“Might be coming from the barn,” Shadi said through our ears.

Our earpieces crackled with Mez’s voice again. “No go, sir. Eldritch is shitting himself because a group of costumed demonstrators have started a riot outside city hall.”

“What about the tac wizes?”

“Bomb threat at the county jail.”

Doubts crept like vines over the instincts that convinced me Dionysus was at the vineyard. “Shit,” I said. “Maybe I was wrong.”

Morales opened his mouth to say something. But before he could, the unmistakable sound of a shotgun blast exploded.

“Holy shit,” Mez said. “Tell me you guys heard that.”

Gardner replied, “Get us backup now! I don’t care what you have to do. The rest of you, approach with extreme caution.”

“But, sir—” Shadi began.

“I don’t know if Dionysus is in there, but we can’t afford to ignore shots fired. Shadi and I will take the barn. Morales, Prospero, clear the house. Everyone watch your asses.”

Morales glanced at me and nodded.

I nodded back because I didn’t trust myself to speak. Once I heard that shot, my adrenaline spiked and my muscles twitched with the need to run toward trouble.

In the next instant Morales burst forward like a sprinter from a block. His large body moved with surprising agility, hurdling the wire fence with ease. I followed behind him, my own legs shorter and less graceful. But I managed to leap the fence without too much trouble. Landing on the other side, we crouched, ready for ambush. To my left I saw Gardner and Shadi clear the fence as well, and run, blending in with the shadows closer to the barn.

Morales waved me on, and together we ran toward the house. Lights illuminated rosemary bushes with their sharp green scent all around the perimeter of the house, but all of the lower-level windows were dark, like closed lids on sleepy eyes.

When we got to the back door, Morales walked up the two steps and carefully touched the knobs. My eyes scanned the grounds for movement. Except for the leaves waving on the large tree in the center of the courtyard, the place was still, almost as if holding its breath.

The door cracked open easily. I turned to Morales and pointed my gun forward to cover him as he rolled into the room. Darker here. The air hot and heavy, like someone had punched the thermostat too high. The coppery scent of blood like a slap.

The chunk-thunk of a racking shotgun. Instant adrenaline.

Me rolling left. Morales lunged right. Blinding flash. Booming assault to the eardrums. Wood and glass splintered over my head. Stinging skin, cold welling of blood. Deafening silence. Then—

Chunk-thunk-BOOM!

I don’t know where the second shot hit, but I knew it was only a matter of time before a bullet found my vulnerable fleshy parts. Scrambling on my belly, I crawled behind a chair. My heart pistoned in my chest. Thoughts scattered like buckshot.

Where’s Morales? Where’s the shooter? Can I get a clear shot? Can the shooter? Shit, this chair won’t protect me. Need to move. But where? Gun’s cocked. Don’t get shot, Kate, Don’t get shot, Kate, Don’t get shot, Kate.

I peeked around the edge of the armchair. A shadow moved near another doorway. Shooter reloading.

“MEA,” Morales shouted from the other side of the room. “Put down the gun.”

“You got a warrant, secret agent man?”

I frowned. The voice was female. Definitely not Dionysus. I remembered what Shadi said about the property belonging to the Daniels couple.

“Mrs. Daniels,” I called, “put down the gun before you get hurt.”

Chunk-thunk. “Maybe you should be taking your own advice, Detective Prospero.”

My stomach contracted. How the fuck did this chick know who I was? I scooted over to look around the chair to locate Morales. His eyes flashed like dark marbles where he crouched across the room. His brows rose as if to ask if I knew this woman. I shook my head to tell him no, shit was just a lot more serious than we expected. Because if this chick knew my name, chances were pretty good Dionysus did, too.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Mrs. Daniels continued, “you’re gonna lay down your weapons—all of them, and then we’re gonna go to a party.”

“What kind of party?” Morales asked. To me he made a motion with his hands. I nodded.

She made a dismissive sound with her lips. “A moon par—”

I burst up from my hiding space, yelling like a banshee. Time slowed. Mrs. Daniels’s face opened into shock. She spun toward me, raising that double-eyed monster high. My fingers tightened on my trigger. But before she or I could make good on our promises, a third weapon exploded from across the room.

The bullet hit her in the center of her neck. The impact forced her body into a death roll. The shotgun swept around. Her hand spasmed.

Boom!

The shotgun’s blast hit about three feet from Morales’s head.

Daniels’s body slumped to the floor. Blood gushed from her neck like a fountain. I jumped toward her, kicking the shotgun to the side. I bent down to check her pulse, but there wasn’t much left of her neck. Her cornflower-blue eyes were wide enough to see the Pearly Gates.

Two boots appeared in my peripheral. “You all right?” I asked without looking up. I couldn’t stop staring at those eyes. Those deep watery pools were glazing over, like a pond choked with algae—stagnant. Dead.

“I’m good,” Morales said above me. “How much you wanna bet Mr. Daniels is nearby?”

Something tickled the back of my mind. Some sensory memory. “Wait,” I said, “the blood.”

Morales made a pitying noise with his mouth. “Yeah that happens when you hit their carotid.”

I shook my head and stood, my eyes finally scanning the room as a whole instead of flashes of input from when we were being shot at. A ratty sofa under a pair of windows looking out on the courtyard. The chintz armchair I’d used for cover. In the corner, a small, warped wood table with an old gas lamp. A river-rock hearth and mantel with weathered pictures of proper ladies and dapper gentlemen in old-timey costumes. But no blood, except the rapidly spreading pool at our feet.

“Prospero? What’s going on in that head?”

I pulled my gaze from the photos and looked at him. “When we came in—before the first shot—I smelled blood.”

The skin between his brows puckered, and his eyes scanned the room. “You’re right. I forgot about it once the shotgun shouted hello.”

The sound of running footsteps outside had both of us reaching for our weapons again. But instead of Mr. Daniels or Dionysus, the rest of our team came through the door. “We heard more shots.” Gardner froze, her eyes on the corpse on the ground.

“Mrs. Daniels, I presume,” Shadi said.

“Did you find anyone in the barn?” I asked.

Gardner shook her head. “Wine barrels and potion ampoules, though.”

A timid sort of relief bloomed in my chest. If we’d been wrong about the connection between Dionysus and the winery, we would have had a lot of explaining to do about the rapidly cooling body at our feet and why we’d gone to the vineyard in the first place.

Our earpieces buzzed. Mez’s voice boomed in our ears. “What the fuck is going on in there?”

“We’re all good,” Gardner said. “Morales and Prospero took down a civilian with a shotgun. We’ll need the ME. Where’s my backup?”

“The bomb threat was a hoax, so Sheriff’s sending the tac wizes.”

“Shit,” I said. “If they were at the county jail, it’ll take them twenty minutes minimum.”

“Thanks, Mez.” Gardner looked around at all of our curious expressions. She sighed like she needed the oxygen to steel her resolve. “All right,” she continued, sounding older suddenly, “let’s clear this house. The husband’s around here somewhere.”

“Or his body is, anyway,” I said. “We smelled blood when we walked in.”

They nodded solemnly and split off toward the kitchen. To get there, they had to step over Mrs. Daniels’s body. Funny how now she seemed just another set piece, another prop in this drama.

Shadi went through the kitchen first. “Goddamn.”

We pushed through the doorway. The stink of dirty copper was stronger there.

The floor and walls were covered with Rorschach inkblots of blood. A gory butterfly. A sinister jack-o’-lantern with fangs. A melting clown’s face.

A fucking mess.

“Where’s the body?” Morales asked suddenly.

The room’s layout offered up two possibilities. To our right a set of stairs led to the second floor. There was blood on the stairs, but from where I stood it appeared to be more spatter instead of the smears that might indicate a dragged body.

To our left, a closed door probably led down to the basement. Blood on the door, more on the knob.

“Shadi and I go up,” Gardner said. “You two go down.”

We watched those two climb the steps before approaching the door.

Morales grabbed a dish towel from the sink and used it to turn the knob. He stayed out of the way in case there was a nasty surprise waiting for us on the other side. Only silence and inky darkness greeted us. A single, bare bulb hung above the risers, but I didn’t flip the switch because it would make us a target to anyone below. We’d have to rely on the glow from the kitchen that illuminated the first few steps down.

I stepped forward. “Cover me.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but a raised brow on my part convinced him to keep his argument to himself. I took up less space. Easier for me to plaster myself against the wall on the right side of the steps and make it past the meager pool of light to see what was waiting on the dark side.

I pulled air in through my nostrils, willing it to shoo away the wasps swarming in my stomach. One step, two.

My heart was a distant drum in my ears and competed with the rushing of air in, out and in, out and in, out. Three, four, five.

The shadows played tricks on my eyes. Was that really movement beyond the light or an illusion?

Step six brought me to the edge of the wall. Beyond that point, two thin rails sat on either side of the staircase. I knelt down, my knees popping in protest, and squinted into the cave-like area beyond.

It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust. Those few seconds were all my mind needed to offer up a highlight reel of horrors. Knowledge from deep in my marrow whispered in my ear: He’s down here.

The cold fist in my gut also told me there was a gun aimed at me. Inside that gun was a casing with my name engraved. And inside that casing was a bullet that wanted to make itself a home in my chest.

I squinted toward the center of the large basement. It took a moment before I saw the movement. Something swaying in the shadows. I raised my gun and pointed it at the… thing or person. “Put your hands up.”

No response, except for a slight creak and a constant drip, drip, dripping.

With a trembling right hand, I grabbed the pin light from the utility belt at my waist. I turned it on and pointed it in the same direction my gun was focused. It took a few seconds to realize what I was seeing. A pale, hairy arm, a naked torso, another hairy arm. Back and forth it swung like a pendulum.

I lowered the light’s aim, and the source of the dripping became clear: a large puddle of blood. I stuck the light between my teeth and groped for a switch with my right hand. Finally, my fingers found my goal and flipped the lever up. Another bare bulb in the center of the basement exploded into sudden brightness.

Pain behind my eyes. Confusion. Then… horror.

I grabbed the light from between my lips. “Morales.”

His footsteps pounded down the steps behind me. I kept my gun aimed for the body just in case Dionysus or someone else came barreling out of a hiding space.

“That sick fuck,” Morales said.

The body of a man who I assumed was Mr. Daniels hung from the rafters by a length of chain wrapped around his neck. The center of his chest was a gaping hole. That certainly explained the mess in the kitchen. But the gory wound wasn’t what had bile crawling up the back of my throat and Morales cussing.

The man’s penis and testicles hung from a length of rope around his neck. I’m no forensics expert, but judging from the copious blood and the visible clots where the penis used to be attached, the wound probably occurred before Daniels was shot.

“You think this was Dionysus or the wife?” I asked, recalling Mrs. Daniels’s shotgun.

Before Morales could answer, my eyes caught movement in the shadows. I swiveled my gun that direction, blowing out air to dispel the surge of adrenaline. A silhouette emerged from the dark corner and into the pool of light.

“Freeze!” Morales and I shouted in stereo.

His head was down at first and his hands were clasped submissively behind his neck. He wore a white tank top spattered red with blood, old-fashioned suspenders attached to frayed jeans. Cuffs rolled up at the ankles to expose combat boots smeared in more of Daniels’s blood. Two full sleeves of tattoos covering sinewy muscles.

He raised his head and hit me with the force of two fevered green eyes. The violence in that stare took my breath away even as it made cold sweat crawl over my skin.

The magic detector amulet on my vest went apeshit.

“Prospero? Morales?” Mez’s panicked voice came through the earpiece. His breath came out in loud bursts, like he was running. “What the fuck’s going on?”

I lifted my free hand to my vest to respond. A blast of magical energy shook the house. The sickening stench of ozone rolled through the air. I ducked, looking up at the dust flying down from the rafters.

“What the fuck was that?” Morales shouted.

“Your team found my little booby traps.”

My stomach did a death roll in my gut. I hit the button. “Mez?”

Silence.

“Shadi? Gardner? You guys, okay?”

Static was the only response.

“Fuck!” Morales gritted out.

I squeezed the gun so hard, my knuckles went white. “What did you do?”

“Relax, Kate,” he said. Hearing my name on his lips made me feel dizzy. “They’re alive. They’re just… sleeping.”

Morales took an aggressive step forward. “Do. Not. Move.”

Something around the eyes changed. A tightening.

“Now!” I projected, deepening my voice.

His whole body undulated, and his eyes fluttered. I realized he didn’t loathe being bossed around. He got off on it. I didn’t have time to be unsettled, so I used it to my advantage. This time I lowered my voice to give the order extra punch. “Do not disobey me, Scott.”

He sucked a deep breath, making his nostrils flare. His tongue darted out from his mouth. The shocking red of it contrasted against his beard in a way that reminded me of sex.

“I feel it, too,” he whispered.

Something in my stomach pitched. My hand tightened on the gun. “ON. YOUR. KNEES.”

This time he obeyed. His hands were still behind his head, but a smile hovered on his lips. With my right hand, I removed a set of lead cuffs from my back pocket. The weight was cold and heavy in my palms. The lead wouldn’t offer me much protection if he had a magical trick up his sleeve, but they’d hold his hands through almost anything.

“She’s going to cuff you now,” Morales said behind me. “You so much as breathe on her and I’ll make you bleed. Got it?”

The corner of McQueen’s mouth twisted up in anticipation. His eyes stayed on me, daring me to be nervous. He shouldn’t have looked so cocksure. I wasn’t nervous, I was pissed off.

I reached out to grab his hand. But before I saw it coming, he struck like a snake. With one hand he grabbed my wrist, pivoted, and with his other hand slammed a weapon against my jugular.

At first I thought it was a Mundane gun. That bullet with my name engraved. Time slowed and my life flared behind my eyes like a stop-motion montage.

Click. Baby Danny gumming my pinkie.

Click. Volos whispering that he loved me right before he took my virginity.

Click. Mom’s dead body laid out in a coffin.

Click. The day I earned my badge.

Click. The day I joined the task force.

Click. Morales screaming my name.

Boom!

I’d expected bigger pain. Total annihilation. Instead the pain was a sharp stab above my jugular.

My vision wavered.

Another loud snap. Morales grunted.

My knees buckled.

The world was a blur of red and sounds. I fell in slow motion. From the corner of my eye, I saw the dart gun in Dionysus’s hand. I tried to open my mouth, but no sound emerged. Pain exploded on my right side. My face smacked into the concrete. I gasped in a lungful of air but it wasn’t enough. My ribs felt too small, constricting my lungs. I opened my eyes and saw the puddle of blood from Daniels’s body a few inches from my face.

If the attack had happened on a random day my protection amulet would have absorbed the excess magical energy. But the moon’s erratic energy must have put the thing on the fritz. Besides, a potion delivered in the vein was twice as potent as one splashed on the skin.

My body twitched, helpless, on the floor. A shadow loomed over me. The warped sound of mad laughter. My limbs twitched and my left eyelid convulsed. I tried to work my lips to say… something, but it was no use. Whatever he’d hit me with left me totally short-circuited.

Dionysus knelt down. I saw his hand on my skin but couldn’t feel it. “Shh now,” he whispered. Up close his eyes were otherworldly and menacing. “Surrender, Kate.”

Somewhere in my panicked mind, I realized I couldn’t see Morales. A whimper reached my ears, and I recognized that it had come from my throat.

Dionysus grabbed my chin and jerked my head toward the base of the stairs. Morales’s body lay in an unmoving heap. Before I could register that my partner might be dead, a hand rose above me and came down hard.

I couldn’t even flinch in a vain attempt to avoid the hit. I didn’t feel the pain, but a split second later the watery image of Dionysus’s face wavered and dimmed. And then, there was nothing but black.