by Lincoln Cole
During that time, he learned almost nothing else about Arthur. The man remained a closed book about his past and his life before Niccolo met him and completely unwilling to talk about his family before the events in West Virginia.
However, he did learn quite a bit more about Desiree. She participated in most of what they did, and before long, she ceased to be a prisoner and became more like a compatriot in the mission against the bishop. The woman opened up to Niccolo more, talking openly about her life and family.
Arthur offered her the third small bedroom in the cabin, which she accepted graciously. No one mentioned her time in the cell or the fact that Arthur had kidnapped her.
She remained reserved around Arthur, but when just the two of them, she would speak to Niccolo about her life and the bishop. Arthur seemed to realize this and made himself scarce fairly often. He spent quite a bit of time on a satellite phone in the woods, following up on leads with Frieda and trying to figure out where they would go next. So far, nothing had panned out.
Aside from that, though, things continued quietly and peacefully. Niccolo had to admit that it was the last thing he had expected in coming out here, and he now enjoyed himself.
On that fourth night, just as he drifted off to sleep, a gentle knock sounded at his door. At first, he assumed it was Arthur, but when he opened it, Desiree stood in the hallway.
“Oh, hello,” he said, rubbing his face. “Did you need something?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but I think I remembered a name that might be useful.”
“Really?”
She hesitated. “Well, no, not a name, really. It might be nothing. Just someone he mentioned in one of his letters.”
“We should find Arthur,” Niccolo said.
She nodded, and they headed back toward the front of the cabin. It gave a testament to how much she trusted him now that Desiree didn’t even object to that idea.
They found Arthur in the living room, staring into the fire and frowning. He stood when they approached.
“She thinks she remembers something,” Niccolo said, gesturing with his hand for Desiree to sit on the couch.
“I don’t know if it will help you guys find Leopold,” she said. “But ...”
“Anything helps,” Arthur said. “All of my contacts have turned up nothing, and the longer he’s on the loose, the harder he will become to find. Leopold lives like a ghost.”
“I remembered something he mentioned. Not a name, exactly, but I think it was someone he worked with.”
“Who?” Arthur asked.
“A business partner he referred to as the collector.”
All of the excitement drained out of Arthur’s face. “A woman?”
“Yes,” Desiree said, surprised. “How did you know?”
“You know who it is?” Niccolo asked. “Don’t you?”
“I do.” Arthur sat again and let out a sigh. “She’s an old friend. I can’t believe she would get caught with someone like the bishop. I also know how we can find her, but it isn’t an ideal situation. I don’t reckon I left on good terms the last time I went there.”
“What do you mean? Who is it?”
“Naomi Develon,” Arthur said.
Niccolo coughed. “Wait, what?”
“You know who she is, too?”
Niccolo hesitated for a long moment. “I don’t know who the collector is, but I know Naomi Develon.”
“How do you know her?”
“Because she works for the Church.”
THE ROOM FELL SILENT for a few moments while they attempted to absorb that information. Niccolo shouldn’t discuss Church business openly like this, but he realized that the danger of not telling Arthur about Naomi’s relationship to the Church could prove disastrous.
“What do you mean? Naomi is a thief. Why would the Church want to work with her?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“The Church pays her to steal things for them?”
“Not exactly,” Niccolo said. “It’s ... complicated.”
“Then un-complicate it.”
Niccolo hesitated, and then continued, “Yes, she works for the Church. Not stealing, though, but rather, helping us find important items. She helps us track certain ... things.”
“Artifacts?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Niccolo said. That was as much as he felt comfortable explaining to Arthur, so instead, he changed the subject. “You said you know of a way to find her?”
“Sort of,” Arthur said with a frown. He seemed unwilling to let the issue go so easily. “What does she help the Church find?”
“Oh, you know, this and that. It doesn’t matter. How do we find Naomi?”
Obviously, Arthur didn’t believe him, but he decided not to press the issue. “We have to go somewhere,” he said, “but, you won’t like it.”
Chapter 5
“Never been to a nightclub before?”
Niccolo detected a hint of jest in Arthur’s tone but decided to let it slip past without comment. He couldn’t—nor did he want to—hide his discomfort as they stood below the glowing neon sign that read: Afterlife.
“Of course not.”
“It’s an experience everyone should have at least once before they die.”
“That sounds like the sort of half-witted logic an addict might use to justify their habit.”
Arthur laughed. Niccolo didn’t.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Arthur said. “We won’t stay here for long.”
Niccolo scoffed at the idea—being comfortable in a place like this would prove impossible for him. As a priest, a man of the cloth, just visiting this seedy establishment, little better than a strip club, disgusted Niccolo.
Why did Arthur need him to come along, considering they’d just visited to get information? Most likely, more for Arthur’s amusement than any practical reason that the man might have.
To be honest, though, it brought a nice change just to get away from the cabin for a while, even if the lead didn’t pan out. He had gone a little stir crazy up there, and it felt good being back in civilization. Just that he would have preferred that the civilization didn’t give an affront to his religious principles.
Of course, that assumed that he even had religious principles any longer. He’d come out here to help a Council of Chaldea Demon Hunter track down a wayward bishop, who had turned against the Church and cavorted with demons, and he did it all without the Vatican’s consent.
Technically, he didn’t need their consent, not as an anointed Exorcist, which gave him considerable leeway in such matters. Also, he rode high on his recent success in dealing with the demon crisis in Everett, but that gave only small comfort. And telling himself he didn’t need approval came as nothing more than a justification for something he knew they wouldn’t approve of if he asked.
They had left Desiree Portman alone at Arthur’s cabin, and this time, out of the cell so that she had the run of the place. Arthur had even left her keys to a car or directions to town should she run into trouble. He had stressed, again, the importance of her not returning home, but it was anyone’s guess whether she would listen.
Niccolo could tell that the situation wasn’t ideal to Arthur—he had, after all, brought her to the cabin on less trusting terms—but he seemed willing to trust that she wouldn’t burn down his cabin while they had gone. For what it was worth, she did seem to understand the importance of staying put and had enough canned goods and rations to keep her fed for a few months.
“This isn’t a proper place for a man of the cloth.”
“For some people,” Arthur said with a grin, “this is where they come to pray.”
“You mean prey?”
Arthur shrugged. “That too.”
Heavy bass tone spilled out through the closed door, and a line of smelly and dolled-up patrons wrapped around the side of the building, waiting for their chance to gain access.
“Just stick close to me.”
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“I intend to.”
“And don’t eat or drink anything,” Arthur said. “No drugs, either.”
Niccolo sighed in disgust. “Let’s just get this over with.”
They walked up toward the front entrance of the nightclub where two bouncers blocked the line of people waiting to enter. They stood in front of a thick velvet rope and attempted to look intimidating. One a small woman, and the other a large and burly man with decidedly Italian features and a scowl on his face. Both of them frowned when Arthur walked toward them, and Niccolo could see why Arthur had said they would get a less than pleasant greeting. Clearly, they knew him.
Arthur bypassed the line altogether and walked right up to stand face-to-face with the bouncers. A few of the waiting patrons shouted or jeered at him, but he paid them no mind.
Niccolo stepped up beside him, more than a little uncomfortable in the hasty outfit Arthur had put together for him. He had traded his priestly robes and collar for a leather jacket and jeans, neither of which fit quite right. The clothes felt too tight and constricting and made him look like a fool.
“What the hell, Arthur?” the woman asked. “Why are you here?”
“Nice to see you, again, Carmen,” Arthur said. “I need some more information. This is important.”
“You can’t just keep—”
“I wouldn’t have come here if not for something big,” Arthur said.
“You better start talking, then. Last time you came by here, you pissed off a lot of people. And the time before that. And so on. I didn’t think you would show your ugly mug around for a long time, yet here you are.”
“I don’t like it any more than you.”
“You’d be surprised. What do you need?”
“I need to ask Elgin a few questions.”
“Or what? You’ll threaten us again? This time, we have witnesses, dick.”
“It’s import—”
“Important, yeah, I got it. So tell me.”
“It’s better said in private.”
“Then whisper. My hearing is real good.”
Arthur stared at her for a long moment and then sighed. “Fine, Carmen, we need to know where Naomi is.”
“Naomi? Naomi who?”
“Carmen ...”
“What makes you think Elgin knows?”
“They are friends and go way back. He keeps her out of trouble, and she keeps him fed. Of course he knows where she is.”
“Then, let me rephrase: why the hell would he tell you?”
“Because she’s into something dangerous, and she’s in way over her head. If I’m right about this, then she’ll need all the help she can get not to wind up dead.”
An expression flashed across Carmen’s face for only a second, but Niccolo recognized it as fear and agreement. What Arthur had said had struck a chord. The expression disappeared in a heartbeat, but he knew what it meant: she worried about Naomi, even if she wouldn’t admit it to Arthur.
“We want to help your friend,” Niccolo said, reaching out on an impulse and touching her on the shoulder. “But we need to know where she is.”
Carmen flashed him a wary look, staring at his hand like she wanted to cut it off, and then she turned back to Arthur. “Who’s he?”
“Father Niccolo Paladina,” Arthur said.
Carmen raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Niccolo cleared his throat. “I’m afraid not. I might not have on my garbs, but I am ordained.”
“Is this Church business?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. As Arthur said, we need to speak with the proprietor of this establishment, and it is rather urgent.”
Carmen thought about it a moment longer and then moved the velvet rope aside. “I’ll regret this, but you’ve got ten minutes, Arthur. In and out, and then get the hell out of here.”
“Thanks.”
They moved to walk past, and then Carmen put a hand on Arthur’s chest to block him.
“He knows you’re here.”
“I expected as much.”
“Don’t get yourself shot. You bruised his ego, Arthur, so just let him have this one.”
Niccolo and Arthur exchanged glances, but Arthur didn’t say anything to explain Carmen’s comment. Instead, he walked past the bouncers and into the nightclub.
Niccolo followed Arthur into the dimly lit and smoky building. His senses immediately became overwhelmed by the myriad sounds, colors, and closely packed bodies of the establishment main floor. Scantily clad women and men gyrated up against one another, bumping and grinding, and the entire place smelled of sweat and desperation.
Arthur forced a path through the bodies, and Niccolo struggled to keep up. The air seemed swampy and difficult to breathe. The lights disoriented him, so he focused only on watching Arthur’s back as they made their way across the dance floor.
He led them over to an upward-leading staircase on the other side of the club. Metal and narrow, it had more than a few patrons standing on it, blocking their way. Arthur forced through them as well, and after a moment, they reached a second-floor ceramic walkway that encircled the building.
It led overtop and around the dance floor with a perfect view of every corner. They followed the railing to the only enclosed room in the entire club. It looked like a private office, and the door stood closed.
From this second-level vantage point, the ground floor appeared like a sea of writhing animals below. Niccolo’s gaze wandered, careful not to linger on any particular gyrating body for too long. The smoke and music made him feel simultaneously alive and sick.
“I’m going to go talk to Elgin. Do you want to wait out here?” Arthur asked.
“What? Why?”
“It will get tense in there.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have ... history,” Arthur said. “He won’t feel too happy to see me, and guns might get involved.”
Niccolo hesitated. “You aren’t going to ...”
“Relax. No one will get shot,” Arthur said. Then, he added, “I hope.”
The idea that things could get dangerous didn’t come as a pleasant one for Niccolo, but the thought of staying out here on his own in the loud nightclub didn’t seem ideal either.
Niccolo drew a deep and steadying breath and shook his head. “No, I’ll stay with you.”
Arthur studied him for a moment and then nodded. “Suit yourself.”
Another bouncer waited at this door as they walked up, and he tensed when Arthur approached. A lot of people seemed to do that when Arthur was around.
“You again?” The man took a fumbling step back.
“Me again,” Arthur said, stopping in front of the man and folding his hands. “Want to handle things like last time, or will you just let me in?”
“I almost lost my job because of you. You nearly broke my arm.”
“Almost and nearly, huh? I’m not usually one for doing things in half-measures.”
The words hung in the air. After a moment, the bouncer stepped aside and opened the door to the office behind him.
Arthur nodded at the bouncer, and then walked past and into the private room. Niccolo followed him into a darkened office space with couches and mood lighting. A large tinted window on the right side overlooked the dance floor and a stage, and expensive and comfortable chairs filled the room.
A lone man sat in one of those chairs. He held a glass of amber liquid and had a clear view of the door. Short and balding, he looked none too happy to see Arthur.
“Hello, Elgin.”
“Arthur,” the bald man said. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. I trust everything worked out on your end the last time you showed up?”
“Emily is in The Council’s custody. She awaits trial.”
“Good for you.”
“You knew that already, didn’t you? You also know that I’ve returned to the Council’s good graces, which means that this time you have an obligation to help me. Or do you need m
e to get Frieda on the line?”
“Don’t berate me. Carmen let you come up here after all? She called ahead and told me you’re traveling with a priest. I didn’t know you had any friends.”
“Friend is such a strong word,” Arthur said. “Let’s say acquaintance.”
Elgin laughed. “He must not know you too well.”
“On the contrary,” Arthur said, still staring at the bald man. “He’s one of the few that knows me probably too well. I need to know where Naomi Develon is hiding.”
“Why would I know that?”
“Because, she’s a collector and you are her dealer. I might not have any friends, but you do, and I know you’ve helped her.”
“If you know that, then you also know that she packed up a few months ago and left town. She skipped out of here and got out of the business, as far as I know.”
“No,” Arthur said. “She didn’t. I need to speak with her.”
“About what?”
“Her newest client.”
Concern flashed across Elgin’s face. As with Carmen, he soon buried it beneath his cool exterior.
“Her clients are none of my business.”
“This one is dangerous.”
“Most of them are.”
“This is different.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I don’t know where Naomi stays.”
Arthur stood silent for a long moment, and then he let out a deep sigh. “You won’t tell me?”
“I told you, I can’t help.”
“You want to get me to goad you, don’t you?”
Elgin frowned. “Arthur ...”
“You want me to threaten you so that your goons can pop out of their hiding place behind that door over there and wave guns in my face.”
“I don’t know—”
“Can we skip the rigmarole and just get down to business?”
“Well, damn it, Arthur, it isn’t fun when you don’t play along.”
“It isn’t fun either way.”
“Humor me.”
Arthur chewed over the thought for a moment. “I guess I do deserve it, don’t I?”