A Criminal Magic

Frain pops a nervous laugh. “A hell of a win,” he says. “I’ll wait for your call, and be ready to move in. And Christ, well done, Alex.”


“Thank you, sir.”

I hang up, regroup. This will work out. And you have done well. Don’t forget that.

And I try not to. I imagine the day I can let my mother know what I’ve really been up to these past few months, see the relief—the pride—wash over her face. I picture the headlines that will scream that the Unit has managed a huge score, that the city’s been rendered safer because of our operation. I try to focus on the deck I’ve stacked for Agent Frain, on the winning hand I’ve dealt to the Unit—

Instead of the one card I’ve tucked under my sleeve.





PART FOUR


   THE SHINE





TIES THAT BIND


JOAN


It’s been two nights and three days since I’ve talked to Alex. First thing Monday morning, he and the troupe were funneled into the VIP lounge, tasked with the job of brewing sorcerer’s shine again and again, so that Gunn has his shipment of fifty gallons by Thursday—and the troupe isn’t allowed to leave until it’s done. Me? I’m in Gunn’s office, toggling between thinking through the logistics of bottling and transporting the shine, and sealing each and every quart-sized bottle. Which means sacrificing far more than any one person should have to sacrifice to a spell.

But Gunn wants me, and only me, handling the caging spells for this shipment. He says now’s not the time to be training and opening ourselves up to mistakes. He also says I should stay back here alone to rest in between. So that my focus isn’t compromised. So I can keep my stalwart heart. But after that night he came to my room, it’s obvious—I think to both of us—that he’s got other concerns with my heart. Him calling on me in the throes of his shine-high, me standing up to him, at least in a way I never have before: it’s like an elephant in his office (that of course neither of us has addressed) and just adds one more dreaded question mark to how all this is going to play out.

Stock, and the troupe, their rumors and whispers—they were right all along.

My mind drifts again to the troupe, and what they’re talking about in there. I wonder if Alex has mentioned me, if the troupe is poisoning him with more rumors about me and Gunn. I want to see Alex, talk to him, the way we ended things leaving my stomach twisted in an ever-tightening, delicious knot. Hell, I want to see all of them, especially Grace. Apologize for how I refused to trust her, or let her in—

“Joan,” Gunn interrupts my thoughts, “your take?”

I look up from my self-induced stupor to find Gunn across his desk, and Win Matthews on my right side, staring at me.

“We’re talking about realistic shipments, Joan,” Gunn says evenly.

“I know, I’m following, sir.”

Gunn leans across his desk, and his leather chair squeaks in protest. “You told me you deserved to be a partner for your efforts. If so, your place is here with us, thinking big picture.” He looks at me, head cocked, eyes narrowing slightly. “But maybe you were wrong.”

I shake my head. “No, sir, I can do this. I’m sorry, I think the blood-spell is taking its toll.” But it’s not the magic that has a hold on me. Alex has been on my mind for three days straight, and I’m starting to think I’m never going to kick the addiction.

“Are we on target for tomorrow night?” Gunn turns his focus to Win.

Win looks at the paper of scribbles in front of him. “Since you closed the Den till Friday, we’ve now got all six sorcerers brewing around the clock. So if each of them brew twelve ounces a trick to ensure the optimal high, and can manage four tricks an hour, give or take, twelve-hour days . . .”

Gunn writes the calculations into his own notebook, pauses. “Oh, we’ll be more than ready.” His smile breaks open wide, and he and Win start laughing. They’re beyond excited. They’re electrified. And understandably so. We’ll be rolling in cash by the end of the week, and based on what Gunn said at the demonstration on Sunday, it sounds like money is just going to keep pouring into the Den. I should be laughing too—this means even more opportunity, a chance to give my family everything.

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