Modern Magic
Page 116
That was the way it worked sometimes. Obviously, the powers-that-be wanted the greasy guy caught. So, the information passed to Aiden when he took the chair.
Coincidence didn’t exist, as far as Aiden was concerned.
“Bigger problem is how to remain your anonymous source when it comes to that person I mentioned on the phone.”
“It’s a shit load of trouble, that’s what it is,” Tank groused. “What is it this time? Same thing that was about to hit Officer Lincoln in the park?” Tank rarely referred to the incident in McPherson square directly.
“No, that was a boggle, something I know how to ward against and deal with. If it were that, I’d have someone close, geographically, to the…guy, deal with it. This thing isn’t anything my kind can stop. My source says it’s big, ugly, and nearly unkillable. Well, you saw the results in Three-A.”
“Nasty.”
“In a word.”
“There’s the other ones—”
“Chicago and Seattle, yeah.”
When Tank looked at him suspiciously, he held out his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know it was connected, not before today. I would have called you sooner if I had.”
Tank grunted, Aiden having answered his unspoken question.
“I don’t know what will kill this thing, but I know what will keep it away from the sen…guy, in the short term.”
“What?”
“It’s going to sound nuts.”
“Figures,” Tank said sourly.
“Stainless steel. I guess it’s sort of like garlic to vampires, and the thing can’t tolerate it. Hang it on the doors, windowsills, hang it from the fireplace damper. Put it at any ingress or egress into the house.”
“Oh, that’ll be easy to explain. I can hear my captain now.”
Aiden started to protest but Tank stopped him. “Look, Bayliss, I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m not saying I won’t try. I’m going to see if I can talk directly to the party involved. If he’s gotten himself into this deep pile of horse manure, he can be the one to take the nutty precautions.”
Relieved, Aiden agreed. “That may be the only way.”
“Still probably get killed,” Tank muttered. “Whatever did that? That’s not a run-of-the mill killer. That’s not even a cold ass serial killer type. That’s a monster.”
“Yeah, it is,” Aiden replied, thinking about the picture on Cait’s computer. “If you know any of the guard detail, warn ’em off if you can or they’re going to get dead.”
Tank shook his head. “Won’t go. And I don’t know them.”
They finished the food and their beers, with Tank asking the minimal questions he needed for Aiden to direct him to the murder weapon. Outside of the bar, they raised their collars to ward off the chill. It already felt like November.
“Let’s get this over with,” Aiden said, resigned to a late night. “You want me to follow you?”
“No, we’ll take my car, I’ll drop you back at yours.”
Not seeing any good way to refuse, he got into Tank’s unmarked sedan. It took all his shielding to keep the resonances of the crimes, killers and victims Tank investigated from overwhelming him.
“You gonna tell me what’s up with the woman?”
The question caught Aiden off guard.
“That got a response,” Tank said, sarcastically.
“Which woman?” Aiden directed Tank back up K Street and then had him turn down E toward the Kennedy Center.
“The scientist. Feebies tell me you two are hooked up.”
“They need to mind their own business.”
“Can’t. Not with senators dead on their watch. Then again, the ones in Chicago and Seattle pulled their attention off you and your gal. They’ve kept eyes on you some. Not much, but some.” He shot Aiden a look. “The budget’s bein’ spent on the mob angle.”
“Great,” Aiden managed. He hadn’t felt a watcher on the towpath, but remembered the winking dog walker. He could have been a Fed. “That won’t help.” He leaned forward, pointing. “Pull over here.”
They rolled over the curb, up onto the grass, beyond the support pillars for the E Street bridge, and got out.
“This way.” Aiden could feel the wail-of-pain signature of the murder weapon from where he stood. “Got your evidence bag?”
“You’re that sure?”
Aiden looked at him, and something of his irritation as well as his unease must have shown on his face.
“Hang on a sec,” Tank muttered, opening the trunk. With a hefty flashlight, latex gloves and several evidence bags in hand, the two of them tromped through weeds and rank growth which soaked their pants with cold, wet dew.
“There,” Aiden pointed, clenching his teeth at the miasma of pain that pulsed over the weapon. “Can you see it?”
“No.”
“Give me the flashlight.” Homing in with his inner senses, he placed the beam directly on the blade. Tank’s whistle was his only comment, and the detective moved forward. Before he reached the knife, he stopped.
“I think I owe you bigger than I thought, Bayliss,” Tank said, amazement ringing out on the crisp air. “I got additional evidence here. Secondary crime scene.”
“Great. Marvelous,” Aiden said, trying not to grind his teeth at the pain and agony rolling out in wide bands from the weapon and other items scattered in the grass. “Get those things in the trunk, will ya? They give me the creeps.”
Tank looked at him, almost asked a question. But instead of bagging anything else, he went to the car. Aiden followed with the flashlight. Tank grabbed the radio, and within a minute, a cab pulled up.
“Take the cab back to your car. I’ll call you. I need Crime Scene down here, need to document this properly. And get markers on everything. You don’t need to be here for that.”
“Thanks. Let me know about that other…”
“Yeah. Will do.” Tank cut him off, and hustled him to the road to meet the taxi. As the cab pulled away, he could see Tank waving down an approaching black and white.
Exhausted, he sank into the musty cab seat. His jaw hurt from clenching it, and his shoulders were knotted with tension. All he wanted was a hot shower and Cait.
He made a noise of irritation. He’d hoped to be back to Cait at least an hour ago.
A Slip Traveler. He was falling for an alien hunter. And falling hard.
Movie clips and images revolved in his mind when he closed his eyes. They made him smile. Yeah, she’d look good in a Star Trek uniform. The vision of the woman in the sexy red uniform, covered in weapons, popped into his mind. It was Cait. He knew it now, without a doubt.
When they got to his car, the cabbie said he’d already been paid, and waved as he drove away.
Aiden parked under the condo building and said hello to Tarik as he came through the lobby. With Dave out of commission, Tarik was pulling a double. Up the stairs he hesitated, seeing a new guard on duty outside Hathaway’s place. He went into his condo, turned on lights and snagged another beer.
Swiping his cell phone, he called Cait.
And got no answer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Working through the data Aiden had unearthed, as well as comparing it to what had come through Kith channels, Cait spent two hours hunched over her computer. When her aching back forced her to give it up, she stretched and refocused her thoughts on the takeout menus from the front desk.
She glanced at the clock. Aiden should be back. Frowning, she paced around the living room. That seemed to be her go-to stress relief this downside.
Damn, she was in deep and not just with Aiden. For the first time in her career with the Sh’Aitan, she faced the fact that she would die in their service. This mission was so fucked from every angle that she saw no way to get out of it alive.
“Great attitude, Patt…Brennan.” She managed, this time, to stick to her cover name. “Defeatist beliefs get you defeatist results.”
She stated the platitude the way her mo
ther used to do, which, unfortunately, made her want to cry. Knowing her mother was still alive but unapproachable, untouchable, brought an unbearable sense of loss crashing down on her. Her heart hurt.
There was activity in the hallway, which she could hear even through the well-soundproofed doors. A few minutes later, alerts sounded on all her devices.
“Those assholes,” she muttered. She’d joked with Aiden about them listening from in Three-A, but they’d done it. All communications were now being scanned.
“Not that they’ll get anything to look at, but it’s the principle of the thing.” She paced the small room. She had four reports to send in to the Kith, including her capture plan and the estimated pickup time the night of November first.
“Dammit. Couldn’t the idiot Feds have waited a few more hours?” She looked at her watch again. Aiden should be back. She didn’t want to call him while he was with his police contact, and now she couldn’t text while she was in the building. “Time for the Starbucks relay station. Directly.”
She pulled on a coat, put her laptop in its bag, along with her PDA and her phone. She’d turn the phone on when she got clear of the building.
She debated having Tarik call a cab, but figured they’d tail her if they knew she was leaving. Instead, she slipped out, locked the door and headed across the lobby.
She waved at Tarik as she went by. He was on the phone, so he waved back and she heaved a sigh of relief. All the guards were personable, chatty and nice. Exactly what she didn’t need. She’d have preferred snotty, ignorant and slack, since she didn’t want anyone monitoring her comings and goings.
On Connecticut, she walked down a block and a half before she whistled down a cabbie. Giving the address of the Starbucks, she sat back and watched the city lights.
* * *
Aiden’s phone barely rang in his hand before he snatched it open and demanded, “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Checking up on me, Bayliss?”
It was Tank.
“Fuck.” He hadn’t checked the caller ID. “Hey, Tank.”
“Hey to you. Nice greeting.” There was a slight pause, the barest invite to share what the hell was going on. Aiden ignored it, so Tank continued. “The tip, dead on the money. Stuff we picked up on-scene ties the perp to the crime, even without fingerprints. Lab’s working on prints now. If they come through too, I’ll have a tied up case, thanks to you.” There was a long pause. “Thought you should know.”
“Great, I’m glad to hear it,” Aiden growled. “The crime, and the criminal, were…ugly.”
“Yeah, there’s the truth.”
“Anything on the other issue?” Aiden had to ask.
“I put out the word, but don’t know if it was heard.” Aiden heard both resignation and disgust in his voice. Disgust that the tip had to be vague. Resignation that even with the tip, it was probably going to be seen as a bad Halloween prank.
“I know what you mean, unfortunately. Let’s hope someone heard it, even if they didn’t seem to. Lot a people don’t want to admit there’s a bogeyman. We can’t help that.”
“Right.” The monosyllable was delivered a tone of finality and relieved dismissal. Tank could say so much with so little.
“Keep me posted on the prints.”
“Will do.” He hung up without a goodbye.
The resulting silence left Aiden back where he had been before the call. Worried. Half angry. Unsure.
He was about to go pound on Cait’s door when his incoming text chimed.
Three-A has ears. At Starbucks. Back soon. All okay?
He texted back, Which Starbucks?
And was pleased when she actually answered.
K Street by the Metro station. Files sent, back soon.
He contemplated going to her, heading over to meet her, then worried that if the Feds were in Three-A, it might direct too much attention her way. Hard as it was to sit and wait, he decided it was the best course of action.
Let me know when you head back in.
There, that wasn’t too overbearing. His text beeped again, and he flipped it open.
Caught cab back part of the way, walking last few blocks to get some fresh air. Back in a few.
The minute he read it, a vision hit.
Claws slashing out of the darkness, a brutal blow, Cait falling to lie still and dead on the sidewalk, her brown hair spilling like coffee on the white pavement.
The vision departed as fast as it had come. Forgetting everything but the need to get to Cait, Aiden bolted out the door. Across the foyer, past the empty guard station and out onto Connecticut Avenue Without hesitation, he raced down the sidewalk, busy even at this late evening hour with dog walkers and couples with strollers out for a last tour around the block.
Midway down the next block, he recognized the ambush spot he’d Seen and put on a burst of speed. He saw her as she stepped from a darker patch into the halo of the street light up ahead.
“Cait! Look out!” he shouted, racing toward her.
She dropped and rolled as a huge shadow shot past her, eerily outlined in the cool white of the streetlight’s beam. With a gesture and six words of a spell he’d long ago perfected, he threw a darkbolt like a javelin, heard a scream that rose past the ability to hear.
His heart nearly stopped. His brain screamed NIGHTFLYER! Even though he knew that wasn’t what it was.
It was the assassin. The Aurelian. He knew that as sure as he knew his own name.
He saw her rise to one knee, firing something into the black, empty blot of the construction zone that flanked the sidewalk. Another wrench of sound. Then, whatever she’d used, she shoved back into her bag as a car honked. She rose and dusted her knees as if she’d fallen.
“Hey lady! You okay?” a concerned driver called from the curb lane. Anyone who thought DCers weren’t nosy and willing to stop were wrong. He prayed the Aurelian wouldn’t kill them all.
Even as he closed the distance, he heard her laugh and answer back.
“Fine, just took a bit of a stumble. Feel like an idiot. Thanks for checking.” She waved as the driver tooted his horn and drove away.
Seconds later, Aiden had her in his arms.
“Oh, sweet Christ on a crutch,” she gasped as he bustled her across the street, into the glow of a bank’s ATM. Stepping into the bright light went against his instincts, but…
“Are you okay?” He patted her arms, crouching to check her knees. He shot a glance at the construction zone as he took her bag from her shoulder and transferred it to his own.
“I’m good. Stop fussing,” she said, scanning the night.
Once he was sure, they moved into the shadows. As one, they put their backs against the stone wall of the building.
“It’s gone,” she said. “I think we hit it, both of us. What the hell did you throw?”
On the light evening breeze, he could smell the acrid stench of the Aurelian’s presence.
“A darkbolt, like lightning, but not in a visible spectrum. I’m pretty sure I hit it, or you did. One of us did. Did you hear it scream?” He’d been able to react, to fight. He hadn’t frozen even though part of him had wanted to. He felt a surge of elation. He hadn’t choked, not when it counted.
“Yeah, my ears are still ringing from that. I need my PDA. I need to scan.” She retrieved her bag, then her device, and set it to work. Meanwhile she steered them both further into the shadows. The last thing she wanted was to be outlined targets.
She scanned, and the residue on the air immediately popped onto her screen as Aurelian. Blood trace showed on the scan as well. Aiden was right. One of them had wounded it.
Excellent.
“How did you know?” she demanded.
“I Saw it. I seem to do that a lot where you’re concerned. Haven’t had a vision in years, then you show up and I have seven.” He was trying to make it light, keep it easy, but she heard the tension in his voice. The fear. For her.
“Thank you. It helped.” She too
k his arm, and they moved back up the street toward home. His one-armed shoulder squeeze conveyed more emotion than it should have.
“Whatever you hit it with worked.” More of his magic, she decided. He wielded incredibly powerful forces that she couldn’t see, couldn’t measure, couldn’t sense, and manipulated them as easily as she fired a laser.
In some ways that scared the crap out of her.
“I need to get home, get to my place,” she said tersely. “This confirms it’s after me now. Whatever its previous agenda, it’s taken a shot. Once I report, my ass is totally covered if I can kill it. And there won’t be a revenge killing on this one because the Aurelian took the first shot and missed.”
Score one for the humans.
They made it to the building and he squeezed her shoulder again. “Just have to make it past Tarik and we’re home free.”
“Evening Dr. Brennan, evening, Mr. Bayliss. Didja see the news? Another senator…” Tarik seemed gleeful to give all the details, now that it wasn’t involving their building.
Cait felt her muscles quiver with reaction. She was sad and pissed that Bartleby was dead.
Finally, they extricated themselves, and climbed the steps, going to her place.
Cait felt reaction setting in, felt her knees try to shake. One of them ached where she’d hit the concrete.
“Hang tight. We can both get the collywobbles when we’re inside,” Aiden said. He pulled her into his arms as soon as he shut the door, and engaged the locks. “Cait. Jesus, I nearly didn’t make it in time.”
“Thanks for the shout.” She hugged him back. Part of her wanted to just stay, just hold on. The other part was fired up and pissed off. She told him as much, standing in the circle of his arms. “Dammit. I’d hoped we’d been in time with Bartleby. I’m so pissed.”
“Pissed is good. I’m working my way around to that too.”
“Good. Pissed always feels better than helpless, as you reminded me last night. We tried, dammit. And I’m not going to let that assassin get to me, or to you.”
He pulled back, looked into her eyes. “Ditto.”
She nodded. “Good. Now let’s tell the bosses, and get clearance to shoot that motherfucker,” she said fiercely. “That thing doesn’t get to come on my turf and hunt my people with a free pass, but it damn sure doesn’t have the right to take me out. Especially not before I catch that stupid freakin’ Ty-Op.”