by Luke Arnold
“Why the disguise?” I asked.
“Oh, this?” Hendricks gestured to his malformed mask like it was some bit of jewelry he’d snapped up on sale. “I’d seen those surgeons work wonders on other Elves, stretched the centuries from their faces and created a façade of youth, so I went looking for the same. It turns out that hundreds of years of indulgence and hard-drinking will rise to the surface when the magic stops holding them down. My skin was like old parchment. When they tried to pull it tight, it tore. I’d been hoping to come out of that clinic looking vibrant and handsome again. Instead, they could barely keep me together. They did what they could and I came out like this. But it’s not so bad. At least I’ve got my fucking eyebrows.”
He wasn’t such a monstrosity. Most Lycum had come out of the Coda far worse. Everything was still in the right place but his lip was cut with scar tissue. One eyelid looked a little lazy. His cheeks were smooth but they didn’t look natural. Too shiny. Still, it wasn’t really that bad unless you remembered the man he’d been before.
High Chancellor Eliah Hendricks had glowed. From his copper hair to his perfect teeth to the tips of his dancing fingers, it was like an artist had painted him into existence. Now, his hair was short and gray, his lips were dry, and his ears… well, the sharp Elven points had been completely lopped off.
“But why do you look like a Human?”
He did a little wave. A quirk of his. It was a circular swirl with his right hand that had a habit of knocking over tray tables or accidently starting fights with people sitting too close. Its meaning was something like, Well, why not?
“Because I wanted to walk among my enemies,” he said. “It worked. I knew enough about Lance Niles to tempt him into a meeting and with these ears and this face, he trusted me as one of his own. So much so, that he handed me the secret I’d been looking for.”
“The machine.”
Hendricks chuckled.
“Is that what you call it? In some correspondence I acquired, Mortales referred to it as a pistol. Lance showed it to me, thinking that I was some great engineer. He hoped that I would unlock its secrets. Instead, I used it to kill him.”
The spectrum of Hendricks’ personality had always been spread wide. He was a warm-hearted, idealistic dreamer. Sometimes. Other times, he was the most cold-blooded rationalist I’d ever met.
“Why?”
“Because he disgusted me. Lance Niles believed in the mask that I was wearing, so he took off his own mask and showed me his true self. If a man like that takes control of this city, he will soon be making his fortune in murder. I saw the sickness of this city in the heart of that two-faced con-artist and before I knew what I’d done, his brains were on the back wall.”
He gave another of his carefree flourishes, like that last part of the story was inconsequential. The killer I’d been searching for was confessing his crimes to my face but he was playing it off like it was nothing: a side-note to another story that was far more important. Maybe it was, but I was struggling to merge these two men into one: my dear old friend and the murderous Mr Deamar.
“Was it really that easy?”
That slowed him down a little. I always felt good when I asked Hendricks a question that he didn’t have a locked-and-loaded answer for. He licked the wine from his lips and thought it over.
“Disturbingly easy. Does that surprise you? You’ve touched the pistol. Nobody needs to show you how to hold it or the way to make it work. It is the most elegantly designed piece of evil I have ever seen. From the moment you pick it up, you want to use it, don’t you think? It’s almost impossible not to.”
I felt some relief, hearing him talk about it. Until that moment, the burden of the machine had been mine alone. Even Victor didn’t see it the same way. Finally, I could talk to someone else about its unique, addictive power.
“Is that why you gave it to me? So you wouldn’t be tempted to use it again?”
“I suppose. And other reasons.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “To see what would happen.”
Hendricks laughed. Wide and high like I had just asked the silliest thing in the world. Try as I might, I couldn’t join him.
“What happens now?” I asked. “Lance is gone.”
“Yes, but his brother isn’t. From what I understand, the same darkness runs through him.”
Thurston Niles hadn’t seemed so evil to me. Not at the time. But Hendricks was making me realize how asleep I’d been. How I’d only looked at the things that other people wanted me to see. Because there hadn’t been any reason to go any deeper. We were all just holding on, waiting to see what would die next. Now, all of a sudden, the blood of the world was bright red and beating again.
“Hendricks, where are we going?”
We’d walked past the Mayor’s home, his gardens and the House of Ministers, and were climbing up a small hill with the grand name of Mt Ramanak. Ramanak separated the city from the forest beyond: a protected park known as Brisak Reserve.
When they first built Sunder, Brisak wasn’t much more than swamp. Over time, the Ministers introduced all kinds of trees and shrubs to the landscape and created a haven of exotic plants and animals. Lovers would walk up to the waterfall. Witches could explore its nooks and crannies to pick rare ingredients. It was a little piece of nature tucked into the backbone of the metropolis.
Of course, most of the flora had at least some magical component so the whole place took a mean hit from the Coda. We’d all been hoping that the natural world would find a way to fight back and fill the area with non-magic plants sometime soon.
Hendricks was breathing heavily.
“Eliah, we can go back. Do this another time.”
“No. You need to see this.”
He slowed but he didn’t stop. The bottle was empty so he threw it by the side of the path. Finally, we crested the hill just as dawn pushed away the stars. There should have been enough morning light to illuminate the reserve, but I couldn’t see a piece of it.
That’s because Brisak Reserve was gone.
The whole area had been cleared of trees and covered with cement. At the bottom of the hill there was a building as big as anything else in Sunder. Huge metal walls with workers moving in and out.
How had they done it without the fire pits?
Nobody had constructed anything like this. Not since the Coda. Not in Sunder, but likely not anywhere. We might renovate old, out-of-date businesses or give a city block a fresh coat of paint but we weren’t building new factories from the ground up. The last time I’d seen anything like it was Amari’s doomed hospital and even that was minuscule compared to whatever was happening down below.
Trucks drove down the hill and unloaded supplies. Carriages dropped crates at the door and laborers came out to collect them. The workflow wasn’t only smooth, it was being done with a certain amount of enthusiasm.
“It’s incredible,” I said. Hendricks made a disproving noise in the back of his throat.
“From what I can gather, this power plant is the most crucial part of their operation. They’ve been employing hundreds of workers to keep it going night and day.”
His tone was all condemnation, but it was exactly the kind of thing that Sunderites had been praying for.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Don’t confuse business with altruism, boy. Lance Niles was in town a long time before he announced what his plans were. The company purchased a sizable amount of the city before anyone knew what was happening. The government and the citizens, desperate for profit, sold their assets for next to nothing. Now, if this power plant actually gets going, all those businesses will be functional again.”
“Eliah, that sounds like progress.”
Hendricks spun around to face me, his stranger’s face grimacing as he pointed a fingertip into my forehead.
“Didn’t I teach you to be smarter than this? To question everything? Think! I didn’t spend all those hours testing you jus
t so you would believe whatever anybody tells you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing is what it seems,” he said, turning my attention back to the bustling power plant below. “The Niles brothers have greased the palms and slapped the backs of every Minister in town so nobody will look at what the company is actually doing. That responsibility has been left to me.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Left to us, if you have it in you to do what’s right.”
I don’t believe in second chances. I don’t believe you can undo what was done. But if I didn’t believe I still had it in me to do something good, I would have jumped out the Angel door a long time ago.
“Tell me what we need to do,” I said.
He nodded. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
“First, we need to find out how the Niles Company are creating their power. When we know that, we can decide what happens next.”
“How do we do that?”
He smiled, finally, and it almost made him look like his old self.
“We need to get inside that building.”
I must not have hidden my shock because he let out a cheeky laugh. When I heard it, all uncertainty vanished from my mind. We were a team again. Off on a quest to uncover the inner workings of the Niles Company, and nothing could have made me happier. He laughed again and patted me on the back.
“Come on, Mr Man for Hire. Let’s have ourselves an adventure.”
53
To my relief, Hendricks’ plan required further preparation. Once we’d gone back down the hill to the top of Main Street, he suggested that we should both catch up on some sleep.
“You can stay upstairs at mine, if you like,” I offered. “It’s not that big but we can work something out.”
“Thank you, darling, but I have a place. Get some rest and I’ll come for you later in the day.”
He walked off into the dawn light and I couldn’t help but wonder where he might be staying. How many other people had he contacted? How high had I been on his list of old friends?
I got back to my office and my head was on the pillow for less than a minute before someone knocked on the open door.
“Are you going to come quietly or do I need to get the big boys?”
Simms looked like she’d had even less sleep than me.
“You look tired, Detective. How about you hop in, we both have a nap, and deal with whatever you need when we wake up?”
She threw a near-freezing glass of water on my face.
“You. Me. Station. Now.”
No carriage this time. But there was no interrogation room or phonebook either, so I counted myself lucky. She brought me into her office, closed the door, and collapsed in her chair like her bones had vanished from her body.
“What a mess,” she said. “What a screw-balled, stupid, cockeyed, mangy, puddle of piss. This Niles case is a sham and it’s all my fault.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Simms. Could have happened to anyone.”
She threw a folder of papers at my head.
“It’s my fault because I was dumb enough to bring you in on it.”
There was a knock on the door. It was the timid cop who had found me on the floor of my office after I returned from Aaron Valley. He put two cups of bad police-station coffee on the desk.
“Thank you, Bath,” said Simms.
“No problem, Detective.”
Bath left. Simms didn’t even blow on her coffee before she took a sip.
“How did you know it wasn’t Tippity?”
Ugh. I’d had weeks to think of a good answer to that one but I hadn’t come up with anything convincing.
“Do you trust the Niles Company?” I asked.
“Do you want me to jump over the desk and slap you? Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. I knew it wasn’t Tippity the same way you did. Because, just like everybody else, you know that there isn’t any magic left. Nothing that powerful. Not anymore. Whatever killed Lance Niles, it was something else.” I shrugged. “Maybe some kind of machine.”
“You know more than you’re saying, Fetch.”
“So do you.”
“I’m supposed to know more. I’m the fucking police. You were meant to be working for me.”
“I did exactly what you asked me to do, I just got it wrong. We all got wrapped up in the idea that Tippity had unlocked something special. But he hasn’t. Of course, he hasn’t. I’m sorry it took so long for me to come to my senses but this murder has nothing to do with magic. So why don’t we forget the how and look at the why? Does anybody really know what the Niles Company is up to?”
“You can’t fill me up with crumbs, Fetch. Who killed Lance Niles? Who killed Harold Steeme? How did they do it?”
“Who’s Harold Steeme?”
If Simms wasn’t so tired, that question might have got me killed.
“Harold Steeme is the gambler who got killed last night outside a little club called Cornucopia where, a few weeks ago, some lippy gumshoe came in and gave him shit about leaving his wife.”
“Right. Sorry. I meant to say, Harold Steeme is dead?”
“Who killed him, Fetch?”
“You think I know that?”
“Yes!”
“Well, I don’t.”
I held my gaze to her narrow, golden eyes, shrugging like an idiot.
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “I don’t believe a single bullshit thing coming out of your mouth. Give me something to go on or I’ll lock you up till this thing is over.”
Something was strange. She was pissed – that wasn’t anything new – but it was different. She was frustrated and irritable instead of wheeling out her tired, hard-ass routine.
“Why haven’t you locked me up?” I asked.
“Keep this up and I will.”
“Come on, Simms. You don’t usually beat around the bush like this. If you really thought I was keeping things from you, you’d have me tied up in interrogation. What’s got into you? Don’t get a kick from seeing me in cuffs anymore?”
“I know you’re keeping things from me.”
“Then what’s the deal? I saw the story in the paper. You’ve dropped Tippity in the Gullet for a crime you know he didn’t do. The Mayor is using that story to crack down on anyone that tries to revive the magic, even in little ways. This isn’t how you do things, Simms.”
“I’m not doing this.”
“Then who is?”
She did her best to hold it in, but something finally snapped.
“Thurston Niles. The brother. He’s buying up the whole city. Some of it with cash. Some of it with handshakes and smiles. I can’t move an inch in this case without one of his partners closing in around me. You say Tippity didn’t do this? Sure. Well, whoever did do it killed Harold Steeme last night.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.”
Her eyes went wide.
“See! You know something!”
“I don’t! I’m just bouncing around some ideas.”
“If only you could see what a terrible liar you are, it would save us both a lot of embarrassment. Are you really going to let Tippity rot in jail rather than open your mouth?”
“You saw what he did to those bodies. Tippity is a creep.”
“But he’s not a murderer. Right? Isn’t that what you told the judge? And while he’s locked up, the real killer walks free. Isn’t your conscience heavy enough without adding this to the load?”
But what was the alternative? Hand over Hendricks? How would that fit into my tightly packed closet of skeletons?
“I don’t know who did it,” I said, even less convincing than the last time. “If I did, I’d tell you. That’s what you paid me for.”
I didn’t need to convince her. She’d showed me her hand when she told me that Thurston had handicapped her on the case. The Niles Company wanted to pin the crime on Tippity because it was a neater story than Deamar. With everyone looking the other way, they hoped to quietly take
care of the real killer in the shadows. Even if Simms arrested me, her superiors wouldn’t want to hear anything about it.
“You had your chance, Fetch. Now stay away from every part of this. The Bluebird Lounge, the prison and the Niles Company.”
“That’s gonna be difficult.”
She bit her lip so she wouldn’t scream.
“Why?”
“Because Thurston Niles hired me to find his brother’s killer.”
If she’d spontaneously combusted, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
“Since when?”
“Couple of days ago.”
“You should have told me.”
“I just did.”
“I thought you didn’t work for Humans.”
“He got me on a technicality. As you said, Thurston is a guy who gets what he wants.”
She rubbed her temples. “You got one of those painkillers?”
I threw her a Clayfield and she stirred it around in her coffee.
“Nice trick,” I said. “Never tried that one.”
“Fetch, this case is a pile of shit and you’re walking it all over my carpet. Give me something solid, right now, or I’ll throw you in the Gullet with Tippity.”
“On what grounds?”
“Whatever grounds I want. You have a long history of crimes that I can pull into the light if I want you out of my way.”
Another time in my life, I might have let her. But my old buddy was back from the dead and asking for my help. I needed to throw somebody under the bus so Simms would let me out. If it had to be someone, it might as well be the woman who was on a carriage out of Sunder City jurisdiction.
“A couple of weeks ago, a woman came to my office. She wanted me to find out who killed her husband. The husband was a gambler who’d disappeared without a trace. So, I went looking and found the husband who was alive and well, with a smooth new face. When I told the wife what had happened, she was emotional, of course, but took it better than I’d expected. That was the last I heard about it until last night.”
I didn’t need to fill in the blanks. Simms was way ahead of me.