“Over my dead body. Or hers.”

“Mmm, smells like jealousy,” he said with a smirk.

“Shut the hell up.”

He shrugged and looked at the paintings again. “So, what did you want from me?”

“Nothing, now.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me what you’re here for. Another dowsing job? That last one didn’t turn out so well. I’m not all that jazzed about stumbling into magical cockroaches again.”

“Me neither.” I reached into my jacket and pulled out the red vial. “Do you know what this is?”

His eyes narrowed. “Looks like an elixir. Already gave one of these back to you, though I’m still fuzzy on why, exactly.” He shook his head and swallowed, momentarily lost in remembering. He hadn’t figured out that Jupe persuaded him with his knack. I’d definitely like to keep it that way.

Music spilled into the room. I looked up and saw someone standing in the doorway, a man about my age with long blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. One of the barefooted girls roaming Hajo’s place had her hands all over him, trying to get his shirt unbuttoned.

“Do you not understand what a closed door means? Get the hell out of here, Darren,” Hajo snapped. “And don’t even think about heading to my bedroom. Go bang in your own apartment.”

“Sorry,” the man mumbled, high as a kite. I held the red vial behind my back until they retreated and closed the doors again.

“Asshole trust funder,” Hajo said under his breath.

“Not a friend, I take it?”

“He lives on the floor below. Always begging me for shit. Spoiled asshole. Just like everyone else here. I hate every last person who lives in this damn building.” He nodded to the hand behind my back. “Anyway, you were saying?”

“This isn’t my brew,” I said, showing him the vial again. “You really haven’t seen this?”

He held out his hand. “May I?”

My fingers brushed his when I passed it to him. A little burst of static electricity almost made me drop the bottle.

He sucked in a breath. “Oh, Bell. One of these days . . .”

“One of these days you’re going to fall for someone who’ll want you back. And if you’re lucky, they’ll be patient enough to stick around while you wean yourself off the sømna.”

Dark lashes blinked as he regarded the bottle with curiosity, holding it to the light. “What am I looking at?”

“Bionic juice.”

Every muscle tensed. His gaze locked with mine. “You’re joking.”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“Three people have asked me for it tonight. Including the quarterback and that dickwad trust-funder,” he said, waving toward the door.

“Shit. You think he saw the vial?”

He shook his head dismissively. “He wouldn’t know his ass from his elbow, and he’s too wasted to care right now.” He tilted the vial and studied the liquid inside. “I know people exaggerate—should I assume this doesn’t really do what people say it does?”

“Magnifies the strength of Earthbound knacks, if that’s what you’ve heard.”

He thrust it back into my hand like it was poison. “Are you serious? Get this shit away from me. That’s the last think I’d ever want. Something to dull my knack? Sign me up. But I seriously think I’d rather slit my wrists than have it increased.”

“I’m not trying to sell it to you, drama queen.”

He sniffled and wiped his nose. “Right. Sorry.”

“Some punk kid took a dose of this and was able to lift off half a bridge to crash down over my head. A telekinetic homeless kid. And that was after he lifted a car with his mind and killed his friend.”

“What the hell?” Hajo mumbled.

I pocketed the red vial and told him about the robberies on Diablo Avenue, Kar Yee’s injury, and the other weird crimes on the news, and how they might be because of this elixir. Told him everything I knew about Telly and exactly where we found him.

He listened quietly, arms crossed over his chest, then mumbled “fuck” when I finished.

“So that’s why I called,” I said. “I thought maybe you could help me. You ever heard of this telekinetic kid, Telly?”

“You think because I’m a dealer, I know every other dealer in the city? Homeless kids selling meth and ten-dollar hand jobs under a bridge?”

“Ten dollars. Is that all?” No wonder Telly was selling the elixir.

“Really, Cady?”

“Look, I don’t know the drug dealer chain of command,” I complained, feeling a little sheepish. “Anyway, he said this bottle’s worth five grand. Guess he was doling out one-drop doses on sugar cubes and selling them for three hundred a pop.”

“What is this? The ’70s? Why wasn’t he using blotter paper?”

“How the hell should I know? I’m just telling you what was in his backpack.”

“And I’m taking it that you don’t know how to brew this up?”

“No idea. Never seen anything like it.” I told him about Peter Little and his not-so-little luck. “So he claims that he only took one dose, yet he won the big lottery two weeks later. God only knows how long the effects last.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Maybe Telly was undercharging. We overheard him saying that there’s only two sources for this. We figure it’s the maker and the distributor. I was hoping you might be able to ask around and see if you can get us the name of the dealer.”