Magic and Loss

Chapter 16

“Was he like that when you found him?” Lieutenant Viva asked, gesturing to the body, now hidden under a soiled tablecloth acting as a makeshift shroud.

“Yes. I mean, no,” Hexe replied with a shake of his head. “He was sitting upright when we arrived. He only fell onto the floor after I touched him. I just thought he was dead drunk not, you know, actually dead.”

“I see,” the PTU officer muttered as she jotted down notes, her badge dangling about her neck from a lanyard. Her long, vivid-red hair was worked into a French braid that hung all the way down to the base of her spine, and her scent—that of pink peppercorns and fresh cranberry—was a welcome respite from the sour reek of the Stagger Inn.

Once news that the PTU was on its way percolated through the tavern’s clientele, most of them had vacated the premises, leaving behind half-finished drinks and upended chairs, save for those too stupefied to either notice or care.

“Do you think it was murder?” I asked as I eyed a slightly built Kymeran with tangerine-colored hair inspecting what was left of Moot’s last drink.

“We’ll know for sure once our potion-master finishes his tests,” Viva replied. “Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out the old tosser simply rode the dragon one time too many—you know, mixing safflower oil capsules with absinthe,” she explained, upon seeing the look of confusion on my face. “Addicts claim it gives them the sensation of riding on the back of a battle-dragon—not that anyone really knows what that feels like anymore.”

“Lieutenant—? The absinthe tests positive for Green Death,” the potion-master announced grimly. “It’s a palytoxin made from a highly venomous form of coral. There was enough in his glass to kill him three times over.”

“Green Death was considered a relatively quick means of execution and an honorable death in ancient Kymera—there’s no known antidote,” Hexe explained. “The condemned were given a choice of either death in the arena or drinking it mixed with wine.”

“Is that bastet friend of yours still working for Dr. Mao?” Viva asked pointedly.

“Surely you don’t think Lukas had anything to do with this?” I gasped.

“I have to start my inquiries somewhere,” Viva replied with a shrug. “Your friend certainly had a reason to hate Moot—after all, he worked as Boss Marz’s hambler, mutilating the feet of the weres who fought in the pits, including his own. I’m sure it pissed him off that Marz’s case getting chucked out meant Moot would be back at work, sooner or later.”

“The same could be said of most of the half beasts and werefolk who were liberated from the Maladanti’s gladiator pens—including my mother’s footman, Elmer,” Hexe countered. “Moot had plenty of enemies in Golgotham.”

“True, but even a Stagger Inn regular would have noticed a minotaur in their midst. No, whoever did this had to be able to pass for Kymeran—or at least human. And doesn’t Lukas work in an apothecary—with access to all sorts of drugs and poisons? That gives him a lot of motive and plenty of means in my book.”

“You’re assuming this was murder and not suicide?”

“Green Death might be preferable to dying in the arena, but it’s not a pleasant way to go. You basically suffocate, while remaining conscious to the very end. As a psychic surgeon, Moot would have known that. And I never pegged him as one to suffer unduly,” Viva said wryly. “Now, Serenity, if you don’t mind telling me—what, exactly, was your reason for seeking out this man?”

Hexe shifted about uncomfortably, sliding his gauntleted hand into his coat pocket. “He was my surgeon.”

Lieutenant Viva raised a bright red eyebrow but said nothing.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking.” Hexe sighed. “But being the Heir Apparent and two dollars won’t get me a tall latte at the Devil’s Brew.”

“You let that butcher work on you?”

I turned to see Captain Horn, frowning in disgust, striding toward us.

“He was all I could afford,” Hexe replied stonily. “Beside, when he was sober—or close enough to it—Moot was still a skilled psychic surgeon. It was his indiscretion, not a lack of ability, that got his license to practice revoked.”

“The man sold organs to the black magic market!” Horn exclaimed, barely able to restrain his revulsion. “Hearts, livers, fetuses—!”

“I am well aware of that,” Hexe sighed. “However, I have come to believe Dr. Moot may have taken the rap in that case out of a sense of misplaced guilt.”

“He’s the one who stitched the Gauntlet of Nydd onto you? No need to look surprised—your mother told me all about it.”

“Yes,” Hexe replied hesitantly. “I sought him out today because I felt the gauntlet was in need of a slight . . . adjustment. When we arrived, we found him dead.”

“Son, I realize you have your pride,” Horn sighed wearily, “but if you needed money for something like that, you could have asked me. I would have fronted you the funds, no questions asked.”

“I don’t go to my mother for financial help,” Hexe replied stiffly, getting to his feet. “So why would I come to you? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere. Good evening, Captain.”

Once we were back on the street, I grabbed Hexe by the arm, forcing him to turn and face me. I was alarmed to see the same strange, cold cast to his eyes I first glimpsed when he tried to kill Gaza. “How can you speak to your own father like that?” I exclaimed. “He’s just worried about you, that’s all!”

“I’ve gone my entire life without his help,” Hexe replied stonily, yanking his arm free of my grasp. “And I don’t need him butting in now. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to try to track down Erys. I’ll see you at home.” With that he stalked off, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

I stared after him for a long moment, feeling as if I’d just walked into someone else’s life. I kept telling myself that Hexe was under an immense amount of stress. He had already undergone a life-altering event that would have shattered a lesser man, and was extremely worried about being able to not only provide for, but also protect, both me and our unborn child. Hexe’s entire professional life, not to mention his personal identity and sense of purpose, was tied up in his ability to work Right Hand magic. And now he had discovered, in the worst way possible, that not only was his talent corrupted, but that he had been tricked into going along with it. I realized I could never fully understand the turmoil he must be going through, no more than he could truly know what it was like to be pregnant—so perhaps the best I could hope to do was be there for him while he wrestled with the question of what to do next.

As I arrived at the house, I found Captain Horn sitting on the front stoop. “I handled that badly back there, didn’t I?” The PTU chief smiled sadly. “I always had this fantasy in my head about how it would be between us, once the truth was known—but the reality is that I don’t know how to be his father, and he doesn’t know how to be my son.” He sighed as he stood up. “It may be too late for me to be the father I always wanted to be, but it’s not too late to be a proper grandfather. Here, I want you to have this,” he said, pressing money into my hand. “It’s not much—but it’s the least I can do.”

“Cap, I can’t accept this. You know how Hexe feels about parental charity.”

“And I respect him for it. But the money isn’t for him or you—it’s for my grandchild.”

“Then you should put it in a college fund,” I said as I handed the cash back to him. “That’ll do more good in the long run.”

“Very well,” Horn sighed. “If that’s what you think is best. But I want you to promise me that you’ll call next time my son is desperate enough to resort to someone like Moot.”

“I promise, Cap,” I smiled, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, favoring me with a wink as he left. “And maybe, some day, you’ll get around to telling me what really happened to his hand.”

As I reached into my jacket for the keys to the door, my fingers brushed against something else. I pulled it from my pocket to see what it might be, and discovered a wad of cash suspiciously similar to the one I’d just handed back to Captain Horn. As I smiled and shook my head, I was reminded of how, back in college, my dad would surreptitiously slip money into my pocket whenever he and mom came to visit me at the dorm. And suddenly, just like that, I found myself missing my parents.

A knot bloomed in my throat and my eyes grew damp. However, before I could open the front door and escape into the privacy of the house for a good cry, an unwelcome voice called my name. I turned to see Boss Marz—nattily dressed as ever—standing on the sidewalk, with his familiar Bonzo riding his left shoulder and Gaza standing at his right.

“Good evening, Ms. Eresby!” the crime lord smiled, gesturing floridly with his ring-covered hand. “Lovely night for a stroll, isn’t it?”

“What do you want, Marz?” I snarled, trying to hide my discomfort at discovering the Maladanti at my doorstep.

“That’s Boss Marz to you, nump!” Gaza snapped, flexing his left hand as he spoke.

“Now, now!” Marz said as if chastising his lieutenant for using the wrong fork at table. “There’ll be time enough for that, later on. But to answer your question, Ms. Eresby, all I want to know is what you and Captain Horn were discussing so intently?”

“I wasn’t chatting about you kidnapping us and breaking Hexe’s hand, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” I said acidly.

“See? Was that so hard?” Marz’s lips pulled into a nasty smile. “As long as we understand one another, you have nothing to fear from me, Ms. Eresby. Such stress isn’t good for the baby, after all.”

“How do you know about that—?”

“A little bird told me,” Boss Marz replied, with an unpleasant glint in his eye. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ms. Eresby. If you can.”