by M. D. Massey
“Commander, Becerra told you the truth. I was with a group of trolls who killed three ghouls near Rendon Park, just a few nights ago. I saw the bodies myself, and helped take one out. Earlier today I found and killed two more—one at City Cemetery, and the other after it fled to an abandoned house where I found this.”
I pushed the photos I’d taken across the table. The commander looked through them and growled with irritation.
“How long ago were these taken?”
“Just this morning. I destroyed the runes and summoning circle after taking them.”
He sighed heavily. “Necromancy. Damn it, just what I need. Bad enough I have your cursed ass raising hell all over my city, and that I have to put up with vamps running around right under our noses. But a necromancer? I need a fucking vacation.”
He rifled through the photos and grimaced. “Can I keep these?”
“They’re yours.”
Now that I had his attention, I took a deep breath and prepared to plow ahead. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Look, I’m sure you know I’ve been—freelancing—for various factions around town. Luther has employed me to look into the matter, and Maeve has strongly encouraged me to pursue it as well. I’d like the Circle’s help in tracking this necromancer down and taking him out.”
Gunnarson let out a short, mean laugh. “Yes, McCool, I know you work for the bitch queen, and that you’re on friendly terms with the vamps. Hell, if it wasn’t for Maeve, I’d have punched your ticket the moment you stepped foot in my city.”
He measured my reaction and smiled broadly at what he saw. “Oh, you didn’t know she was protecting you? Ah, you thought it was Luther’s doing. Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about her. Might be something to look into, being as you’re her butt boy now and all. Oh, it’s common knowledge—hell, everyone knows about Maeve’s ‘Junkyard Druid,’ especially after you took out one of my best wizards, and a fachen as well.”
He leaned in and placed both palms on the table.
“Don’t try to deny it, McCool—we don’t have any proof, but I know you did it. Maybe Crowley decided to take you out, or maybe you two got into a fight over Becerra here.” He nodded over his shoulder at Belladonna. “But as far as I’m concerned, he was doing everyone a favor by trying to kill you. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out for him. Instead, I lost a good wizard, and you’re to blame. You and I both know the only way you could have killed that fachen was by doing what you did to those poor souls in Kingsland.”
I bit my lip, hard enough to draw blood. I didn’t need this asshole to remind me of what I’d done. But I did need his help, and that was why I mustered every ounce of self-control and restraint I had in an attempt to keep the conversation on track.
I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
“Let’s just concentrate on the task at hand, Commander. This city has a problem, I’ve been asked to solve it, and I need your help to do it. Let’s set our differences aside and work together on this.”
He looked around the cafe, then leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “I see someone’s conspicuously absent today. That riled up about this, is he? Staying out of sight, keeping his people off the streets. Seems like this is working to our advantage if it keeps the vamps out of our hair. So what makes you think I’d be inclined to help you?”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if you do or if you don’t, because eventually you’re going to be pulled into it anyway. The Circle has the self-appointed responsibility to protect the human mundanes from supernatural threats, just like the druids always have. I’m merely suggesting that instead of stepping all over each other here, we can work together to resolve this matter as quickly and neatly as possible.”
His expression soured, even though his smug grin never left his face.
“Personally, McCool, I’d love to sit back and watch you trip all over your dick, and then step in to take you out when you go nuclear.” He leaned in and stabbed the air with an index finger. “But, the Circle does have a responsibility to preserve human life in the face of supernatural threats. You’re right about that.”
Translation? If he ignored my plea and something really bad happened, he’d look like an asshole and his superiors would have his ass in a sling. I’d known that before I’d asked for this meeting; Finn had filled me in on the Circle’s political machinations. Most of the people in command positions in the Circle were nothing if not political animals. Gunnarson didn’t give a shit about protecting innocents. All he really cared about was getting a seat on the Circle’s ruling council. That brought influence, prestige, and access to powerful magical resources.
Influence, power, and wealth. That’s what it always boiled down to for these assholes. To hell with the little people.
He rubbed his chin and nodded. “I’m not saying I’ll commit major resources, but tell me what you need.”
“First, I want you to assign Becerra to work with me on this case.”
He chuckled. “She’s been a pain in my ass since she graduated from field training. Too damned good at her job—and too connected, I might add—to dismiss. But also, too much of a gods-damned cowboy to contribute meaningfully to a team. I thought when she and Crowley entered into a relationship, it might cement their partnership—”
He paused and ran a hand over his salt and pepper flat top. “Anyway, I’ll be more than happy for you to embroil her in whatever fuck-ups you manage to stumble into moving forward. Done. What else?”
“I’ll need to have access to your research department and archives—through Hunter Becerra, of course.”
“I have no issues with that, but it will be limited access. No classified files. Anything else?”
“I’ll need your assurance that when it comes time to take this necromancer down, you’ll provide us with extra manpower to do so.”
He cleared his throat. “I doubt you’ll get that far, but okay. Now, tell me: what I get out of this?”
I placed my elbows on the table and locked eyes with him. “It’s simple. If Becerra and I collar this asshole and take care of the ghoul problem, you get full credit by way of assigning Becerra to this case. I step back and let you bask in the glory, and you look like a hero to the ruling council.”
I clasped my hands and did my damnedest not to blink, hoping he wouldn’t notice how much my hands were sweating.
“And, of course, Becerra gets a promotion in recognition of her small part in securing a victory for the Circle.”
He tongued his cheek and narrowed his eyes. “And when you two fuck this up? Not if, but when?”
I glanced at Belladonna, who looked like she was ready to bust a gasket. Whether it was from excitement or anger, I couldn’t tell.
“Then you get to dismiss Hunter Becerra from your ranks, or dispense of her as you see fit. Reassign her to a desk job, or send her away to a duty assignment in BFE. And, I’ll leave the city and never come back again.”
The commander shook his head in wonder and gave me the shit-eating grin to end all shit-eating grins.
“By Sleipnir’s sixteen tits, McCool—you mean I get to write-off two of my worst headaches at once? Where the hell do I sign up? Sure, take Becerra and my whole fucking research department if you need to.”
He slapped his hands on the table and stood up, looking like a man who just won the lottery while getting laid.
“Thanks for making my day, McCool. Becerra’s all yours.”
Belladonna came to attention as he walked out, but he never even spared her a second glance. Once Gunnarson was gone she plopped down in the chair he’d just occupied, looking at me with her mouth agape.
“Colin, I don’t know whether to thank you or slap the shit out of you right now.”
“I suggest you delay that decision until after we find this necromancer.” I squeezed one eye shut and chewed my thumbnail. “And, by the way, horses only have two teats. So, by my count, Sleipnir should only have four nipples.”
/> She rolled her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh mother of mercy, what have I gotten myself into?”
Chapter Nine
I called the number on the card Maeve had given me, and was told that Borovitz was on the case. Eager to see Hemi released, I headed to the county lock-up downtown. When I arrived, numerous bystanders, news crews, and police cars blocked the street along the north side of the building. I zipped between the crowds and news vans until I located a place to park. Times like these made me glad I drove a scooter.
Crime scene tape marked off the park across the street. Numerous cops were on scene, interviewing bystanders and running crowd control. With the county medical examiner’s van and a crime scene van parked nearby, I assumed a murder had occurred—a rarity in Austin. It was too coincidental; my gut told me it had to have something to do with our necromancer. But I wasn’t about to push my luck with the fae queen by making her attorney wait while he was on the clock. First, I’d make sure Hemi had been released, then I’d check out the crime scene.
Just as I hit the courthouse steps, Hemi exited the building alongside a thin, bald-headed man in an expensive pinstripe suit. The man was average in height and appearance, clean-shaven, and unassuming in every single way but how he dressed. He wore wire-framed glasses that were obviously for show, and picked me out of the crowd of people entering and exiting the courthouse long before Hemi spotted me. I met them at the bottom step, happy to see a relieved grin on my friend’s face.
“Colin!” the big man boomed. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Mr. McCool, I presume?” The attorney was all business as he handed me his card, identical to the one Maeve had given me earlier. “I’m Mr. Borovitz, and I’ll be handling Mr. Waara’s case.”
“Thanks for agreeing to help, Mr. Borovitz.” He gave me a look that said he wasn’t here out of the kindness of his heart. I glanced at Hemi. “What exactly happened?”
Borovitz answered for him, which earned him an annoyed look from the big Maori. “It appears Mr. Waara was held for questioning based on an eyewitness account that placed him at the scene of a murder. The police didn’t have enough to hold him, and I’m certain he will be fully exonerated once we get a copy of the video feed from the nightclub where he works. Until then, I’ve advised Mr. Waara against discussing the details of the night in question with anyone.”
Hemi, being Hemi, ignored Borovitz’s advice completely. The big Maori smirked and arched one eyebrow at the attorney. Then he began telling his story, eliciting a slight frown from Borovitz.
“I’ve been working security at Chugger’s to pick up some extra money. Last night, I have to get a little rough as I kick out this Charlie who’s completely wasted. No big deal, eh? Later, someone finds him dead in the alley behind the club, and when the cops show up this detective decides to arrest me. But me? I’ve seen every episode of Law and Order—they weren’t going to trick old Hemi into admitting a thing.”
The big man crossed his arms across his massive chest, looking smug. At least he hadn’t talked to the police—that was something. People always thought that cooperating with the cops was the right thing to do. It wasn’t. The best thing a person could do when questioned by police was to tell them you’d be happy to cooperate… just as soon as you spoke with your attorney.
I leaned in and whispered to Borovitz. “Maeve says you’re clued in.”
He gave a tight-lipped smile. “I’m aware that—peculiarities—exist among certain special populations in our city. I am also aware that Mr. Waara here counts himself among those special populations. Our firm has represented Maeve’s interests for many years, and we’ve also represented Mr. Cantrell’s associates on a number of occasions. Rest assured, anything you or Mr. Waara discuss with me is subject to attorney-client privilege. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Mr. Cantrell” was Luther. Not many people knew him by his last name. I was pretty sure he preferred to keep it that way.
“Good to know. Please forward Hemi’s bills to Maeve, but keep the account in my name. I am making arrangements with Maeve regarding your fees.”
He smiled ever so slightly and nodded. “Certainly. Might I make a suggestion, then? I could bill you—or Maeve—by the hour to send a legal assistant to retrieve a copy of that video feed. Or, you could save hundreds of dollars in unnecessary legal fees by retrieving it for me.”
“We can do that,” I said.
“Excellent. Drop it by my office and I’ll make sure it gets in the hands of the investigator assigned to this case.”
I frowned. “Shouldn’t they have already gotten it themselves?”
“They’ll have to get a judge to subpoena the evidence, which will take time. We can speed things up by getting our own copy, and by having Mr. Waara here convince his employer to voluntarily provide the police with a copy. I’m certain that once we have that evidence in hand, he’ll be dropped from the list of suspects.
“Oh, and one last thing, Mr. McCool. Don’t lose that card. If you should ever find yourself on the wrong side of the law, tear the card in two and keep it on your person. Do so and I or one of my associates will be along in short order.”
He nodded and straightened his tie. “Good day, gentlemen.”
Borovitz bustled away, looking like the world’s best-dressed power walker. Hemi and I exchanged a glance.
He shrugged. “Seems like a nice enough fella.”
“Don’t let him fool you, Hemi. Here in the States, you can never trust attorneys, politicians, or used car salesmen.”
The smile he constantly wore left his face. “I owe you one, Colin. And I pay my debts.”
I slapped him on the shoulder. “Something tells me you’ll get a chance to repay me soon. Don’t sweat it.”
“Anything you need, Colin. Anything.”
I glanced across the street, worried that my window for finding a lead was closing fast.
“You mind giving me a minute? I need to see what happened over there, and it’s probably best right now if you’re not spotted hanging out at the scene of a crime.”
Hemi glanced across the street. “Good thinking, eh? Anyhow, I see one of the detectives who brought me in—unpleasant fellow, don’t care to run into him again. I’ll just wait by your car.”
“Well—I rode my scooter over here.”
He scratched his head. “I’m bloody well not riding on the back of that thing with you, that’s for sure. Tell you what: meet me at the club in an hour. I need to get my car anyway.”
“Alright. I’ll be there as soon as I check things out. Stay out of trouble until I get there.”
“Right! Then we’ll find some trouble together. Excellent plan.”
I sighed and headed across the street.
I slipped into the crowd as I scanned the scene. Several local TV crews were out here, as well as a slew of cops and two ambulances. Some of the cops were questioning eyewitnesses, while others were handling crowd control or marking and bagging evidence.
A large male detective stood out, and I wondered if he was the guy who had arrested Hemi. He had a bulging gut and was wearing khakis, a red button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a gray tie, chewing gum like it was going out of style. In the time it took me to take in the scene, he’d already spat one piece out and popped in another. Dimes to doughnuts, he was a recovering smoker.
The detective was questioning one of the homeless who hung out in the park, although “harassing” might have been a better word for it. He kept raising his voice and threatening to arrest the homeless guy if he didn’t cooperate. What an asshole. I made a mental note to steer clear of him, just in case I got made.
Time to find out what happened. I looked around and spotted a likely candidate: a youngish guy with dirty blonde dreadlocks, dressed in a ratty t-shirt, filthy jeans, flip flops, and a drug rug hoodie. Definitely homeless. I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.
“Any idea what happened here?”
“N
ope. I just walked up a minute ago.”
“But surely you must have been around when this happened?”
“Naw, man, I’m not from around here. I’m just in town to meet with potential investors for my software start up. Maybe one of these homeless dudes around here knows what happened.
“But hey, if you know anyone who might be interested in investing in a technology company that’s perfectly positioned to leverage rapid market growth in the medical marijuana industry—”
He handed me a card, then turned his attention back to the activity on the other side of the crime scene tape. Only in Austin, I thought. It was obvious that I wasn’t going to find out much by standing on this side of the yellow tape. I decided it was time to get a firsthand look at what had happened. I triggered a weak see-me-not cantrip and made my way to the edge of the cordoned area.
A quick survey revealed a body being loaded in the coroner’s van, a section of sidewalk and grass spattered in blood, and a paramedic treating a homeless woman on the other side of the scene, far away from the crowd. I slipped under the tape and past the cops and techs gathering evidence, skirting the bulk of activity as I headed to the ambulance.
After a short wait, the paramedics finished bandaging the woman up and she left the vehicle, shuffling off toward the far side of the park, away from the cameras and police. I followed her at a distance, watching as she sat down under a tree amidst a sea of trash and debris. She pulled a half-full bottle of water from her backpack and took a swig.
“I know you’re there,” she said without looking at me. “Heard you following me from the ambulance. You may as well come on over.”
I looked around, on the odd chance that she might be speaking to someone else, and then did as she suggested. As I got closer, I realized she was blind. Her eyes looked normal, but they were unfocused and never made eye contact. I noted she was relatively clean and well-groomed, and surmised that she wasn’t a junkie—merely down on her luck. I squatted a few feet from her, close enough to talk, but not close enough to be a threat.