Page 58 of Booked for Murder

My eyes widened at the confirmation the substance wasn’t some form of living organism.

Bradley’s magic didn’t work on animate objects, nor did it work on many organic compounds. His magic played by complex rules, but I’d boiled it down to that. While his magic did work on corpses, it rarely told him anything useful. He could get more useful information from the sidewalk than from a body, although clothing tended to have a lot to tell about someone’s final moments.

“It was created in a lab, and it was injected. Judging from the imprint, it was willfully done. The people who were handling the substance prior to injection were not wearing any protections, and there’s no sense of concern. The lab does seem like a testing environment, but not a professional one.”

“The equivalent of a meth lab in someone’s basement?”

“Yes, that’s an apt way to put it. The vials were made along a brick wall, the kind you’ll find in old basements. Beyond that, I can’t tell you much.” Bradley returned the vial to the rack. “All the blood is contaminated again?”

“Yes, except for the vial in the rack.”

“That’ll do. Put it away carefully, and I’ll have someone pick this up.”

As I was the only one who could realistically contain a spill, I eased everything back into the cooler. “I’d have them work in hazmats. Maybe the lab creators don’t think this shit is dangerous, but I’ve never seen anything replicate that quickly in blood before. Viruses and bacteria only wish they could replicate that quickly. It took maybe five minutes for the blood to be fully contaminated. I don’t like how it feels.”

“How does it feel to you?”

“Hot, greasy, and a bit slimy.”

“That does sound quite unpleasant.”

“It is,” I replied, glaring at my useless foot, which felt no better despite being elevated and on ice. If I took one of the painkillers, it would knock me on my ass, and with so much to lose, I couldn’t afford to lounge in bed all day. Once I could get my foot into the damned boot, I’d begin phase one of working towards my shooter qualification. “What gun did you get me, Ren?”

“It’s at the range along with the application forms for a conceal carry permit. It has to be calibrated to you, so a manufacturer representative will be meeting us there at two.” Ren glanced at my foot. “Assuming we don’t have to reschedule.”

“I have crutches under my bed if needed. I can also practice shooting from a stool if necessary. I’ll have to qualify from all positions anyway, so I can get my initial hours in working from a stool.”

Rising to his feet, Bradley took the closed cooler to the door and dug out his phone, bouncing it in his hand. “That’s not a bad idea.” Dialing a number, he held his cell to his ear. “It’s Hampton. I got my lady to work with your blood, and she recommends using a hazmat suit when handling it. She isolated the drug into some vials along with a clean blood sample. The pint was contaminated completely following, as the substance is replicating itself. Yes, we worked with masks on along with gloves, as she didn’t want to contaminate the samples. I make no promise cat fur didn’t get into anything, but she did take precautions. I’ll have Ren meet you in the cafe right across the street from the Met. It’s contained in a cooler, so as long as you don’t open it up and break the bag, it should be fine.”

After a few more minutes of discussion, consisting of Bradley detailing how I’d worked my magic, how long it had taken me, and the current state of my foot, he hung up.

“You could have directed them to my apartment rather than take those onto the street. I have no idea what will happen if that spills and infects someone.”

“I really doubt anything will happen, and it makes an excellent spot. We’ll just put the cooler inside a bag, and it’ll look like they’re meeting up for coffee.”

I sighed. “I have a gift bag in the closet that should fit the cooler. But it’s pretty gaudy. It was a gift from a Christmas party at the library. I got saddled with it during one of those damned secret present exchanges with a twist.”

“I see you are still not a fan of Christmas party games.”

“The presents are usually embarrassing and awful. One year, I got an entire box filled with candy dicks.”

“Candy dicks?”

“Penises,” I replied, rolling my eyes over the immaturity of my fellow librarians. “That one was Meridian. Everyone in the library loves chocolate, so she decided only candy dicks would do. Most of them were chocolate, but there were a few lollipops in the box.”

“And you got them all.”

“I also refused to share them with anyone, and I ate the entire thing in the comfort of my home. You can’t just waste homemade chocolate, Bradley.”

“You ate chocolate dicks.”

“I absolutely ate chocolate dicks.” I pointed at the kitchen. “I kept one of the lollipops. It’s in the utensil drawer behind the organization tray. I’m undecided if I will eat it or use it as part of some elaborate revenge against my fellow librarian.”

Bradley headed into my kitchen, opened the utensil drawer, and moved the organization tray until he uncovered the bright pink lollipop. “Wow. You weren’t joking. I had no idea librarians had such…”

The helpless way he stared at the lollipop reduced me to laughter and tears. “We’re not exactly as mature as people tend to think.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it. Dare I ask what was in the gift bag that happens to be large enough for the cooler?”