When Angels Cry_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure

by Michael Anderle

  You’re making my life complicated, Shay. Still willing to pay the price, though.

  Four rings passed before the potions witch picked up.

  A huge yawn came over the line. “James? Why are you calling me so early? You know how I love to sleep in.”

  “I think that’s called sleeping off a hangover, Zoe.”

  She tittered. “True, but still—I thought we had an understanding.”

  “Yeah, we did. Sorry to bother you, but I’m hunting some fucked-up serial killer in Las Vegas and I thought maybe you’d know someone who could help me out with a little magical tracking.”

  “Oh. I see. Hrmm. I do know…someone who might be able to help you out, but she’s a bit odd.”

  “Says the always-drunk witch.”

  “We all have our ways of doing magic, James.” She gulped down something on the other end.

  Huh. You’re bitching about me waking you up, but you’re already pounding booze?

  “This is important. If she can help me, I can probably stop a crazed killer.”

  Zoe sighed. “Okay, okay. Her name is Margarete. You can find her in the shark tank at the Golden Nugget.”

  “You mean near the tank?”

  “I mean in the tank.”

  James blinked. “Huh, that’s different.”

  “Like I said, odd. Be prepared, James. This woman won’t just want money. She won’t harm you, I guarantee that, but still, keep your wits about you.”

  “She’s just some water witch or something, right? How bad could she be?”

  “You’ll see.”

  19

  Maria walked into the Black Sun. They weren’t officially open yet, so Tyler and Kathy were still pulling chairs down and wiping tables.

  Tyler looked up from his table near the front. “Lieutenant Hall! What are you doing here so early?”

  She nodded toward the back. “I want to talk to you about something in private.”

  The bartender nodded and set his rag down. He navigated through the tables with the cop behind him until they reached the back hallway and his office.

  Tyler settled behind his desk, but Maria remained standing after closing the door.

  She pointed with her thumb toward the door. “How nice to see you doing honest work.”

  The bartender chuckled. “At least the public freely pays me for a service. I’m not relying on taxes for my salary.”

  “Whatever. People want the police.”

  “Which is why you’re paid so well?”

  Maria rolled her eyes. “You sell booze. It’s hard not to make money when you’re selling booze, but somehow you were having trouble until recently.”

  Tyler winced. “Ouch.”

  The AET lieutenant dropped into a chair. “Look, I need to talk to you about something money-related anyway.”

  “Sandwich and chips costs what it says on the menu above the bar.” He leaned forward. “But the price of information is negotiable.”

  Maria took a deep breath. Asking a criminal to effectively help her divert money to someone who was probably another criminal blew past all sorts of lines, but she wasn’t doing any of this to get rich. She was just trying to make sure her men didn’t get hurt when they next had to fight a dangerous enhanced threat.

  Fuck it. If I go down for saving cop’s lives, I don’t give a shit.

  “I’ve sourced some…magical supplies from an Oriceran.”

  “You mean the guy I sent you to?” Tyler smirked.

  Maria nodded. “Yeah. I need to get him money, but it’s not like I can just electronically transfer it from the normal police accounts.” She shrugged. “Government runs on paperwork, and this guy’s not a real big fan.”

  Tyler steepled his fingers. “Makes sense. You don’t have some sort of special slush fund for undercover shit or something you could use?”

  “The department, sure. AET? We don’t do undercover work. Besides, I’m getting the feeling this guy’s going to want something more direct. I need a third party both sides can use.” She snorted. “The guy actually suggested Brownstone.”

  Tyler frowned. “Fuck that. You want Brownstone knowing about your secret supply chains? Once he knows about that shit, you’ll never be able to go against him.”

  “Exactly. I need someone else, and I was wondering if you had any ideas.”

  The man leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Yeah, I’ve got a great idea.”

  “Well, spill it.”

  He pointed to his head. “What about me?”

  “Huh? You?

  Tyler nodded. “Yeah. Dannec knows me. You know me. You know I’m not going to fuck you over because you help maintain the neutrality of the Black Sun.”

  Maria narrowed her eyes. “I doubt you’re going to do this out of the goodness of your heart.”

  “No, but I will for one percent, which is a pretty damn good deal, I’d say, all things considered.”

  The lieutenant thought the idea over. By enforcing neutrality at the Black Sun she’d long ago crossed the line of helping out a criminal, and if she could get the criminal’s help in protecting AET officers from maniacs like Tessa Vansant, a little profit for the man didn’t seem so out of line. At least Tyler wasn’t going to rampage through a farmer’s market murdering twelve people on a whim.

  Maria nodded. “I think this might work.”

  “I’ll go ahead and contact Dannec about the first ten percent. It’ll take me about a week to get a legit cover business set up so I can handle the other ninety.”

  “Huh.”

  “What is it?”

  Maria stood. “Just thinking about how you know my business, too.”

  Tyler shrugged. “I’m many things, but I’m not an enhanced threat, and besides, if I fuck you over the cops stop enforcing the neutrality of this place. Trust me. I’m making a lot more money than I ever did before because people know they can come here without trouble and talk with all sorts of…interesting people.”

  “Just keep that in mind if you ever decide to try, Tyler.” Maria turned to leave. “Otherwise, we’ll have more trouble like that shit that went down when Brownstone tricked those assholes into coming here. Glad to see how quickly you got everything cleaned up from his practical joke.” She shrugged. “Assuming it was him. We can’t prove it.”

  Tyler shot out his chair. “Oh, it was that fucker, all right. I know it was. He thought it was so fucking funny to get a bunch of assholes to shoot up my bar. Fucking cocky piece of shit. I hope he chokes on a complimentary steak in Vegas.”

  Maria laughed. The chief might have told her to shut the hell up about Brownstone, but it was nice to know there was always one place she could go and bitch about him.

  Bringing cops and crooks together. You’re a special breed of asshole, Brownstone.

  James imagined that if he were sent to hell, it’d probably look like a casino. Too many fucking people, too many fucking flashing lights, everything just complicated. Casinos were the fucking high temples of complication.

  Gambling itself was complicated, and based around the stupidest principle in the world: that a person could get something for nothing. He walked through the casino until he reached the pool area.

  Low white chairs surrounded the swimming pool, which had a massive tank filled with small sharks in the center. Various clear water slide tubes ran through the tank. Someone might not be able to swim with the sharks, but they could at least slide past them. Not James’ idea of fun, but he could see how someone might like it.

  Huh. Wonder what it’d be like to get in a fight with a shark?

  No one paid the bounty hunter much attention as they splashed in the pool or wandered to and from the outdoor bar.

  I’m supposed to find someone in the pool, then? Is that what Zoe meant? She couldn’t seriously mean the witch would be in the shark tank.

  James searched the area for anyone who looked like a witch, but a casino resort pool filled with drunken tourists in swimsuits wasn’t exactly l
acking odd or exotic women.

  “You’re looking for someone,” commented a sultry voice from behind.

  James turned to find a beautiful and slender young woman in a metallic green bikini standing behind him. Given that only her legs were wet, she must have been only wading.

  His neck tensed. Something about her was slightly off, but he couldn’t quite place it. Something about the look in her eyes... Her body and face suggested she was in her early twenties, but something in her eyes spoke of someone or something far more ancient.

  “You’re looking for me, aren’t you, Mr. Brownstone?” The woman offered him a dazzling white smile.

  “Who are you?” The last thing he wanted to do was assume anything.

  “Margarete. A mutual friend let me know you might be coming.”

  The tension drained away from his neck and stomach. He nodded toward the pool. “I thought you’d be a witch, but what…you’re some kind of mermaid or some shit like that?”

  Margarete smiled and shrugged, ignoring the question. “What did you need?”

  James thought about pressing her for her true identity, but he wasn’t there to do a census of strange magical beings. He was there to get magical help.

  “I need to find a man.”

  “Honey, don’t we all?”

  James’ face twitched.

  Margarete laughed. “Oh, you’re looking rather stiff. Maybe you need to dip something hard somewhere soft. Several times.” She winked.

  He groaned. “It still takes me a while to get a lot of her shit when she says it, but you sound like Shay.”

  “Oh? Sounds like my type of girl.”

  James stared at the woman. “You like to kill?”

  Margarete let out a throaty laugh. “Not my first choice, or even my second. How can I ride them all night long if they are dead?”

  No, not Shay. This woman was Zoe before she’d decided James was too dangerous to flirt with.

  Yeah, no wonder you two are friends.

  James opened his mouth and then shut it. His discussion with Margarete had taken all his focus; he hadn’t even noticed he couldn’t hear any other sounds. The mouths of the scores of people around them moved and people splashed in the pool, but none of the noise reached his ears.

  “Guess we can talk about business here without being overheard?”

  Margarete nodded. “For the moment.”

  “I’m hunting the Red Eyes Killer. Tech and the cops aren’t finding him and pushing street contacts isn’t helping. I’m looking for some magical tracking, and I was told you could help.”

  “I can. For a price.”

  James shrugged. “I know you don’t want cash, so what do you want?”

  Margarete tilted her head and gave him a seductive smile. “I know what I really want, but I also can tell by looking at you that you won’t give it to me.”

  James decided that some questions were better left unasked. “Uh, what else, then?”

  “I want a memory.”

  “Huh?”

  “A memory. Nothing special. I’ll take your memory of eating breakfast this morning.”

  James grunted. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Margarete shook her head. “It’s not something you need, is it?”

  “This shit is weird. Why does magic have to be so fucking complicated?”

  The smile finally vanished from the woman’s face. “If it were any easier, even people like you wouldn’t be able to push back the darkness, James Brownstone.”

  The statement hung in the air for a long moment before James cleared his throat. “You seriously want my memory of eating a Double-Double and fries at In-N-Out for payment?” James shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. This shit was weird even for magic.

  The redhead nodded. “Yes. That’ll do nicely.”

  “And what are you going to do with my memory?”

  “Experience one moment of simple joy as James Brownstone.”

  He couldn’t argue too much with that. Double-Doubles were damned good. Not Jessie Rae’s, but they still hit the spot.

  James rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t trust the woman, but Zoe wouldn’t recommend someone who was going to fuck with him too badly.

  He sucked in a breath. “Just need to give you my memory?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be gone, and you won’t remember what you had.”

  James shrugged. “Sure, why the fuck not?”

  Margarete grinned and half-closed her eyes.

  The bounty hunter’s body tingled for a moment, and his head throbbed slightly. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Just taking my payment.” Margarete leaned forward. “Tell me, James, what did you have for breakfast this morning.”

  “I… Shit, I can’t remember.” He blinked several times. “I can’t even remember where.” He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were going to just take my memory of what I ate.”

  “Consider it a lesson, James. It’s hard to yank a single thread without causing ripples.” She shrugged.

  His memory had always been a blessing and a curse. The idea of simply forgetting something so banal it tightened his stomach and neck. It was an odd experience, and he wasn’t sure if it was exhilarating or annoying as fuck. He also wasn’t sure if the woman had screwed him over in some way he wouldn’t realize for a long time.

  Margarete’s face broke into a broad grin. “Ah, yes, that was what I wanted. That sensation.” She inhaled and slowly breathed out. “I’ll track down your killer for you, but I need a focus.”

  James stared at her for a moment, still considering interrogating her about what the hell had just happened.

  Whatever. If this mermaid or witch or whatever the hell she is fucked me over, it’s already too late. I need to get Red Eyes. I can always come back for her some other time.

  “What’s a focus?” James inquired.

  “In this case, something physically connected to them. A finger or toe would be nice.” She laughed. “But a hair will do; anything connected to their body.”

  “Does it have to be as big as a hair?”

  She shook her head. “No, a small particle really.”

  “Like a DNA sample?”

  “I suppose.”

  James nodded. “Okay, I’ll get it for you.”

  “Then I’ll get you your killer.”

  Trey and his aunt pulled up to the curb of a huge condo building a few blocks off Las Vegas Boulevard. Their target for the day was only a level one, but she specialized in financial fraud, particularly of the elderly, so it’d be sweet as hell to take her down.

  The bounty hunter chuckled. “When I’m trying to be slick I just use the delivery strategy—you know, walk up with a pizza box or something like that—but if that doesn’t work, I’ll just kick the door in.” He jerked his thumb toward the backseat. “That’s why I have the empty pizza boxes back there, and a few bags from delivery places.”

  Aunt Charlyce tsked. “So if you can’t trick ‘em you just bust down their door?”

  “Yep.” Trey threw open his door and stepped out of the truck. “Haven’t lost a bounty yet.”

  His aunt stepped out and fell in behind him as they made their way to the lobby and then down a hallway to their target: Unit Three. Hs aunt grabbed his arm and shook her head as they approached the door.

  “You don’t even have a pizza box,” she pointed out.

  Trey tugged at his suit. “Maybe I’ll claim I’m with the census or some shit like that.”

  Aunt Charlyce sighed and held up a finger. “Wait here. Watch and learn, little one.”

  Trey scoffed. “Little one? Okay, show me what you’ve got.” He crossed his arms and waited.

  His aunt disappeared down the hallway.

  What the fuck is she playing at?

  Aunt Charlyce remerged a minute later pushing a laden cleaning cart down the hallway.

  Trey eyed the cart. “What’s the deal?”

  “It’s like I tol
d Mr. Brownstone—no one wants to notice the homeless. Background noise.” She winked. “Same with the help. No one sees anything but the tools. It’s not like a delivery man. Everybody notices the delivery man.”

  Trey gave her an appreciative nod. He’d thought a few fake pizza boxes was being clever, but in truth, he relished the idea of kicking in a bounty’s door and yelling for them to surrender. A different kind of Trojan Horse action could help them take the bounty completely off-guard.

  He nodded. “I’ll be around the corner.” He jogged down to the end of the hallway and tugged out his gun.

  His aunt pushed the cart into clear view of the camera over the door and knocked.

  “What?” snapped a severe female voice over the intercom.

  Trey’s aunt smiled up at the camera. “Excuse me, miss. I’m terribly sorry to be bothering you, but I need to put in some anti-smell pucks in your bathroom and kitchen.”

  “I didn’t ask for any of that.”

  “I know, miss. I’m super sorry. It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s preventative. The unit next door, well, I can’t reveal all the details, but there’s an issue, and we’re worried the smell’s gonna spread to your place.”

  “Damn it,” the woman growled over the intercom. “It’s those damned Indians in four. Why the hell can’t they cook their food at the restaurant like all the rest of them? One second.” The door clicked open and a scowling woman in a suit stepped out. “Just make it quick. I’m in the middle of something.”

  Aunt Charlyce smiled and pushed the cart halfway in and stopped when it fully blocked the door.

  Trey darted around the corner, his gun at the ready. “Brownstone Agency here to take your level-one ass in.” He kept his gun trained on the bounty. “Now, please don’t make me get violent. You won’t like me when I get violent.”

  The woman glared at Trey. For a second she looked like she wanted to run, but instead, she turned and raised her hands above her head. Trey quickly cuffed her.

  “This is ridiculous,” the bounty snarled. “I’m not some common criminal.”

  Trey pushed her down the hall. “Nah, you definitely ain’t that. If you were, you wouldn’t have a bounty.”