Blood Deal (Prof Croft Book 2)

by Brad Magnarella

At that moment, the door to the office opened, and the six-and-a-half-foot bouncer who had admitted us poked his head in. “You two gonna be in here much longer?”

  “As long as it takes,” Vega told him.

  “It’s just…” The bouncer scratched his curly hair and glanced behind him. “I know you’re police and all, but the boss don’t like people nosing around his stuff. He might smile and play nice when you’re here, but he takes it out on the rest of us when you’re not. He’s got a temper like a pit bull.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore,” I said.

  “Where can we find Casey?” Vega asked.

  “Casey? She worked a double today. She’s in the dressing room on a smoke break.”

  “Can you ask her to come in here?” Vega said.

  “I can ask.”

  The bouncer disappeared. A minute later, Casey stood in the doorway in a pink silk robe, her red hair pinned up in a messy pile. She placed a hand on a cocked hip, a stench of cigarette smoke and perfume radiating off her.

  “What?” she demanded.

  Vega gestured to the chair next to mine. “Have a seat.”

  “Why?”

  “Relax,” Vega said. “We just want to ask you a couple questions.”

  Casey shot me a sour smile as she landed in the chair.

  “Is your full name Casey Lusk?” Vega asked.

  “What if it is?”

  “Do you remember when you were hired?”

  “No.”

  “Does March 2001 ring a bell?”

  “Not really.” She crossed her long legs.

  “A young woman was hired shortly after you,” Vega said, pulling out Alexandra’s photo and placing it on the desk in front of Casey. “She would have looked like this, but with hair to her waist.”

  Casey scowled at the photo.

  “You knew her?” I took out my notepad.

  “She played little Miss Innocent, but she didn’t fool me. Manipulative piece of trash. Had Sonny wrapped around her pinky finger. She even got him to propose to her.” She let out a sharp laugh. “Can you imagine that? Sonny? Married?”

  “Can you give us a name?” I asked.

  “Chastity Summers,” Casey said with exaggerated sweetness.

  I jotted the name down and looked up to find Vega’s dark eyes staring back at me. I nodded. We might just have connected the final dot. But man, the detective was not looking good. Way too pale.

  “Whatever became of Chastity?” Vega asked.

  Casey shrugged. “Hell if I know. She was here for about six months and then took off. Sonny moped for the next year. Serves him right, the dumb bastard. Tried to warn him she would rip his heart out.”

  “And she never showed up here again?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Do you know anyone who might’ve kept up with her?”

  “Kept up with her? We all hated her.” Casey glanced around before leaning forward and lowering her voice to a husky whisper. “But I know for a fact Sonny hired some sort of private investigator to look for her. Didn’t find shit.” She gave a self-satisfied snort as she sat back.

  “Thanks for talking with us,” Vega said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “That’s it?” Having attained a degree of authority, Casey was reluctant to relinquish her chair. I felt a prick of pity for the aging dancer as she stood slowly, tugging her robe by its fraying hem.

  “If anything else comes up, we’ll be in touch,” I assured her.

  After Casey left, I looked at Vega. “Think we have enough?”

  “I’d like more info on this Chastity,” she said, “but if a P.I. couldn’t track her down almost two decades ago, I doubt we’d do any better.”

  “Lady Bastet said she’s in the city.”

  “Still a needle in a haystack, especially since Chastity wouldn’t be Chastity anymore.”

  “Think she changed her name?” I asked.

  “I’m sure of it.” Vega spun her chair from the desk and stood. “Let’s go out and see if we played Arnaud’s game to his satisfaction.” She took two steps toward the door and collapsed.

  I caught her before she hit the floor, and lowered her the rest of the way, one hand under her head. The stomach of her sweatshirt featured a fist-sized spot of blood. I didn’t have to look underneath to know the bandage was a sopping mess.

  “Detective,” I whispered, patting her cheek.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and I watched her pupils sharpen. “Did I trip?”

  “You passed out. You’re running on empty.”

  “I’m fine.” She sat up and blinked as though to straighten her vision. “Just stood too fast.” She extended a hand for me to pull her to her feet. I complied, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her.

  “Would you stop?” she said, elbowing me away.

  “Would you let me help you?” I cried. “You can’t do this alone.”

  She wheeled on me, staggering slightly before regaining her footing. Though her body was about to wilt, her dark eyes burned with emotion. “We’ll worry about me after this is over. But I am not going out there to face the creatures holding my son with you propping me up. Got it?”

  I relented with a sigh. “Am I allowed to catch you, at least?”

  Vega turned and opened the office door onto the beating lights of the club. I followed, hoping to hell we had met Arnaud’s terms. Vega wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

  30

  We emerged from the club and looked up and down the block of flashing marquees and pay-by-the hour hotels. If blood slaves were lurking among the skeletal street walkers, I couldn’t spot them.

  “Arnaud!” Vega called, her voice hoarse.

  When no one appeared after several moments, I hooked a thumb toward the sedan. “He might want to meet someplace less public. Why don’t we drive a few blocks and park?”

  Vega shivered as she nodded.

  “I’m going to have to ask for your keys, though,” I said.

  “So you can finish the demolition job you started at the Towers?”

  I had banged up her car pretty badly. But Vega relented, slapping the key chain into my palm. She shivered again as she dropped into the passenger seat, eyes closed, the cuffs of my sweatshirt balled inside her fists.

  I cranked the engine and turned up the heat. I was about to pull the gearshift into drive when I caught the silhouette of someone’s head and shoulders in the backseat. I wheeled with my revolver.

  “At ease,” Zarko said, almond eyes glinting red in the darkness.

  My heart slammed through my breaths. “You could’ve given us a little warning.”

  “I just thought the detective would want to meet out of the cold,” Arnaud said through his blood slave. “She is not looking at all well, is she?”

  I peeked over at Vega, whose eyes remained closed.

  “Chastity Summers,” she said. “That’s the name of the mother.”

  “Was the name of the mother,” Zarko corrected her. “But I think you know that.”

  Rage burned through me. “Can’t you see the condition she’s in?”

  He gave a mysterious smile. “But you are so very close.”

  “To what?” I shouted.

  “The truth.”

  “Look.” I paused to control my voice. “Just release her son, let her get some medical care. We’ll continue the search. We’ll find out who this Chastity Summers is. You have our word.”

  “Amend the original agreement?” Zarko chuckled. “I wouldn’t think of it. Besides, it would seem we are in a race against someone intent on keeping that information in the dark, no?”

  “Look at her, for God’s sake. The situation’s changed.”

  “No, Mr. Croft. The situation has only become more interesting. I have placed associates of my own at stake. I have even lost a few. It would only seem fair that you have skin in the game as well.”

  “Is that what this is to you? A goddamned ga
me?”

  “A figure of speech, Mr. Croft, I assure you.” The smile on his lips thinned. “The revealed truth would have profound consequences. Why, it could change the very landscape of this city. Why do you think someone is going to such great lengths to suppress it?”

  “But you already know the truth,” I said.

  “A truth I can do nothing with at the moment.”

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  “Perhaps I have already hedged my bets, and there is no gain in it for me. I am an investor after all. And the best investors cover all sides of a trade. Or…” The word lingered, teasing, on his tongue. “Or perhaps it is that you are not the only ones bound by an agreement.”

  Vega stirred in the passenger seat. “Does this have something to do with your being hired to protect her daughter?”

  “Very astute, Detective. There is hope for your son yet.”

  I expected the not-so-veiled threat to light a fire in Vega, but she remained slumped against the seat back, eyes closed. With her blood loss, everything probably seemed dull and hazy. “He’s still safe?” she asked.

  “Sleeping like an angel.”

  “And once we find out who Chastity Summers is,” I said, “you’ll release him?”

  “Yes, but you should be quick. While the boy sleeps, a little blue vessel on the side of his neck pulsates away. My associates have taken an interest in that conduit of precious fluid. I have control over them, of course. But as that interest turns to real hunger, why, a brief lapse on my part…”

  “If he’s hurt,” Vega mumbled, “I will hunt you down myself, and I will kill you.”

  “What energy!” Zarko said, laughing. “Yes, take that spirit and rally yourself. I would hate to see you fail at this late stage and with so much at stake. The truth is not as distant as it might seem—especially for you, Detective. Find out who wants the creature dead, and the answer will reveal itself like a magician’s coin.”

  In a burst of cold wind, the rear door opened and closed, and the backseat was empty.

  I sighed and looked over at Vega, who was fumbling for her smartphone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Hoffman,” she said. “Need to find out who he’s been supplying info to.”

  “Wait,” I said, holding out a hand just enough to freeze her display. “Let’s think about this for a minute. If Hoffman knows he’s doing something below board, he’ll deny it. Not only that, he’ll tip off whoever he’s informing. Instead of confronting Hoffman, what if we laid a trap?”

  “What kind of trap?”

  “We debrief him on the investigation, leaving out the parts about the boarding school and Lady Bastet, of course. Tell him we’re close to knowing the mother’s identity. We’ll put together a file of fake names and contact info—leads you’ll instruct Hoffman to follow up on. Whoever Hoffman’s talking to is going to want that file. We’ll see what Hoffman does with it.”

  “Tail him?”

  “Even better, I can infuse the file with a hunting spell.”

  She nodded weakly. “Fine, but you were right, dammit. I’m not going to make it without some blood.”

  “There’s a medical center a few blocks away.”

  Vega shook her head and scrolled through the contacts on her smartphone. “No hospitals. I have an EMT friend who owes me a favor.” She tapped a number and activated the speaker. “Larry,” she said when a man’s voice answered. “It’s Detective Vega. You on duty?”

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he said.

  “I’m gonna need an ambulance for an emergency blood transfusion. B positive. One unit should do it. Is there somewhere I can meet you?”

  The voice hesitated. “You’re bringing the victim to us?”

  “I am the victim.”

  “Oh, geez. Yeah, yeah. Where are you now?”

  “Near Forty-second and Broadway.”

  “Okay, how about in the valet garage across from Grand Central?”

  “How soon can you be there?”

  “I’m headed there now.” The sound of a siren rose through the speaker.

  Vega hung up. “You heard the man.”

  The ambulance was already waiting, its rear doors open, when we pulled into the garage. I parked and ran around to Vega’s side before she attempted to stand. A portly man in blue coveralls and with graying hair appeared from the ambulance and jogged up to her other side.

  “Christ, kiddo, what in the hell happened to you?”

  “Stopped a bullet with my stomach,” Vega said as she staggered between us toward the ambulance. “Thanks to my vest, it wasn’t deep. But I lost some blood. Everson removed the projectile.”

  “All right,” Larry said. “While the drip’s going, I’ll stitch up the wound.”

  We helped her up into the ambulance, where she collapsed onto a waiting gurney, the interior lights bleaching her remaining color. While Larry busied himself with the IV bags, Vega clutched my coat sleeve.

  “This is gonna take about an hour,” she said. “If you need to do something for your friend, go ahead.”

  My gaze dropped to the spreading stain in her sweatshirt.

  “That’s an order,” she added.

  I pulled up a mental map of Manhattan. The fae townhouse was a straight shot north, about thirty blocks. I could be there in under ten.

  “You sure?” I asked.

  She shoved my arm toward the door. “Go.”

  “All right, but…” I patted my coat pockets until I felt the pager in its iron case. “Call if you need me back before then.”

  She nodded, then looked down at where Larry was inserting a line into the crook of her left elbow.

  I checked my watch: 2:40 a.m. I hopped from the ambulance and jogged to the sedan. As I wheeled the car around, I caught the first droplets of blood filling the tube to Vega’s arm.

  “Fifty-nine minutes to find Caroline and make it back,” I whispered.

  I peeled from the lot.

  31

  I pulled up a half block from the townhouse and parked. When I squinted, the narrow domicile across the street wobbled into focus for a few seconds before the veil pushed my gaze to the neighboring address. I squinted again. Light glowed from the four ascending windows, which was no surprise. The nighttime enhanced fae magic, and so the fae were more active at night.

  Active enough to show their faces outside the townhouse, I hoped.

  Without time to cook up a spell, I lacked the ability to break through the threshold. That left a stakeout. As I replaced the silver bullets in my revolver with iron ones, I replayed the sequence of events surrounding Caroline’s disappearance, starting with the gala.

  Angelus pursues Caroline and asks to speak with her. She wants nothing to do with him until he mentions her father. While they’re talking, I catch something about “a fair exchange.” I head out with Hoffman to the crime scene, and Caroline and Angelus apparently leave the gala together, Angelus casting a glamour to look like me. The next morning, Moretti’s men come to my apartment, looking for her. That they were hired by Caroline’s father tells me she really is missing. I get the address to the fae townhouse from the night hag, only to be stonewalled by the butler. But he knows where Angelus is, and probably Caroline. Fast forward to the meeting with Lady Bastet and “She’s no longer in this world.”

  That Caroline might be in the faerie world was nothing to feel optimistic about, but it sure as hell beat the alternative. Judging by the secrecy of the townhouse, and the sudden burst of voices I’d heard while talking to the butler, I was willing to bet there was a portal to that world beyond the threshold.

  I clicked the cylinder of my revolver home and scanned the street in front of the townhouse. I just needed someone to show up who could give me some damned answers.

  “Well, what do we have here?” I whispered.

  A Clydesdale clopped into view from down the street, pulling a dark carriage. In front of the townhouse, the horse slowed to a stop. A man in a black top hat an
d cape climbed down from the driver’s bench and opened the carriage door. Laughter bubbled out as a well-heeled man and woman appeared on the carriage’s far side. Their formal dress and the woman’s blatant show of jewelry, coupled with their being out so late, screamed “fae.”

  I climbed over the sedan’s console and exited on the passenger side. Using the cars parked curbside as cover, I slinked along the sidewalk until I was across the street from the carriage.

  The man handed something to the driver, who bowed, climbed back onto the carriage, and snapped the reins. The horse and carriage moved away, leaving the frosted-haired couple giggling on the sidewalk. The woman took the man’s arm in an exaggerated stumble, and the two broke into louder laughter.

  Drunk fae. Even better.

  I waited for the sound of the horse to diminish before jogging across the street. I pulled up behind the couple and drew my revolver.

  “Stop right there,” I said.

  The couple looked at one another, then wheeled clumsily.

  “This thing’s loaded with cold iron,” I said, “so I want you to listen.”

  “And who are you?” the man asked in a vaguely English accent.

  “I’m looking for someone. I’ll release you as soon as you can tell me where she is.”

  Their drunkenness seemed to have subdued their magic as much as their reaction times. They continued to blink at one another and at my revolver, their faces a blend of surprise and amusement.

  “Well, are you going to tell us who you’re looking for?” the man asked.

  “Caroline Reid.”

  The woman’s face brightened. “Caroline Reid?”

  “You know her?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. A lovely, lovely young woman.” She turned to the man. “You remember her, honey? She came over to interview you about your time in Mayor Alito’s administration.”

  “What?” I said.

  “For a book she was writing,” the woman said, wavering on her feet. “We have a signed copy on our…” She hiccupped and circled a hand as she tried to come up with the word. “…our mantel.”

  I looked from the woman to the man. Were they fae?

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  At that moment, the door to the townhouse opened, and a pale rectangle of light spilled into the street. I squinted at the slight figure bisecting the doorway. “Mr. and Mrs. Darby? Is everything all right?”