Page 26 of Capitol Matters

I learned to drive long after my sixteenth birthday. Car keys and a license were the last things Grimm wanted me to have. After years of keeping me captive, he thought I would take the first chance I had to run. So did I. But, by the time I learned to hotwire and steal the rundown, high mileage sports car, I was entrenched.

Closing the last bit of distance, I arrived beside the Porsche and laid a hand on the battered quarter panel. The damage wasn’t irreparable, but it was extensive.

Moving ahead to the windshield found Vesper’s spray paint handiwork: the word MURDERER dripped down the glass in bloody red.

I swore and kicked the pavement, sending grit skittering.

There would be no repercussions for them, and that pissed me off more than anything. Like with schoolyard bullying, it was always retaliation that brought trouble, which I couldn’t afford in my tenuous position.

I’d seen enough, but I needed a while longer to cool off or risk venting rage on an unsuspecting cab driver.

The space beside the Porsche was empty save for the yellow striped parking cut where I could sit. As I approached, I noticed the little black ball resting on one end. It was the Magic 8 Ball Felix had been tossing around when I first met him.

Is that you, Karma?

As I scooped up the ball, Tobin’s smug look andsnap came to mind. “I think I may have some competition for the title of office asshole,” I mused. “What do you say?”

I gave the toy a shake, then turned it to wait for the die inside to roll over. Slowly, it surfaced, white in a field of blue liquid.

It is certain.

I snorted. “Perfect.”

If it was a competition, I wouldn’t shy away. Maybe I couldn’t get vengeance directly, but I wouldn’t take this kind of abuse lying down.

The patter of footsteps drawing near pricked my ears. I glanced toward the elevator and spotted the afroed investigator creeping up. When he saw me and the toy I held aloft, his expression went stricken.

In contrast, I was all smiles.

“This yours?” I gave the ball another shake.

He grimaced, looking at the wrecked Porsche long enough for guilt to shade his features. “It was Tobin’s idea,” he said in a soft voice.

“I figured.”

Felix’s Adam’s apple bobbed an anxious swallow. His golden eyes darted from the Magic 8 Ball to my face then back, on repeat.

His focus was so intense that I couldn’t help but look at the toy myself. What was it about this thing? Family heirloom? Emotional support item?

“Please don’t…” Felix trailed off.

“Don’t what?” I asked. “Smash it?”

When I spun the ball on one finger, he whimpered.

I chuckled darkly. “Why would I do something likethat?”

I should have. We both knew it. But his meek expression, and my awareness that both times I’d encountered him he’d been an observer rather than an active antagonist, sucked the wind out of my sails.

“Take it.” I lobbed the 8 Ball to him.

He scrambled to catch it, using both hands as though it were a fragile thing, or maybe he was just uncoordinated. After giving the toy a quick wellness check, he remained in place, looking awkwardly around the empty garage.

“You gonna hang around and gloat?” I asked him.

His eyes widened, golden irises ringed by black lashes. “What?” he sputtered. “No.”

I walked toward the front end of the Porsche and gave it a thump. “Wanna finish her off?” I asked. “I think the engine still runs. Or you could cut the brake lines.”

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