by J. K. Beck
It happened at dusk on the second day. Alexis was tired. Dirty. And getting damn discouraged, too. She’d just about decided that Gutierrez was right—she needed to go home and get her head out of this. Watch mindless television. Drink wine. And try to find some semblance of a center, because her life was spiraling down into obsession. She knew that—could feel the tug of the drain spinning her round and round. But dammit, she wasn’t quite ready to give up.
For the night, though …
She’d been pushing so hard, she could feel the exhaustion in her bones. For just one night, she’d go home. Take a bath, drink some wine. Then hit it hard again in the morning.
She dragged herself up the steps, letting the flow of Friday-night revelers push her along, like flotsam in a never-ending stream. As she reached street level, she saw a woman step away from a railing. She’d been leaning there, long blond hair fluttering in the evening breeze, the yellow lamplight giving her a fairy-princess glow. Alexis slowed, remembering. She’d seen that same woman when she’d descended the steps two hours before. She’d noticed the dress—a fifties-style sundress with a cinched waist, the kind of retro outfit that was all the rage lately. The dress was white with tiny pink dots, and the girl had paired it with pink flats, making her look both sophisticated and innocent, the kind of look that Alexis liked, but never tried because she was afraid it would make her too Marilyn Monroe, and that didn’t fit her image of a badass FBI agent.
This time it wasn’t the dress that interested Alexis; it was the girl. Why the hell was she still there two hours later? More important, why was she now walking toward Alexis, her gait uneven as she favored one leg?
“I think maybe you’re looking for me,” the girl said. “I’m Leena.” She stuck out her hand to shake, but Alexis only frowned.
“You?” She’d been searching for a girl, yes. But she’d expected someone older. Rougher around the edges. The kind of girl who prowled sewers and would be noticed by the vagrants who lived down in the dark. But Leena? She probably wasn’t more than twenty-two, and looked like she could be part of a sorority group touring New York for the day.
The girl laughed. The kind of genuine laugh that Alexis and Brianna often shared when they went out for drinks and gossip. “Not what you were expecting?”
Alexis bristled, then forced herself to relax. The girl was right—she wasn’t what Alexis had been expecting. But what had that been? Some mysterious, shadowy figure? Some dark girl with hollow eyes who’d tell her the secrets of the sewers and lead her straight to her sister’s killer? All things considered, the girl in the dress was a pleasant surprise. Assuming, that is, that she could help at all.
“What makes you think I’m looking for you?”
“I watch. I pay attention. And Marion told me you were looking for me.”
Marion. The old lady. Alexis hadn’t even asked for her name, more proof that Tori’s murder had thrown her off her game. Any other victim and she’d never have let a witness go without getting a full ID. And yet with Marion, she’d chatted the old lady up and then moved on. Maybe Gutierrez was right; maybe she needed to get the hell out of New York. Except she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not until she had a lead on the bastard who’d killed her sister.
She focused on Leena. “So why was I looking for you?”
Leena didn’t laugh, but her mouth curved up in amusement. “Because I know things.” She shrugged. “I don’t always tell what I know, and I don’t always get it clear in my head. But I’m legit. Hell, call the NYPD if you don’t believe me.”
“You’re a psychic.” Shit. Like Alexis needed that kind of bullshit.
“And you’re a skeptic. That’s okay. Give me your hand.” She stuck hers out again, then left it hanging in the air. She raised her brows, waiting for Alexis to take it. Fine. Whatever. She took Leena’s hand. She wasn’t sure what she expected—Sparks? A tingle in the air? A booming voice from the heavens? None of that, but there was something about Leena’s face. As Alexis watched, the girl seemed to lose color, then a moment later she yanked her hand away and wiped her palm hard on the material of her dress.
“I’m sorry,” Leena said. She sounded breathless, like she’d just run sprints. “Your sister. Oh, God, your sister.”
Alexis was already falling before she realized that her knees had buckled. She grabbed for the railing, but found that Leena had a hold of her arm. “How? How did you know?” She hadn’t told anyone she was looking for her sister. Just that she was with the FBI. That she was working a case.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.” She licked her lips. “Marion was right to tell you about me. I can help. Or, at least, I’d like to try. Can we talk?”
Alexis, who’d never believed in bullshit supernatural stuff, nodded immediately. “There’s a deli,” she said, nodding across the street.
“My shop isn’t far from here. But we need to go somewhere else first.” She paused, lips pressed together as she studied Alexis’s face.
“What?” Alexis demanded, suddenly afraid that Leena had changed her mind. But she couldn’t have. Alexis wouldn’t let her. This was the first lead she’d had—if you could even call it a lead. But it was a door. An opening. Something. It was all she had, and she wasn’t about to let it go. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to meet someone. Someone who knew your sister. I—will you trust me? Will you let me take you there? Meet him first, and then afterward you can ask me whatever questions you want?”
It was a ridiculous way to proceed, and everything in her agency training told her she should very firmly tell Leena that this wasn’t a damn scavenger hunt, and that Alexis wanted to know what was going on right then. But all she did was nod. She had to know, and if that meant taking a risk and following some girl who maybe, maybe, could get into people’s heads, then she was damn well taking it.
“I see stuff,” Leena explained as she casually pulled a folded walking stick from her purse and extended it. She used it as they moved back down the stairs into the subway station. “I touch someone and sometimes nothing happens, but sometimes I see. And right now I see that you don’t believe me.”
“Your psychic powers are truly astounding,” Alexis said with a laugh. “I’m sorry. But since I’m with you, it’s obvious that I must believe a little.” Possibly the girl was a grifter. Possibly Marion had seen a resemblance between Tori and Alexis and she’d been sucked into a huge con. That was what her rational part said. But her rational part was overwhelmed by the part that wanted to believe she’d found an ally and an asset.
“Don’t worry. You’re not hurting my feelings. I get that I’m a freak, believe me. But after you meet John-O and after you see my shop … well, then you can tell me if you’re still hesitating. Okay?”
Leena smiled, and Alexis caught herself smiling back. “Okay.”
They took the subway to Times Square and emerged blinking into the light. “He works in the back of one of the souvenir shops,” Leena said.
“Your vision showed you that?”
“My vision showed him with Tori,” she said, her sister’s name catching Alexis’s attention. She was certain she hadn’t mentioned it to Leena. “He and I’ve crossed paths before,” Leena continued. From her expression, the crossing had been a less-than-pleasant experience.
“Who is he?”
“A son-of-a-bitch.” She skirted easily around two tourists taking up the entire sidewalk as they gawked at the chaos that was Times Square. “Here.” She pulled open the door of a shop with so many knickknacks and so much neon in the window, Alexis couldn’t even locate the name of the place.
“Leena, Leena, Bo-Beena!” A man who had to be as wide as he was tall spread his arms behind the counter and grinned, showing a row of brilliantly white teeth framed within a fiery red beard and mustache. “And you brought a friend! Tourist? Looking for T-shirts? Snow globes?”
“John-O,” Leena said, and Alexis watched the man’s effusive expression shut down
.
“John-O? But he’s not—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Leroy. I need to talk to him. She needs to talk to him,” Leena added. She looked harder now, and Alexis had to admit she was impressed. Even in the girlie outfit, Leena had serious chops, and Alexis relaxed a little, letting a tiny bit of hope ease its way inside her. Maybe, just maybe …
“Aw, hell, Leena. Didn’t you hear? John-O’s dead. Found him in Central Park just a few days ago. Throat ripped out. Hell of a thing. Ironic, you know?”
As far as Alexis could tell, there wasn’t a damn thing ironic about it, except for the fact that she’d heard about the guy. He’d hit the task force’s radar right as Gutierrez was pushing Alexis out the door. She turned to Leena. “John-O is Johnny Osgood Fitzhugh?”
“One and the same. You know him?”
“You want to tell me why you’ve been dragging me all over town to meet a pimp?” No. I don’t want to know why. Don’t want to know that about Tori. And yet she had to hear. Had to soak it all in, process it, and try to make it right in her head somehow.
“Hey,” Leroy said, holding his hands up as high as if this were a stickup. “He didn’t do none of that shit in my place.”
“Not interested, Leroy. That’s not why we’re here.”
Leena cocked her head toward Alexis. “Dead end. Come on.”
“So my sister was turning tricks.” She’d intended the words to come out as a question, but based on the cold, knotty sensation in her stomach, she already knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Leena said. “But there’s more. I wanted you to meet John-O first, get a sense of what I’m about to show you. But, well … oh, hell. Let’s head back to my place.”
Leena’s place turned out to be a tiny storefront in SoHo with a simple paper sign that said PSYCHIC. Although Alexis had asked her new tour guide to give her some hint of what this was all about, Leena refused to say anything until they’d arrived.
“We’re here now,” Alexis said, closing the door behind her and breathing in the scent of herbs and spices. “Tell me.” Her patience had worn completely thin, and if Leena dodged the question once more, Alexis was going to whip out her badge and drag the girl in for questioning. She’d gone along with the charade for Tori’s sake, but enough was enough. “No more mystery bullshit. Tell me what you know.”
“Lock the door,” Leena said. “You’re not going to want to hear this, and I’m not going to want to be interrupted.”
Alexis did, then followed Leena through a cleverly concealed door hidden by the wall paneling. It opened into an office. Like the front, the scent of the office area was cloying. Lavender and anise, rosemary and cardamom, all mixed with other scents that Alexis didn’t recognize. In addition to shelf after shelf of dried herbs and spices, hundreds of crystals covered tabletops and shelves. Some even filled baskets that sat on the floor. The lighting was dim, made that way by a scarf tossed over a bare bulb. A little too new-agey for Alexis’s taste, not to mention claustrophobic.
The chairs were uncomfortable, with straight backs and lumpy upholstery. They were done in red velvet that had become threadbare over the years. Leena sat in one, then scooted it around until it was right in front of the other. Alexis took the hint and sat. “Well?”
“I could be wrong—I’m usually not, but I only got a glimpse.”
“A glimpse of what?”
“John-O is—was—not your average pimp. I’m sorry,” she added in a rush. “I’m not saying that your sister was selling herself. Well, maybe I am, but not in the way you think.”
Alexis realized she was gripping the seat of the chair so hard that her fingernails were digging into the wood. She told herself to relax. To think of this as just another case. Yes, it hurt thinking of Tori that way, but what the hell did she know of Tori’s life? Considering the childhood she’d had, would it really be that unusual if Tori had gone out into the world and sold her body? God knew it was a skill set she’d acquired the hard way.
“Are you okay?” Leena was looking at her with inescapable compassion in her eyes.
“Not really,” Alexis admitted, realizing as she spoke that those weren’t words she’d say to just anyone. She liked this woman. More than that, she trusted her to tell her the truth about her sister, and to make hearing that truth as painless as possible. “But don’t stop. I need to know.”
“You’re an FBI agent,” Leena began. “No, don’t look at me like that. You didn’t tell me, but I saw that, too. I didn’t mean to pry, but I can’t help it. This stuff comes into my head, and then it’s stuck there.”
“So I’m an agent.” Alexis couldn’t help but stiffen as she sat there, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
“I’m just saying that you must know about weird shit.”
She thought about the marks on Tori’s neck. On the necks of all the other victims. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Drug rings, white slavery, pedophile kidnappers. All sorts of fucked-up people, right?”
“How was John-O fucked up?”
“He serviced the vampire community.” She paused as if waiting for Alexis to respond.
She didn’t have long to wait. “What do you mean by ‘serviced’?” She leaned forward in her chair, eager for what Leena had to say. Neck wounds were the one common thread among the task force victims. The idea of real vampires was ridiculous, of course, but a cult that had gotten a little too into the whole Dracula/Twilight thing? Finding folks who fit that profile had become one of the FBI’s priorities.
“You believe in vampires?”
“I believe that some people do. And that some of them might kill for it. It’s all about the blood, right?” She knew damn well that even some folks she considered educated believed that vampires and ghouls and things that went bump in the night were actually real. Edgar, for one. Even though he’d spent years with the LAPD dealing with very human bad guys, he still believed that bloodsucking vamps walked the earth. Hell, even Brianna had been too freaked out by the possibility of bringing forth demons to go to a Ouija Board party in college. Ridiculous superstitions and runaway imaginations as far as Alexis was concerned. She knew damn well that monsters existed. But they were still people, the only inhuman thing about them the way they thought and acted. She ought to know; she’d grown up with two of them.
“The blood is what they crave,” Leena said, nodding sagely. “And John-O got it for them.”
“He pimped them out.” Alexis felt bile rise in her throat as she imagined her sister selling herself. Not for sex—or not just for sex. But for blood. “Dear God. Somebody actually paid my sister to suck her blood?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Alexis didn’t realize that she’d risen and was pacing until she had to turn to get her bearings in order to look at Leena. “How do you know all of this?”
Leena looked at her hard. “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone you love.”
“No,” Alexis said. “I’m sorry. Of course I’m not.”
“You want to find your sister’s killer. How far are you willing to go?”
“As far as I have to.”
“And when you find him? What then?”
Alexis hesitated. The proper answer was that she’d arrest him. That she’d dump him into the system and see him behind bars.
She said none of that. Instead, she told Leena the truth. “I’ll kill him.”
“Damn straight,” Leena said. “But how?”
“A bullet. Fired in self-defense, of course. At least that’s what I’ll say when I get called to the carpet for discharging my weapon and killing a suspect.” What am I doing? Her tongue was far too loose. Even charged up as she was about the possibility of getting help from this woman, Alexis wasn’t a reckless person. Yet she’d just blurted out the kind of thing that could cost her her job, not to mention her freedom if she was prosecuted for murder.
Around her, blue smoke twined through the room. “The air,” she said, suddenly realizing. “Oh, sh
it. What have you put in the air?”
“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”
“Too late for that.”
“I had to know for certain.”
“Know what?” She was tense, primed to get the hell out of there and leave Leena in the dust. Except she didn’t want to go. Whether it was the drugged air or her belief that Leena could help her, Alexis didn’t know. She might regret it, but she was staying.
“Whether you could handle the truth.” She grabbed her cane and pushed herself up, then took a couple of steps toward the back of the room. “Follow me.”
She led her into a secret hall, hidden by dusty shelves covered with herbs and old, rotting books. The scent of decay almost overpowered Alexis, and she blinked, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her hand went to her hip, where her gun was still holstered beneath her jacket. She heard Leena laugh. “You won’t need that. It wouldn’t help anyway.”
“Where are we going?”
“Through my building. To see one of them.”
“Your building? This whole place belongs to you?”
Leena turned and offered Alexis a sunny smile. “I only invite the public into the storefront. You know, for readings and things. But this building has been in my family since the late 1800s. I actually live on the top floor. But we’re not going there. We’re going down. Into the basement.” That said, she opened another door and started down, holding onto the handrail tightly as she limped down the stairs.
Alexis followed, her mind and muscles on hyperalert. She believed that Leena meant her no harm, but she was trained not to be stupid. And she’d never been one to trust easily.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, then moved down a dark hall barely illuminated by widely spaced yellow bulbs. Finally, they reached a steel vault door, the shiny metal looking out of place against the ancient brick-and-mortar walls. The door was sealed with an intricate locking mechanism. Alexis watched, curious, as Leena operated the lock and opened the door.
Alexis gasped. The room was much brighter, lit by candles tucked into depressions in the stone. And there, at the back of the room, was a shirtless man chained to the wall by his ankles and his wrists.