Page 99 of Playing with Fire

Most people did.

A headache brewed behind my eyes. “You really don’t think he’s not going to do something stupid like ditch his cop babysitter? I can see it now. He gets nice and sweaty doing whatever it is manly men do in the gym and pretends to take a shower so he can slip out the back and do what he wants. Are we talking about the same person here? The one I know, Mr. Police Chief Samuel Quinn, does not tolerate people who are a threat to his peace of mind or his people. I could see him doing something like ditch his babysitter so he can resolve this problem in the most expeditious way possible, especially since it’s legal for him to do so.”

Over the years I had seen him tear strips off his cops for taking unnecessary risks only to go and do the incredibly stupid and risky thing he had just scolded his officers for doing. Him entering my apartment to activate the glass coffin came to mind. It wouldn’t have cost him anything except his peace of mind to request someone from the CDC do the work.

“I find that unlikely,” Chief Hollands replied with a scornful sniff.

“Oh, no. I think it’s absolutely likely. Probable, in fact. His new wife was taken from him on their wedding night,” my grandfather-in-law countered. “He left her in a station full of capable cops and me. Most importantly, he waited for his other grandfathers—yes, the angel and the incubus—to leave before blowing his lid. Want to make any bets? I’ll win.”

I sighed. Quinn could take care of himself, couldn’t he? If he wanted to do something about his ex-wife, I couldn’t really stop him—I wanted her out of the picture, too. Too many lives had been lost for her to be allowed to run loose. Bad luck had put me in the line of fire more than once, and I viewed it as a miracle I had survived to tell the tale.

Maybe a better wife would have trusted her husband more. Then again, I had met his family. They were nuts, all of them. They had started a brawl in a courtroom and viewed it as good entertainment. Not even an angel had wanted to break that party up. Quinn would be fine, wouldn’t he?

I massaged the bridge of my nose and willed my headache to fade. It didn’t obey. “I’m going to have to go rescue him, aren’t I?”

“He’s only going up against a handful of gorgons, Bailey. That’s hardly reason for concern.”

Right. Quinn’s entire family was utterly insane. I should have known his gorgon grandfather wouldn’t think there was any reason for concern. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t want to know. Let’s assume the idiot decides to run off and cause trouble. Where would the trouble be found and can I get in on it?”

Chief Hollands groaned and hung his head. Quinn’s grandfather grinned and dug a glass bottle out of his pocket, giving it a shake so the pills inside rattled. “I happen to have transformative pills with me. Who am I to say no to a fire-breathing unicorn? In gorgon culture, it is perfectly acceptable for a young prince’s bride to go and correct her wayward male for failing to do as told. I see no reason you couldn’t make an appearance and encourage him to return a little faster.”

I no longer knew whether I hated or loved gorgons. Damn it. “How about a canister of neutralizer and some handcuffs instead? I’ll hide behind the gorgon king and watch—and help if he really can’t handle it on his own.”

“Former king.”

“So you’re not up to par with a human prince? How disappointing.” I shrugged. “Oh, well. I had to try. Chief Hollands, assuming Quinn gets himself into trouble, is it legal in Vermont to use restricted substances to put an end to a serious gorgon infestation?”

“If the handler is certified, yes, it is legal.”

I smiled. So many substances, so little time. I could bring absolute chaos to the gorgon hive with five minutes, a phoenix feather, and some magical napalm. “How nice. I have an idea.”

Chapter 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.