As he walked across the street from the convenience store where the hold-up occurred, Olympic SWAT Officer Dom Luca noted that enough of the neighborhood residents had become curious that patrol officers had to tape off the scene. With the action now over, the neighborhood would soon return to normal for most of the residents. He felt it would take a lot longer for normalcy to return for the woman the perp grabbed as a shield. With TJ's well-placed shots, her injuries were solely emotional, but he knew that could be just as bad as physical wounds.
"Helluva shot," Dom said as he met Olympic's marksman TJ McCabe coming out of the grocery store where he'd been stationed on the roof.
Still buzzing on adrenaline, TJ smiled. "That's what the man pays me for." He looked back over his shoulder at the store's roof. Absently, he jingled the two spent .308 shells in his pocket. "Looks like about two hundred meters."
Dom stopped and also did a visual measurement. "Every bit."
Jim Street jogged over to his teammates. "Good job, TJ"
Turning his hat around bill-forward, TJ nodded acknowledgement to Jim. "He didn't give me much of a window, but just enough."
Jim stepped aside as an ambulance roared past, siren blasting and lights flashing. "And he'll be standing trial for armed robbery and taking hostages before long," he said once the ambulance din faded.
"I'd rather get them in front of a real judge and jury than force sentencing out here." TJ hefted his rifle, resting it on his shoulder. "But if they decide to lay down their own law, it doesn't leave us much choice."
"Yeah, that's the worst part of all this," Dom agreed. He gave TJ a congratulatory shoulder shove. "Best outcome we've had in a while."
"Maybe he should've read the papers so he would've known he was out-classed," Jim said.
"Man, don't start with those newspaper articles," said Dom, anger raising his voice.
"Don't worry," TJ said, "we did good this time."
"I'm sure some twerp reporter will twist it around on us," Dom grumbled, "they always do."
"You!"
The three Olympic SWAT officers turned at the shout.
"You shot my grandson." An elderly woman, stooped with age, stepped near the SWAT officers. "All of you should be ashamed of yourselves."
She looked Dominic Luca over studiously. Her sharp and steady gaze lancing from dark eyes set in a face wrinkled like wind weathered stone. "But you – you should know better. I can tell an Italian boy when I see one. How could you betray your own people like this?"
"Ma'am," Dom said calmly, "your grandson was threatening to kill those people. He had to be stopped."
"Pah," the woman spat. "He wouldn't harm a flea. You all backed him into a corner," she waived her frail-looking arms at the convenience store across the street, "he had no way out." She shook her head. "Shame on all of you!"
"Ma'am," Jim said, frustration edging his soothing tone, "our Lieutenant gave your grandson several chances to let the hostages go and come out."
"Just so you could shoot him. He's lucky he grabbed that woman to protect himself from the likes of you. Our streets are no place to play war!" Her voice rose steadily, cracking with emotion.
A patrolman gently corralled the woman and steered her back toward the taped off area. With surprising strength and speed, the old woman spun away from him. With fire in her eyes and a gnarled finger pointing at the three SWAT officers, she let off a string of Italian, finishing with an angry spray of spittle.
Less gentle, the patrolman escorted the woman behind the crime scene tape, giving the SWAT officers an apologetic shrug.
"What the heck was that?" asked TJ.
"Crazy old lady, I'd say," Jim answered, gesturing dismissively.
"She's been reading the papers, though. That bit about playing war is right out of a recent article bashing SWAT," TJ said.
Jim and TJ glanced at the unusually quiet Dom.
"She didn't scare you, did she?" TJ asked Dom.
"Hey." Jim tapped Dom's shoulder, causing the young officer to jump. "What's up with you?"
"I think we were just cursed," Dom said in a hushed tone.
"You recognized those words?" TJ grinned, shaking his head. "Probably lots of women use them when you're around."
"No," Dom said, seriously. "Cursed as in she put a hex on us."
All three men where quiet for a moment, looking in the direction the patrolman had taken the old woman. She'd faded into the crowd.
"You don't believe in that stuff, do you?" TJ asked, breaking the silence.
"I don't know," Dom said and walked toward the van.
"How about you?" TJ asked Jim.
Jim shrugged. "You?"
"Nah."
TJ and Jim joined Dom, Deke and Harrelson at the van.
"What was all that?" Harrelson asked, scanning the crowd.
"Some old lady claiming the perp that we so wrongly shot was her grandson. Told us not to play war in the street," explained Jim.
"She cursed us," Dom added.
Harrelson shook his head and stepped into the van. "I guess a relative has a right to get angry, even if it's at the wrong people."
"Not angry cursing," Dom explained, "hex cursing."
Just inside the van Harrelson turned, held on at the top of the van's door frame, and looked down at his men. "A hex? She put a hex on you?"
"All three of us," TJ said, motioning to include Jim and Dom beside him.
"You don't believe in hexes, spells and curses, do you, Hondo?" asked Deke.
Harrelson took a deep breath, taking a moment to formulate his answer. "I believe they have the power that an individual gives them. I," he pressed one hand to his bullet-proof vest clad chest, "don't believe they can bring any harm, or luck, to me, so that neutralizes them. Some people allow the threat, or promise, of them to influence their perception of events, resulting in what becomes belief."
"You mean," Jim said, thinking through Harrelson's explanation, "that only if we blame anything that happens – good or bad – on this curse, or hex thing, then that's its power over us?"
"Exactly," Harrelson answered. "Now load up. Whatever happens was going to happen anyway, no matter what the lady said."
As he entered the van, TJ nodded to Harrelson. "That makes sense, Lieutenant. Thanks."
"Don't let that mumbo-jumbo stuff get into your head and you'll be all right," Deke added.
Dom remained quiet during the ride back to Olympic Station.
#######
Changing into his civilian clothes, Jim shouldered into his shirt. "Well, we made it through the day without breaking any mirrors, no black cats crossed our paths …"
"You shouldn't make fun of it," said Dom, cutting off Jim's rant.
"You do believe it," TJ stated.
"I was raised around it, that's all," Dom said, closing his locker. "My grandmother dabbled in it. She was always mumbling and gesturing to ward off evil. Usually we just ignored her." And other times, Dom remembered, she'd scared him silly.
"So, do you believe it?" asked Jim.
Dom sighed heavily, shrugged. "I don't know. I've seen what it can do to people who do believe." He glanced over to Harrelson's office. "But I think like Hondo does – don't believe in it and it can't harm you. That makes sense."
"Makes sense to me, too," agreed TJ.
"But just in case …" Dom pointed at Jim. "… don't make fun of it."
Jim held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll keep my skepticism to myself."
"Hey, isn't Sheri flying in soon?" TJ asked, purposely changing the subject.
Jim smiled broadly. "Tomorrow night, about ten."
"Cool. You two up for a double-date with me and Susan this weekend?"
"Uh, if it's later," Jim said, still grinning. "Like Sunday."
TJ laughed. "All right. I'll check with Susan and let you know."
"Hey, what about me?" asked Dom.
"Didn't what's-her-name dump you last weekend?" Jim asked as the trio of officers headed up the stairs.
"Yeah, but I'm working on two other prospects. I should have one of them hooked by Sunday."
"Well, you let me know if you do and we'll pencil you in," TJ said.
"Make that a permanent marker, not a pencil. I'll call you no later than Saturday so you can make the reservation – for six."
"Sure, Dom," TJ said, "I'll be waiting by the phone for that call."
"You'll see!" Dom yelled as they went to their cars.
Dom let TJ and Jim leave first so they didn't see him turn opposite the way to his apartment. He didn't want them asking any questions, but he had a few to ask his grandmother.
#######
Dom Luca knocked heavily on the wooden door. His grandmother was slightly hard of hearing which amounted to her ignoring whatever she felt like. The frown on her face as she opened the door let Dom know she was in an ignoring mood that his insistent and loud knocking had disturbed.
"What are you doing banging on my door at this late hour, boy?"
"Grandma." Dom smiled his very best family greeting. "A visit from your favorite grandson shouldn't have time limits."
"Humph," Regina Luca grunted, slowly opening the door wider. "I'm an old lady and need my beauty rest."
"Grandma," said Dom, entering her sparkling clean home. "If you're asleep before midnight we'll be taking you to the doctor."
She waved irritably at him. "I keep my own hours." Dropping into an upholstered wing-back chair with a sigh, she added, "What do you want?"
Dom lifted his hands, doing his best to look innocent. They both knew he wouldn't be there at that hour, even though it was only a quarter after nine, without wanting something. But Dom knew he'd soon have her interest.
"Something weird happened today, Grandma," Dom began, sitting in the chair across from her.
"And this surprises you?"
Dom checked his eye roll, knowing his grandmother wanted him to be a doctor – or anything other than a cop.
"Well, this was even weird for police work. Some old Italian lady gave me the Evil Eye after we were forced to shoot her grandson who'd robbed a store and took a woman hostage." He decided to keep TJ and Jim out of the story since they didn't believe in curses anyway. Not that he fully believed in them himself, but he'd grown up around them and at least wanted Grandma Luca's opinion.
"Mal Occhio?" Regina said, hissing the words between clenched dentures. "On my kin – my own son's son?"
"Complete with finger pointing and spit," Dom added, pleased that his purpose was worth the ire of disturbing her evening.
"Who is this witch?"
"Uh, I don't really know. She said the perp was her grandson," answered Dom, shrugging lightly. "She somehow guessed I was Italian and said I should be ashamed." He knew that would rankle her.
Surprisingly spry, Dom watched as his grandmother sprang from her chair and went straight into The Room. The Room, also known as The Witching Room, had terrified Dom and his cousins as kids. Little of that fear had diminished over the years. He stood at the doorway, reluctant to enter her mystic domain.
She emerged shortly, already chanting her prayers in Italian and making sweeping and jerky gestures with her hands as she circled Dom. He stood like a statue, enduring whatever she felt needed to be done. It was for her peace of mind, Dom convinced himself, since he didn't really believe, totally, in the mystic witchery. She finished with a flurry of prayer, spit in her right palm and smacked it to Dom's forehead.
"Wear this." She shoved a round amulet on a silver chain at him.
He briefly studied the hand symbol painted in red before slipping the chain over his head and tucking the protection under his shirt.
"Keep that on for the next ten days. That should be long enough. If you know you'll be around that witch again, make sure you wear that and let me know so I can cleanse her evil off you again. Now get out so I can get some rest."
"Of course, Grandma." Dom pulled the door open, then turned. "And thanks." His hand went to the amulet beneath his shirt. It felt cool against his skin, calming.
"I'm glad you came to me, Dominic. It's important."
Dom nodded to his grandmother and stepped out into the warm night. He smiled as he heard her set the locks on her door behind him. He'd finally convinced her that that was important, too.
Driving back to his apartment, Dom found his thoughts wandering into the mystic realm. Should he feel different now that the curse was removed? Lighter? Cleaner, maybe? He hadn't felt different after the old lady spit the curse at him and he didn't feel much different now. The Lieutenant must be right, he decided. Just ignore it – it was really nothing to begin with. The amulet felt like ice next to his skin and Dom's thoughts turned again. What if …