by E G Bateman
“It’s Peter’s.”
As she approached the apartment door, it opened and the other thug walked out. “Morning.” He smiled and nodded at her. Dick turned his back discreetly until the man had rounded the corner and was halfway down the stairs.
Scott followed him out of the apartment and stopped beside her. “He’s going to visit his mother in Natchez. He hasn’t been the best son, so he’s going to apologize.”
They arrived at the tall dumpster. Lexi looked at Dick and waited.
He gazed around the quiet streets before he fixed her with a wide-eyed look. “I’m not getting in there.”
“He’s your friend.”
“But…you owe me a dumpster from Chicago.”
She rolled her eyes and turned to Scott.
He immediately took a step back. “Don’t even look at me. Turn those eyeballs away.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Give me a lift up.” She stepped into his interlocked hands and climbed onto the edge. “I can’t see him.”
“Maybe he slipped beneath the top layer of slime and filth,” Dick suggested.
Unimpressed, she stared at him with distaste. “There are rats and roaches in there.”
“And a potential killing machine.” he reminded her.
With an exasperated sigh, she dropped in. She lifted sheets of drywall and kicked roaches off her boot. “It stinks in here.” She dropped the remnants of a door. “Dick, he’s not in here.”
“Dick’s not here,” Scott called in response.
“Where is he?”
The sorcerer’s voice grew quieter as he continued to speak to her with his back turned. “He’s across the street with a guy—oh, wait. It’s Peter.”
“What?” Lexi heaved herself up and glowered at where Dick talked to a man who was crouched on a doorstep. She scrambled out, dropped to the ground, and scraped something off her boot before she marched across the street.
Peter shielded his eyes and squinted at the vampire. “Bus delit.”
Dick crouched beside him. “What?”
“S’dayl–” the man slurred and lowered his head.
He slapped his cheek. “What are you trying to say, Peter?”
Peter straightened a little, stretched a trembling hand, and stroked Dick’s cheek. “S’okay.” He leaned forward and pulled the hood up to cover the vampire’s head.
“He’s protecting me from the sun.” He sighed and smiled, leaned in, and spoke slowly to the other man. “I’ll explain everything later, but we’ll take care of you first. What on earth is that awful smell?” He turned quickly. “Ah! Lexi. You’re back.”
She scowled at him.
He put a hand up. “Don’t act like you didn’t deserve that. You were in there for less than a minute. I was in that dumpster in Chicago all night with a broken neck.”
Lexi gritted her teeth and looked at Peter. “How’s he doing? He doesn’t look dead.”
“Pie-eyed, but no, not dead.”
She shook her head. “How did the drugs not kill him?”
“Pfft! Do Roofies for fuuuun.” The man giggled.
Dick raised an eyebrow. “Apparently, he’s built up something of a resistance.” He looked at Scott. “Can you do something?”
The sorcerer shook his head. “I think we should get him to the hospital. I can heal people, but I need to know what’s going on with them. I haven’t a clue what those drugs might have done to him.”
The vampire stooped to pick the drugged man up.
Peter caught his hand and pulled it to his cheek. “Don’ go, Johnny, don’ go,” he mumbled and burst into tears.
“There, there.” Dick patted his back and glanced at Scott.
The young man retrieved his cell. “I’ll call a cab.”
Dick stood with the nurse. “I don’t know how many. I wasn’t there. I found him on a street corner.”
“But you’re willing to pay for his treatment.” The nurse raised an eyebrow.
He plucked the forms from her hand. “He’s someone’s son. Wouldn’t anyone with the means do the same?”
She regarded him with suspicion. “Quite frankly, Mr. Levine, no.”
“Well then, thank goodness I’m not simply anyone.” He ignored the pen he was offered and instead, drew his Mont Blanc special edition pen from the shirt pocket beneath his hoodie.
Lexi rolled her eyes and turned to Scott. She took a slip of paper from her pocket. “Let’s visit Amy.”
They took the stairs to the next floor and found the psych ward.
The police officer outside the hospital room slipped quietly into unconsciousness, oblivious to the two friends entering the room.
Amy lay cuffed to the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Lexi spoke as she entered. “Hi, Amy, we’d like to ask you some questions if that’s okay.”
The girl kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I heard them say they know who did it. They’ll let me go after a psych evaluation.”
Lexi moved to the chair beside the bed. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know. I woke up and—” Amy closed her eyes and tears ran from the corner of her eyes into her hair. “It was horrible.”
She lowered her voice when she asked the next question. “When we found you, the machete was in your hand. Do you remember picking it up?”
“I woke up on the couch. I thought someone was there. It felt like someone was close by. I grabbed it and hid. I don’t remember anything else. Everything was fine. We were only doing some…I don’t know, ritual stuff.”
Scott asked, “What was the ritual?”
“Jamal wanted to speak to Marie Laveau.” The girl blinked and tears streamed from her eyes.
The two friends shared a look.
Scott leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Using the ring you stole from the museum.”
Amy blushed and she nodded.
Lexi leaned forward. “Where is it now?”
She shrugged and rattled the bracelet cuffed to the bed’s railing. “When I woke up, I wasn’t wearing it. They said a woman came in and killed Jamal. Maybe she stole it.”
Scott muttered, “Sleep.” Amy closed her eyes.
“Excuse me, what are you doing in here?”
James from Thought and Memory, the witchcraft store, stood in the doorway. He wore scrubs.
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s you.”
She blinked. “I thought you worked in the witchcraft store.”
James continued into the room. “Sam and I help out when we can. She won’t leave the place.”
Lexi moved away from the bed. “Why do you want her to leave?”
The man moved to the notes and checked them. He flicked a glance at Lexi. “You haven’t noticed? Everyone’s getting out. With all this shit going down with the vampires. Do you honestly think we haven’t seen what’s been going on? You look away while your pals make moves. I’m amazed you all weren’t away for longer.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand this.”
“You need to leave. The doctor’s coming to assess her.” James spun on his heel and marched down the hallway.
“What the hell was that about?” she asked.
Scott shrugged.
Back in the ER, they found Dick seated in a bay next to Peter’s bed.
The sorcerer took the chart from the end of the bed. “How’s he looking?”
“They’ve pumped his stomach and he’s on saline and electrolytes. They’ll test his liver and kidneys.”
Scott replaced the chart and placed his hand on the patient’s stomach. “His kidneys are fine. His liver’s not great and he needs to hold off on the booze and recreational drugs. I think he’ll be out of here in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Lexi patted the vampire’s shoulder. “Hey, the museum case is solved.”
Dick held his gaze on the patient. “Oh, that’s right. Amy stole the ring. I realized that last night.”
&nbs
p; She stood with her mouth agape.
“I’ve been a little busy.” He gestured a hand in Peter’s direction.
“I’ve just seen Anne Bird’s son. He seems to think Kindred are allowing one vampire clan to dominate the city.”
He straightened. “Oh, yes. Betsy and I spoke to an old shifter friend of mine yesterday morning. She thinks Kindred were behind Palm Springs and that they left to allow this little war to happen. But we know that’s not true.”
Lexi thought about it as she chewed the inside of her cheek. “They do seem to be taking their time to get back here.”
They sat with Peter for a couple of hours until his results came back and confirmed Scott’s assessment.
She rose. “I need to find Broullard. Will you stay here?”
“No.” Dick smiled an unattractive smile “I need to get out of sight.”
“I don’t think any other vamps will see you out in the daylight.”
“Oh, I’ll visit them soon enough.” He stood and kissed the now sleeping Peter on his forehead.
They headed out of the hospital and waited for a cab.
The vampire took sunglasses from his pocket and slid them onto his face. “What will you tell the detective?”
“He’ll need to know Amy killed Jamal while she was possessed by this Marie Laveau woman.”
He shook his head. “That makes no sense. I honestly can’t see it. Marie Laveau was beloved and known for her kindness and deep religious convictions. What could have happened to her spirit to make her hack someone up like that?”
When the cab pulled up at the apartment block, Lexi looked up and scowled when she saw Betsy wasn’t alone on the balcony. Agatha was with her. She glanced at Scott. “This can’t be good.”
When they entered, Agatha made eye contact with the sorcerer.
She watched the exchange. “Another one. Well, at least I won’t have to hunt the detective.”
They followed the girl to Decatur Street.
The two friends waited patiently with the crowd at the end of the alley beyond the cordon until Broullard noticed them. He stepped out from behind the tape and signaled them to walk with him. “You’re late.”
They joined a line for coffee.
“We were at the hospital.” Scott pulled a ten-dollar bill from his pocket.
Broullard turned. “Did you leave with Amy?”
Lexi narrowed her eyes. “No. We spoke to her. She was waiting for a psych evaluation. Why?”
He moved to the front of the line. “Can I get three flat whites, please?” He turned to the others and motioned to Scott to put his money away. “I’ve just had a call from the station. The doctor discharged her to the care of her parents, but when they arrived, she’d already left. Admittedly, she’s no longer a suspect and not much of a witness. They’ve been to the apartment and she’s not there either. It looks like this one’s ours after all. It seems to be a case of simply bat-shit crazy.”
Her gaze flicked to the sorcerer before it returned to Broullard. “That might not be the case.”
He paid for the coffee and they walked to the end of the counter. With a sigh, he glanced around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Go on.”
Lexi began to pick up sachets of sugar. “Are you aware of the break-in at the Museum of Death?”
“Yes, I heard about it.” He stared at her coffee. “What happened to ‘pure, white and deadly?’”
Lexi looked at her drink, utterly clueless about what he meant. “It was Amy. She stole Marie Laveau’s ring to try to communicate with her spirit. We think she was possessed and went to town on Jamal. Cora found the ring when she went in to clean-slash-burgle the apartment. She went home, put it on, and took her husband’s head off.”
They took their drinks and returned to the crime scene.
Broullard blew on his coffee. “I’ve seen some weird shit in my time, but from the way people speak about Marie Laveau, there’s simply no way she would be that kind of spirit.”
“I agree.”
Lexi startled and spun quickly. “Joseph, I swear—”
Joseph traced the patterns on his staff idly with his finger and looked at her. “I think it’s time for you to return to the museum.”
The cop nodded. “I’ve never known you to be wrong, Joseph.” He turned to her. “Do you want to check this one before you go?”
She turned to him. “What’s missing this time?”
“Au contraire, a piece of lost property has appeared.” Broullard lifted the tape for her but dropped it in front of Scott. She passed her coffee to her friend.
They walked up the narrow alley and her nose twitched at the smell of garbage and rat piss. The body of a man lay on the ground. The first thing she observed was the shiny shoes. Then she noticed a burn hole in his pants. Her gaze trailed to his face. It wasn’t one she had expected to see.
Broullard lifted the blood-soaked collar to show large, industrial staples. “This is Ambrose. Well, it’s his head…stapled to an unknown’s body.”
Lexi looked at him, a little startled. “It’s the shoeshine extortion guy.”
He took a notepad and pen out. “You’ll have to narrow that down.”
“He has a gold tooth and hangs with a shorter guy. We passed him on Decatur near Jackson Square. Scott could probably tell you his name.”
“Tyrone?” he asked. She nodded. “Well, now we’re looking for Tyrone’s head and I’m thinking of retiring.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Agatha walked along the street, thinking about the Kindred lady and how she smelled strange. She couldn’t put her finger on what was strange about her. And why wasn’t she staying at the usual Kindred place? What was that about? It wasn’t a problem, obviously. She had her weird scent and could track her with an hours’ old trail.
She smiled. If this is how good I am now, imagine how awesome I’ll be when I shift. It’ll be soon, I’m sure.
As she passed a gate, she detected an unusual odor. The girl stopped, turned her head and sniffed, and peered up the narrow corridor along the side of the big house. The smell was out of place, and she’d never seen this gate open before. She crept quietly along the side of the building and tried to remember where she’d encountered the scent before. Was it food? The door of the building stood ajar and brought her closer to identifying the smell. She pressed her face to the sliver of open doorway. It swung in about a foot and stopped. She sniffed again.
What is it?
With one tentative step after another, Agatha entered the house.
She was four or five steps in when finally, it hit her what the smell was.
Blood.
Instinctively, she spun toward the door, but a woman stood in her way with a knife in one hand and a man’s head in the other. Agatha whirled and ran into the mansion. She entered a large white hallway dominated by a glittering chandelier. When she reached the front doors, she twisted one handle, then the next, but it was no use. The door was locked and soft footsteps approached from behind.
She bolted to the right and flew up a wide, curved staircase as fast as her young legs would take her.
At the next level, she turned. The woman was no longer behind her. She took her shoes off to quieten the sound and ran along another hallway to the door at the end. Relieved, she reached for the handle but stopped. The smell drifted to her again. Her pursuer was on the other side of the door. She could feel it. Her mind raced and when she glanced out the window beside her, she realized she was at the back of the house. This door would lead to the back stairway used by servants or slaves. The mansion was old.
Agatha backed away quietly, returned to the curved staircase, and continued up. She tried several rooms but most of them were empty and she could find nowhere to hide. Finally, she entered what appeared to be a large sewing room with a big table in the center. A giant pair of scissors rested on top of a pile of fabric. A sewing machine stood on a smaller table near the window beside a mannequin, and rolls of fabric
leaned against a wall.
She was about to pick the scissors up when something caught her eye. Her heart thudding, she ran around the table to the window and halted at the sight of a young blonde woman on the floor. Her hands were tied and although she seemed to be awake, she couldn’t get any response from her. The window was locked and there weren’t enough rolls of fabric to hide behind. There were closets in this room, but the woman would surely look in closets.
A little desperate now, she glanced down. Beneath the closets were small cupboards with two sliding doors—the kind you might put shoes in or that adults might overlook. She slid a door open and peered inside. It didn’t appear to be in use so she scrambled into the small space and slid the door closed with her foot. She opened the door near her face the tiniest of fractions to allow her a glimpse into the room. The woman on the floor was mostly out of view. Her nose twitched.
Lord, it’s dusty in here!
In the silence, she wished she could shift. If she could, she’d be able to rip the woman’s throat out. She’d heard of children shifting before their time, usually brought on by a stressful situation. Maybe this situation counted as stressful.
I’d better not shift in this tiny space. I’ll break my neck.
The door to the room opened. The woman entered, swinging the head in her hand. Agatha closed her eyes.
“We have a guest.” The woman seemed to be speaking to the blonde. The girl looked through the sliver and willed herself to not close her eyes. “We’ll have a little fun.” She walked to the mannequin, pulled its head up and dropped it onto the floor, then replaced it with the head in her hand and squashed it onto the body. “There.”
The youngster swallowed a sob and closed her eyes again. The woman came closer and the closet door above her opened, then closed, followed by another.
The feet turned away, walked across the room, and out. The door clicked closed and Agatha released a breath.
Then, without warning, she sneezed.
Horrified, she held her breath and waited to see if the woman had heard.