Her smile wilted. Her gaze, then her body, moved past me to Evans. My reaction had upset him. I didn’t want to turn and see the look on his face. But as Nadine began whispering to him, I found myself pivoting to face them.
The elaborate tattoo of the harp and the mermaid covering her back, dipped over her thighs, all the way to her ankles. The outline shimmered as Nadine ran a finger down the side of his face. “Go on to bed, sugar. Dahl and I need to chat.” Her touch slid down his neck. She took the empty bottle from his hand and kissed him. “I’ll be in soon.”
Nadine stepped aside, and Evans met my stare. His brown eyes were tired, but otherwise normal. “Thanks for stopping by,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I nodded, and he disappeared down the hall. I waited until the bedroom door closed before jumping down her throat. “Did you just sway him?”
“Like you haven’t? Your psychic scent is all over the poor boy.”
“My what? And stop calling him a boy. It’s…creepy.”
Nadine retrieved the beer from the hall. Dropping Evans’s empty in the box, she shoved it at my chest. “I’m far from an old hag, Dahl. Or haven’t you heard? 40s are the new 30s. And, for a siren, I’m barely in my prime. Don’t be pissed at me for doing the same thing you are.”
“I’m not sleeping with Evans.”
“Do you want to be? Never mind.” Nadine raised a hand to stop my response. “Even if you did, we both know you’d never do anything about it.”
“That doesn’t mean you should.”
Grabbing my elbow with a sigh, Nadine steered me to the couch and pulled me down beside her. “He needed to be close to someone. Someone who doesn’t expect him to put on a brave face. Someone who lets him mourn.”
“I’ve been trying to help,” I argued.
“Oh, honey, I don’t think dampening his grief is what they mean by pain management. It’s the emotional equivalent of stuffing a ball-gag in his mouth—only a lot less fun.”
I wanted to ask how she knew what I’d done, but Nadine’s biting tone stunned me. I wasn’t exactly guilt-free over what I’d done, but at least I had a leg to stand on. Don’t I?
My dabbling with Evans wasn’t malicious in any way, and it didn’t even come close to what was done to Creed. Yet, I was suddenly finding it hard to see the difference. “I didn’t think about the consequences. I was trying to lighten his load.”
“Helping is talking to him about his grief. Not taking it.”
“You weren’t there, Nadine, watching as his hopes were dashed over and over. I didn’t want him to hurt anymore.”
She rested a hand on my knee. “Baby, we all hurt. The only time we stop is when we’re dead. Though, I guess you’d argue that point, huh?” Chuckling, she sat back. “Don’t you worry. When I’m gone, my ghost won’t be some drab, old thing like you see from all the rest. It’ll sparkle and shine like the sun.”
She wanted a smile, but I wasn’t there yet. “How long?”
“Haven’t really kept track. He came into the club one night for a drink. It was late. You two had been on Drimera again, with no luck. He looked like a lost puppy caught in the rain. And you know how those melt my heart.” Nadine pulled a beer out of the box. “Did you know he hasn’t been sleeping?”
“He hasn’t mentioned it.”
“He doesn’t want you to worry.” I said nothing, and Nadine dropped another bombshell in my lap. “I’ve been helping him look for Marnie.”
I went still. “Helping him how?”
“That boy needs to stay busy. He can’t sit around, imagining the worst, waiting for Oren to squeeze out the next unhelpful tidbit of information. He needs to be out there, searching.”
“You took Evans off-world? Do you know what the Guild would do to a human and a siren if they caught you poking around Drimera?
“We’re not defenseless. And we didn’t go in blind. I have connections.”
Hope loosened my grip on the bottle. “Did you find anything?”
“Yes. And no. We were always a step behind.”
“You mean, they were being moved? Why? To stay ahead of you?”
“No, honey, those girls were on tour. Your chimera left behind a ready-made harem when he died. There’s not a tribal leader alive who wouldn’t be drooling to take possession of that. After they inspect the goods and make sure they’re worth fighting for.”
“It’s not supposed to happen like that. They should’ve been protected until a new leader was chosen for Bastian’s tribe. Not used as spoils for some dragon dick-measuring contest.”
“Times have changed,” she replied. “With Naalish locking down the exits, the tribes are worried about losing their access to human females. And since the strength of the leader is measured by the number of lyrriken under their command…”
“If our population dwindles, so does their power.”
“Which leaves those poor girls smack in the middle of a political tug-of-war, wanted by every lazy dragon who’s afraid to lose their little hive of lyrriken worker bees.”
“And Naalish is allowing this?”
“She did for a while, but…” Eyes softening, Nadine lowered her voice. “The queen shut it down, Dahl. The girls are gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Dead, is my guess. My intel is fuzzy. All I know is, as of yesterday, they’re not an issue for Drimera anymore.”
“Does Evans know?”
“Oh, hell no. Bad news is your department, not mine.”
I sat my beer on the coffee table and sunk back into the cushion. If Marnie and the other girls were dead, it was over. There was nothing else to be done. If, for some reason, they were sent to another world, the chances of ever finding them were slim to none.
How do I tell him? I thought. How do I tell him his sister is gone?
I shook my head. “I can’t think about this right now. And we’re not done talking about your fling with Casey,” I pointed at her. “But, tonight, I need your help. I need to find Arno Gant. And don’t bother pretending you don’t know who he is or that you don’t have any intel on the Market. Not even Oren was able to uncover that much, that fast, on Marnie.”
Nadine took a drink and drew her bare legs up on the couch. A peculiar tension hollowed her stare. “Are you sure about this, Dahl? The elders have supported the Market since its creation. Mess with it, and you’re painting a bullseye smack in the middle of your pretty face.”
“You’re worried about me?” I laughed. “I thought you were avoiding my calls because you’re afraid of Gant.”
“Everyone’s afraid of Gant, sugar. Except you. You’re not anymore scared of him than you are the fallout. And that worries me.”
“There won’t be any fallout if I can’t find him.” I waited, watching unease grip her features in ways I hadn’t seen before. But she wasn’t turning me down, so I ran with it. “You mentioned an associate once. Someone who hangs out in the clubs and feeds off the nightlife. If that’s his sustenance, it isn’t enough. He’d have to procure the bulk of whatever chemical he needs somewhere else. Like through the Market?”
“It’s not feeding. It’s…inhaling. Not enough for anyone to miss.”
“Relax. I’m not after him. I want a meeting with the man in charge. Someone out there must know how to arrange it. I remember you saying your associate is skittish, but—”
“I thought you wanted to bust Gant, not have a heart-to-heart.”
“I need to get eyes on the operation. Some of his ‘product’ might still be alive. If I go in without intel, and fail, my hand is played. He’ll know I’m coming for him. And the first rule in crime lord etiquette is to dispose of the evidence when things get hot. Those creatures are the evidence.”
“I’ll take you,” she said.
The solemn resolve in her voice was telling. “You know where he is? I don’t understand. Why would you deal on the Market? You have your own abilities, your own magic. You can shift, heal. Your lifespan is, at least, as
long as mine. What more do you need?”
“Everyone needs something.” Nadine settled back on the couch, avoiding my stare. One long, blue nail tapped on the piping running along the back of the cushions.
“I’m not judging. There’s just so little I know about you.”
“Do you want to know about me or the Market?”
I wanted both. Knowing I wouldn’t get it, I said nothing.
Nadine drained the beer in her hand. Spinning the bottle in her fingers, she eyed the label like it was important. It wasn’t. She was stalling.
“The littlest thing might be helpful,” I said. “The structure of the company, its locations and background. Anything.”
With a halfhearted nod, she said, “The Market was formed to acquire and ferry material from this world to Drimera. Luxuries. Technology. Food. Building materials. But you probably already knew that.”
“It’s okay. Go on.”
“Drimera was advanced in many ways, even then. But there were things here the elders found appealing.”
“Why make when you can take.”
“Exactly. As the system expanded to include the ‘treasures’ of more and more worlds, the Guild gained access to many advancements and ingredients. Oren will tell you. Being able to blend sciences and technologies of many cultures is what made the mage-rank so powerful.”
“Oren doesn’t talk much about his work on Drimera. But it makes sense.” More sense, I thought, than Nadine knowing so much about the evolution of the Market. “Where do the organs and the medical enhancements fit in?”
“Big, covert criminal operations aren’t cheap,” she shrugged. “When the Market’s productivity went down, the Guild brought in a human skilled in trafficking and smuggling. No one cared how he made a profit, and kept the goods moving, only that he did.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It was. The more the Market thrived, the more freedom it earned. Now, it does whatever the hell it wants. But why it’s suddenly in the public eye, I don’t know. Having the police up your ass is never good for business.”
“It’s not Gant. He has no reason to out himself. I think one of his employees has an issue with management; enough they’re willing to risk exposing themselves to get our attention.”
“Could be,” she said. “Someone in his orbit must have a conscience.”
“Too bad they didn’t find it sooner.”
“I’m sure they have their reasons.”
My radar was going off big-time. Badly, I wanted to know her connection to Gant. Was Nadine the snitch? I didn’t think so. It didn’t feel like her. I wanted to ask, but there was a skittish vibe coming off her I hadn’t felt before. I had to be careful not to push her away. “Tell me about his clients.”
“Some are collectors. If it’s rare or exotic, mystical or supernatural, they want it. Some are after physical remedies or improvements. Some want pleasure and recreation. Others have developed a taste for certain, rare delicacies. The rest are desperate and willing to pay for—”
“The occasional bigfoot spleen?”
“That, too,” she grinned. “Organ trafficking is a lucrative business. I’m sure Arno does many of the more delicate operations himself. He always hated the slaughterhouse.”
“I thought he was a curator, not a surgeon.”
“The story is, Arno always wanted to be a doctor. His father hated the idea. Medical school would keep him away too long. I don’t know how, but Oliver found a way to derail his son’s dream. I guess Arno found his own way to make it come true.”
“That’s disturbing on so many levels.”
“Dahl, you have no idea.”
I blinked at her. I was used to Nadine being blunt, but on such colorful topics as the sorry state of my wardrobe, the frizz in my hair, or my lack of a date. I’d never known her to have such an edge to her voice. Cynical, cryptic, and morbid were usually my department.
Abruptly, she said, “You need to play this smart. If you go in all scaled and vigilante-like, we won’t make it ten feet in the door. You need to give him a reason to let you in.”
“I have something to sell that will pique his interest. How fast can you get me an audience?”
“Normally, it takes time. Background checks are performed on all new buyers and sellers. But I’m sure one was done on you months ago. Arno has information gathered on any high profile off-worlders who enter the city.”
“Is it a problem if he knows who I am?”
“Not at all. If anything, it will make him more curious. He’ll appraise the item—and you. If he finds both worthy of his time, you’ll be invited to bring the item to the next auction.”
“Sounds simple enough. Let’s go.”
“Now?”
“Unless there’s something else more pressing on your to-do list?”
She met my challenge with a resolved stare. “Let me make some calls. I’ll see what I can do.” Nadine left the couch. Passing the kitchen, she paused at the hallway, and looked back. “Why are you doing this? You couldn’t save Sal, so you feel the need to save everyone else? You can’t, Dahl.” Emotion wobbled her voice. “You can’t save them all. You’ll only end up hurting yourself, and they don’t deserve it.”
“Some do. The creatures who came here like me, the creatures Arno Gant is targeting: the runaways, the refugees, the persecuted. I was one of them. And I didn’t deserve to be saved—a lot less than any of them—but I was. Oren found me. He gave me a second chance. Sometimes, that’s all any of us need. Even the monsters.”
“When you put it like that… I’d be honored to be your Daphne.” She bowed with a spirited grin, and the Nadine I knew resurfaced. “Every brainy sleuth needs one.”
She’s trying, I realized. So, I did, too. “This is worse than I thought. You’re not just sleeping with Evans. You’re watching TV with him.” Her insinuation clicking, I shot her a frown. “Wait… Are you saying I’m Velma?”
“It’s okay, sugar, we both know, there was a kickass little hellion underneath all that intelligence and ghastly haircut. If Velma had an ounce of your confidence, Fred would have been demoted like that.” She snapped her fingers.
I shook my head. “Wake Shaggy while you’re back there. He’s coming with us.”
Her playfulness faded. “Let him sleep. Don’t drag him into this.”
“Are you kidding me? Now you’re concerned with putting him in danger? You took Evans off-world, behind my back, to a place that doesn’t think twice about executing humans.”
Hands on her hips, Nadine’s lips pushed out in a judgmental pout. “If I didn’t know better, Dahl, I’d think you were jealous.”
“Not like you think. You could fuck him six ways to Sunday for all I care. But he’s my sidekick, Nadine. Not yours. Now, go get him.”
Seventeen
I knew things were going to get messy when Nadine put on pants. Granted they were leather and skintight, with red laces up the sides, but it was clear.
Whatever she was leading us into required more than her usual miniskirt.
The address she directed me too was in the heart of the city, at the edge of Chinatown. The neighborhood was old, with rows of canopied storefronts. The sidewalks were empty. It was late on a Tuesday, and the weather sucked. Even wedged in the middle, like a classic third wheel, the chill made it easy to sink inside my leather jacket and avoid conversation.
I’d refrained from mentioning Nadine to Evans, which had carved an uncomfortable look on his face. I’d kept mine blank during the near-silent drive from his apartment. Parking in a public lot, as we crossed the street, I kept going. It took me a second to realize Nadine had stopped at the corner in front of a 24-hour Sushi joint with tasseled curtains and a blinking neon Yum Yum sign in the window. Gold painted lions bordered the entrance.
I eyed the door handle, made of thick, red and gold plastic chopsticks. “Please tell me you’re hungry,” I said, walking back, “and this isn’t the hideout of the city’s most dangerous cr
iminal mastermind?”
“You didn’t think to look for him here, did you?” Nadine teased.
“No one would think to look for him here.”
“This is great.” Evans reached past me for the door. He gripped the chopsticks and aimed his best movie voice in my direction. “You know what’s inside, don’t you?”
“I’ve toured Gant’s slaughterhouse, so… Botulism and parasites?”
“Besides that.” His brows went high, his voice low. “Big trouble.”
“Obviously.”
He groaned. “Big trouble because we’re in a little China town?”
I stared at him. “I don’t get it.”
“I swear, Nite, when this case is over, we’re in for some serious binge watching.” Evans ripped open the door and went inside. It was the most he’d said to me since I found Nadine, naked, in his apartment. Bantering over his movie obsession wasn’t exactly meaningful conversation. But it was a little bit of normal that said, “we’d be okay”.
I soaked it up, as Nadine and I followed him in.
An extensive buffet ran along the right wall, radiating the potent aromas of soy, ginger, and garlic. The sushi bar was on the left. The stony-faced chef behind it prepared an elderly couple’s meal with succinct, violent chops of his knife on the cutting board. At the back, a table of tipsy women giggled into their low mein. They stopped long enough to butcher a few words of the Asian pop song drifting from the speakers in the ceiling. Other tables were occupied by businessmen in suits and families with young children. Scattered in between them were slender, floor-to-ceiling aquariums and potted ferns. Hums and gurgles from the water pumps rode beneath the clink of silverware and the murmurer of conversation.
A silken-haired, young hostess in a knee-length, kimono-style dress manned the podium. She greeted us with perfect skin and a smile as plastic as the tablecloths. At a look from Nadine, the girl turned and guided us through the dining area; her painfully-tall pink heels tapping a rhythm on the tile floor.
I leaned over to Evans. “Sunglasses stay on. Hat stays down. I want you to keep a low profile, in case this guy has eyes at the station.”
Smoke & Mirrors Page 21