My future held chaos, but not in the form of witnessed murders. Instead, I got a rain of frogs. The frogs, conjured by an idiot of a practitioner, would make the rest of my night interesting, as the incident took place in the hallway outside of my hotel room. An hour earlier, I had enjoyed the upgrade to a nice suite on the top floor so I could be next door to one Alec Mortan.
Now, I regretted everything, beginning with having told the Chiefs Quinn I’d be fine without constant monitoring and supervision. I also regretted having opted for late-evening room service.
Conjured frog slime did a great job of killing my appetite.
Alec regarded the frogs with a puzzled expression, nudging one of the amphibians with the toe of his shoe.
The frog attempted to bite him, but it failed to get a hold of him.
The practitioner, drugged or high as far as I could tell, sat in a sea of slime and giggled, his bloodshot eyes focusing on something new every other moment.
Great. Just what I needed: a drunk druggie hallucinating to go along with his conjuring act. Once I added in the swaying and some other symptoms, I suspected he taken a potent mix of narcotics, alcohol, and who-knew-what before playing with magic.
I inhaled, counted until ten, and exhaled. “Alec, if you don’t mind, please go into my room.”
Careful not to step on any of the hopping frogs, the man obeyed. “Any other time, I’d be flattered, Detective McMarin.” He sighed, nudging a frog out of the way before easing by me. “I’m sorry to have caused you all this trouble.”
Poor guy. “You’re no trouble,” I assured him. “I’d just rather be between you and that practitioner right now. He appears to be rather unstable.”
“Does it make me less of a man to admit I’d rather have you between me and him right now?”
“Considering I’m armed and you aren’t, it makes you quite sensible, really.” I dug my phone out of my pocket, wished I hadn’t investigated the odd noise outside of my door, and thumbed through the contacts until I found Officer Nilman’s number.
One day, the man might be able to head home, hopefully before his wife came back to town. I connected the call.
“Detective McMarin,” my new co-worker greeted. “How can I help you this fine evening?”
“As the Chief Quinns would surely panic if I contacted dispatch, I have a 10-10 N partnered with a rain of frogs, and I’m fairly sure the perp has mixed and matched his substances.” I eyed the frogs, some of which were brightly colored and screamed poisonous. “I’m not up-to-date on my amphibian identification, but some of these look like they dabbled with a box of crayons.”
“And Mr. Mortan?”
“He is currently in my room, where the potentially poisonous amphibians or their drugged and probably inebriated conjurer won’t get him. Send medical assistance for the practitioner, along with any antidotes, or whatever it is people use to prevent poisonous frogs from killing someone. I’d rather not add a tally to Mr. Mortan’s checklist. I have not engaged the probably hallucinating gentleman, who has settled into rocking and muttering to himself.”
Sometimes, my job as a cop was to stand and do nothing until someone qualified to handle the situation showed up, and outside of a rain of potentially poisonous frogs, he hadn’t harmed anyone. Yet.
Thanks to the late hour, no one else had come to investigate the amphibians, who protested their new environment in ribbits.
“What checklist?”
“Of witnessing 101 ways to die, of course. I suspect he’s up to his fifties by now, and I’d rather not he be able to add drug overdose or encounter with lethal frog to the tally.”
Behind me, Alec Mortan snorted a laugh. “That’s true isn’t it? That’s definitely one way to look at it. It’s been a unique experience. I shouldn’t be laughing about this, but my therapist would probably praise me because it beats generalized depression.”
Yes, a little laughter even in the face of something terrible generally beat generalized depression. “It’s unfortunately true. The first time I witnessed someone die while in the line of duty, I got a week with a therapist, and he suggested I add morbid humor as a stage of grief. I haven’t counted the ways yet, but it might make for one hell of an interesting autobiography. While slightly horrifying in a way, laughing at what I couldn’t change actually helped.” One of the bright colored frogs hopped in my direction, and I redirected it with my shoe, grateful I’d had the sense to put them back on before investigating the chaos outside of my door. “Nilman, just so you’re aware, there are literally hundreds or thousands of these frogs, and I don’t know if they were conjured or teleported in from somewhere else, and there are more species than I can shake a stick at.”
“I’ll make sure dispatch understands there might be endangered species in the lot,” he replied. “Please don’t lick any frogs.”
I blinked, took the phone away from my ear to confirm I’d dialed the right number, and once I had it back in its proper position, I asked, “Why would I lick a frog?”
“I just ask myself ‘What would Bailey do?’ and react accordingly. She would absolutely try to give a frog a kiss, especially when a cindercorn.”
Behind me, Alec snickered. “You don’t seem like the type to lick a frog, Detective.”
“Please just get someone here who can handle this mess, and I’ll hopefully keep the practitioner from falling over dead or adding to the chaos.”
“On it. Expect the cavalry within the next five to ten minutes with the CDC hot on their heels. Let’s just hope there aren’t any fatalities. If there aren’t any fatalities, we won’t have to notify the Quinns until later. Much later.”
“10-4. Call me back if there are any issues.” I hung up and settled in to defend my hotel room from frogs while I kept an eye on the perp, who needed more help than I could provide and a stint in an emergency room to detox him of whatever crap he’d taken before deciding to experiment with magic.
The practitioner fell over dead on me, and as I’d sworn an oath to serve and protect, I did my best to resuscitate him while waiting for emergency services to arrive.
Luck wasn’t with me—or with him.
Thanks to the frogs, numerous of which were deemed rather toxic to people in general, I got to enjoy a trip to the emergency room to make certain I wouldn’t join the practitioner in reaching a premature expiration. Alec insisted on accompanying me, even though my co-workers attempted to talk him out of it.
After the first thirty minutes, I appreciated his company.
“What do you think killed him?” Alec asked, and he eyed the monitoring equipment I was attached to with a frown.
“It’ll take a while for the toxicity reports to come back in, but judging from his behavior, a drug overdose in conjunction with poisoning from the frogs he’d summoned. Bad things happen when you mix various narcotics, and if he had alcohol on top of it, overdose and chemical reactions can happen in a hurry.”
Drug overdoses had taken the top spot for non-natural fatalities at my old precinct, with gun-based violence coming in a close second. Domestic violence tended to be the reason someone hit up the drugs or squeezed the trigger, but the underlying causes rarely made it into the reports that reached the public.
Heart disease and asthma reigned as the crowned champions of 911 calls resulting in death.
Too often, the asthma calls involved children.
“Is that why they stole a bunch of your blood?”
“Yep. They’re going to run every blood test known to man before letting me out of here. If I’m lucky, nobody will notify my boss.”
Someone knocked at the door, but before I had a chance to say a word, Mrs. Chief Quinn poked her head in.
“Speak of the Devil,” Alec stated in a wry tone.
“Don’t,” Bailey ordered. “If you do, he might show up.”
“Yes, I might,” an amused masculine voice stated from behind the woman.
Bailey squealed, spun around, and judging from the thumps in the hospital hallway, commenced with beating her target.
Mr. Chief Quinn came into the room, and he heaved a sigh. “Nilman called, because he knew if he didn’t, he’d have literal hell to pay in the morning. I’ll just apologize in advance.”
Alec’s brows furrowed. “Is… is that the actual Devil?”
“Yep. He’s also my uncle, and he almost always listens in whenever his name is invoked anywhere near Bailey. I’m sorry about them.” Samuel closed the door, eyed one of the chairs as though considering barricading it so the troublemakers would remain outside, and sighed again. “I’ve been updated on the rain of frogs, in case you are curious.”
“Actually, yes. I am. The toxicity reports won’t be back for a while, right?”
“I pulled in a favor from the CDC for access to one of their scanners, which was able to churn through most of the common narcotics. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t going to be anything you might need to be treated for due to secondary contact. Beyond the dart frog toxins, which is why you’re here under observation instead of enjoying your hotel room.” My boss eyed Alec with interest. “Thank you for keeping an eye on my cop, by the way.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m the cause of the whole problem,” he replied with a grimace.
Samuel went to the door, opened it, and said, “Hey, Lucy. Come here a second, please.”
Lucy? I frowned, but before I could ask, a tall, dark-skinned man with flaming hair, curved horns, and wearing a designer suit ducked into the room. At eight feet tall, he fit what I expected from the Devil, although nobody had warned me he rocked in the sex appeal department.
“My wife likes this look on me, and I’m trying to earn some spots,” the Devil informed me. “But thank you for the compliment.”
Well, that would leave me pondering the mysteries of the universe for at least a few nights. “You’re welcome.”
“You got a sturdy one this time, Sam. You should keep her.”
“That’s the idea. I stole her from a precinct in Long Island after she got passed over for promotion for several years despite her obvious qualifications. I have to start her as third grade, but I expect she’ll move up at the minimum allowed promotion rates.” My chief grabbed a seat, sat, and propped his feet up on my bed. “Word on the wire is your wife really wants to babysit cindercorn foals again, and she wants the really young ones, so you’re just going to have to bargain with me to get what she wants.”
The Devil laughed. “All right. What do you want now?”
“No deals!” Bailey complained, coming into the room and placing her hands on her hips before stomping her foot.
“You’re getting a babysitter for the next batch of Quinns out of the deal,” he replied.
She spent a few minutes thinking about it before she relented with a nod. “But do I get his wife? I only want the premium babysitters, and that means him or his wife. The rest are pushovers.”
The Devil laughed. “She’d take over my many hells if I gave her a chance and a reason.”
“She really would. Here’s the problem. This is Alec Mortan, and there’s no way one human could have the infernally bad luck as to witness so many murders, accidents leading to death, and otherwise unexpected deaths as he has without some form of magic being involved. While I understand you may not be able to solve the mystery for us, a clue or two would be appreciated.”
The Devil looked me over. “You should watch where you put your mouth, young lady.”
“I’ll start keeping the appropriate mouth guards in my purse or pocket,” I promised, rather dismayed over the number of times I’d been forced to perform CPR during the course of my career. “Usually I have one, but I was not expecting an incident outside of my hotel room.”
“I recommend you move them into the same hotel room, as this will limit the amount of anxiety your cop will experience rather significantly. It won’t change the number of incidents, but she’ll appreciate her ability to be able to act when they happen.”
“How much is this advice going to cost me?” Sam asked.
“I get the foals tomorrow.”
“Take them, and take the other kids with you. You can even take the doohickeys out for a jaunt if you want for all I care. If you’re going to charge me in a day off from being hover dad, I’m not going to complain about this. Just try not to teach them too many bad habits.”
Bailey bobbed her head. “What he said. I’m too tired to hover mom, and I’m still trying to figure out why Beauty keeps puking pineapple.”
Sam shot the Devil a glare.
It amused me that the Lord of Lies held his hands up in surrender. “Beauty will be fine, and I will make certain there are no dietary issues while I’m watching the kids. My darling is brooding, and if I throw enough young things at her, it tames the beast.”
“So, can we have that clue or two?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I can give you a clue or two regarding your witness’s particularly foul luck.” The Devil stepped closer to Alec and held out his hand. “I’m Lucifer. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
To my amusement, Alec shook hands with the Devil without any evidence of discomfort. “It feels strange to say it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I’m not even lying about it.”
“You’ve been tempered, so my presence doesn’t bother you.”
“Tempered?” the Chief Quinns demanded.
“Yes. Once a mortal soul has witnessed hell on Earth sufficient times, it creates a tolerance. I could likely unshroud without him being at any risk, although his genetics play a part in that. I won’t, as your detective does not have that tolerance. We could bargain for that to change, as it might be useful for you to have a detective running around with the capability of withstanding the realities of my nature.”
I considered the past few days, which had included being sucker punched by an archangel. “The lack of an angel’s head is a shroud, then?”
“Precisely. To see the face of an angel is to see His face, which has an unfortunate tendency to destroy mortal souls, resulting in death. Mortals can be tempered to withstand such a sight, but it takes a great deal of work and some genetic alterations. Your companion has seen so much death in his life that he has flipped his gene marker, which is a gift from a very distant relative—one of the first instances of a divine having a child with a mortal. But that’s only part of the problem.”
“Okay.” I considered Alec, as it hadn’t occurred to me to do a genetic test on him, something we could do if there was a solid enough reason a judge would sign off on the appropriate warrant. “And you’re not a problem, by the way.”
The Devil chuckled. “Don’t mind her, Mr. Mortan. She’s one of those goody-goody cops who wants to make sure everyone is as happy as possible. It’ll only drive you a little crazy after a while.”
The Chief Quinns didn’t seem impressed with the Devil’s statement, and Bailey leveled a glare at him. “She’s my goody-goody cop. I teleported her twenty-two times, and she didn’t vomit.”
“I’m more impressed she didn’t die,” the Devil admitted. “But now I have a better understanding about why my favorite little cindercorn was making absurd chants in her head trying her best to get me to come over. You finally found a cop who can handle you at your worst and your best, and you were going to worry yourself sick over it.”
Bailey turned her back to the Devil and lifted her chin. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Just let her win, else she’ll try to hold visitation rights over your head until she gets you to do what she wants again. I don’t know why you taught her that trick. It bites you every time,” Samuel muttered, shaking his head. “I swear you like when she steps all over you.”
“I do. It took some careful cultivation to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Now she’s learning to be properly assertive without being embarrassed about it. You should be thanking me.”
Bailey turned and glared at the Devil. Her husband smirked.
“Should I be worried about having accidentally poisoned myself or been exposed to drugs through attempted CPR?” I asked.
“You were not poisoned or exposed to drugs. He took his cocktails via syringe, which will be discovered later, and he’d consumed the alcohol well in advance of his frog summoning incident. You had some minor exposure to dart frog toxin, but at most, you’ll develop a rash in the next few hours, and it won’t be uncomfortable for you. It’ll just be a skin discoloration. Mr. Mortan, on the other hand, would have suffered through an allergic reaction to their toxin, which would have ruined your evening severely, so you were wise to herd him into your hotel room away from the frogs.” The Devil engaged Bailey in a staring contest. “They’re natural frogs, transported from their native environment, so you can amuse yourself trying to identify where they came from and return them rather than continue your amusing attempts to concoct ways to make me suffer, should I fail to do what you want.”
“Damn it. I did not want to have to relocate those damned frogs!” Grabbing her phone, Bailey went into the hallway, presumably to make a call regarding the amphibian infestation plaguing the hotel.
“Now that she’ll be occupied for at least twenty minutes, that leaves us with the problem of your current mystery.”
“I’d settle with the knowledge it’s not a serial killer,” Samuel admitted.
“It’s not a serial killer,” the Devil announced.
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell us what it is, will you?”
The Devil’s sly smile worried me. “It’s a curse, and it’s not one of my little cupcake’s makings, fortunately for you. The who, where, when, and why are your problem, Detective McMarin.”
Ah. The archangel’s demand I investigate Alec Mortan made a great deal more sense when framed by the existence of a curse targeting the poor man. “Will this curse try to kill him?”
“No. He’s at no risk from the curse beyond the understandable trauma from facing death so many times. It’s quite unhealthy, really. But, for your safety, I recommend you use these.” Stealing Samuel’s handcuffs, he held them up. “The curse will not bother you if you’re connected to him directly, but I recommend against taking him to the station for any lengthy period of time. It wouldn’t end well for your new toys.”
“Knowing how much those toys cost, I’m officially banning you from the station until further notice,” Samuel Quinn announced. “But you can have a laptop in the meantime. I’ll have one brought over for you. Laptops are cheaper than those toys Bailey made me get you.”
With a snicker, the Devil handed me the handcuffs. “Oh, and once on, they’ll only come off when you’re changing or removing your clothes, and during that time, you’ll get a more magical ball and chain making sure you two stay sufficiently close enough to mitigate the curse—for the most part.”
The Devil’s smile worried me even more than the realization I’d be handcuffed to Alec Mortan for an unknown period of time. “For the most part?”
“You’ll see,” the Devil promised before he teleported away.
Samuel sighed. “Well, it could be worse.”
“How?” Alec blurted.
“He’s letting you change your clothes. Trust me when I say you’re going to be grateful for that after a day or two. I’ve learned one thing about my uncle since he came storming into my life to stay: when he gives a warning or recommendation to a mortal, it’s a damned good idea to listen to him. He might be called the Lord of Lies, but he uses the truth as his ultimate weapon. I’ll see about getting you out of here, McMarin. In the meantime, decide which hand you want cuffed—and I’ll find something to wrap those in so you’re at least somewhat comfortable.”
Alec turned to me and said, “He’s serious, isn’t he?”
I stared down at the cuffs in my hand. “This is some form of revenge for rejecting an incubus, isn’t it?”
“The only difference between revenge and a reward is if you like it, Detective McMarin,” my boss announced before leaving the room. “I’ll go see about your discharge while you decide your fate. Choose wisely.”