She folded her fingers over her thumbs.
“And you’re wearing your ‘I give up’ pants. Your battery is shot. You should have slept last night and then worked and recharged in some public space like the weirdo that you are.”
I hovered over her until she’d eaten everything and let out a large yawn.
“You suck.” She placed the empty plate on the coffee table.
“I know, and I’m really sorry about last night. I promise to interact with humanity more. I hadn’t realized how closed off I’d gotten, or how much pressure that might be putting on you.” I slid off the fuzzy scarf wound around my neck.
Priya stared at me.
Okay, apology not accepted? “I’ll do better?”
“You have a hickey.”
Eyes wide, I slapped a hand over my throat. I’d thrown on my clothes in the dark this morning.
“Other side.” She smirked. “Apparently, you interacted with a human just fine last night.”
“That’s the bruises from before.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“You need to sleep,” I said. “You’re hallucinating.”
“Ashiiirrraaaaa. Who did you get down and dirty with?”
I mumbled an answer.
Priya kicked me. “You had hate sex with Levi?!”
“Technically, there was no sex. It was all very…” Hot? Confusing? Wrong? Right? “Ill-advised.”
She fell back against the cushions with a shriek. “Oh my god! He is as good as advertised.”
“Not remotely what I said.”
“You owe me a hundred bucks.”
“Why?”
“Because two years ago I bet you that all this nemesis stuff between you was a cover up for your mutual ‘gotta tap that bow chica wow wow.’” She held out a hand. “Pay up.”
I dropped the thumb drive into it. “Consider this payment in full. A stolen drive that’s password protected and may hold the key to finding Meryem and stopping further smudges from being created.” Levi had tried to access the drive on his laptop to no avail on the flight back.
“You were busy last night,” Priya said.
“With work, Pink Menace.” It might be fun to put her and Miles in the same room and see what happened.
“Huh?”
“Forget it. Look at the drive after you’ve napped.”
“You give me a mystery drive to play with and then tell me to sleep? Pfft.” Suddenly bright-eyed, she pulled the spare laptop that she kept for when she was dealing with potential viruses or things that could fry her motherboard out from under the couch where she’d left it, and inserted the drive. “Ooh. This is even better than that pashmina Mummy gave me for Diwali. It’s not just password protected, this baby is encrypted.”
“So, that’s a ‘no’ to getting in to the files?”
“Ye of little faith. If the encryption scheme uses a password, I still might be able to crack it. But not if the password is really strong or if it’s hashed properly.”
I shook my head blankly.
“You know, with bcrypt or PBKDF2.”
“Obviously.”
“In that case, we’ll be out of luck. Though I can do some research and see if there are any known flaws in their encryption scheme. If, however, the encryption has poor key storage, or lacks entropy, you know like keys that aren’t random enough, or they use some bullshit homegrown crypto, then I’ll get in.” Priya put her headphones back on, House of Pain once more audible, and shooed me away.
Priya loved her puzzles as much as I did. Guess she had other ways to recharge beside being around people.
Confident the drive was in good hands, I left her to it.
“Oh yeah. Ash?” Pri didn’t bother looking up or taking off her headphones so she was essentially screaming at me. “I found a night nurse who’d been on your recovery ward. Sandra Chen. She asked to be transferred to a different ward while you were there. I left her details on your dresser."
Not Dr. Zhang. I did a happy dance out the door and left Sandra a message explaining who I was and asking her to contact me.
Which thread required immediate follow up? There was the mystery Van Gogh to interrogate. I wrinkled my nose, not wanting to get too close and risk ending up warded again. It wasn’t like I could put him off any longer, but I had to get all this charged energy out of my system and get my head on straight to deal with him.
I changed into leggings, runners, and a turtleneck to hide the hickey and the bruises, which I’d liberally coated in arnica cream once more. Hesitantly, I approached Arkady’s door on our shared landing. Fighting was part of my tool kit now. Better learn to do it properly.
Plus, Priya would be happy that I was spending time with him.
He flung the door open before I could knock, wearing low hanging board shorts with a T-shirt slung over his shoulder, and his hair in a high ponytail. There could be a daily inspirational calendar that was just photos of his abs. “Creepy lurker much?”
He blew on his black nail polish.
“I’m in need of punching things,” I said.
“You’ve come to the right man. Enter.” With a flourish, he invited me in.
The only thing in his living room was a giant TV screen showing the weather forecast for the next week and a punching bag hanging from the ceiling.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.”
“I’ve got the basics. Hang on.” He unmuted the television as Levi appeared on screen, with Miles quietly menacing off to his right.
Levi stood behind a podium mounted with a bank of microphones, wearing a sincere yet somber expression. “I want to assure the members of the press, the public, and most specifically my Nefesh community, that there is no magic virus.”
“Levi!” A reporter in front waved his hand to get Levi’s attention. “Can you be more specific about what’s been causing the heart attacks since none of the victims were candidates?”
Yeah, Bob. Person or persons with imaginary blood magic are ripping powers out of innocent people, some of which got loose and are trying to stay alive. Don’t feed them.
“I’m unable to comment further at this time,” Levi said. “Again, you have my assurances that the House is doing everything possible to investigate–”
“Unless you’re behind it?” A female reporter with a hungry glint spoke up. “Sources say you have plans to circumnavigate the laws governing Nefesh and take magic regulation into your own hands. Is this part of that plan?”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, honey,” Arkady said to the TV. “Right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
“What motive could I possibly have for targeting my own people?” Levi looked at the woman like she was shit on the bottom of his shoe.
She shrank back into the press of journalists.
“Mark my words,” he said. “Whoever is behind this? I am coming for you, and I won’t stop until you’ve been destroyed and my people are safe.” He smiled a wolfish smile. Waaay too many teeth. “Thank you.”
The TV cut to Jackson Wu, an outspoken man of Chinese heritage and the provincial leader of the Untainted Party. He’d left a caucus meeting to tell a throng of reporters that his Party planned to introduce a bill for tighter control and overview of the Nefesh population.
“This failure of Mr. Montefiore to contain the menace at large is exactly why we will be proposing to disassemble all Houses in this country and remove the special status that this population has enjoyed,” Jackson said.
My mother was the Senior Policy Advisor. Her fingerprints were all over this. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d been the ones to leak the virus rumor in the first place to leverage this situation.
I slammed a punch into the bag, sending it swinging.
“We will no longer sit idly by,” Jackson said. “Today this virus is killing Nefesh. Tomorrow? Who knows? It’s just a matter of time before one of them goes off like a ticking time bomb and innocents are hurt.”
Arkady mut
ed the TV. “I hate him. But damn, before? Levi was good.”
“He has his moments.”
“Are you kidding me?” Arkady launched into a two-minute fanboy spiel listing the magnificence that was Levi Montefiore.
“He’s a competent House Head,” I conceded.
Whatever had happened between Levi and myself didn’t matter. Last night was firmly in the past, no hard feelings. The only thing I cared about right now was helping him destroy the smudges and getting Meryem and any other kids back home.
I punched the bag again.
Arkady winced. “Well, that is the worst form I’ve ever seen. Are you deliberately trying to dislocate your arm? Because with that kind of strength you’re going to end up in traction. Didn’t you practice your powers, low level that they are?”
“Uh…” While I was trying to come up with a plausible lie, Arkady clucked his tongue and demonstrated how to punch.
“Make a tight fist,” he said. “You look like you’re about to blow on your lucky dice.”
“So encouraging.”
“Aw, pickle. You want me to be nice or you want me to turn you into a fighting machine in the fastest amount of time possible?”
“Fighting machine.”
Arkady was a surprisingly good teacher. He fixed my form so that I turned into the punch with my whole body, got me to consistently land blows that didn’t hurt my hand, and all he demanded in return was every single detail about my cases and personal life.
I told him my cases were off-limits and gave him the bare bones details about myself, including a little white lie about only having super strength.
“Quit holding your breath.” He adjusted my fists so I held them more tightly by my face. “You’re leaving yourself wide open. Keep your guard up.”
“Generally not a problem,” I said.
Arkady gasped. “Did you just make a joke about your anti-social tendencies?”
“Misanthropic, not anti-social.”
“Nah. That makes it sound like we’re the problem, when it’s clearly you.”
A laugh sputtered out of me. “You have absolutely zero filter.”
“Right? So between me saying everything I think and you being super suspicious, we’re like one normal human.” He did the quotes.
“Is that supposed to go in the plus column?”
He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Punch.”
I shook my arms, bounced from foot to foot and executed a jab-hook combo, sharply exhaling as I did.
Arkady watched me with a critical eye. “I read some of those Sherlock Holmes stories. They’re pretty good.”
“What do you usually read?”
“Modern crime fiction. Like Elmore Leonard.”
“Those are good, too. Though I’ve only read Get Shorty and Raylan. The TV version was better.”
“That’s because Timothy Olyphant is a hot piece of gunslinger in Justified.” He demonstrated a change to the combo.
“True.”
Hitting things properly was empowering. “Could we turn this into a regular thing?” I said. “Would you teach me to fight? Not just boxing moves, but wrestling stuff, too. How to pin someone down and keep them there. I could pay you.”
He crossed his arms. “Do I look like I need money?”
“Well, you don’t have furniture…”
“I have the basics.”
“So, you’ll do it for the sparkling pleasure of my company?”
“As if. I’ll do it for food. One training session for one dinner.”
“I can’t really cook,” I said.
“Can you order in?”
In the background, the TV switched from toothpaste commercials to another news report.
“Well, yes, but–” My eyes flicked over the headline and then I lunged for the remote and slammed the unmute button.
On the screen was a sketch of Lillian and Santino.
“…considered dangerous with possibly level five magic,” the anchorwoman said. “Police are looking for these two prime suspects involved in an attack on a security guard at a private event. If you see them, do not approach. Call your local Nefesh police department.”
The sketch was wrong. Lillian didn’t have her ostentatious necklace. Instead she wore a Star of David. Why? Think, Ash. Birthmark Man must have told his employers that Lillian could create smudges and now they were after her. But what was the deal with the Star of David? It had to mean something. A message? A code of some sort?
As if things couldn’t get odder, Thug Money came on, giving a sound bite debunking the rumor that a Dr. Doolittle was involved in the attack. “Given the condition of the guard,” he said, “this was some kind of Tough Guy magic. Chances are the man you’re after has excessive strength.”
Oh, Thug Money, you sexist ass. I could kiss you for that accidental misdirect, but the fact that someone was circulating this sketch? I rubbed my hands over my face.
Bewildered, Arkady looked between the screen and me. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” The automatic response just slipped out.
“Okay.” Arkady’s eyes crinkled with a faint hint of concern but he didn’t push, and his matter-of-fact acceptance of however I chose to play this made me change my answer.
“Actually, no. Not even a little bit.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No. But thanks. For everything.”
“Any time, pickle.”
Chapter 15
I leadfooted it to House HQ, shivering all the way because I’d run out without a jacket and my car’s heater hadn’t magically fixed itself. Jostling my way through the lobby, I hit the elevator button thirty-seven times but it took its sweet time crawling down from the fourth floor.
“Nancy Drew. Making extra cash these days?” Staff Sergeant Novak poked his head out of the police department doors, miming a blow job. “Heard you’ve been catting around with the big boss.”
“And I heard that if you make one more misogynist comment, I’ll bury you so deep in sexual harassment claims that the only thing you’ll have for company are dinosaur bones. Clear?”
He made a snarky face and huffed off.
Finally, the damn door opened, and I hopped from foot to foot waiting for the other passengers to clear out. When I got Levi’s office, I was thwarted by his snooty receptionist who took one look at my less-than-put-together attire and decided our Fearless Leader wasn’t in.
“This is extremely important and Levi would be very upset if he missed me,” I said.
“I doubt that.” She smirked, picking an imaginary piece of lint off of the cute military jacket she’d paired with a pencil skirt.
Had that asshole guard Evan circulated my photo or something?
I leaned onto her desk. “You want to risk it?”
She held her ground. “He’s not in.”
“Okay, then. Another time.” I walked a half dozen steps, then pivoted sharply and sprinted to Levi’s door, throwing it open without knocking.
Levi and Miles looked up from their meeting. Levi’s tie was unknotted, slung loosely open around his neck, his hair tousled like he’d been raking his fingers through it.
My hand tightened on the doorknob.
The receptionist’s heels clicked in rapid distress as she ran up behind me. “Levi, I’m so sorry. She just barged in.”
“She does that,” Miles said.
The receptionist wrung her hands together. “Should I call security?”
“You mean Miles, who’s standing right here? Up your critical thinking skills, lady.” I snapped my fingers at Miles. “Yo, new bestie. Escort me out.”
“Do I have to?” Miles whined.
“Dude, you're a mountain. Have some dignity,” I said.
“At least say ‘please,’ you heathen,” he grumbled.
Levi shifted, faintly blushing. His discomfit was deeply satisfying.
“Pleaaaase escort me out.” I leaned into the word hard, earning a scowl from Levi.
The receptionist was getting redder and redder that I hadn’t been turfed unceremoniously yet, the flush hitting her hairline like mercury soaring up in a thermometer. I stepped aside in case her head popped off.
“Move it, Miles,” I said. “It’s urgent.”
Still grumbling, Miles got to his feet.
I dragged him to the elevator, refusing to speak until we were alone inside. “I need some me time with the Van Gogh.”
I explained about the sketch and the Star of David and how there had to be a connection. “Pink Menace–” Miles grimaced at my use of his nickname for her. “Is working on the drive but that could take too long. This guy was babbling about betrayals. The smudges, me, all of this is connected and he knows something.”
“He has a name. Yitzak Meiron. Seventy-two years old. Level five Van Gogh and retired former owner of Meiron Body Designs. Had a pretty devoted clientele.” Miles led me through the security doors into the isolation ward where Yitzak was being held. Apparently, he’d attacked the two cops who’d escorted him to the jail.
Miles stopped at a small office. “There are monitored security cameras, and if you stay behind the white line, you won’t be affected by the magic nulling on the cell.” Before I could proceed around the corner to the hallway where Yitzak’s cell was, Miles clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You may well solve this, which would take a load off Levi, but stop fucking with him.”
“Did he say that I was?”
He tapped my turtleneck. “Used that trick a few times myself. And he didn’t need to. I’ve been friends with him long enough to know when he’s being weird about something.”
“If something did happen, last I checked we were both of legal age and capable of saying no.”
“He’s in the middle of a shitstorm. He doesn’t have time for your games.”
“What games?”
“The endless game between the two of you. For once, back off.”
“Fuck you, Miles. It’s not like I’m chasing him. He hired me, remember?” I stomped off to Yitzak’s cell which was a large glowing cage within a larger room.
The old man sat on a small cot, eating mashed potatoes and ground beef from a plastic tray with a plastic spoon.
Blood & Ash: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 1) Page 18