Smoke Show (Tess Skye Book 2)

by D. N. Erikson

  “He’s after the Emmy Davis reward.”

  Finn’s gaze narrows. “Tell me you gave him nothing.”

  “I told him to lay off the case due to it being potentially hazardous to his health.”

  “Come on.” Finn groans. “Guy’s a total knob.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean he deserves to be chewed up and spit out by Marius.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Finn looks over my shoulder again. “You think that dick will listen?”

  “I’m not Sherlock’s keeper,” I say. “A warning’s all I can offer.”

  “More than he deserves.”

  “Maybe so. Where’s Keiko?”

  The vinyl booth squeaks as Finn squirms, his body caught between whether it should be at ease or completely rigid to convey complete apathy to the question.

  He finally settles on a sort of moody slouch and says, “She’s not around today.”

  “Don’t tell me,” I say. “She rejected your overtures again.”

  Finn picks at his fries. “So who’s this Marius?”

  I raise my eyebrow at him changing the subject, but let it slide. After all, we did come here to discuss actually important matters, rather than the first girl who’s ever turned him down in his relatively brief life.

  I fill him in on the details he missed out on after we parted ways in the Red Whale’s parking lot. He’s silent as he listens to me relay what I know about the Shades and the Immortals, along with what I picked up from Stella Reynolds about killing the investigation into Delia Wolfheart.

  After I’m done, Finn stares into his plate of fries.

  I snap my fingers. “You okay there, buddy?”

  “It’s—I mean, that’s a lot to process in ten minutes.”

  “Try experiencing it all in real life,” I say.

  He blinks hard and looks up from the fries. “And Javy has absolutely no idea why Marius came back after almost eight hundred years?”

  “All signs point to revenge. But that’s just a working theory based on Marius being a level ten asshat.”

  “Can’t be good if he knows that you’re a Soulwalker.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” I grab a soggy fry.

  “Kind of weird Javy doesn’t want to go for the jugular and just track Marius down,” Finn says. “Seems a bit like the long way to the finish line, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe.” I chew thoughtfully. “But I trust him. We’ll get the answers we need if we find Emmy. And avoid potential collateral damage.”

  “More likely to find Bigfoot at this point.”

  “The Wolfhearts sent over their stuff this morning, too, so we got that in addition to what we took from Hex’s office last night.”

  “Paperwork.” Finn sweeps his dark bangs out of his eyes. “My favorite.”

  “Just think,” I say. “Maybe you can get some girl to play secretary and read them all out loud to you.”

  “I’m not like that, Tess.”

  He’s exactly like this. It’s just this Keiko thing is really getting to him. He asked her out a couple weeks ago, fresh off the high of taking down Dom Rillo, and she shot him down. Probably the first time it’s ever happened. But a twenty-three-year-old’s empty swashbuckling charm doesn’t work on a woman in her thirties who’s already experienced her own asshole parade.

  “All right, all right, buddy.” I put my hand on his.

  He pulls away, tucking his hands beneath the table. “Don’t.”

  “I’ll put in a good word for you at girls’ night. Can’t have my Navigator off his game. After all, we’re tied together, right?”

  Finn’s face flushes, like he’s about to die of embarrassment. “Look, I didn’t come here to talk about this.”

  “Right.” I sit up very straight in the booth, looking serious.

  Finn shakes the cobwebs of unrequited lust loose and nods, but doesn’t say anything.

  After a long, awkward pause punctuated by nothing but terrible country music, I say, “So? Lay it on me, Casanova.”

  “We gotta discuss communication, Tess.”

  It’s lucky I don’t have anything in my mouth, because it would have been sprayed all over the table. I try to hold back the laughter, but it’s relentless.

  Finally, I manage through gasping breaths, “Communication, huh?”

  “I’m serious.” Finn bristles. “Our fates are intertwined.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  “Then I have to know where you are,” Finn says.

  “Coming in a little hot there, bud.” I’m still giving him shit. But the thought of anyone knowing where I am at all times doesn’t exactly thrill me.

  “And vice versa,” Finn says, going full throttle ahead.

  “Maybe I like my privacy.”

  “Here are the facts,” Finn says. “Someone could capture me to get to you.”

  “In theory,” I say as the final strains of mediocre mandolin thankfully fade from the speakers. They’re immediately replaced by an even worse power ballad involving trucks.

  “Not in theory. You weren’t the only one who had to work for Dom.”

  “Point taken.”

  “And if someone forces you to Soulwalk solo again, I might not be able to save you in time.”

  “I was holding my own.”

  Finn rolls his eyes. “Look, Gene taught me a thing or two.”

  Gene was his grandfather—and my main Navigator before he met an untimely demise a couple weeks back. He was something of a drifter and a deadbeat, but his death is probably why Finn has been a little bit off.

  It’s a good reminder to go easy on him.

  I chug half the beer and relax in the booth. “What’d Gene have to say?”

  “You’re not the only Soulwalker he worked with.”

  This piques my curiosity. I’d heard rumors and mumblings, but I’d never actually sat down to pick the old man’s brain. I was too busy trying to stop Dom Rillo from taking over the town—and then, maybe, the world. And there was the issue of my memory—or lack thereof. Having Rillo constantly hit the reset button on my brain over the past wasn’t conducive to effective side research.

  “Who were the others?”

  “I don’t really know,” he says. “A long time ago. But he mentioned one of them got lost.”

  “Lost?”

  “Trapped in another body forever.”

  I drink the rest of my beer as I contemplate that fate. Knowing who I once was, but warring with the host’s body and memories. Two psyches, two people, fighting for supremacy of one body. Every day, until death.

  That’d be hellish.

  I set the empty glass down with a dull thud. “I hear you.”

  My phone chimes. It’s Catalina texting me back about Toby.

  He came in a week ago. Pretty rough shape. Not looking good.

  I text her back with be there in twenty.

  Finn asks, “So we’re gonna keep tabs on one another from now on?”

  I stand up and throw a few bills on the table. “Fuck no. I like my privacy too much.”

  Then I walk out of the Silver Stallion to head to the hospital.

  Fifteen

  I head back to my apartment to grab Ella before going to see Toby. Ragnarok isn’t a large place, so getting to the hospital across town only takes about ten minutes.

  Dogs aren’t allowed inside, so I leave her in the truck with the windows down while I go inside to find out more. A blast of cold air hits me as I pass through the automatic sliding doors of Ragnarok General. It’s a modest, three-story, red brick affair.

  As I stride across the linoleum, a bushy-eyebrowed desk attendant wearing an ill-fitting suit looks up and greets me with a gruff, “What’re you here for?”

  “To see Toby Matthewson.”

  His stubby fingers tap away at a yellowed keyboard. “You family?”

  “Neighbor.”

  The guy taps his knuckle against the monitor. “Says here only family’s allowed to
visit.”

  “Look, if I could just—”

  “Rules are the rules.”

  Then I hear a sing-song voice say, “Aww, Jarvis, fuck the rules.”

  Catalina bounds off the elevator moving with an effervescent bounce in her step. She’s wearing blue scrubs, a medical mask dangling off one ear. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her last, and she’s sporting a bright blue string of beads dangling from her hair that wasn’t there before.

  “That’s new,” I say as she wraps me up in her arms.

  “New Orleans was a blast.” She nods toward the desk attendant, as if to say I got it from here. Jarvis has no problems with this delegation of duties, immediately returning to the pressing business on his phone’s screen. “Just got back last night.”

  “You’re completely insane, you know that?” We start walking toward the elevator.

  “He is right, by the way.” Catalina twirls her beaded hair with a mischievous grin. “I am a total rule-breaking slut right now.”

  How she made it through residency and med school is a mystery.

  Well, not her passing. She was always the smartest kid in class. That was after skipping two grades. And that comes with a lot of pressure. Other kids are jealous of your intelligence. You’re the smallest. You’re the youngest.

  So she made up for it by not just being the smartest, but the craziest.

  That didn’t win everyone over.

  But I was always a fan from day one, when she set off a bunch of M80s in the dumpster behind Ragnarok Middle School.

  That was sixth grade. She might’ve weighed less than all the fireworks she set off.

  Somehow none of the teachers ever managed to pin it on her. That’s where being smart along with crazy pays off. You don’t leave a trail that leads back to you, even as a nine-year-old.

  I jerk my thumb back at the sliding doors, toward the parking lot. “I have Ella in the truck.”

  “And you’re calling me crazy, dog whisperer.” She elbows me in the rib.

  “I’ll talk with Arrow and prove it.” That’s her cat. Perpetual grouch, won’t let anyone within three feet of him without hissing.

  “I don’t want to know what that bastard is thinking.”

  “Probably because I’ll have to report you to PETA.”

  She clutches her chest in mock hurt. “I’ll have you know that cat is spoiled. He’s just a prick.”

  “Sure, sure,” I say. The elevator chimes, and a couple doctors nod to Catalina as they walk past. “So, about Ella.”

  Her forehead wrinkles as she squints at me with extreme suspicion. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

  “Just a quick visit.” I serve up my best puppy dog eyes.

  “I might be a rulebreaker, but I’m not letting you bring a fucking dog in here. That’s just a giant middle finger to health protocols.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.” I point toward the particle board ceiling. “I was hoping you could bring Toby down.”

  Catalina’s expression turns serious, and she stops playing with the beads in her hair. Her voice switches into doctor mode. “You heard what happened to him, right?”

  “Not all the details, no.”

  “Follow me.” She grabs me by the arm and leads me away from the elevators, outside. The broiling sun beats down against my neck.

  I throw a look back at the sliding doors. “Think we’re headed the wrong way.”

  “This is a longer conversation,” Catalina says as we reach the parking lot. Ella pops up in the backseat of the truck cab and howls. “Let’s take her for a walk.”

  I want to ask her for the details right now, but I dutifully get Ella out.

  She wags her tail and looks at me hopefully as I brush some stray hair off her thick coat.

  Are we going to see Toby?

  “Not right now, girl.” I glance over at Catalina, whose eyebrows are raised almost above her hairline. “Say something to her.”

  “Who do I look like, Dr. Doolittle?” Catalina rolls her eyes.

  Ella growls, insulted.

  “Or don’t.” I shrug and hug the dog’s torso. “And hurt her feelings.”

  “Okay, Ella,” Catalina says, talking as she would to a small child, “who was the third president of the United States?”

  “She’s not exactly studying American—”

  Thomas Jefferson!

  I at the husky, whose gray snout wears a satisfied smile. “How the hell did you know that?”

  History Channel. Toby leaves it on for me when I get sick of E! Also, did you know that aliens built Stonehenge—

  “All right, Ancient Aliens isn’t actual history,” I say giving her a final pat before standing up. Meanwhile, Catalina is looking at us like we’ve escaped from a padded room. I add by way of explanation, “Sometimes she has difficulty staying on topic.”

  “Okay, whatever.” Catalina shakes her head hard, like she’s trying to get pool water out of her ear. “Let’s take that walk. I have rounds to do.”

  We start doing a loop around a concrete path that circles a gazebo with a picnic area.

  “Toby was found at the airport in his car,” Catalina says. “A week ago. I would’ve called, but I was away and didn’t hear about it until today.” She sighs, jet-lag sapping some of her usually limitless energy. “After that shit at your apartment, stitching you up, I figured, life’s short, you know? Had to get away. But maybe if I hadn’t…”

  “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

  “Anyway, he was unresponsive when they found him. Brought him in from the car, he wakes up, everything’s fine for a few hours. They’re thinking about discharging him, then next thing, he’s in a coma. Been like that all week, in and out of consciousness.”

  “His brother Silas—did he visit?”

  “Don’t know.” Catalina fires off a text. “Let’s find out.”

  We complete the loop and start on a second lap. “So what’s wrong with Toby, exactly?”

  “That’s the thing, Tess. We have no fucking clue.” Catalina holds out her hands, as if begging the cloudless skies for an answer.

  From knowing her all these years, I can tell there are two things eating at her, even though she’s only been back for a day.

  Three, actually.

  One, the puzzle. She doesn’t know.

  Two, not being able to help Toby.

  And three, not being able to help me. Because she knows how much I care about him.

  Ella whines. I scratch her ears.

  Is Toby going to be okay?

  “Don’t worry, girl, he’s tough.” I turn back to Catalina. “Any ideas on what it potentially could be?”

  “I don’t want to guess.” This is the same girl who once broke both of her legs because she jumped into an empty pool without looking first. But I know that, when it comes to medicine, she hates speculation.

  Just the facts, ma’am.

  But we don’t have any right now, so I prod her with, “Come on. Toss me a bone.”

  “If I had to guess?” She gnaws on her bottom lip as she debates whether or not she wants to go down this speculative road. “Some sort of curse.”

  “A curse?”

  Catalina lowers her voice, so quiet the words are almost swallowed by Ella’s nails clicking against the concrete. “It’s almost like he’s aging super quickly.”

  “Is that the general consensus?”

  “No.” A frustrated frown creases her lips. “I know better than to talk about curses in there.”

  “Why?”

  “Medicine, the supernatural, science. It’s all a dick-measuring clusterfuck. Everyone wants their discipline to be the one true answer to everything and discount anything else.” We’re about to start our third trip around the short walkway when her phone dings.

  Catalina reads the message and shakes her head. “Toby hasn’t had any visitors. You’re the first.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Maybe I should reexamine my own people-
reading skills. Because that slimebag Silas got one by me. He didn’t hear about whatever key he was ransacking Toby’s apartment for during a heartfelt reunion.

  Which means someone else must’ve told him about it.

  “Bad news?”

  “Just a bad judge of character,” I say.

  “We knew that already, though.” Catalina sticks her tongue out. “Given that you hang out with me voluntarily.”

  “Did Toby mention anything about a safety deposit box?” I ask.

  “No.” Then Catalina’s gaze snaps up, sending the blue-beaded hair rocketing skyward. “Wait.”

  Ella yips, and I lean in closer to Catalina, despite it being calm and quiet on the path.

  “The nurses were commenting on this old key that was in his pocket when they checked him in. Had a weird crow on the top.”

  I furrow my brow. “Does he still have it?”

  “I’d imagine so.” Catalina glances over at me, then recoils and shakes her head like I just asked her to throw a bunch of kittens in the river. “Oh, fuck no.”

  “What?”

  “I know that look. Don’t give me that look.”

  I hold my hands up innocently. “There’s no look.”

  “That’s the, hey Catalina, I’m gonna be dragging you into my bullshit look.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say rather unconvincingly.

  “I could lose my job,” she says.

  “And if you think this is magical, and everyone else here ignores it, then he’ll die,” I say. “So this could be…the key to helping him get better.”

  Catalina shoves her face in her hands, peering at me through her slatted fingers. “I should refuse just for that joke alone.”

  “Not a joke. The truth. Besides, what’s that oath you doctors swear by?”

  “Wouldn’t know. I drank my way through exams.”

  “Still got hundreds on all of them, I bet,” I say. “Plus the extra credit.”

  “First, do no harm.” Catalina sighs and rolls her eyes in exaggerated fashion. “Fine.”

  Then she flips me the bird and heads across the lot, disappearing behind the sliding doors.

  Three minutes later, she’s power jogging out to the gazebo path, head on a swivel like she’s in some sort of spy movie. When she reaches where Ella and I are standing, she grabs my hand, pressing the key against my palm.