Bailey
My new puppy howled whenever he needed a pit stop, which earned him Perkette’s grudging tolerance. I searched around the SUV for evidence of divine busybodies influencing my puppy without luck.
“This makes no sense,” I announced while we waited for my puppy to finish his business and investigate the falling snow.
“What makes no sense? The entirety of your life?”
Ouch. “Not quite, but yes.” As the snow threatened to become a blizzard before we could escape the north, naming my new puppy after the weather seemed like a good idea to me. “Blizzard howls when he needs to go to the bathroom, and he’s angelic the rest of the time. Who dumps such a good puppy?”
“A complete and total asshole.” Perkette leaned against the SUV. “I’ll give you credit, Bailey. When you decide to do something, you do it. I’m not sure it’s possible for you to shower that puppy with more affection.”
“His name is Blizzard.”
“That’s a foreboding name. I don’t want to drive through a blizzard.”
“Neither do I,” I replied, waving my hand at the darkening sky and the thickening snow. “It seems probable.”
“True. Has your husband told you any big news lately?”
I scowled at the reminder. “He mentioned something about a job transfer. He told me when I called him about Blizzard. I’m trying not to think about it,” I admitted.
“Why not?”
“It sounded too good to be true. That means it probably is. He mentioned a salary.” I sighed and watched Blizzard sniff at the snow skirting the road, and he didn’t even pull at his leash. “What sort of job can I do that has a salary?”
“Police Chief of the NYPD, partnered with your husband.”
I dropped Blizzard’s leash, which Perkette stepped on before my puppy could make his escape. “What? Why would you even suggest that?”
For the past two months, the CDC had dumped me with the bomb squad, making me clean up explosives on top of my regular toxic substances. I still hadn’t gotten the courage to admit my job description had expanded disturbingly into law enforcement.
“The CDC transferred your contract to the NYPD. They opted to partner you with your husband. They’re renovating the eighth floor to give you an office. I have a spy feeding me intel. Sam’s been worrying himself sick over how you’ll react. He can be such a coward sometimes.”
“Repeat that to me in smaller words I can easily understand.”
“You’re so badass you’re now a cop.”
I could list a hundred reasons why making me a cop was a terrible idea, including my lack of training, abrasive personality, lackluster appearance, and tendency to destroy buildings. “Someone’s out of their fucking mind.”
“While our menfolk have been incoherently flailing, I did some research.”
Crap. When Perkette researched something, she emerged able to write a comprehensive and accurate book on the subject. Picking up Blizzard’s leash, I herded him to the rental, toweled the snow out of his fur, and clipped him to his seatbelt leash. “Whoever proposed this is a nitwit.”
“Your ex-boss.”
“Which one? My regional contract supervisor?” My regional contract supervisor changed once a month, sometimes once every other week. The position drove people to the brink of madness, and they tried to rotate it through qualified people so no one had to deal with me too much at one time.
Or so I liked to believe.
“The one in Washington.”
Marshal Clemmends. “I regret not shoving my marriage certificate down his throat and lighting him on fire.”
Perkette snickered and got behind the wheel, waiting for me to get settled in my seat and buckle up before starting the engine. “We all do. But being serious, it’s a smart move.”
“Before I call you out of your mind or batshit crazy, explain yourself.”
“No one will be able to touch your husband while you’re on guard. You’re practically indestructible unless you catch pneumonia or rabies.”
Damned rabies. “I’m a walking catastrophe, Perkette.”
“You’re also a one-woman bomb squad. Got a bomb? You can eat the explosives. I’ve watched the tests. You can disarm most bombs through eating the payload. You only run into trouble when they have sensitive detonators. Even then, shrapnel-based bombs tear you up a bit, but you heal like a champ, and you ignore the concussive burst. Even the shrapnel doesn’t hurt you that much. The assholes who shoot at you for screwing with their bombs have done more damage. The CDC has you playing on their bomb squads on live runs whenever the NYPD isn’t around to snitch on them to Sam.”
“Yeah. They don’t want Quinn to know about that,” I muttered. “He would not handle it well. At all.”
“I only know that because you needed my help learning how to read a bomb schematic. Look, Bailey. If it’s hazardous, you can handle it when a unicorn. You’ve been shot how many times now?”
I held up three fingers. The CDC had pulled out all the stops making the evidence disappear so Quinn wouldn’t catch on to what they were doing—and paying me to do. “They weren’t that bad. People get so offended when I eat their bombs for some reason.”
“Your Sam is a lot of things, but he isn’t indestructible. You know the rules and regs as well as most cops. You’ve been on crime scenes plenty, so you’re familiar with basic procedure. Your record is so clean it squeaks when you rub it. Add in your budgeting brilliance, and they’d be stupid not to want you. With you, they get a motivated bodyguard, a bomb squad, and emergency transportation. The puppy he got you is probably a police dog in training or a reject.”
“Neither Sunny nor Blizzard are rejects.”
“You got Blizzard out of a dumpster.”
“This is me not caring.”
“In good news, you’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would.”
“Salary,” I blurted.
“What?”
“For the first time in my adult life, I’ll have a salary.”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about? Having a salary?”
“I figured hoping for stable hours would be asking for too much.”
Perkette laughed. “You never fail to amaze me, Bailey.”
“I don’t know how to be a cop,” I whispered.
“Sam barely did, either. Now look at him. You’re a quick study. You’ll figure it out. Just think about it this way. You get more free education. I swear, if you thought you could get away with it, you’d be a lot like me, learning everything you could just because you can.”
“I think I’ve had my fill of free education after all that bomb squad training. Quinn doesn’t know I’ve been a bomb squad gopher for the CDC. Please don’t tell him. He’ll freak out.”
“He’s going to find out, probably around the same time the CDC clues in they sent their living cleanup crew to the NYPD permanently. In good news? Your ex-boss is going to get into a lot of shit for losing an important asset to the NYPD.”
“He’s basically at the top of the chain, Perkette.”
“The politicians will eat him alive.”
“Why would they even care?”
“Could you have some limits to your self-esteem issues, please?”
“I’m being realistic here. Clemmends won’t even get a slap on the wrist for getting rid of me.”
“He most certainly will the next time there’s a major incident.”
I scowled. “I’ve had my fill of major incidents for a lifetime.”
“Me, too. Fine. You’ll figure it out on your own eventually. I’m sick of driving through the snow. Develop magic that can fix this travesty.”
“I will transform and poke you with my horn so you drive faster and complain less.”
“It’s rare I say this, but your threats don’t actually need any work.”
“I’m so glad I’ve earned your approval.”
“Your sarcasm is in good form, too.”
“Perkette, you’re being evil again.”
“I’ll feed you some good napalm later. I have a recipe, and it only takes twenty minutes to make.”
It occurred to me that adding a puppy to the mix ruined our plans to gallop across half the country. “I made a mess of our plan. I can’t carry a rider and a puppy, and Blizzard can’t run that far. He’s just a puppy.”
“Bailey, our plan had the general coherency of two drunks on a pixie dust high. Don’t worry about it. Just tell your man we’re going to the zoo to see if they have any lions or tigers up for adoption.”
“We’re not adopting a lion or tiger.”
“You adopted a rabid puppy from a dumpster. A lion or tiger could happen.”
“If I find a stray lion or tiger in a dumpster, I may change my mind,” I admitted. “Or a panther, cheetah, leopard, or cougar. How about a lynx or bobcat? They’re kinda cute.”
Perkette giggled. “Let’s make this trip fun.”
“No.” Fun, in Perkette’s twisted world, landed me into trouble.
“Don’t be a spoilsport. You need some fun in your life.”
“We ran away because I was having too much fun.”
“Wrong type of fun.”
“Perkette, will you please be serious?”
“I am! You’re a wayfinder. Use your magic to find the next little one destined to be adopted into your family.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“What do you mean by that? Of course it works that way.”
“Specific people, places, or things only.”
“That’s a pretty shitty limitation. What happens if you try for something unspecific?”
“Nothing happens.”
“So there’s no harm in trying, right?”
I sighed. Giving in to the inevitable would make my life easier. It wouldn’t work, so what was the harm in indulging her? “Fine. I’m going to need a map, ink, some chalk, and a piece of paper. But don’t complain later when nothing happens. I warned you.”
Quinn
When asked what they wanted to eat, Beauty and Sylvester stared at me with wide, hopeful eyes. I braced for the horror my life would become with their next words.
Gorgons could eat just about anything, and whelps often took their dietary adventurism to extremes.
“Nuggets?” they whispered in unison.
Somehow, I’d won the lottery of life.
“McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Burger King, or from somewhere else?”
The happy squeals in the back of the vehicle implied I’d mentioned their fast food joint of choice. It took several minutes for the whelps to calm down enough to tell me they’d do anything for McDonald’s. Bailey would adore scheming with them for extra chances to eat all the nuggets she wanted, too. “McDonald’s it is. All I ask is you take your time eating so you don’t get sick.”
If they’d been raised like most gorgons, they’d view my word as law, a painful enough thing to watch despite knowing their training was necessary. Gorgons who endangered humans rarely lived long lives. I’d have to enforce their obedient behavior, something Bailey would protest until I reminded her they needed to be disciplined if they wanted to survive through adulthood.
Then I’d have my hands full reining Bailey in, as she often struggled with the basic concept of moderation.
At McDonald’s, Beauty seized my hand and attempted to meld with my leg while Sylvester latched onto the one being no sane mortal would test: his namesake. As angels loved children even more than gorgons, the whelp would be safe enough in his care.
Two joy-induced meltdowns and sixty nuggets later, I carried a sleeping Beauty to the SUV while my angelic grandfather coaxed her brother to walk under his own steam.
“I can’t believe you fed them thirty nuggets each,” my gorgon grandfather complained, helping to settle Sylvester in and buckling his belt. “Have you considered calling Bailey and asking her to come home?”
“You know I won’t do that. You also know why.”
“I do, but I felt the need to remind you that it’s a possibility. What do you want from us in the meantime?”
“I don’t think a father who’d lost so much would risk his children like this.” Like his sister, Sylvester passed out, and I sighed. “Find their father. If needed, I’ll prepare Bailey for an adoption match.”
My angelic grandfather’s sigh didn’t bode well. “Some mysteries shouldn’t remain hidden in the dark. For their sake. You won’t find him.” The finality of his words made me wince. Angels couldn’t lie, and when he said I wouldn’t be finding their father, he meant it. I presumed it mean the gorgon had perished and his body had been destroyed.
The last thing I needed was another potent batch of gorgon dust making a mess of things, but I’d anticipate and expect it.
Gorgon males who disappeared without a trace usually ended up in a vat to become a batch of gorgon dust for some idiot’s ambitions.
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It’s not. I’m sorry. The how and why is the mystery you must solve, but there is no future with their father in it. I’m not permitted to look any further into the matter than that.”
God worked in mysterious ways, as did His angels. “Per His will?”
“Per His will. He permitted me this much. Otherwise, I’d complain.”
My incubus grandfather snickered. “He hates the whining.”
How had my gorgon grandfather become a bastion of sanity? “Can you handle the legal matters for me and register Bailey as the primary match participant with me as her backup and partner?”
“You plan on fighting dirty for them, I see.”
“They deserve only the best, and that’s all Bailey knows how to do.”
“While true, you as her partner sends an odd message.”
“Does it? She rules my roost, and I’m okay with that. It’s not my fault most gorgons have no real appreciation of a good woman. And Bailey, in case you were unaware, is the best of women.”
“She’s a walking disaster, little grandson. She’s everything you need in a bride, but that doesn’t change that she’s a living, breathing, walking disaster waiting to happen. What sort of disaster will she create next? That’s the real question.”
“I wouldn’t say she creates them,” I protested.
“Samuel.”
I sighed. “They just happen around her.”
“She brought phoenixes to a gorgon fight and won.”
“It’s really not her fault the feathers became phoenixes.”
“She planned on it.”
She would. “She loves babies, so all incidents of rabies don’t count.”
My angelic grandfather laughed. “I peeked into the past. Yes, her new puppy was rabid, no, she didn’t contract rabies rescuing him, and yes, she’s doing the treatment anyway. Expect some form of illness.”
My breath caught, and I shivered. “Her immune system is breaking down again?”
“It’s nothing her friend can’t handle, but she’ll be miserable for a while.”
Perkins sighed. “Tiffany has done so much damned medical research lately she could probably perform brain surgery and get away with it.”
“No.”
Everyone laughed at me, and my angelic grandfather ruffled my hair. “She won’t need anything that drastic. It’ll probably just be a cold.”
“The last time she had a cold, she hallucinated hungry spiders in her hospital room and kept begging me to feed them.” While her hallucinations had been hilarious, I had suffered from nightmares for weeks after, aware of how close to death Bailey had come. “You’re sure it’ll just be a cold?”
“Mostly.”
“You know she’ll get sick, but you don’t know the specifics?”
“Precisely.”
“Have I ever told you that angels are assholes?”
My grandfathers snickered.
“I’ve heard such a thing before.”
“Well, it’s worth repeating. Angels are assholes.”
Perkins sighed, claimed the front passenger seat, and shook his head. “If I mouthed off to an angel like that, I’d be exploring the afterlife right now. You? You mouth off to an angel, and he laughs.”
“There are perks to being the product of weird familial relations. They are few and far between, but they are there.” I did a second check of the kids and their belts before closing the SUV’s back door. “Is it a safe assumption you can’t help with the rabies situation?”
“He has meddled enough in human affairs lately. When men try to make themselves into gods, men must deal with the consequences on their own.”
That didn’t sound good. “Are you being literal? Please tell me someone isn’t trying to become a god. Honestly? Being a police chief is a tough enough job. I don’t want to deal with anyone with divine aspirations.”
“No one sane does.”
Perkins rolled down his window. “Not to interrupt, but I’d like to remind you that the bible does imply that things like intentionally spreading plague and so on is technically His domain.”
“Not quite,” my angelic grandfather replied. “That thought is close enough to serve a purpose in this discussion. The children of the divine are expected to do such things. That is their nature. However, men without divine blood are incapable of handling such power. All it will do is destroy them.”
“Like ambrosia will.” I wished I could forget Bailey’s distant eyes whenever she was exposed to the divine essence. “Having divine ancestry isn’t a guarantee.”
My grandfathers laughed, and my angelic grandfather ruffled my hair again. “You think of your Bailey as always. She’s safer than even you, Little Samuel, and you carry the blood of many divines. No, don’t worry about her and ambrosia. When she dives into its golden depths, you’ll understand why men fear the children—or grandchildren, or even the most distant of children—of the divine.”
“I don’t find that at all comforting.”
“That’s because you are wise. We must go now, and we will take care of the legalities. They will not find this a comfort now, but their parents loved them very much. Remind them of this often.”
“I will,” I promised, wondering how I’d tell Beauty and Sylvester the truth. Would they understand what an angel’s word meant?
I’d find out soon enough.
Bailey
Before I even attempted to do the magical equivalent of looking for a needle in a haystack, I needed to have a few words with one Police Chief Samuel Leviticus Quinn. I asked Perkette to pull over so I could step out of the vehicle and have the illusion of privacy while I spoke to him. I dialed his number and waited for him to answer.
He didn’t, which meant he was likely driving. Tapping my foot, shivering in the cold, I waited.
Five freezing minutes later, my phone rang.
“Hey, Bailey. I was driving. How are you?”
I took a moment to enjoy Quinn’s voice before I grinned and replied, “Perkette’s trying to turn me into a bad girl, Mr. Police Chief Samuel Quinn.”
“You have my attention, Mrs. Police Chief Bailey Quinn.”
Before my talk with Perkette, I would’ve believed he was just playing over my use of his title. Knowing better, his clue amused me, a subtle warning of the sharp left turn my life was about to take. I had to give him credit. He was a sneaky, sneaky man when he wanted to be.
“Perkette has talked me into using my magic to attempt to locate you a kitten in a dumpster.”
My husband’s long-suffering sigh made me unreasonably happy. “Seriously, Bailey? You could just go to a shelter.”
“I’m not going to find the breed I want in a shelter.”
“Yet you believe you’re going to find one in a dumpster?”
“Well, that’s why I’m going to try and use my magic. If there is one in a dumpster, I’ll find it!”
“Along with another case of rabies,” he muttered.
In the background, I heard Perky laugh.
“I’ll try to avoid another case of rabies, but no promises. I can’t seem to resist rescuing rabid animals from dumpsters.”
Quinn sighed. “There’s a possibility someone is attempting to cause a major rabies outbreak. For my peace of mind, please get the largest bag of the best grade neutralizer you can get your hands on.”
Damn it. Worse, I agreed with him. A spike in rabies cases in New York City among the feral cat and dog populations could happen, but I’d rescued my puppy from Atlantic City, too far away for it to be part of the same group of stray animals. “I’ll do that. Will my new job let me put in the order, Mr. Police Chief Samuel Quinn?”
“Much to my relief, yes. You’re not losing any of your CDC certifications with your new employment. Plus you get that salary you’ve always wanted. Please get the bag as soon as you can, and if you could resist the lure of the next dumpster to catch your attention, I’d appreciate it.”
“No. I keep finding puppies and kittens in dumpsters. They need me to save them.”
“Bailey, you’re really going to contract rabies at this rate. You’re a handful without being rabid. Have mercy.”
“No!” I huffed. “Perkette said I could only adopt a kitten for you if I got it out of a dumpster and it met certain requirements.”
“All right. Hold on a moment. I need to step out of the car.” I heard a door shut, and snow crunched. “There’s an issue I need to talk to you about.”
My eyes widened, and I stiffened. “What’s wrong?”
“Remember Cadet John Winfield?”
I did. “From the 120 Wall Street incident? I thought about lighting him on fire and eating him.”
“He tried to sell you to a gorgon hive. Well, several hives. My cousin notified me. I went to speak to the hive today.”
Quinn dealt with threats from gorgons or other non-humans with violence, and if he had a legal option to indulge in violence in other circumstances, he would. He couldn’t tolerate unknown gorgon males coming anywhere near me.
It always ended in a fight Quinn won, and Quinn usually let the other male escape. Usually.
I narrowed my eyes. “Speak?”
He sighed. “Speak. The hive females were wiped out due to disease, and my guess is that it was rabies. They have two kids. When we arrived, the male wasn’t there. I asked Grandfather about it.”
“Sylvester?”
“Yes. Well, he opted to have a look for me.”
“And?”
“Dead or soon to be dead, and he says I won’t be finding the body. The kids hadn’t eaten for several days. They’re asleep in the car. I’ve registered you as the primary contender for adoption, and I’ll be your backup in the match. The girl’s name is Beauty. The boy’s name is Sylvester.”
I loved that the boy’s name was the same as Quinn’s angelic asshole of a grandfather. Then his words sank in, and I sucked in a breath. “You registered us for a match?”
Every time I’d shown interest, everyone had provided a long—and accurate—reason why it wasn’t a good idea, and it involved me shaming entire hives of gorgons and making more enemies.
“Technically, I’m registering you for a match. I’m going to watch unless you actually need me. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun. I’m going to give those gorgons a fair chance. You said I should be nice to other gorgons sometimes. This is me being nice.”
“It’ll be more fun if you help.”
He chuckled. “I’ll fight in a match or two so you can catch your breath. If you’re on your own, you’ll better show your determination. If we fight together, we’ll crush them so thoroughly we won’t be able to prove to the children how much we want them. It’ll be an unfair fight unless my grandfather goes up against us.”
I bounced on my toes. “Ask him to. I want to fight him. Please?”
“Bailey!”
“What? You won’t let me fight him when we visit him.”
“There’s a reason for that. He’s dangerous.”
I snorted. “I’m dangerous, too. I eat napalm and breathe fire. And I can run really fast.”
“You’re also banned from eating napalm for a reason.”
I smirked. “Perkette said—”
“No.”
“But she—”
“Absolutely not.”
My smirk widened to a grin. “Homemade—“
“No.”
“Delicious—“
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope.”
“Napalm,” I crowed.
“Don’t eat anything she gives you. She’s a mad scientist. Why did I trust a mad scientist with you? What have I done?”
Giggling, I stomped my feet to help keep myself warm. “If you don’t want me eating her latest fuel-based concoction made purely for my enjoyment, you better come apprehend me, Mr. Police Chief.”
“You just want me to catch you.”
“Yes, please.”
“I have two kids, a puppy, and Perkins in the SUV.”
I laughed until I hiccupped. “I’d say call me if you need any help with that, but I wouldn’t know what to tell you.”
“I’ll be fine. I have more grandparents than I know what to do with willing to help.”
In so many ways, I envied Quinn and his family. They were my family, too, when I could get beyond my wariness. “If my grandparents show up, petrify them.”
“Have you even met your grandparents?”
“Only the ones on my father’s side. They’re assholes. Petrify them.”
“If they threaten you or the kids, I will. I do have to keep it legal. So do you, so no napalm unless it’s a dire emergency.”
I still got a good laugh over how Quinn had managed to get them to overturn my ban on napalm to available in case of dire emergencies. The release of two phoenixes had something to do with the CDC’s willingness to give me napalm if truly needed.
A drunk unicorn on a napalm bender did a hell of a lot less damage than two phoenixes on the loose enjoying their first taste of freedom in their new lives.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Please be careful with Tiffany’s experiments.”
“I’d say I’m always careful, but I’m really not.”
“Limit your disasters to ones I can rescue you from, okay?”
Typical Quinn. “You’d have to catch me for that to be an option.”
“Already working on that. Are you having a good time?”
“Very, but I think Blizzard might actually be your puppy. He seems like the puppy of a big, manly police chief.”
Quinn chuckled. “I’m going to enjoy myself a great deal when I get my hands on you, Mrs. Bailey Quinn. Run all you want, but you can’t escape me.”
I’d gotten rather fond of the predator in Quinn, especially when he felt he had something to prove. The real winner of the chase would be me. The faster I ran, the more enthusiastic he would become.
“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m pretty good at slipping from your clutches. Can you really catch me?”
“Yes, I can. I’m merely being generous before I capture you.”
‘Capture’ in Quinn’s language might even include one of his ties, which he never wore to thwart my plans to see him in a suit. “Sure, sure. You say that now, but I don’t see you here stalking me.”
“When I catch you, I’ll enjoy listening to you admit how wrong you are. I like it when you beg.”
Whee. “Less talk, more chase. Drive safe, slowpoke!”
I hung up, did a little jig, and dove into the SUV. “Today is the best day.”
“I feel this is a good time to remind you that we went on this road trip because you married an incubus.”
“The faster I run, the better my reward. And damn straight I married my gorgon-incubus doohickey.”
“Did you just call your husband a doohickey?”
“I called him the world’s sexiest mutt once. It didn’t go over well,” I admitted.
“Poor Sam.”
“He looked like he wanted to cry when I called him the sex toy model.”
“You need to think before you speak just a little more.”
I bit my lip. “Was it bad when I said I might be the only woman in Queens who has no need for a battery operated boyfriend?”
“No, surprisingly, that one is okay. You stroked his ego—and I don’t want to know what else you were stroking.”
“One of his cobras, actually. Francisco.”
“You named his cobras?”
“Quinn hadn’t, so I did it for him. Francisco gets nippy without attention.”
“Has Francisco bitten you?”
“Several times. All those little bastards will nip if neglected.”
“You’re immune to them?”
I shrugged. “It stings a little.”
“You know what? Nevermind. You talked to Sam for quite a while. What’s up?”
“He registered us for an adoption match.”
Perkette’s brows shot up. “That’s one hell of a Christmas present. Sam’s notorious about avoiding them to spare the prides of the hopeful hives. He only let you two work the circuit for those unhatched whelps.”
“He registered me as the primary contender.”
She whistled. “I’ll just say congratulations in advance, Mom.”
“The females of the hive likely died of rabies. We’re challenging for a boy and a girl. Quinn said their dad is gone, too.”
“Rabies?”
“I’m worried, Tiffany.”
“I am, too. It’s one thing for it to be hitting the stray cats and dogs, but gorgons?”
“Quinn wants me to stock us with neutralizer. The best grade I can buy.”
“Put in the call and get as much as you can. We’ll do a supply run, look for a big cat kitten for Sam, and then do some investigating.”
“What investigating?”
“Of the source of the rabies, of course.”
“Are you mad?”
“Yes, I am. Two kids are orphaned now because of this. Enough is enough. Let’s put your magic to the test for the good of everyone. If this keeps going, it’s going to get out of hand. Let’s stop it before it gets to that point.”
“Okay. We’ll get the neutralizer first. With my luck, Quinn’s kitten will be rabid, too.”
“Good thought.”