by Kit Hallows
“I… I didn’t want to…but the kid…” Haskins was visibly shaking as he gazed at the horror show before him.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “Now listen.” He looked my way and nodded, desperate for someone else to take control of the situation. “Stop anyone from trying to get in here, and make sure that little girl sees a doctor. If anyone asks, we think the librarian has a rare condition, and it’s being looked into. And it’s definitely not contagious.”
“Oh fuck,” Haskins said. “Is it?”
“I don’t know, that’s the god’s honest truth. It doesn’t look like it but I’m working on finding out for sure, okay? You need to trust me and if you run across any more situations like this, call me immediately. In the meantime get your people to go over this morning’s CCTV footage from Elliston Street. There’s a coffee shop on the corner,” I nodded to the librarian, “that’s where she was infected. The man you’re looking for has messy grey hair, a ratty face and bulbous eyes. It’s not a face you could miss. You might find images of him here too, if these library cameras are working. We need to grab him, and fast, so keep me appraised.”
“You think he’s still in the city?” Haskins asked. “In our city?”
“It’s doubtful, but we should still look. There’s a good chance he might have slipped away to the other side, if you know what I mean.”
“Your side,” Haskins said. “This is all coming from your side.” He bristled with anger.
“Cool it, Haskins,” I said. “I’m all you've got right now and those two sides, you don’t want them clashing, believe me.”
“Then do something about it. That poor broad…” he gazed down at the dead librarian, “she was one of ours. I don’t care what happens to your freakos. Got it?”
I bit back my first response. “I care about everyone, both sides, I don’t distinguish. Now let’s work together to get this shit shut down. Yeah, it’s coming from my side, but I’m fairly sure it was yours that adeptly started two world wars all on their own. Let’s avoid giving them any inklings or cause to kick off a third one, with us.”
Haskins stared at me for a moment and slowly his jaw and fist unclenched. He nodded. “Sure.”
“Good. Now, you know what we need. Get to it, and I’ll get on with finding the man who did this. Okay?”
“Okay.” Haskins glanced back to the dead librarian. “What about her? There were witnesses. Those medics-”
“If anyone asks, she’s been taken to a lab for tests. It’s the truth. I’m calling my people, they’ll come here and clean this up. Hopefully they can find out what the hell she was infected with as well. Once they’ve run their tests, I’ll see that her remains are turned over to your department so you can close your case, and her family can give her a proper burial.”
“Right.” Haskins holstered his gun, pulled his badge out, and walked into the thinning crowd outside as I called Dauple.
“Hello?” It was a high, scratchy voice. But not his.
“Where’s Dauple?”
“He’s driving. I’m Mortensen. His assistant.”
Great. “Tell him it’s Morgan and I need to talk to him. Now.”
I heard a muffled conversation, what might have been a yelp, and then Dauple got on the line with a heavy sigh. “Sorry Morgan, I have a new intern. The Organization’s expanding our department. Fast.”
That didn’t sound good. Were they expecting more bodies? “I need your help, Dauple. I’m downtown, at the city library. It’s important. Really important.”
“I can be there in half an hour, but I’ll have company. If you know what I mean?”
It felt like a small miracle, he was on his away and this was probably the most lucid I’d known him to be. “Yup, I know what you mean. I’ll be waiting for you. Just try your best to make sure this doesn’t reach the Organization until I’m away from the scene.”
“Will do.”
I hung up, sat on the library desk and gazed out the window as Haskins cleared the crowd away and the ambulance drove off, its lights the only living color in the grey and brown morning.
Dauple pulled up in his hearse earlier than expected and parked outside the library’s entrance. I watched as he rattled his keys and slammed the car door, his face tired and dour above his black winter coat. He looked like a crow today, an angry, seething crow. Moments later the passenger side opened and a younger man popped out. He was tall and slightly bug eyed with tousled blonde hair. He followed Dauple like a duckling, his face gleaming with enthusiasm.
“Morgan,” Dauple said with a nod.
I was taken aback as I realized how much he’d changed over these last few weeks. I guessed the darkness that had been washing over the city was eating away at everyone, including him. Suddenly I wanted the old Dauple back, and a return to simpler, crazier times. “Thanks for coming,” I said.
“My pleasure,” Dauple said, but the tone of his voice told me it really wasn’t. “You alright?”
“Kind of,” I smiled, then he smiled too, and finally the ice broke.
“Hi,” the intern said, and as I glanced toward him I realized he’d been studying me all this time. He offered a hand that was slightly less clammy than Dauple’s usually was, but only just. “I’m Benny. Benny Mortensen.”
“You’re aptly named,” I said. He looked confused. “Mortensen. You know, with your chosen vocation.”
He gazed up at me blankly and I couldn’t find the will to explain.
“Um, this looks like a blinkered. What do you want me to do?” Dauple asked, as he leaned on his haunches and assessed the dead librarian.
“Bag and tag? Burn and churn?” Benny asked, clearly pleased to be using Dauple’s parlance as he stooped over and got so close to the librarian his nose almost brushed hers.
“We think she’s contagious,” I said, relishing the panic as he sprang up like a jack-in-a-box, lost his footing and fell on his ass. I turned back to find Dauple rolling his eye with disgust and frustration. “Can you check? Run some tests and see if you find anything unusual in her system?”
“Unusual?”
I turned to Mortensen and gestured to the fallen books and blood-spattered carpet, “Get this mess cleaned up.”
He nodded and sprang out to the car to get his gear, like an eager puppy.
“Is she contagious?” Dauple asked. “Is this the same condition the old man in the meat packing place had?”
“Yes, it’s the same condition but we don’t think it’s contagious, not yet. I was just messing with your idiot assistant.”
“I must say I feel a degree of relief,” Dauple said.
“That’s not to say the situation won’t change. We suspect the piece of shit responsible for this is working on it. I’m looking for him now and the less you know about it the better.”
Dauple gave a brief nod and gazed down at the librarian’s corpse. “And what do I do with her?” he asked.
“Run tests if you can, and if you can’t then cremate her. I’ll give you my contact in the police department’s details so we can at least get her remains back to her family.”
“Will do.”
“What about Erland,” I asked, “have you heard from him?”
“Not a peep. He left town a few days ago.”
“Left?”
“Vanished. No one’s seen hide nor hair of him, and Mr. Humble’s overseeing all his cases.” Dauple glanced behind me and lowered his voice. “I’ve never liked that Mr. Humble, Morgan, he’s… spooky.”
This, coming from Dauple, was troubling.
“And,” he continued hastily, as Mortensen burst through the doors with a bucket in hand and a body bag tossed over his shoulder. “You know they’re looking for you, don’t you?”
“They?”
“The other agents. I heard Humble’s ordered them to bring you in. Off the record.”
“Thanks Daup,” I said as Mortensen came within earshot. Dauple held out his hand, and I shook it.
Onc
e again I was in his debt, and I wouldn’t forget it.
17
I called a cab and sat back in the seat as it sloshed through the streets toward my apartment. The rain pounding the sidewalks turned the world into a wet silvery blur as I tried to take stock of what had just happened. The fiasco at the library had really unsettled me. I felt terrible for the poor woman, Mary. The snapshots from her life played through my mind, Endersley targeting her in the coffee shop, then how her heart kept stopping and starting as she’d found herself caught between living and dying. It was a horrific fate for anyone and a clear demonstration, as if I’d needed one, of how far Endersley was prepared to go.
The cab stopped as it came up on a knot of traffic. I glanced out the window as blinkereds hurried by, their umbrellas shaking in the growing wind. The hard truth was, I’d never truly felt like I belonged among them. And when it was all boiled down, I had about as much in common with them as I did with a gloaming ghast. And yet I couldn't deny that I’d lived, loved and lost in their world, I’d built a meaningful life here and they were a part of it. Which was why the thought of them being picked off by some malignant manufactured disease, made me sick to my core. I took a deep breath as rage bloomed inside me and my dark other began to stir.
I had to find Endersley, and fast.
“I’ll get out here,” I told the driver. It would be quicker to walk home. I handed him a twenty, ignored his protests about safety regulations and used a quick spell to unlock the passenger door. The rain soaked my hair as I raced off, weaving through the throng.
“You look like a drowned hedgerat,” Samuel said as he sat back on the sofa, a fug of pipe smoke hanging in the air above him. “It’s a good look for you.” I grabbed a towel from the bathroom, rubbed the back of my neck and hair, and returned to the living room.
“Care to tell us where you ran off to?” Astrid handed me her coffee. “Here, you look like you need it more than I do.” I took a sip and gave them a detailed recount of the events at the library.
“Endersley’s testing again, and it sounds like he’s had success. That poor woman,” Astrid said, with a shiver.
“It was bad. There was so little left of her humanity by the time I'd gotten there, barely a scrap. I don’t know if we could have reversed things…”
“Definitely not” Samuel said. “Especially after your friend put a bullet through her.”
“Haskins is a colleague not friend, but he had no choice. The way she was looking at that kid, it was like she was two seconds away from tearing her throat out. Anyway,” I said, “Haskins has a lot of pull in his department and he’s working hard to help us track down Endersley. He'll let us know the minute he hears anything”
“So what are we supposed to do now, just wait for him to call us?” Samuel asked. “I mean, I’m happy sitting here smoking and watching this blinkered gibberish on your television all day, but we could probably serve better uses.” He was being his usual snarky self, but I could see by the way he was drumming his fingers that he wanted to take action. And so did I.
“If you're up for a little interrogation, let's pay old man Lampton a visit. Might shed some light on how long the Council’s been in cahoots with Stroud and confirm who the key players are. Hell, he might even choke up some firm evidence of a conspiracy. If we can blow the lid off this now, we might be able to rally some support among the uncorrupted Council members. If there are any left.”
“I'm ready when you are. How ‘bout you Ast.” Samuel clapped his hands together as she nodded.
“Great.” I finished my coffee and set the cup down. “I’ll get cleaned up and ready to head out.”
I left the room, showered and threw on some clean clothes as my phone went off. Hoping it was Haskins, I grabbed my damp coat, fished through the pockets and tossed it back over the radiator to dry as I checked the caller ID.
- Unknown Number
“Hello?” I waited for their reply but all I got was a low buzz of static and a torrent of rainfall. “I don’t have time for games. Who the hell is this-”
“Morgan Rook.”
A woman. Well spoken. Impatient. She instantly reminded me of… who? “This is Rook, and you are?”
“An ally, of sorts. I need to see you at once.”
“What’s this about?”
“A mutual friend who hankers for only the finest of threads.”
She had to be referring to Erland. “I can meet you tonight at-”
“I won’t be anywhere near this damnable place tonight. Meet me now and don’t dither. He’s hurt. And he needs your help.”
Shit. “Where?”
“Arthur Street.”
“Is there a number?”
“No, but there’s an alley. Make sure you come alone. You’ve got fifteen minutes.” She hung up.
I pulled my coat on, checked my gun was loaded and shoved a few things into my bag. “Okay,” I said, as I entered the living room, “slight change of plans.”
“Who was it?” Astrid asked.
“I don’t know, but she needs to meet me urgently. My boss… Erland…”
“The fae?” Samuel asked.
“Yeah, the fae. He needs my help.”
“What about Endersley?” Astrid asked, barely masking her irritation.
“Can you and Samuel head over to the magical quarter, see what's going on there? Between Helena Castle and the incident at the library there’s got to be some rumors or gossip flying around, at the very least. The chatter there’s usually pretty helpful. I’ll be done in an hour or so and I’ll meet you here. This could be a lucky break, Erland knows pretty much everything worth knowing about in this world, chances are he'll be able to point us in the right direction.” While all this was true, the most pressing thing on my mind right then was the fact that he was injured. But I wasn't going to admit that, not with the look Astrid had just shot me.
“Sure,” Samuel said. “We’ll do that.”
I sensed he shared Astrid’s irritation. They were fighters, allies. They’d been pursuing Endersley for what must have seemed like forever. We'd just gotten back on the trail and here I was shutting them out and flitting off again. But there was nothing I could do about it. The woman on the phone had made it clear, I had to go alone. “Good luck,” I said, and hurried out.
I slipped past Mrs. Fitz’s apartment, rushed out into the pouring rain and dug into my bag for a crystal. After a stealthy look around I cast a quick spell to shield myself from the worse of the torrent and ran up to the main road to hail a cab.
“Where to?” the driver, a grizzled man with a grizzled beard, asked.
“Arthur Street.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Can you look it up?” Or maybe I’ll take your frigging cab and drive there myself.
“I guess.” He sighed as he pulled over and dug into his glove compartment. He traced a stubby, grimy finger over the map and sighed once more. “It’s all the way on the other side of town.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I guess not.” He started the car, and we drove through the streets to the soundtrack of his sighs and occasional belches. I glanced out the window as the rain continued to pound the city, ‘And it rained all night’ played through my mind. It was only when we hit Third Street that I felt it. There were eyes on me. Eyes full of bad intent.
Someone was hunting me, and their magic was powerful. More powerful than anything I could summon. I searched the shop windows and doorways. There. A glint of eyes in a side street, a brief connection that was soon severed. But not quickly enough. I rolled down my window.
“Hey!” The driver yelled.
“Shut up,” I replied. “Seriously, shut the fuck up.” I stared at him until he looked away, then returned my gaze to the side mirror. I spotted her emerging from the side street. Ebomee, her sniper rifle magically concealed in a thin black case made for a pool cue. She flagged a cab. Shit. “How far are we from Arthur Street?”
“About a mi
le,” the driver said, his voice mixed with anger and unease. Idiot.
“You need to take the next right and then you’re going to drive as fast as you can. Got it?”
“I can only drive as fast…” He paused as I handed him a fifty, laced with a spell. Moments later his features set into grim concentration and he nodded. The charm was relatively weak, but it was more than enough to sway his mind. I glanced back into the mirror as the cab two cars behind continued to follow.
I reached for the grip as the driver took the turn and gunned the engine, the back of the cab skidding as we weaved in and out of cars. Ebomee’s cab slid round the corner amid a screech of brakes and blue smoke, then it shot toward us, the slashing rain backlit by their headlights.
Arthur Street was only two blocks away now. I could make it on foot. I grabbed three crystals and shuddered as their magic shot through my veins. I performed a simple illusion spell, just like Samuel had shown me, before leaning down and leaving the ghostly illusion of myself sitting in the seat. It wasn’t the greatest trick in the world but with the rain and the speed we were driving at, it should work. Or so I hoped.
The driver stared ahead, still under my control as he took the cab racing down the street.
“Make a hard right,” I said, “gun it for at least ten blocks then pull over and let the woman that’s following us get a good look inside the car. Once she’s gone, head back to Arthur Street and wait there. Got it?”
He nodded absently, and as soon as he turned the wheel and shot around the corner, I opened the door and jumped, landing hard on the slick road. My coat spared me from a severe case of road rash as I rolled toward the curb and scrambled behind a parked car before the other cab came screeching around the bend.
Ebomee stared ahead as her car sped by, sloshing rain over me. I barely felt it, I was already soaked to the bone and plagued with cuts and bruises, but I could heal those later if it came to it. I crouched down and watched as the two cabs hurtled the length of the block and only once their taillights had faded, did I run.