04. sorry, we're dead: clover and curses.
PART FOUR:
ELEVEN YEARS, FOUR MONTHS, FIVE DAYS
VIRGIL
If you'd told me Molly Mason would ever walk back into my life, I would've laughed bitterly. She'd practically run out of it almost a dozen years ago; she'd hardly taken the time to say goodbye. And now here she was, asking me for help.
If I were a spiteful man, I'd have slammed the door in her face. Time does not heal all wounds, I don't give a fuck what the philosophers say.
"I'm gonna run those files to the D.A.'s office," Vera said suddenly into the hot, uneasy silence that had filled the room. She snatched the manila folder from the desk and grabbed her coat off the rack. I didn't blame the woman -- a large part of me wanted to follow her lead and bolt out the door myself.
"'Ex-fiancée?'" War echoed incredulously, staring at me in undisguised shock. "What the hell, Virg?"
"It's a story that can wait," I said roughly.
"One I completely intend to hear in full," Maggie said in a far-too-sweet tone, a vicious smile frozen on her face. Oh hell, this night was just getting better and better...
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, willing myself steady and calm. The mere scent of her clover and rosehip perfume, mixed with the clean tang of her skin, was enough to set off clarion bells in my heart. "I'm sorry, but can you both give us a moment of privacy?"
Bless War. He could be obstinate and far too serious when all a cat wanted to do was laugh, but he knew when to fold gracefully. "Maggie, we did just get a new bottle of Glenlivet."
"Sounds good to me, War," she said, following him into the other room without glancing back. "I think hooch sounds like a great idea right about now." The door clicked shut loudly behind them. It was no real barrier for War, whose hearing was almost as sharp as mine, but at least we had the semblance of privacy.
"Eleven years, four months, and five days," I recited. "But who's counting? You have a helluva lotta nerve to walk in here tonight."
"You know I had my reasons, Virg," she said, abashed but not ashamed.
"Yeah, well maybe I didn't think they were good enough," I shot back, gripping the arms of the chair with such force the wood cracked alarmingly.
"You have every right to be angry with me--"
I stood sharply. "Damn straight I do! You chose a coven over me. You chose magic over me."
"And it was the hardest choice I ever made, but I've never regretted it," she said, the conviction in her voice knocking the wind out of me. "I do good work, Virgil. I've helped so many people. There are people alive today that wouldn't be if not for me and my magic. And -- how could I have chosen otherwise? That ultimatum you gave me! What woman would've accepted that?"
I gritted my teeth behind pressed thin lips. "I never said you had to give it up completely. I didn't ask you to forsake what you were."
"The life you offered me wasn't one I could be happy with," Molly said. "It would've been like a cage. If anyone could understand that, you should."
I wanted to hiss at her, bare my teeth and unleash all of my primal anger and pain. I wanted to tell her that for the first year after she left I felt as if I'd been maimed, as if a part of me constantly burned with silver. "I loved you," was all I could manage, a paltry smokescreen for the truth.
"I know. And I loved you. That's what made it so hard. But I can't go back and do differently, and even if I was given the chance -- I would make the same choice again, Virgil. I am sorry about the pain it caused you."
Pain? Try agony. Love is a complicated enough thing, with all of the cultural posturing that the world insists accompanies courtship. Then there's the confusing tangle of personal emotions, how traitorous and shifting the heart can be. But for weres? We have a whole other set of hurdles to clear. For us, so much of our energy and life is consumed by the instinctual drive to find a mate, someone who is quite literally our perfect match. Someone compatible physically, mentally, spiritually -- someone who can understand our dual natures and the invisible forces that govern us.
When I first saw Molly Mason I was so poleaxed that I'd almost been struck by a taxi. I hadn't even been looking for a mate and there she was, standing outside a diner on 8th and Lex. Every one of my senses screamed how right she was, how compatible we'd be. For some people, that's just how it happens. I had never expected to be one of them.
And for seven glorious months it was as close to perfect as you can get on earth. For seven months -- but that was eleven years, four months, and five days ago. This was now.
"Virgil, please," she said, those beautiful amber eyes fixed on mine. "My coven is in danger. We need someone who will listen to the full story, who will give us a fair hearing. Someone who understands our ways and the law. I'll pay whatever price you set. Just clear my girl's name."
"And what if it can't be cleared?" I said without hesitation. I didn't care if the accusation stung. "What if she's guilty?"
"If you find proof of it, then I'll believe you," she replied slowly. "Rajani has had an... unhappy life. She's made mistakes in the past, and she has been completely open with me about them. But she's a changed person. She has already paid for the past. She's worked very hard to build a new life, and I can't stand idly by while the police threaten that with their accusations. Please, Virgil. Please set aside our personal history and help a woman in a bad position."
She knew me so well. Oh, yes. Knew that I'd always been a sucker for the damsel in distress; knew I could never turn a blind eye on a woman in trouble. I struggled to keep my breathing even and ignore the lure of her perfume. That scent had clung to my apartment for weeks after she left, a maddening ghost that haunted me to distraction. I had finally resorted to burning huge bundles of sage -- invoking the ire of my super and neighbors -- and had even summoned a priest to do a cleansing to rid the place of her lingering energy.
If she only knew the extent of the number she'd done on me.
"Fine," I finally said with very bad grace and a thunderous scowl. "But," I added, lifting a finger. "I reserve the right to terminate the case whenever I see fit. You don't have any goodwill or favors to burn here, so be grateful for what you get."
"Thank you--"
"And don't fucking thank me just yet." In three steps I'd crossed the office, passed her, and yanked my coat from the rack with enough force to make it topple and crash to the floor. "Take me to the crime scene and fill me in on everything you know."
I didn't bother to shout back to War. He'd already heard everything -- though I didn't envy him the task of explaining my abrupt exit to Maggie. That was a dragon I'd have to face later.
Hopefully by then I'd have found a decent shield to use.