Page 105 of Playing with Fire

>This is almost entirely your fault.

An audience of two curious cops, Chief Hollands, Kevin, who turned out to be a CDC evaluator in addition to a supplier and general busybody, and my grandfather-in-law observed me open the map and spread it out over the hood of Kevin’s pickup. I pinned it in place with the vial of ink, grabbed the box of chalk, and went to work crushing it against the asphalt. Dust coated my hand in a thick layer of white.

I hated the feel of chalk on my skin.

Sighing, I glared at my filthy palm. First, I needed to find Audrey’s gorgon dust cache and destroy it. After, I would hunt Quinn down and give him a very stern reminder we would work together when insanely dangerous stuff was involved.

With a little luck of the good variety, I wouldn’t find Quinn at the cache.

How the hell was I supposed to concentrate with so many people watching me? I ground my teeth together, unstoppered the ink vial, and leveled at glare at Quinn’s grandfather. “This is almost entirely your fault.”

“Oh? Who am I sharing the blame with now?”

“My stupid husband!” I thumped my palm on the hood of Kevin’s truck, and the CDC rep winced at my rough handling of his vehicle. “Oh, lighten up. Your big manly truck isn’t going to be damaged from a little love tap like that.”

“But it’s my baby.”

“Men,” I snarled.

“Ah, I understand. This is what my beloved queen speaks of so often. Us men and our ability to infuriate the fairer sex. One day she might remember I’m not a human.”

“Don’t hold your breath waiting,” I muttered.

“You are nervous, little one. Why are you so nervous?”

I pointed at Kevin. “He’s going to take one look at this and turn me into a research subject.”

Maybe wailing over it was a little out of line, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not,” Kevin confessed.

“Don’t mind her, Kevin. She’s had a difficult few weeks, and she’s been poked and prodded enough during her evaluations. It’s fine, little one. First, you are a part of the Quinn family now, so the CDC will refrain from any invasive research. Won’t they?”

Lifting both of his hands, Kevin nodded. “Don’t look at me. I’m just the nice guy with the truck.”

“Just get on with it,” my grandfather-in-law ordered.

I sighed, placed my palm on the center of the map, and closed my eyes. The ambrosia, pixie dust, sedative, and pair of phoenix feathers ensured I’d face trouble no matter what happened. If there was a large stash of gorgon dust, phoenix fire might be the only thing capable of destroying it without the CDC bringing out the same sort of crew required for 120 Wall Street’s demolition. Without napalm, I couldn’t do it as a unicorn—even with it, I wasn’t sure I’d try again. One napalm bender was enough for my lifetime.

No matter how I approached the situation, I could easily die trying to get rid of any substantial amount of dust.

Why did I always have to be the one making difficult choices? I didn’t want to be the one hunting down dust and destroying it, but I was doing it anyway. I clenched my teeth and concentrated on what I needed.

I needed to eliminate Audrey’s cache of gorgon dust, if it existed. If she was manufacturing it, the operation needed to be destroyed. My palm tingled, and the chalk residue slithered over my hand.

Someone gasped.

I drew in a deep breath, held it until my lungs burned and body trembled from the need for air, and exhaled in a slow, gentle sigh.

When I opened my eyes, I focused on the map. Blue flames licked at the edges and washed over my arm without burning me. While the map burned, the fire didn’t consume the paper. Some would call my magic trickery. I feared some omen lurked in the flames. The ink remained in its pot, untouched by my power.

Where I wanted to go wasn’t on the map, so I lowered my gaze to the asphalt. Pink, sparkling light illuminated the ground where the chalk had fallen and surrounded my hands in a pale nimbus. Great. I was glowing again. At least the ambrosia’s influence had worn off.

The chalk writhed on the ground in sparkling tendrils, waiting for my command.

“Go,” I ordered.

One day, I would learn how to better control my powers—or at least understand what happened and why. If my magic worked, the chalk would guide me. It slithered along the road, stretched out twenty feet, and halted. Snatching the burning map, I gave it a good shake to extinguish it and folded it up. “If you’re going, get in the truck.”