Chapter 30

Had I been facing a cadre of hungry vamps or an Eishei Kodesh with a grudge in the morning, I’d have caved to Ezra’s persuasive ways and spent Monday night with him. But I had to be at my sharpest to deal with Dr. Olsen and Dmitri, even via video call, and that wouldn’t happen on no sleep.

“We’ll sleep,” Ezra insisted.

I leveled a flat stare at him.

“We’ll nap soundly,” he said.

Down on the Hell floor, beneath our balcony, a vamp overturned tables with a roar, having lost his fangs in a forfeit, and three drunk Eishei Kodesh came to blows over accusations of cheating.

Li’l Hellions swarmed the troublemakers.

“Play your cards right and we’ll spend the night together after our dinner date,” I said. “It’ll give you something to look forward to.” I pointed downstairs. “A little excitement in your otherwise dull life.”

Someone knocked on the door to Ezra’s suite.

“Do I get a goodbye bite?” I wasn’t addicted to it, but I wasn’t addicted to sugar and there were times I polished off a party-sized bag of M two felt excessive.

“Yes,” I said evenly. “I do.”

She briskly brushed her hands together, discharging crumbs. “I was aware of the Supernatural: Debunked exhibit for months. Maccabees were interested in whether the artifacts were magic, but I trusted the experts who verified they were inert. Their reputations were excellent.”

This wasn’t quite the direction I’d intended for this conversation, but I was curious to discover what else Michael had known. “What made you question whether Sire’s Spark of all of them had magic? Was it because the artifacts were stolen?”

“It was because someone murdered Roman Whittaker in his cell.”

I choked on my swig of coffee. “You knew?”

“Obviously. Booker told me right after it happened, but he asked me to keep it quiet.” She frowned. “I wasn’t aware you were told.”

“Director Harrison shared it with Ezra, who was in London when it happened.”

Michael pursed her lips and nodded. “I see. Well, the other artifacts stolen from the gallery exhibit were reputed to be evil in some regard. Sire’s Spark was the only one that had great healing power. I understood someone wanting the other items, but why this one?”

“The others were a smoke screen?”

“Eat.” She pushed my zucchini walnut muffin at me. “You can’t take this meeting on an empty stomach. Let me back up. According to the legend, Abraham infused his powerful healing magic into the crystal, using it to achieve miracles, correct?”

“Yes.”

“He was a top level healer. What did he need a crystal for? That’s not how that magic works.”

“Abraham used his powers to turn the crystal into an injury detector at a time before medical imaging and X-rays and stuff.”

“Smart thinking,” she said, “but your reasoning is faulty. As a powerful healer, Abraham himself would detect a broken bone or a tumor. And supposedly anyone could use this crystal and it healed them? Even a Trad?” She shook her head. “We Yellow Flames can infuse our magic into ointments and smaller medical-assistance devices, but you can’t slap a crystal against your head and dissolve a brain aneurysm. It doesn’t work that way. The experts were right. There was no Eishei Kodesh magic on this crystal, but a gut instinct made me take it and find out the truth behind the myth.”

My eyes widened. “You stole evidence on a gut feeling?”

“Good thing I did too. Because I’ve figured it out.” She patted my knee. “You helped.”

“I’m not sure I want to be an accessory to this,” I muttered.

“You told me you found Maud using your blood and the crystal.”

“My human blood detected her half shedim side, perceiving it as an injury.”

“Not quite.” She raised her eyebrows at me.

I sighed, having no idea what she expected me to think.

In my head, Cherry flicked the inside of my skull.

“Oh shit,” I said. “It’s a shedim artifact. That blood detected Maud’s human blood as the wound? Wait, then why didn’t it make me sick immediately? And why was my reaction to the demon prison so horrible?”

“Blood calls to blood, Aviva. It’s not seeking out a wound. It’s demon magic illuminating demon magic, either in people or on items like the prison cells.”

“That means only shedim or half shedim can activate it.” I crumpled my napkin into a tight ball. The Authority couldn’t use Sire’s Spark and handing it over would have raised lethal questions about me. I’d dodged a bullet.

“That’s correct. Sire’s Spark wasn’t a smoke screen for the other stolen artifacts, the legend of Abraham himself was the smoke screen. I doubt he knew anything about the crystal.”

Great. I had my answers. Reasonable ones. I could use my remaining time before this meeting to ready myself to share the information about the shedim locks with the Authority. All righty. Going back to HQ now.

“So why steal Sire’s Spark?” I repeated. “Or at least tell me what you’d done?”

She swirled the dregs of coffee in her cup. “Gee, maybe because you were so upset about the missing blood, I was worried you’d try and get your hands on it and do something stupid that would get you hurt? Magic artifacts are dangerous and unpredictable.”

“It allowed me to detect the shedim magic on the padlock,” I said sulkily, “so there’s that.”

“Let’s see how this meeting goes before we take that win.”

“That wasn’t why though. You wanted to heal me. Admit it.”

My mother flinched. “Is that what you thought?” She reached for my hands, but stopped herself before making contact, and dropped her hands into her lap. “You can’t heal genetics.”

One of my favorite cartoons as a kid was one where Bugs Bunny spoofed the Barber of Seville opera. He plays a barber and Elmer Fudd is his client. At one point, Bugs rubs hair tonic on Elmer’s bald head and the man’s face lights up in translucent delight as the hair grows higher and thicker. Then it blooms into flowers and his face falls. He looks destroyed.

As a kid, I found this hilarious.

At my mother’s initial shock, I’d experienced that same spurt of hope, but with her matter-of-fact pronouncement about genetics, I understood the sorrow that swamped that deluded cartoon idiot.

“Genetics,” I said tightly.

“I have never wanted to heal you.” Her eye roll was worthy of the most melodramatic teenager.

“Then you just wanted me to hide. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”

“I was keeping you safe. From the Authority. From Sector A. The world isn’t ready?—”

“You think any of that mattered to me when I was a kid? Not that you ever explained that. No, all you did was reinforce that I was flawed and broken. A dirty secret.”

A woman rocking her baby back and forth in its stroller a couple of tables over glared at me.

“This is not the time or place, Aviva.” Michael’s face hardened into her professional mask.

I lowered my voice. “It never is. I’ll grant you that the skills you taught me were valuable and I agree that the world isn’t ready for me yet, but you’re my mother.”

“You expected some kind of preferential treatment?” She slashed her hand through the air like she was zeroing out the very idea. “I’m sorry, Aviva, but I’ve dedicated my life to rooting out corruption and I wasn’t about to make an exception, even for?—”

“Oh my God. Are you deliberately missing the point? Where was my validation that I was enough, Mom?”

She shook her head tightly and gathered up our napkins and cups. “What are you talking about? Of course I validated you. I bragged to everyone about how smart you were.”

“You’re not supposed to just love the easy parts of me.” The alarm on my phone beeped. “Forget it. We should get back.”

“Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?” she said.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the prickling sensation in my eyes—be it tears or Cherry about to let loose, this was not the right time. “Why couldn’t you tell? My entire life I’ve felt like I was on thin ice with you. That my status as your kid was one long probation period and you still haven’t made up your mind whether the appointment is permanent or not.”

“I see.” She stood up with a cool nod. “We should get back.”

I spent the three-minute walk berating myself for hoping for a different outcome. Had I been asked about my relationships four months ago, I’d have said that Hell would freeze over before I ever spoke to Ezra again, but that things with my mom were as good as they could be, and Sachie and I were great.

Yet somehow, I’d opened the door to a reconciliation with my ex, my most important friendship was tattered, and I wasn’t sure if my mother and I had torn away what little connection we had, doomed to a professional acquaintanceship.

Would she even have my back against the Authority or had our fight pushed her to a place where, as my mother and my director, any support she’d once shown was gone?

Kudos to a lifetime of Michael’s training, though; I had my game face on before we stepped into the elevator at HQ—almost bumping into Darsh, who was getting off.

I indicated for Michael to go on ahead and tugged playfully on the lapels of Darsh’s shirt. “How were the trains?”

“My visit with Silas was very nice.” The way he said “nice” implied he was rolling it around in his mouth, probing for traps.

I scrunched up my face. “And by nice you mean…”

“I mean nice. As was the next time we hung out.”

“Oh-ho.” I chortled gleefully.

“Stop it, Aviva. And don’t bug Silas either.”

I blinked at the sharpness in his tone, but it gave me hope as well. This mattered, Silas mattered, and Darsh was treating it as such. Silas was as well or there wouldn’t have been a next time. “I won’t.”

Darsh searched my face, nodded, then hugged me. “Now go up there and give ’em hell.”

“As much as I can via a video call.”

“Video? Uh, no, dear heart.” He winced at the color draining from my face. “They got in earlier this morning.”

“Fuck!” I sprinted for the stairwell, fear tightening its cold grip around my heart, and my palm leaving sweat marks on the banister. Darsh had to be wrong. Dr. Olsen and Dimitri wouldn’t have flown in for this.

Would they?

Cherry made a scoffing sound in my head.

I stopped in front of the conference room door, gripping the handle but not opening the door. Normally the blinds were open to the bright room, but they’d been drawn tight. I swallowed.

These two Authority members had withheld this switch to an in-person visit. Did they suspect what Michael had concluded about the corrupt shedim magic in our rings? Had these representatives of our organization that was thousands of years old come in person to kill the messenger and cover up any trace of vulnerability and complicity?

Had Michael known and not warned me?

I pushed open the door and entered the room, faced not with two members of the council, but all of them. Michael didn’t look any happier with this development than I was. That was something, I guess.

Dr. Olsen and Dmitri Kozlov had flown in from Norway and Moscow respectively, joined by Secretary Pederson from Copenhagen, Zhengyu Lin from Taiwan, and Dilip Kumar from Delhi.

Their unreadable expressions were a shit greeting, and the weight of their presence was suffocating, but I straightened my back, steeling myself against whatever challenges they planned to throw my way.

They’d chosen the smaller room, which was a bit of a tight fit, but had nulling magic on it, ensuring I couldn’t use my blue flame abilities to illuminate any weaknesses.

That’s okay, I’d just resort to my training. Still, the sound of my chair scraping across the floor as I sat down sounded like a warning bell.

“Share your findings, Operative Fleischer,” Dmitri said.

Once again, I started from the beginning with the drug bust. Dmitri barked questions at me, attempting to poke holes in my story, but I had nothing to lie about.

Dr. Olsen’s gaze kept drifting out the window like she’d rather be outside. She might not be actively sympathetic to my case, but she wasn’t hostile either.

Dilip, a man with an almost pelt-like amount of hair on his arms, asked the occasional question, but always after a glance at Dmitri. Got it. One yes man and not to be counted upon for support.

Zhengyu, a silver-haired gentleman in a Real Madrid jersey of all things, was the only one to nod at me to continue whenever I paused.

Dmitri glared and bristled, clad in a hole-free yet hideous brown cardigan, with heavy framed glasses to match.

Then there was Secretary Pederson, the woman Ezra had saved from an assassination attempt, and who’d given him carte blanche to investigate the murdered half shedim. She’d had enough fire in her at some point to attract Natán’s ire, but you’d never know it to look at her now. She was a shell of a human being, her face gaunt and her gray hair long and unkempt.

Whether or not she’d known that her nephew was a half shedim before he was killed along with the others, she’d loved him a great deal, and was lost to that grief.

I powered through my tale to the locks being the battery packs o’ evil and wrapped up my findings.

My mother set down the silver pen she’d been drumming against her notepad and picked up one of the ballpoints scattered around the table.

Dilip rapped on the table to get my attention. “Who’s your source?”

“Chandra Nichols alerted me to the?—”

“Right. The woman who was conveniently murdered,” Dmitri said.

“Is a cold-blooded assassination considered convenient now?” I said. “I must have missed that change in policy.”

“You know what he means.” Dilip flapped a hairy hand at me.

I crossed my arms. “Apparently not.”

Zhengyu cleared his throat. “Regarding your source about the cells. It is unlikely that an Eishei Kodesh was privy to that level of intelligence.”

“Clearly, it was Ezra Cardoso.” Dmitri looked at Dilip.

I looked away so he didn’t see me roll my eyes.

“If he was in possession of this intelligence while he was Maccabee,” Dilip said as cued, “then a reprisal would be sanctioned.”

“It wasn’t Ezra,” I said. “And I’m under no obligation to give my source up. Even to you. I won’t ruin a valuable relationship because you don’t want to accept what I’m telling you.”

“You are a level two operative,” Dilip said. “You’ll do as we say.”

“Which is what? Tattle so you can silence everyone and bury your heads in the sand again?” I held up my finger with the Maccabee ring like it was a guiding light and nodded at Dmitri. “What happened to prevailing in the fight against evil? Did it get too hard for you? Are you scared?”

He pushed his glasses up, an angry flush hitting his cheeks. “You’re on thin ice, Operative.”

I glanced at Michael. It’s not like it was the first time.

“Fifteen years ago,” I said, “some Eishei Kodesh hacked into the security system for our most notorious prison. Dangerous Eishei Kodesh escaped. You didn’t hide that fact from your operatives. You were fully transparent, gathering the best of us to work on fixing the problem. It gave us agency, it empowered us. Why can’t you do the same now? It doesn’t matter that this involves demons and not people, the principle is the same.”

Dr. Olsen pulled her attention away from the window. “You sound like you have a proposal.”

“I do. While the Authority puts its experts to the problem of cleansing the corrupted foundational strain and how to make our magic cocktail feasible again, you remember that all is not lost. Vampires can kill shedim. Mobilize every single one we have in our organization and put them on this. Chandra and Jasmine both knew about these demon prisons. Other people will as well. Find operatives with the best skills for gathering this intel.” I folded my hands on the table. “You know, like Silas?”

“And so it comes full circle.” Dmitri raised an eyebrow, smugness washing over his cold features. “I warned you not to give me any reason to doubt your loyalty.”

“I haven’t. I uncovered a deadly flaw in our system, given you all the information to find a solution, and proposed a sound plan.”

“If there even is a solution,” he said. “You consort with one owner of the Copper Hell, who’s to say you’re not on the payroll? After all, you let Delacroix live when you rescued Maud Liu.”

“He’s a giant sea serpent demon,” I protested. “I didn’t have a shot at him and trying would have gotten me killed.”

“Trying would have given you agency,” Dmitri mocked. “Empowered you. Instead, you present a tale designed to crush us. Exactly what the shedim want.”

I slammed my hands on the table, half rising out of my seat. “That is total bullshit. Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“Let’s take this to a vote.” Dilip looked around at the rest of the Authority.

Finally pulling your head out of your ass? Good. Hopefully reason would prevail and they’d approve my proposal. I didn’t have to be on the team, though I’d be an asset. They simply needed to act.

“All in favor of Operative Fleisher keeping her active status?” Dilip said.

“Are you kidding me?” My pulse spiked, a vise closing around my chest. They were supposed to be considering my plan, not using me as a pawn in their political game.

Dr. Olsen and Zhengyu voted in favor, Dmitri and Dilip against.

“Birgitte?” Dr. Olsen gently nudged Secretary Pederson.

The other woman roused herself slowly like she was waking up. “I’m abstaining,” she said faintly. “I don’t have enough information on the matter.”

“Abstaining in the event of a tie counts as a negative vote,” Dilip said.

“That means Operative Fleischer will not be keeping her active status and will be placed on immediate suspension without pay. Turn in your ring.” Dmitri held out his hand. “And pray the evidence doesn’t sentence you to Sector A.”