by C. C. Mahon
“Wow, you’re in a good mood,” I said. “I have a favor to ask you…”
“Look, it’s not a good time.”
“Having problems? The wolves again?”
“Mind your own business. Especially now that things are working themselves out.”
“Things are working out? All the better. So you’ll be able to do me that favor.”
Max let out a long sigh and said, “Okay, but not right now. After noon tomorrow, at the earliest.”
“What’s going on tomorrow morning? If you’ve planned a pitched battle with the wolves, let me know so I stay awake and avoid dream-walking in the middle of it.”
“There won’t be any more battles,” said Max. “Tomorrow morning, we’re signing a peace treaty. You were right: Vegas is big enough for two packs, if we put in the effort.”
“Excellent. What made you change your mind?”
“I’ve always been open to cohabitation,” said Max. “It’s the wolves who made concessions.”
“I wonder why…”
“Me too,” agreed Max. “But tomorrow’s meeting will be in a busy café, at a time when people will be having breakfast. We couldn’t have asked for better to avoid a trap.”
“Which café? When?”
“Stay out of it,” growled Max. “It’s metamorph business.”
“I want to avoid running into you by accident. You have to agree that would be crazy.”
“I’m serious.”
He hung up.
While I was on the phone with Max, Nate had gotten up to answer the intercom. He reappeared accompanied by Julie the succubus and Walter the biker.
“Barbie said there was news,” said Julie.
“My wizard friend located Patricia,” I answered.
The young girl’s face lit up. “Where? When? Is she okay?”
“She’s in a well-fortified building on the Strip,” I said. “I don’t know if she’s okay.”
“What about Kitty?” asked Walter. “I didn’t find anything to bring you, but do you have any information?”
“I can only hope that he’s with Patricia,” I said.
“We have to go get them!” exclaimed Julie.
“That’s why we’re here. The problem is that the building is protected by powerful spells that we can’t deactivate. We’re going to need a ruse.”
“Tell us about this place,” said Walter.
I described the building. “The first floor houses a luxury boutique,” I said. “The floors in the middle are apparently used by a law firm. It’s the top two floors that we’re interested in.”
“Why?” Julie wanted to know.
“The man who’s holding Patricia and Kitty bought the whole building, but knowing him, he’s staying in the loft at the top of it.”
“How do you know it’s him?”
“He goes by the name Denikin, but I know him by another name…”
“Mister D?” exclaimed Julie.
“Hmm…maybe?”
“There’s a new guy in town. Russian, very rich. All the girls are talking about him.”
“The succubi?” I asked.
“Not just them. The prostitutes too. According to the rumor, Mister D is looking to make his mark on the Strip. Maybe open a nightclub or an exclusive restaurant. But he brings a lot of girls home—guys too, I think—and they say he’s hiring for a more…particular club.”
“Strip club?”
“BDSM.”
Now that sounded like Callum.
“These interviews,” said Nate, “when is he doing them?”
“It depends. He sends big cars in town and picks up the girls. He drops them back off a few hours later. No one wants to say what goes on at Mister D’s place.”
“Erica,” said Nate, “you’re not going to pretend to be a prostitute to get into Carver’s place?”
I shook my head. “We have to act tomorrow morning. The wolves will be busy elsewhere. It’s an opportunity we might not get again.”
Nate shot me a questioning look that I ignored without feeling any guilt. I didn’t want to reveal Max’s diplomatic endeavors in front of Julie and Walter. I didn’t think that one of them would want to sabotage them, but people talk, and you could never be too careful.
We drank about a gallon of coffee while trying to find a ruse that would open up “Mister D’s” doors. I explained to Julie and Walter my theory on the supernatural kidnappings.
“Someone could take our magic?” asked Julie. “That’s incredible!”
The rest of the room looked at her, shocked.
“What?” she said defensively. “Maybe it’s cool to have wings or to change into a cat, but I don’t really feel like spending the rest of my days hitting on old perverts in dark corners of the Strip. So if I could simply become human, only having to eat to survive…”
Her eyes drifted off into the distance, and she didn’t finish her sentence.
“The problem,” I said, speaking more softly, “is that we aren’t sure that the victims can survive the process. That’s also why we need to act fast to get Patricia and Kitty out from Carv…‘Mister D’s’.”
Our group fell into somber reflection that continued until nightfall. I moved our table to the back room. Nate went up to take his place at the door, and Barbie prepared to greet the first customers before I reminded her that officially she was off for the night. She brushed off the argument with a shrug of her slim shoulders.
“If I don’t do anything, I’m going to go crazy.”
Gertrude arrived just before the opening of the club.
“Any news?” asked the young troll.
I gave her the gist of the situation.
“You think this Carver killed Adam?”
“It makes sense. But I don’t have any proof.”
Gertrude thought for a moment. “Do you think I should talk to his parents about it? If they find out he murdered their son, they’ll summon all the dragons in Nevada, and they’ll launch an attack on his building.”
The idea was more than a little tempting. I imagined for a moment Mother Dragon’s troupe in flowery bathrobes spitting their flames on Carver’s building. Would they be able to take down the magical protections? Then Britannicus’ message came back to me: if we tried to brute force it, we would risk blowing up “half the city.” Not to mention the prisoners being held in Callum’s apartment.
I shook my head. “Think we’re best not to tell them anything. Carver set up in the middle of the city, and the destruction…”
She nodded. “I understand. The dragons are loyal people, but sometimes they’re excessive. I won’t say anything.” She seemed to think a little more before declaring, looking apologetic, “I wish I could help you. But other than hitting against the building’s defenses with my magical hammer, I don’t see what I can do. And we know that won’t be enough to get through them.”
The psychotic Valkyrie had tested this method on Club 66’s defenses, to no avail. It was after that that Gertrude had gotten said magical hammer—Mjölnir’s little brother, but that could be wielded by anyone who was strong enough to lift it.
Gertrude joined Barbie to start her shift. Nate called over the intercom to tell me he was opening the club. Another night of work began, I still didn’t know how to get into Callum’s place, and Matteo was late.
29
BRITANNICUS AND LIZZIE arrived like they had left the night before: together, talking shop animatedly.
I barely gave them time to cross the threshold before grabbing them by the shoulder and leading them to the back room.
I pushed them towards two empty chairs at our “war counsel’s” table, let myself fall onto a third chair, and said, “So?”
“I examined the building’s defenses from every angle,” said Britannicus. “It’s the Guild’s work. The best of the best. Impossible to break.”
“Brit,” I said. “According to the plaques on the front, that place should be crawling with lawyers on every floor. How
do they get around the protection spells?”
“I looked at the firm’s website. They just relocated.”
“So the building is empty? Wait…there’s the store on the ground floor. How do the customers get in?”
“The spells avoid the boutique. I suppose the store doesn’t connect to the rest of the building. It’s just a matter of ‘going around’ it when you cast the spell. Generally, we don’t like having to cast spells that precisely. It must have been quite the puzzle for my colleagues. I can only imagine the price reflected it.”
“I looked in my grimoires,” interjected Lizzie. “Because we all know that the gentlemen of the Guild have a tendency to despise what they don’t understand. I haven’t found anything that could be of use to us yet, but I haven’t given up.”
“We have to act tomorrow morning,” I said, “when there will be less people at Carver’s—or ‘Mister D’ as he’s now called.”
“He’s ‘Mister D’?” exclaimed Lizzie.
“You know him?”
“I told you about my online friends. I had asked them if they had any information on our missing people. They didn’t know anything, but the conversation turned to this famous ‘Mister D’ who had just arrived in town.”
“What were they saying?”
“That Customs has him in their sights.”
“Where did they get this information?”
“One of my ‘online friends’ knows someone who knows someone.”
“Do you think this friend could arrange for Customs to act tomorrow morning?”
“Out of the question. My ‘friends’ are first class paranoids. They like sharing information to boast, but they’ll refuse to get involved in this whole thing, especially if it can make its way back to Customs. And Customs officers have bigger fish to fry at the moment. They’re gone on a call for Vegas Underground. On the surface, it’s minimal service.”
I was about to ask her what “Vegas Underground” was, but Julie didn’t give me time to.
“If Customs knocked on his door,” she asked, “do you think he would answer?”
All eyes turned to me, the one who knew Callum the best.
“Probably,” I said. “If only to let them know that they can’t do anything to him. And maybe try to buy them off.”
“In that case, let’s pretend to be Customs,” said Julie.
I turned towards Britannicus. “Would the protections know the difference? Are the spells intended to prevent specific people from getting through? Do they strip us of most of our powers, like the ones around the club?”
He took out a notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped through pages covered in large writing. “The protections are generic; they target humans and supernaturals alike. No one can get in, unless the owner invites them in.”
“If I take on someone else’s appearance and lie about my name, Callum would invite that other person in. Would I be able to get in anyways?”
Brit and Lizzie looked at each other, then both pouted.
“I don’t think so,” said the wizard.
“The appearance wouldn’t cause any problems,” said Lizzie. “But the name…Names are important. There’s a whole host of magical literature dedicated to them, and the tradition dates further back than the invention of writing.”
“And there’s the question of powers,” Britannicus went on. “Carver’s spells are like the club’s: they force you to leave the greater part of your magic on the sidewalk.”
“But you’ve practiced here before,” I said. “The location spell for Patricia, and before, the one for Barbie.”
Britannicus swept the air with his hand. “Nothing to it. As a wizard, I only have very little of my own magic. My power is my knowledge and my ability to manipulate the invisible energies. And, other than completely wiping my memory, no spell could take that away from me.”
“We, on the other hand,” said Barbie, “won’t be at the peak of our abilities to fight.”
“You said the spells are similar to the club’s,” I said. “So we should be able to disarm them from the inside?”
“Unplugging the alarm system?” asked Julie. “That way you guys will be able to go in with your powers intact. We just need to send someone in to open the door. If it’s possible.”
“Of course,” said Britannicus.
“Is it complicated?” asked the young succubus.
“Not really. You just need to find the seal holding up the whole magical construction and deactivate it. Any wizard can do it.”
“Or witch,” said Lizzie. “What? I can do it.” Britannicus nodded, and Lizzie added, “I’m sure that your Mister D wouldn’t recognize my name. I can pass for a Customs officer.”
“Me too,” said Julie. “I know I’m very young, but with good make-up and the right clothes, I should be able to pass.”
“But your name?” asked Walter. “You have the same last name as your sister.”
“I seriously doubt that Mister D took the time to check her ID.”
“It would be risky,” I said. “And you still don’t have any powers.”
“It’s to save my sister,” replied Julie fiercely. “And I have a taser.”
30
I WAS STUCK between Nate and Walter, on the front seat of Nate’s old pick-up, in a dark alleyway. Walter’s phone beeped.
“Max, Jenny, and two other coyotes just left,” announced Walter.
“Any movement from the wolves?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“And what if all the wolves don’t go to the meeting?” I asked. “If only four coyotes are going…”
“Other coyotes are already at the meeting place,” stated Walter.
“How do you know that? We don’t know where it is.”
“Because that’s what I’d do. As for the wolves, they won’t want to split up. They’re only eight, in hostile territory. They’ll stick together.”
Nate approved with a grunt, then silence fell over us again.
Day was barely breaking over the city, and the alleyway in which we had parked was still plunged in shadows. A hundred yards ahead, the orange light of the sun hit the front of Callum’s building, which made it look like it was on fire. A simple illusion, I knew that. Yet I still shivered. There were so many things in play that morning. My friends’ lives and mine too. My future freedom, in a city—a world—without Callum. The freedom of the prisoners: Kitty, Patricia, maybe Enola, and especially…
I looked at my phone for the thousandth time since the night before.
“Matteo?” asked Nate.
“Still nothing.”
Nate gestured towards Carver’s building with his chin. “If he’s in there, we’ll get him out.”
Matteo hadn’t come to work the night before. His phone went straight to voicemail. I’d let Lola know, but she hadn’t been able to find him.
“I should’ve contacted his father,” I said.
“The Boccanegra family is very powerful in Vegas,” said Nate. “But ultra dangerous and totally unpredictable. And if he’s having his son followed, Matteo’s father should already know.”
“Exactly, he might know something that could help us.”
Walter burst out laughing. “Sorry,” he said. “But if you think Boccanegra would give you information without requiring something horrific in return…”
“Not even to save his son?”
Nate shook his head. “If half the rumors are true, he must resent Matteo for having been too weak to protect himself. Those vampires don’t have fangs, but they’re ruthless. And the less we interact with them, the better.”
“That’s why you didn’t want me to hire Matteo,” I said.
Nate shrugged. “He’s an all right guy. But I don’t like that his presence puts us on his father’s radar.”
Walter’s phone beeped twice in a row, and the biker announced, “The coyotes are at Sam’s Town. The wolves are on their way.”
“All of them?”
“
They’re eight, in two cars. My guys are tailing them at a distance.”
“Sam’s Town?” I asked. “I don’t know it. Is it a restaurant?”
“A hotel-casino several miles from the Strip,” explained Nate. “Locals like to gamble there, and there’s all kind of conferences, too.”
“A quiet place,” added Walter, “with easy access to the desert in case things go wrong. A good choice.”
It was perfect. We would have time to see the wolves coming.
I pulled out my super taxi driver’s business card and dialed his number.
“Kurosh? It seems to be going down at Sam’s Town. You should find a few bikers in pursuit. They’ll show you the people and cars to follow.”
Nate shot me a dark look.
“Can we trust him?” he asked as soon as I hung up.
“He’ll keep an eye on them.”
“I would’ve preferred that the pumas take care of it.”
“My guys aren’t going to babysit a bunch of puppies while others are fighting to free Kitty,” said Walter.
Nate nodded. “Even so,” he mumbled, “I trust the pumas more than this taxi driver.”
“Stop grumbling,” I said. “I’ll let the girls know it’s started.”
Lola answered immediately. “Have you heard anything from Matteo?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Sorry. But the wolves have left. We can go in.”
From our hiding place, we could see the door to Carver’s building. But we were too far for me to make out any details. Like Julie and Lizzie’s silhouettes as they arrived, among the morning pedestrians.
“I can’t see anything,” I groaned.
“Me either,” sighed Nate.
“Oh really? I thought metamorphs had ultra-developed senses.”
He shrugged. “Grizzlies have a good sense of smell, yes. But we see pretty much as well as humans. Ask the puma.”
“They’re here,” said Walter. “Wow, I barely recognize Julie. The girl looks like she aged ten years! They stopped in front of the door,” said Walter. “Julie is hitting the buzzer. Shit, what’s with the herd of people blocking my view! Ah… There we go… The girls are gone.”