Cursed Moon (Prospero's War) by Jaye Wells Read Free Book Online Page A

there’s nothing else I am quite busy—”
    “Keep your wig on,” I snapped. Not my coolest momentever—the Hierophant would see any reference to the feminine when the masculine was in charge as a direct insult. “For someone who was robbed you’re awfully reluctant to help.”
    The wig comment earned me a death glare, but the implication got me a dismissive snort. “Why would I rob my own temple, Detective?”
    “Beats me,” I said with a shrug, “but if you continue to stonewall us it’s an option we’ll be forced to investigate further.”
    He squinted at me and sucked his teeth for a moment. He was wondering if the years had dulled the infamous Prospero stubbornness out of me. I smiled to let him know they had not. If anything, being on this side of the law had only solidified those tendencies.
    “Now that I think about it,” Morales said to me conversationally, “Mr. Johnson does seem awfully composed for someone who was just robbed of thousands of dollars’ worth of potions.”
    I crossed my arms and glanced at him, playing along. “You may be right. Maybe we should call Judge Dread after all and ask for a search warrant. I bet we’d find all sorts of interesting things in those files then.”
    The Hierophant cleared his throat. “What do you want to know?”
    I was impressed at how smoothly Morales digested the victory. His face betrayed none of his emotion, didn’t give anything away that Johnson could use against us. Like it or not, the guy was a pro. “For starters you can tell us which of your enemies was most likely to do this.”
    He pursed his lips. “It could be any of a dozen wizards.”
    “The report the officer filed said there was no sign of forced entry,” Morales said. “Any idea why?”
    He shrugged his right shoulder. “Beats me.”
    I leaned forward. “Look, if you’re concerned about us arresting any of your girls for solicitation, don’t. We’re just here to find the thief.”
    “Detective, most of the girls and boys that find their ways to my door are trying to escape something.” His voice lowered even further into what I assume he felt was a sincere tone. “Abuse, poverty, discrimination. I give them a safe place to practice their skills and find a higher purpose. Very few happy individuals walk away from their lives for this kind of tough spiritual work.”
    Morales’s brows shot up. “I’m surprised to hear such a fatalistic summary of what you do.”
    “I may be a believer, Agent Morales, but I’m also a realist. We do real work here. Work that helps people. But I am not in the business of selling sunshine and rainbows.”
    “Understood,” Morales said.
    “What I don’t get is why you called the BPD in the first place if you’re so set against helping us find the thief?” I asked.
    “I have to provide a police report to give the insurance company.”
    My eyes narrowed. “Ah. I get it. You’ve got your own people on this, right? Guess finding out the MEA was getting involved put a crimp in your plans.”
    “The MEA is way more than a crimp, but as it happens, yes, I do have some of my personal security team investigating the matter. If they find anything, I’ll be sure and pass it on.”
    I laughed. “Don’t bullshit us. If I find out that you’re keeping evidence from us, you’ll be in jail alongside the asshole who robbed you.”
    “It’s so optimistic of you,” he drawled, “to assume he’ll live long enough to go to jail.”
    I sighed. The truth was I couldn’t blame him for not trustingus to get the job done. In the Cauldron, the wizards were the law. Plus, no kids grew up in the magical ghetto feeling like the BPD was there to protect and serve them. Aphrodite had grown up a decade or so ahead of me, but I was willing to bet I wasn’t the only one who grew up watching relatives being taken away in cuffs. Hard, then, to grow up and trust a cop to settle what you saw as a personal offense. Especially when you had your own ready