22. What are you attempting to do? Single-handedly raise the birthrate in Vermont?
TWENTY-TWO
What are you attempting to do? Single-handedly raise the birthrate in Vermont?
The CDC refused to give me napalm, not even the non-magical variety.
I scowled, drummed my fingers on Chief Hollands’s desk, and wondered how else I might incinerate a batch of gorgon dust without napalm.
Well, I already knew, but it involved me getting close and personal with the dust and breathing it in since someone in a hazmat suit couldn’t handle a phoenix feather.
Immune or not, I’d end up in a glass coffin again if I didn’t handle the situation perfectly. “Can you get me the phoenix feather at least?”
The CDC representative on the other end of the line sighed, and she didn’t sound happy with my request at all. “I can authorize you to have a phoenix feather for the purpose of dust removal.”
“And a glass coffin somewhere in the general vicinity should it be required.”
The woman clacked her teeth. “Yes.”
If the idea of a phoenix feather bothered her, the rest of my list would drive her to the brink of insanity. With a little effort, I bet I could push her right over the edge. “I have some other items I’ll need.”
“What?”
“Pixie dust, the highest grade you’ll give me, and if possible, a succubus and an incubus.”
“You want pixie dust, a succubus, and an incubus. What are you attempting to do? Single-handedly raise the birthrate in Vermont?”
Nice. So few CDC representatives had any sense of humor at all. How refreshing. “I also would like a vial of ambrosia, your best sedative, a jar of honey, two hundred empty gel pill capsules, and three eyedroppers rated for both substances.”
“You want ambrosia.” The disbelief in her tone almost made me laugh—almost. No sane person asked for the essence of a god.
No one wanted the stuff, not unless they were the descendent of a god.
For mortals untouched by divinity, ambrosia did one of three things: it killed fast, it killed slow, or it killed spectacularly.
A single taste—not even a drop—killed. Most died within a few seconds.
The unlucky ones lasted longer, a few minutes to a full hour.
The spectacular deaths worried every trained CDC member. Gods entered the world as they pleased. To the relief of everyone, they didn’t visit often. Earth bored them. Humans bored them. Everything about our little lives, our magic, and our sciences bored them.
It still shocked me Anubis had stuck around long enough to meet the Sphinx, convince her she wanted him, and make a child together on Earth. It astonished me he had cared enough to come to a courthouse to brawl while I married Quinn.
“You want ambrosia,” the CDC representative repeated.
I really needed to stop woolgathering and start browbeating the woman on the phone so I could hurry and hunt down my wayward husband. “A full vial of ambrosia and the sedative, a jar of honey, and three eyedroppers. Don’t forget the two hundred gel capsules, either.”
“To hunt gorgons.”
“Yes, to hunt gorgons. How else am I supposed to hunt gorgons and destroy their dust if you won’t give me napalm?”
“You intend to kill gorgons with it? Do you have a warrant?”
She should have asked me about a warrant when I first told her I needed the materials to hunt gorgons. Were my requests that shocking? I sighed. “Hey, old man. Can you tell this CDC representative about the gorgon rights and laws crap I know nothing about?” I offered Quinn’s grandfather the phone.
“I have a name.”
Did he? Huh. “I bet you do. It might even be a nice one. I bet Miss CDC Representative would love to hear your name.”
The gorgon and his snakes hissed at me, but he took the phone.
“I am Former King Archambault Quinn. I am a gorgon, and the guilty have interfered with a gorgon prince’s bride on their wedding night.
This is a grave insult, one covered by gorgon law, condemning the hive to death.
Give her all she desires.” He listened for a moment.
“I appreciate that, Miss Milson. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble handling any problems.”
Without waiting for an answer, Quinn’s grandfather gave me the phone back. “Since you can’t provide the incubus or succubus for reasons I can understand, how about the phoenix feather, the ambrosia, the sedative, and the other materials I requested?”
The CDC rep made whimpering strangled noises. “What are you trying to do? Cause a disaster?”
After I retrieved Quinn and dealt with the gorgons, their dust, and made certain Audrey McGee never bothered anyone ever again, I needed to have a talk with someone at the CDC about their supply representatives.
Miss Milson had no appreciation for the dangers of gorgon dust. “No. I’m going to wipe out a gorgon hive believed to be manufacturing gorgon dust. Since nobody trusts me with napalm, I have to get creative.
You could just provide a tanker truck of the best napalm manufactured—the high intensity stuff—and a few strong men to operate the machinery. Then I wouldn’t need to get creative.”
“You’re banned from having napalm of any rating.”
“Then I need to get creative. Can you have everything I requested within an hour?”
“Heaven help us all, but yes. There are no willing succubus or incubus available, so I will procure the rest of your supplies after I contact headquarters for authorization.”
I grimaced at the thought of having to deal with Marshal Clemmends again. “If it greases the wheels, tell Mr. Clemmends Archambault Quinn is involved.”
If using my grandfather-in-law’s reputation smoothed the way for me, I had no problem dropping names. The gorgon and his snakes watched me; I reached over and stroked the nearest coral snake under its chin.
“I’ll make certain upper management is aware there’s a reasonable adult with you.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Hanging up, I smirked at the receiver before rubbing my hands together. “I have waited my entire adult life for a chance like this. Also, that representative seems to think you’re adult supervision. You obviously have her fooled.”
A bunch of worried cops and an annoyed gorgon stared at me. I smiled and waited. The standoff lasted at least ten minutes.
Quinn’s grandfather sighed. “Very well. I’ll bite. What are you planning?”
“Probably not what you think. I told you I have bad luck, right?”
“You didn’t need to tell anyone you have bad luck, dear. We know. Anyone who has met you knows.”
Yep, Quinn had definitely gotten his smart mouth from at least one of his grandfathers.
“There’s a reason for it, and it involves magic.
While I’d love to kill Audrey and her brood with the ambrosia, that’s not happening.
Too dangerous for anyone nearby.” I shrugged.
“What I’m going to do is something a lot worse and bordering on the idiotic. ”
I had kept my vanilla human status for a long time.
If Quinn could live a relatively normal life, if my magic helped me find him and put an end to Audrey, I could deal with the consequences of changing my status.
Meeting the rest of Quinn’s family reassured me my magic rating wouldn’t bother him too much.
“I find that answer rather worrying.”
“I lie sometimes.” There. That was a good start to my confession, although no one seemed impressed with my statement.
“Just explain what you’re planning.”
“I lied when I told people I find things through luck or research. I use magic. Bad things usually happen when I use it, so I try to avoid it. I can also do a few other tricks I don’t think other unicorns can.”
Quinn’s grandfather sighed. “You’re a closet caster, then. A practitioner.”
“Oh, no. I’m the real deal. Ask Quinn or Perky. I caught a sunbeam while they were both riding me. I didn’t leave them behind.” Smiling at the memory, I relaxed despite the scrutiny of the men surrounding me. “I was so proud of that. Perky almost threw up on me.”
Every last one of my grandfather-in-law’s snakes reared back. “You caught a what?”
“I hitched a lift on a sunbeam. I like it because it’s fast. Only works when there’s strong enough light and I’m a unicorn, but there you have it.
No, I’m not a practitioner. I’m a hack, though.
The last time I did this seriously, I found Audrey McGee in Central Park riding a college stud.
That’s really not something anyone should ever see.
Let’s just say that soured me on using my magic. ”
“Just tell me what you’re planning, Bailey.”
I wrinkled my nose at the gorgon. “I’m going to locate the gorgon dust stash, incinerate it, find Audrey, beat the shit out of her, toss her into the flames, shovel her ashes into a bucket, take her out in the woods, dig a deep hole, and bury her where no one will ever find her.
Since the only being capable of burning dust so it’s impotent without napalm is a phoenix, I’m going to have to take the playing with fire route, hope I piss one off enough it rises from its feather, and bribe it with ambrosia so it won’t kill me. ”
“This is even worse than I feared. How do you intend to piss one off? Why would you?” Quinn’s grandfather shuddered.
No one in their right mind pissed off a phoenix on purpose, so I didn’t blame him for his reaction. Ambrosia might buy me enough time to convince the angry bird it should help me rather than burn me to a crisp and eat me. “Just trust me.”
“Only three words worry me more,” the gorgon muttered.
“Oh?”
“Hold my beer.”
I snickered.
Two hours after Quinn should have returned, worry cramped my stomach. I hated waiting, but I couldn’t do anything until the CDC arrived with everything I needed. The glass coffin delayed things; there wasn’t one in the area, so they had to fly one—and a technician—in from New York.
I got sick twice, although I blamed the overdosing on transformative pills and my stint as a unicorn rather than my concern for my missing husband. At least no one questioned me both times I had retreated to the bathroom.