Under Pressure

by Isobella Crowley

  “Clearly,” the vampire began and addressed them all, “we have a number of things to deal with. Thank you—and I truly mean this—for having held things together as best you could while I was gone. I might not have left if I’d thought you couldn’t handle the ins and outs of our business.”

  Remy tried not to smirk as he basked in the implications of the statement.

  She continued quickly. “Soon, I will help each of you address some of your individual issues. But first, I need to explain why I left in the first place. It has to do with our friend Moswen, of course. The rebuke we dealt to her last time was only a minor setback. She is as dangerous as ever and we must take action to stop her at once.”

  “Awesome,” he remarked. “So, what do you have there? An anti-vampire homing missile?”

  “Not quite.” She sighed. “Over the course of my research into our adversary, I learned of the possible resting place of an ensorcelled dagger that once belonged to a man called Teremun al-Harb. As it so happens, it lay in the same country that Moswen most recently came from—Israel—and originated in the same country that was her first home—Egypt.”

  “Okay,” he extrapolated, “so it’s an anti-vampire homing knife.”

  She pretended he hadn’t spoken at all. “The dagger, when activated by a sufficiently skilled practitioner of the arcane, has the power to bind vampires and evil undead spirits. Rendering her helpless is as good as killing her, the point being that she can no longer harm anyone, not only us.”

  “But,” Riley interjected and drifted up a little as she spoke, “will the magic bind you when we wake it up?”

  Taylor’s mouth almost frowned. “I am not sure yet. We need to find a talented witch to cast the spell, anyway, so when the time comes, we can ask her.”

  “All right,” said Remy. “I’m sure you have binders full of witches. Let’s choose a good one before we call it a night and go see her in the morning. Or…uh, evening, if you prefer.”

  Now, the vampire did frown. “Unfortunately, traditional witches of true power are relatively rare in America. They mostly remained in the Old World rather than come to the New. Back in Europe and Asia and Africa, some still fear them but they are appreciated. The infamous events of the Salem Witch Trials sent a strong message that the emerging civilization on this continent did not want them here and witches tend to have long memories.”

  Conrad frowned and raised a hand. “But if I may, Salem was only a small incident. Unpleasant, yes, but nothing compared to the witchcraft persecutions in Europe during the Early Modern Period. Are they aware of that?”

  “Yes,” Taylor explained, “but the common view is that those were a brief aberration in a period covering millennia. Salem happened during the inauguration of Euro-America. And with no familiar established tradition here, the majority of them simply decided that it wasn’t worth it to practice their craft on the west side of the Atlantic. It might not be entirely rational, but it is what it is. Still…, there are a few.”

  She turned to Bobby. “Roberta, I gather that you are more confident in your abilities lately and that you’ve already done good work at turning leads up. I’d like you to begin searching for anything you can find about legitimate and respected witches in the vicinity of New York City. The sooner, the better.”

  The young woman smiled at being trusted with such a major responsibility. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now,” Taylor continued and once more addressed the whole group, “there is one more problem I’d like to ask about. These congressmen whom Moswen has enthralled…do we know anything definite about them? Where are we on this? It’s rather important.”

  Remington scratched behind his ear. “Yeah, well, we’re working on that. We only received the tip from Old Boy Don yesterday, if I recall correctly. So much shit has happened lately that it’s starting to all flow together in my head.”

  Before she could interrupt with some obvious comment about how they needed to get off their asses, regardless, he continued.

  “I did think of trying to hack into traffic cam footage. I know it’s kinda dystopian, but we have an emergency here. The problem is that there’s only one man here who could pull that off, and he’s not really up to it at the moment.” He gestured with his head toward Volz, who paid no attention to the discussion and instead, picked chunks off a large rubber eraser. “I could do a stakeout.”

  Taylor drummed her red fingernails on the arm of her chair. “What about Kendra? You mentioned having her back you up to ensure Russel is on our side, anyway. It’s one more excellent reason to call her in addition to the fact that you seem to enjoy her presence.”

  He was taken aback by this. Agent Gilmore had been helpful to them but he’d always had the sense that she had to be quarantined from half the details of what was really going on and might turn against them—with the force of the FBI behind her—if she found out too much. Although she was rather attractive, of course.

  “What?” he stammered. “Really? You want to bring our friends from the government in on this in a direct capacity? You’re not a shapeshifter simply pretending to be Taylor, are you?”

  “Under the circumstances,” the vampire replied curtly and ignored the last question, “I’d say that if she and her team can help, then yes. It’s worth a shot.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Moonlight Detective Agency Offices, Bushwick, Brooklyn, New York

  It was close to 9 pm and Bobby was still at the office.

  Taylor, Remington, and Conrad had all departed for Taylor’s house. Alex was in his makeshift loft, processing the office’s mail before bed and hiding from Agent Kendra Gilmore, who’d arrived over an hour before. Volz lounged in Taylor’s office, doing basically nothing.

  Riley was there, too, but the last Bobby had seen or heard, she’d curled up to sleep under the overturned coffee mug Remy always kept on his desk. Plus, he had assured her that the fairy was invisible to most people even if she was technically in front of their faces.

  “Okay, so,” Kendra began and swallowed the last mouthful of pizza. A flat, empty box, originally containing the now-consumed meal, lay on the desk beside her. “We know that Moswen Neith has absorbed the remnants of that other mysterious organization that distributed Snow White. And, thank God, I haven’t seen as much of that shit on the streets lately, but maybe this is the calm before the storm. We also know that she’s trying to compromise public officials.”

  Bobby nodded. Taylor had decided to take the risk of leaving her to deal with Gilmore alone on the grounds that she was now looped-in on everything that was happening and had the augmented ability to deal with it. Still, the vampire had seemed nervous and had left her a fairly detailed protocol of what—and what not—to say or do.

  “We’re working on obtaining ironclad proof of that. I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending to be all indirect about it, so if you can help us with that, so much the better—for everyone.”

  The Senior Special Agent gave a low chuckle. “I appreciate forthrightness. We’re basically already on it, though. In fact, let me call my man on the street for an update. Then, it would be helpful if I could use your computers again to check something.”

  “Sure,” the other woman agreed although inwardly, she was hesitant. There were many things they didn’t want Kendra to see—at least, not yet. Not only because she was law enforcement but also because she was uninitiated.

  But then again, from what Mr Remington had said, Gilmore and her team had already seen more than they probably should and continued to cooperate. And, supposedly, continued to deny that there were any preternatural elements at play.

  Kendra woke her phone up and speed-dialed a number. A man’s voice answered although the volume was too low for Bobby to hear exactly what he said.

  “Mortensen, it’s Gilmore,” she stated crisply. “Do we have those surveillance teams to put on the Representative and the City Council tomorrow?”

  Agent Mortensen spent a minute or so replying, d
uring which she caught only a few words and phrases, like “should be,” and “oversight,” and “deep shit.”

  Kendra nodded every few seconds. “Right. Okay, good. Yes, thanks to that bust we pulled off, they’re taking us seriously, but that also means we’re probably a hair’s breadth away from other teams getting involved. Shit. All right, thanks. Over and out.”

  She powered down the device, leaned back in her chair, and sighed. “Getting anything done is like pulling teeth. I already have a slight reputation as the local ‘cowboy cop’ lately, I guess. I’m not sure how much longer we can keep our involvement with your company under the radar. People ask questions.”

  Bobby knew that something like this was coming and was grateful that Taylor and Remington had at least stuck around long enough to greet the agent and get things set up before leaving the whole mess to her for the evening.

  “I understand,” she said. “And watching our local politicians will help. But it’s kind of a crapshoot, isn’t it? What we really need is to know who’s actually been visited by Moswen in the last month or two. That would help to narrow it down.”

  Kendra straightened again. “It would. If your computer system is as advanced as you say, let’s agree that I’ll turn a blind eye if it falls into the grey area of legality as long as it helps to crack this case. For example, the NYPD or the various county sheriff’s departments might have records that can help us—things pertaining to Snow White or to mysterious recent arrivals from Israel or Egypt. I could obtain those the right and proper way, but it would take longer.”

  Bobby believed her on the grey area of legality issue, but there was still the question of the preternatural to consider.

  Before he’d left, Remington had briefly lectured her on the importance of not letting anything slip to do with vampirism, lycanthropy, fairy colonies, or black magic. It could compromise everything. Gilmore might doubt their legitimacy, not to mention their sanity. It would jeopardize their relationships with their clients and might require exhaustive mindwipe actions on Taylor’s part.

  Not to mention, he’d gone on to say, that if Kendra believed it or was forced to believe it by hard evidence, who knew how she’d react? It could be psychologically damaging to a person to have their entire world suddenly turned upside down.

  “Oh,” Bobby had responded, “yes, I know. Trust me.”

  And he had. She could not help noticing his increased respect for her lately.

  She stood and led the agent to another desk, one containing Volz’s top-of-the-line computer. “Okay, let me boot it up and input the password—I have to ask you to look away for that part—and then you should be all set. The databases are clearly marked and right on the desktop.”

  “Agreed.” Kendra paused and a wry look formed around her mouth. “And you don’t have any objections to a federal agent poking around in your secret files?”

  “Ha-ha. Well,” she replied and tried to seem flippant and none too bright, “I don’t really understand how it all works anyway, but Mr Remington said he’d already gotten everything all ready to go for you. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  The woman sat and moved the mouse cursor toward the first database. She nodded toward Taylor’s office. “What’s the matter with your boy Volz? Normally, it seems like he’d be helpful in this kind of situation.”

  “He’s sick,” Bobby replied, frowned, and shook her head. “And we’re starting to worry that he might be developing multiple sclerosis or something. He’s had spells of these kinds of symptoms before—being out of it, exhausted, having trouble concentrating or with coordination of his movements… It’s really sad. Of course, it might simply be a weird flu reaction. He’s going to the doctor soon.”

  The agent pursed her lips. “A cousin of mine had MS. I could examine him and give you my not-professional opinion but yes, he’ll need to see a doctor no matter what.”

  “Eh,” she waffled, “I don’t think that’s necessary, but thanks for the offer. Right now, he doesn’t really want to see or talk to anyone. Even Mr. Remington and normally, those two get along really well.”

  As she made that statement, she hoped Volz wouldn’t choose to prove her wrong and emerge, blabbering incoherently about dwarven culture and dwarven magic, not to mention gems, jewels, precious stones, and more gems.

  Fortunately, he didn’t. Instead, Bobby watched Kendra for a moment and realized that the database program made more sense now than it had in the past. Before the bomb, she’d always felt like she barely got by with the office’s tech.

  Speaking of which, she had work of her own to do—finding a witch. She stopped in mid-stride, though, as a thought popped into her head.

  Taylor had mentioned something else—something important. Kendra would need to know about the essence of it but not the literal truth and pulling that off would be a delicate balancing act. Still, as her brain’s neuroelectric activity geared up and expanded to its full potential, she was fairly sure she could handle it.

  “Oh, also,” she quipped, “Taylor made some offhand comment that…uh, I think might be big when you think about it. About how she’s mostly ruled out there being any other major suppliers of Snow White left in the city besides Moswen. So, like, if we deal with her and prevent her stash from being redistributed on the streets, that would, you know, break the spell, ha-ha. All the people affected by her drug-trade stuff will revert to normal.”

  The agent rubbed her eyes. “It’s usually not that simple but then again, it’s not unheard-of, either, for almost all of a particular type of crime to be linked to one key criminal. In any event, between the level of violence she’s willing to use and the level of corruption she’s trying to implement among elected officials, it’s clear to me that removing Moswen from the picture is a goal we can all agree on.”

  “Definitely,” said Bobby. “Also, do you have any updates with that military guy?”

  Kendra frowned and turned away from the PC.

  “This business with Colonel Russel,” she explained, “could get as dicey as hell. All he’d have to do is make one phone call and the entire bureau would be involved, question me up and down as to what kind of cavalier shit I’ve done, why I haven’t bothered to seek their approval or submit to their oversight, and fun stuff like that. We could all get in serious trouble. It’s hard to promise anything.”

  “Hmm,” she mused. “But since Remington told him you’d be in touch, wouldn’t he be even more likely to call someone if he doesn’t hear from you?”

  The woman tensed. “Yes, that’s possible. I’ll deal with it in the morning. I was actually surprised to get that call from Remington because I almost thought he was…I don’t know, afraid of me or something. He ought to relax. I should have known it was only because he needed help.”

  “Welllll,” Bobby teased, “I thought maybe…oh, I don’t know…there was kind of something between the two of you. Which makes me surprised that you’re surprised. I mean, you have to have at least thought about it.” She gave the other woman a suggestive glance.

  Kendra only stiffened further and put on her business face. “I’m only here to do an important job,” she mumbled.

  “Well,” the younger woman admitted, “I ought to get back to my job anyway. In fact—yeah, I can see the screen from here. It looks like I have a hit. I’ll be over there if you need anything.”

  She returned to her PC, reviewed the information that had come up with an increasing sense of accomplishment, and her hands almost trembled with excitement. She snatched one of the office’s landline phones off its hook and dialed the company’s vice-president.

  “Mr Remington,” she said quickly when he answered, “great news. We have an address for a possible witch. Her name matched a few cryptic words and phrases that seemed unlikely to show up in conjunction with anyone who didn’t know what they were talking about. The only problem is, it looks like she went off social media and such about five years ago, so she might not still be practicing. However, she has som
e good reviews from a few users of a forum that’s all about spells and the occult and the most recent posts are from only…uh, a year or so ago.”

  “Huzzah,” he replied. “Good work, Bobby. Tell Kendra I said hi, also. Let’s plan on an early start tomorrow.”

  The receptionist sounded even more pleased than he did. “Thank you, sir. And that sounds great. We might have to spend the night here but we’ll do what we need to. See you in the morning.”

  Moonlight Detective Agency Offices, Bushwick, Brooklyn, New York

  Agent Gilmore stretched her arms and cracked her neck as Bobby returned to her computer.

  Well, she thought, if Miss Diaz here isn’t going to directly need my help for a few minutes, I might as well actually do something. I hate feeling useless and lazing around. That’s the kind of thing that Remington guy would do. Well, when he’s not being daringly stupid. Or funny.

  She glanced around the office. The staff, holed up there for most of their time lately, was gradually turning the place into what looked like a college dorm populated by slobbish frat boys and the pizza they’d ordered and scarfed down hadn’t exactly improved the situation.

  Quickly, she told Bobby, so as to not seem too much like she was doing any unwarranted snooping. “I’ll tidy things a little if that’s okay but I’ll stay out of Taylor’s office so I don’t bother Volz.”

  One downside of being an FBI agent was that people were always suspicious as to why she asked questions, why she went into a room, and in some cases, why she did or said anything whatsoever.

  “Sure,” the other woman acceded and turned her head slightly to make her voice heard although she didn’t actually make eye contact. She seemed engrossed in processing the results of her query. Kendra hoped that the info she’d turned up would be worth the effort.

  The agent stood and gathered the empty pizza box and grease-stained paper plates and napkins they’d used and pitched them into the trash. It was a start, but there was considerably more to do.