“Which is?” the girls said in unison. Too many days together can lead to that type of speech.
“Cazimir isn’t a father, brother, uncle, crazy cousin, whatever. He’s a rival. And we are his brass knuckles. He doesn’t want peace. He wants war. Not to expand his empire, but to sit right where he is and reign, just as he has done since we, as humans, began to call him by his true name: Satan.”
67
Our problem had an expanding set of outcomes. I detest moving goal lines, so we agreed to thin the herd. We would start with our easiest target, and the current president of my fan club, Delphine. I had recovered from our twelve hour dinner, so I could safely assume she was at her best as well. Girding my loins for battle, I made a mental note. Keep her mouth away from my zipper, and I would remain the picture of steadfast control. Of course, that meant violating many of my personal principles in which I was taught to never look a gift horse in the mouth, or in this case, refuse a gift whore’s mouth, neither of which sounded very mannerly but made my point nonetheless. Hey, Delphine used that term, not me. I was just going along with her ritualized self-empowerment and- she actually scared the hell out of me in the same way a superb rollercoaster does. She did everything except turn upside down, and we simply hadn’t gotten around to that position, I sensed.
Our plan seemed perfect with one small exception: When I called her phone, the number was disconnected. All of her email accounts were invalid and her site had gone dark. Joseph would not miss the chance to shame me like the peasant he knew me to be, so when his number bounced back as invalid, I knew that Delphine had gone under, most likely minutes after I left. Risa and Wally tried every possible means we had of contacting her, all to no avail. When a street view camera outside her primary home showed a property that had been boarded up, we knew she was long gone. All of this meant that something convinced Delphine teaming with me was a losing ticket.
I respectfully disagreed. But we still had one grape to squeeze. Suma.
68
Risa is tenacious when she gets an idea, no matter how nascent. She had that ruminating look when I found her at the kitchen table after dinner. The cloud of stillness around her meant she had been thinking for some time.
“Hey.” She emerged from her reverie slowly. “I put a few ideas together while you were otherwise occupied, you tramp.” I leaned against her partly in apology. Partly because I missed her, and I craved her approval after my sojourn to slutville.
“I’m listening. My answers are a bit thin, and I’m getting tired of being outthought by immortals who are glorified criminals. Even if that’s actually what we are, but you get me.” I grabbed an orange and sat, whittling the nubby rind while she gathered her thoughts. Wally came in from the yard, Gyro in tow, and stole the wedges I had peeled. She stuffed the first one into her mouth with an accompanying glare. I wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“Wally mentioned, as you were no doubt cavorting with that hag, that we are being taught a lesson.” Risa tapped at the laptop in front of her, opening a file labeled Names. “This is a compilation of our recent contacts. Guess what they have in common, other than all of them being acquainted with your penis?”
“Very funny. None of them stole my fruit and held grudges?” I wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Hah.” Risa was not amused. “All female, but that’s old ground, no need to replow that furrow, unless you’ve a need?” She was really riding this whole unlimited pleasure with an immortal courtesan thing into the ground. I sighed and dipped my head in what I hoped was submission. “Okay, all kidding aside, Suma is our last, best rope still attached to the main fleet. She’s also a female, just like all the others. Wally thinks that this is not accident. Cut through the list, find the lesson. Remember how we used to think just follow the money? Well, Delphine just torched that idea. We were stupid to apply human traits to immortals. We got soft. Ring is too fucking good at killing the low level vermin who pick off tourists from Ontario, the newbie vamps who get careless and hungry and come out a minute too soon. He pops them, cool as a breeze.”
I interjected. “Again, old ground. What of it?”
Risa went on. “No kidding, it’s old. But if we look at this list as two groups, well, that’s a different idea entirely. How about this for a schism? Some have, some don’t. And there is only one who has everything, the control, and the whip that will cow even the most aggressive immortal. We’ve been barraged with females over the last two years, three if you disregard those two warlocks who were operating in Palm Beach. Does that sound random to you? No. I don’t believe in random, not now, not at this level of deception.” She broke for a long drink of water, and gently closed her laptop. “Which brings us, or more directly, you, Ring, back to Suma, and soon. Because if we’re starting to ask questions about who belongs to which side in this ugly little power struggle, the humans on the list will be the first to die. And I do not want to be the one to tell Boon her sister is dead at the hand of the devil.”
“Not me, too sad.” Wally distilled it quickly. Honestly.
I knew we were missing something, but it was probably someone instead. “I’m calling Suma, for dinner. Tonight. I think it’s time to mention some specific names around her, shake her up. See if she blinks.”
My phone rang on the way to pick Suma up at the Center. “Ring, Blue” she began without preface, “They were here, the two women smoking, drinking like fish, guilty of being sort of European. But still watching. No Brandi, but the girls got a good look at them. Come by when you can and the cocktail waitress can describe both of them to you, including the mystery woman.”
“Got anything general?” I had to know.
“Late thirties. Black hair, pretty. Asian. That’s all I’ve got for now. Gotta run, come by later.” She clicked off without knowing that she had given me too much. The weight of her call sank in me like a dying fish. As I fought the logic, the idea of dinner with Suma became as unappealing as telling her family the truth.
* * *
“We’ll eat on the water.” I held Suma’s arm as we were led by a suitably demure hostess to the abandoned deck of a discreet chop house on the Intracoastal. A Chicago theme was meant to lend gangster muscularity to the interior, but it ended up being wistful and a bit sad, clashing against the dark, briny water. Suma’s heels thumped across the weathered deck as we were led to the furthest table, a lone pool of light cast by a rustic hurricane lamp. It was ruggedly beautiful, and the potential scene of a crime. I felt sicker with each tread.
Our server appeared, a white shirted specter with a tired smile. “I’m Jenna, welcome, you’re all lonely out here. Is it romantic?” she asked, hopeful that it might mean a lover’s gratuity this late in her shift. Her hair was falling from her bun, indicating another long shift on her feet dealing with a mercurial public. I made a mental note that no matter what happened, I was leaving her a hundred bucks.
Suma smiled, pleased to be included in our mythical couple. “Very. Thank you.”
“We’d like a bottle of Pinot, any kind of bread, and surf and turf for two.” I took the lead, hoping for as much privacy as possible. We’d need it. Jenna appreciated my brevity and left, disappearing into the darkness with the alacrity of a woman on a mission.
Gentle changes in the wind made the lamp sputter and dance. Suma looked regal, her hair nearly blue with the night clinging to her at the edge of the glow. She was awash in her infatuation, and her innocence of my intent. My anger gathered, like the shadows around us. I reached out and took her hand, desire for closeness and control overcoming my combat principles.
Pounding steps announced our wine and bread, while the wind brought a heavy aroma of tobacco. A waiter, wine bucket in one hand, clumped to the table, where he inelegantly deposited the basket of a sliced brown loaf before moving on to the wine service
“I’m Finn; I hope you enjoy your wine. Shall I pour?” He was thrifty with his words and uncomfortable as a server. The bottle had been opened befor
e coming to the table, which even I knew to be an offense to any oenophile. He held the glasses in his left hand, standing at the edge of the light and waiting my instructions.
“I’ll pour, thank you. Finn, do you have a light in case we smoke?” I asked, taking the wine stems from him.
Before Suma could protest my sudden addiction, Finn produced a cheap lighter. “Keep it, Sir. I’ll check on you in a moment, Jenna isn’t feeling well, so she went home. I’ll take good care of you.” He handed me the lighter and pulled his hand back as if burned.
I’ll bet you will. “Some more butter, too, Finn? This bread is excellent.” I smeared the last pat on a slice as he turned to the main area. “Oh, Finn? Could you bring me another knife, too?” I examined the blade with a critical frown.
“Certainly, Sir. Is that one dirty?” He leaned into the light.
My arm shot forward, stabbing him dead center mass. He fell over the railing into the water, dissolving into a sinking rabble of blue bubbles that seemed far too cheery for their purpose. His shirt floated, empty save for a ring of ash around the collar, and then drifted out of sight. In sixty seconds, there was no evidence he had ever existed.
Suma sat speechless as I critiqued the knife again. “It is now.”
We had an unusually awkward moment in the car, dead waiter notwithstanding, but then I asked her “Do you smoke? Ever?”
She shook her head vehemently. “I know it’s the dirty secret of the health profession, but no. Never. Hell, I’m a runner. But what does that have to do with you killing our waiter? I mean, even if he was an immortal?”
“The breeze. And his walk. And his hand. Together, I knew who he was, and where he had been before he appeared at our table.” I was driving carefully. Suma was precious cargo now. The situation had changed.
“His hand? What? His walk? I don’t get it.” It was my fault for being curt.
“Jenna, the waitress? She walked across the deck, made normal noise. But Finn? He walked like he was in someone else’s’ shoes. Which he was, in a way. Blue called and said that two women we’ve been looking for, immortals, in all likelihood, well they were at her place. Smoking foreign cigarettes. Like the kind that made Finn smell like a dumpster fire. And his hand, the second finger had an extra knuckle, but just for a second. It was a problem area in his disguise, you see. He was a shape shifter, and a woman. And he has been moving about for the past months dressed up…like you.” I told her with relief in every word. I felt lighter. Like I could breath, finally.
“So you thought I was an immortal?” Suma knew that was a death sentence around me, and it settled on her slow and heavy.
I reached out and took her hand again. “Not just any immortal. One who was passing secrets to the Baron, or Elizabeth, or maybe whoever the highest bidder was on a day in their brushfire war for control of hell. Or New Orleans, if you believe Delphine.”
Suma sat stunned. “I love my family. I- all this death-I’m a healer, Ring, not some spy who delivers people to those monsters.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. Finn even knew you spoke French with an accent, so he or she has been watching you for some time. Closely.” I added. She was even more violated by that simple fact.
“God in heaven. I feel like I’ve just cheated death.” She slumped in her seat, adrenaline rush over and feeling very small.
“He may be in heaven, but we’re here. And we’re going to do the dirty work.” I drove on, knowing that Finn had not come from a void. He had come with Elizabeth, and that meant that she would be meeting her pet for drinks. Soon.
69
“Did you notice anyone else who came in with them? Anyone on the edges, a bodyguard, maybe?” I was quizzing Blue about Elizabeth’s trips to the Corral. She paused, thinking. I could hear a floor buffer in the background, meaning she was at the club early. It wasn’t quite nine in the morning, an uncivilized hour to be holed up in a garish nudie bar, even if it was your primary source of income.
“I hire a lot of one and done girls, they work a shift and I don’t see them again. There have been three who stood out, only because they were really fresh faced, model pretty….they seemed cut from a different cloth, you know? They all applied in the morning before we opened, sober, clean, friendly. It was hard to say no to them. I gave ‘em a shot, all three vanished. Two of them were hired the day before Elizabeth showed. How’s that for coincidence?” The floor buffer whined to a stop. The silence in the phone was jarring.
“I’ll be right over. I have a present for you. Something you just can’t do without.” Blue chuckled low and told me to keep my shirt on. I would, but only because it was part of my plan, and I don’t do nudity without proper enticement. I’m cheap, but not free.
I didn’t wait long, considering. On the second day, with Wally and Risa watching through cameras in the Corral’s office, a hopeful applicant walked in, paying me no attention and walking straight towards Blue, who sat at the bar eating takeout and assembling the liquor order. My earpiece buzzed is that her? in a small, tinny voice. I nodded once and bent back to my task as a young woman shook Blue’s hand confidently before taking a seat. She was dressed in jeans and a white shirt, her honey blonde hair pulled back from a face with high cheekbones, naturally beautiful and abuzz with confidence. She reminded me of a European version of Wally, although she seemed a bit less likely to point a gun at someone in traffic. Call it a hunch. After a few moments of quiet conversation punctuated by mutual laughs, she stood, shook Blue’s hand again, and walked past me without even acknowledging my presence, just as I had hoped. I continued mopping, even, long strokes, back and forth. Blue wasn’t paying me, but I wanted her gift of free labor to be worth her while. Any task worth doing is worth doing well, especially if it’s for the owner of a club crowded with nude women. I know who butters my bread.
Blue brandished a paper application at me. “Meet my newest employee, Petra. Lovely girl. I told her she could start tonight, but because my net is down for repair that I can’t check references until Monday. She was kind enough to give me three. Fancy a peek?” She was triumphant and deserving of an award. She really knew how to think on her feet. I took the application as her office door opened and the girls came spilling out to join in our exposition.
“Well, looky looky. A name we know and two we don’t. Christmas is early” I handed the sheet to Risa, who held it up for Wally to see. Stacia. Karolina. Elizabeth. Three of the most beautiful facts I’d ever seen put to paper.
“We must search these names this afternoon, and be back here, ready, tonight. Flats, not heels. I think we are fighting.” Wally relished a good brawl, but only in proper footwear.
70
Restless and nervous, we hovered in each other’s way throughout the afternoon, even to the point that Gyro went outside to seek a quiet place to nap. Our only diversion was a delivery from Jim, a heavy envelope brought by courier that could only be the results of his search for weapons to fit the girls’ hands. For now, they could wait, because Wally stalked out into the living room clad only in her underwear. She was either confused or pissed, emotions which have an interchangeable role for her.
“After we handle that woman tonight, what about the Baron? Have we made plans for him, or his staff? What if they are human after all? Are we putting them in the way of harm?” She had a point. We were waging a war on two continents. With immortals, there was no after, there was only an end. Humans, who might be innocent? It was a new consideration for us, and a moral issue that we had not encountered.
Risa shook her head. “Cazimir is a ghost. His staff, unknown, beyond glimpses of Ilsa and…Sandor, is it? I think that’s the name he used once. We don’t really even know how many people are in his home. Short of visiting, which is insanity until this is over, I don’t know how to help them. I’m open to suggestions. I don’t want innocents to die, not after all the murder that has gone unchecked for so long.” Her humanitarian side was well developed, and she took the ethical breach of murder seriously
. “Let’s consider the red flags here. Cazimir Byk, keeper of forest bulls, tinkerer, and possibly Satan. Am I on track so far?”
“His last name does mean bull or something like that” Wally explained. “It could be taken as he is the master of bulls, the master of the horned beasts of the forest. Or maybe this man is the horned beast in the forest, but I have a problem with that.”
I agreed. And I was dubious about something so obvious in a tapestry of half-truths, lies, and partial answers. “We’re thinking only in modern terms if we assume that Satan is some horned beast. The notion of an evil being goes far back before the Church arrived.” I pointed at Risa. “No eye rolling, I know what I’m saying. You’re not the only historian, and I’m at least as versed in Catholicism as you are, Wally, and I don’t ogle the priest, either.” They both looked slightly abashed, but only a bit. “This character, Satan, who can say if he has horns? Or is real? This isn’t some cartoonish creation from the minds of puritanical apologists who were busy making women into crones to subvert their power in the early Church.”
“I hate admitting you’re right. And a feminist, apparently.” Risa patted my arm patronizingly as Wally clapped. My depths are underappreciated, even by the loves of my life. “The Baron likes giant cows that live in the depths of a European forest. So what? It doesn’t mean he’s some evil warlord, does it? We know Delphine wants Elizabeth gone. We know that they think of their positions as fluid. Why not women? Why not one of them, trying to play on us, on Ring, and get us off balance, confused. But lethal to whomever they choose to direct us towards, by lies. False trails.”
Box Set: The Fearless 1-3 Page 21