Levi’s personal art collection, incorporating artists as diverse as Escher and Dali, graced pale gold walls. The unifying theme of these paintings and photographs was illusions, but unless you knew what the pattern was, it was hard to spot.
Veronica’s face puckered at my approach.
Heh.
She stood up, physically prepared to get between me and Levi’s door, if that’s what it took. Her ferocious glower wasn’t half as impressive as her air of effortless chic. She’d paired black cigarette pants with a crisp, white tailored shirt with nary a hint of a wrinkle, a linen blazer, and a scarf in rich red blooms knotted loosely around her neck. Her blonde hair was tied back in one of those messy buns at the nape of the neck that on her was fetching and on me looked like the bad hair day it was.
I’d noticed latte cups on her desk before, with the letters marking her preference for non-fat, double shots. Sure enough, there was already a takeout cup in the otherwise empty trash can by her desk.
I presented her with a still-steaming latte, hoping if she was caffeinated to the tits that it would boost her mood from her normal bristling hostility to a general dislike masked by an air of professionalism. We were going to cross paths a lot in the future, and I’d catch more flies with honey.
She took off the lid and, eyes narrowed, sniffed the drink.
Please. If I intended to poison her, I’d never be that obvious. I’d start with small ongoing dosages to get her progressively sicker, then stop, baffling everyone, but making her relieved that her mysterious illness was over.
Then I’d finish her off.
However, today was about playing nice, so I gave Veronica the smile that Priya had signed off on as being my most charming. “Is Levi in?”
“There’s powdered sugar on your chin.”
I wiped off the remnants of the hastily eaten donut when I’d bought her coffee. “Whoops. I hate wasting cocaine.”
Her eyes jumped all over my clothing, unable to land on any one fashion violation. “Are those blood flecks on your shirt?”
I checked the white T-shirt under my leather jacket. Huh. Must have gotten a little parting gift when I’d punched Moran. “Yeah.”
“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning.” Her voice vibrated with indignation.
“Not to brag, but you should see what I can achieve if I’ve had my second coffee.” I jerked a thumb at the office. “So? Fearless Leader?”
“He’s not here right now.”
I considered threatening her with another disembodied golem’s hand, because the look on her face that time had been priceless, but reminded myself the word of the day was “honey.”
“Actually not here,” I said, “or are you falling back on your stock answer where I’m concerned? Because you know I’ll check. So how about we pretend we’ve already done this little dance and you tell me where he is?”
A little voice in my head that sounded remarkably like Pri’s tsked at my distinct lack of honey. Oh, whatever. It was the thought that counted.
“Contrary to what you believe,” Veronica said, leaning over the counter for emphasis, “Levi isn’t a lackey at your beck and call. He’s not only trusted with governing his Nefesh community, but overseeing multiple corporate interests and matters of public justice.”
“Yeah, and he shits rainbows. I get it. He’s important. However, he contacted me with a matter of some urgency.”
“Then you should have responded in a timely matter.” She sat down and pulled her monitor screen closer, her dismissal clear.
Golem hand next time it was. Could I order one online?
“Tell Levi I called.”
“I will.”
“As soon as he gets in.”
“I’ll tell him you called,” she said, huffily.
Right, and I’d hold my breath in anticipation.
I headed in the general direction of the elevators, then checking that Veronica wasn’t watching me, detoured into the restrooms. Had I had more time, Priya could have hacked into Veronica’s computer, but this was pressing, and besides, my techie secret weapon was in a meeting.
I placed a call to the main switchboard of House HQ. “Uh, hi. There’s a car alarm going off down here in the parkade. Window’s smashed, too. I think it’s Mr. Montefiore’s assistant’s car.”
I lingered another couple minutes in the restroom, half-heartedly scrubbing out the blood flecks. When I emerged, Veronica wasn’t at her desk and she’d taken her purse, so she wasn’t in the photocopy room.
The latte I’d given her was nowhere to be seen either.
“You’re welcome.” I sat down in her chair and studied the password-protected screen. Neither “admin,” “password1,” or “1234” worked. Nor did any combination of Levi’s birthday. I was tempted to try “IheartLevi” but refrained. I’d already hit six attempts out of my allotted ten before I’d be locked out for thirty minutes.
My estimation of her rose. Slightly. As Levi’s Executive Assistant, she’d constantly have to leave her computer to deal with problems and general administrative tasks. She was smart enough to make sure no one got to the sensitive material on her computer since her desk was out in the open.
What else could it be? It might be randomly generated, in which case I was shit out of luck, but if she’d gone with something meaningful to her? What clues did her workspace yield?
I dismissed the postcard propped on her desk from some tropical location. Other than that, she had a taped-up photo of her and some guy at a Canucks game, both wearing the blue, white, and green jerseys of our Vancouver hockey team, and her pens were stashed in a Canucks beer mug. Neither of these items were visible from the other side of the reception desk, so they weren’t things she was interested in showing off. No, her self-identification as a Canucks fan was something she drew comfort and energy from.
Three more tries were a bust. I cracked my knuckles. Last attempt. “WeAreAllCanucks1” was the winner. The combination of their slogan plus the most commonly used number tacked on to passwords to make them more “secure.” Priya would have pissed herself laughing.
From there it was quick work to get into Levi’s personal calendar and find out where he was. I left Veronica’s desk as I found it and was back at the elevator bank when she stepped out.
“Why are you still here?” Her suspicion had a gleeful edge like she could rid herself of me once and for all. Sister, I wasn’t that easy to shake.
I held out my damp, but mostly spotless T-shirt. “I didn’t notice the blood until you pointed it out, and honestly, who wants to walk around with that on their shirt?”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t challenge me. Throwing her a breezy salute, I left to track down my quarry.
City Hall was an art deco building on Cambie Street in what was essentially midtown. Snagging a parking spot at the edge of the lot, I swapped my leather jacket for the short belted trench coat I kept in a duffel bag in the trunk. It was my selection of clothes and props should I need to get into character on a case. Buttoned up and with the collar popped, the coat hid most of the damage I’d sustained at Moran’s hands, including the burn on my neck. Securing my dark wavy hair in a smooth ponytail, I grabbed a file folder of blank papers and slid on a pair of non-prescription glasses.
I exhaled sharply a bunch of times to get my color up, then ran inside, flustered and jabbering at the woman manning the information desk that I’d totally forgotten this file and did she know where Mr. Montefiore was because if I didn’t get it to him, I was screwed?
The quiver in my voice was a nice touch.
The lovely gullible lady took pity on me and directed me up to the City Planning department, where I skulked in the hallway until Levi emerged chatting with a woman in a conservative blue dress.
“I appreciate you factoring in the unique needs of Nefesh in the overall livability plan proposed for Mount Pleasant,” he said. “Having a preschool and community center that would allow these young kids freedom to master their magic
without fear of hurting Mundanes would be an asset in this neighborhood.”
I hadn’t seen him in just over a week. As usual he was in an expensive suit that accentuated his leanly muscled frame, though he’d forgone a tie in favor of a shirt with the first button undone, exposing a very lickable collarbone. His raven-back hair, cut slightly longer on top than on the sides, was swept away from his face and slicked into submission, while his sharp jawline and cheekbones were softened by lush lips that had burned their way down my body.
I clutched my dummy file folder tighter. That was the past. The present had to be different. I couldn’t let emotion get in the way of the investigation.
I just wished it didn’t make me feel like I was losing something important.
They shook hands and the woman retreated back into her department.
“Do you urban plan here, too?” I moved into his line of sight. “What a small world!”
Was I doomed to always smell the oaky amber scotch and chocolate scent of his magic? I only scented magic once a Nefesh used their powers, but Levi’s was always there whenever he got all up in my personal space. It was, like many things about him, infuriating.
Levi let out an aggrieved sigh. “Is it stalker o’clock already?”
I fell into step with him. “Have you or the House had any dealings with Tannous Security?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Where were you last night?”
Levi pulled up short for a second, but resumed his even stride. “Am I a suspect in something?”
“Answer the question.”
“I was at home.”
Did he have staff who could verify his alibi? “Alone?”
He paused before answering. “No.”
Oh. Well, we’d never claimed to be exclusive frenemies with benefits. I wasn’t an amateur and I didn’t let my feelings get the best of me. Still, I hated the knot in my stomach when I asked, “Would she confirm that?”
And I hated it when he didn’t contradict me to say it hadn’t been a woman that he’d had over, and instead looked at the floor and said, “It’s complicated.”
Because of course we didn’t matter to each other like that. For all the things that were exceptional about us, we were still just two people who had gotten caught up in an intense bonding situation that was now over. We were adults. It happened. The more important thing was the truth, and that meant the very real possibility that Levi was guilty and lying about his alibi.
“Ask anyway. It’s important.” Questioning his mystery lay was only slightly more appealing than a Brazilian wax, but it would be worse if he’d lied. However, if Levi wasn’t involved, and the attacker was human, then either there was another illusionist from elsewhere, or what? There was no Nefesh flying magic, and everyone had agreed on the angel’s winged departure.
“Was there anything else?” His voice dripped acid.
Our trust had been kicked into the gutter, but he didn’t have to speak to me like he wanted to leave me there as well. I had a job to do, and Levi, of all people, should have appreciated me taking my work seriously. “Dropping the Jezebel’s identity without follow-up was a dick move.”
The sooner I got the information from him and cut him loose on that front, the better.
He shrugged, wrinkling the line of his blue pinstriped shirt. “You were the one who blew me off.”
I swallowed hard against the memory of his weight on me, his skin hot against mine. “I. Was. Working. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“Mostly it does.” Levi pulled the folder from my arms, noted the blank contents, and shoved it back. I smiled sunnily at him. “You tend to be the one irritating exception.”
“You love it, Leviticus.” Old habits died hard; I’d used my adolescent nickname for him that he despised, instead of the professionalism our situation demanded. “I mean, Levi.” He shot me a weird look, which I ignored. “Since everyone else, and I quote, ‘wants to kiss your ass or knock it down a peg.’”
“I rue the day I told you that.” He bypassed the elevator for the stairs at the end of the long hallway. Fitness freak.
“Tough. No takebacks.” I scurried after him. “Who’s the Jezebel?”
All magic types had names. Metalheads could wrangle metal, Sirens had sexual attraction magic. I, apparently, was a Jezebel, capable of destroying the magic unleashed on the world back in the 1600s by a group of ten Jewish men representing the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel.
As devout practitioners of Kabbalah, they’d wanted to become one with the divine, or, in their terms, achieve the fifth and highest plane of the soul, Yechida. They just didn’t want the years of studying it took. Like many a con, it fucked up big-time. Instead of them achieving full union with their god, Yahweh, the magic that they bestowed on about ten percent of the global population was rooted in the first level of the soul, Nefesh.
They failed their specific goal, but they still got powers, and blood magic was the one thing that could strip theirs away. Undermine it, the way that Jezebel in the Old Testament undermined the Jewish patriarchy with her continued insistence on the worship of the goddess Asherah–Yahweh’s bride and the person I’d been named after.
Was my blood magic defensive? Offensive? Was I a pawn or a warrior? Did I get a choice either way? Those questions had plagued me since my abilities had activated.
I’d found one other Jezebel, that poor woman, chained up and forced to strip magic from innocent victims to create smudges. I’d rescued her, but the abuse she’d suffered had been too severe to make it out alive. Before she died, she said, “We looked for you,” and that “we” had to stop Chariot. Occam’s Razor and all. We equaled team.
Having the Jezebel’s name was my first lead in tracking them down.
Once I found the others, I’d place my investigative abilities at their disposal on a part-time basis. Having it all, for me, meant a lifelong career as a Nefesh P.I. solving epic puzzles. I was willing to concede that outwitting Chariot did pose an interesting challenge, but the world was full of mysteries to unravel and I wasn’t about to be pigeonholed into a single gig.
Who didn’t love having a destiny dumped on them that in no way fit into one’s five-year plan?
I poked Levi in the back. “The Jezebel?”
“Her name is Gavriella Behar.” Levi pushed through the ground floor stairwell door into the lobby.
“And?” I winced as the door clipped me on the shoulder.
“She moved here fifteen years ago, right around the time your magic showed up. I guess we’re going to see how deep this rabbit hole you’ve unearthed goes.”
“We? This has nothing do with you.”
Levi’s eyes hardened to two blue crystals, his casual arrogance turning to an unquestioned power. “She lived in my territory all that time without registering and who the fuck knows what ramifications for my House are going to come to light. So, yeah. ‘We.’”
This was not the “we” I’d had in mind.
I followed him to the limo waiting in a reserved parking spot, biting back my retort that he’d only been House Head for five of those fifteen years so maybe tone the drama down a notch.
I switched tactics. “You’re not trained as an investigator. Let me root through her life and I’ll share my findings with you.”
“All your findings or just the ones you decide are relevant to me?”
I’d never withhold information that could actively hurt Levi or the House, but getting answers about Jezebels meant learning things about my magic. About me. Why did my life have to be an open book? His certainly wasn’t.
Nor did I want it to be. Boundaries were a good thing. Especially with the power Levi held over me. As House Head. Or the power I held while investigating him. What a mess.
“I’ll drown you in intel,” I said sweetly.
“No need. I’ll swim through the mass of information alongside you. Though the angelic smile was a nice touch.”
I twigged on the word.
Was this truly about consequences for his House or was he angling for a way to spend time with me to suss out my progress on Omar’s case?
“Yay, a partner. Guess we’re going together. I have my car.”
“My apologies,” Levi said.
I shot him the finger. “If you have Gavriella’s address, I can follow you to her house to check it out, right after we make a pit stop. I need to lock up a dangerous magic artifact.”
“Where’s it now?”
“In my car.” I deliberately didn’t add that it was safely contained.
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he opened the back limo door. Heh. “Any other menial tasks I can assist you with?” he said.
“Not at the moment, but I’ll keep you posted. You open your own limo door?”
He glanced at the driver’s window and lowered his voice. “I let Simon do it at formal events but it’s weird having someone else open it all the time. I have perfectly fine working hands.” He grinned a pirate’s grin, his white teeth flashing against his olive skin, looking utterly edible.
I clenched my jaw and silently chanted “suspect” three times. “Let’s lock up the artifact and then you may chauffeur me.”
“How generous. However, this’ll have to wait until later,” he said. “I’m busy.”
I grabbed the top of the limo door. “You expect me to wait around until you slot me in?”
“Evidently.” He got into the limo.
“I suppose giving me the address for a quick drive-by is out of the question?”
He shut the door on me.
How emblematic was that? Levi may have been a good ally at times and even the man who lit me up like no other, but when all was said and done, we understood each other too well. We saw ourselves in the other, both in how we breathed suspicion like oxygen and how we walked the thin line between monster and magic-user.
Much as I wished to deny it.
Even without the fact that I was investigating Levi, I didn’t trust him. We’d worked together before, but there would always be walls between us. I’d been hurt enough by people who said that they trusted me and then couldn’t follow through. I was done.
Death & Desire: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 2) Page 5