by J. P. Sloan
Ches stepped toward me. “But, isn’t that what the Presidium does? Why’s this making you turn white?”
“Besides being my one hope for finding my soul? Oh, nothing. Except, of course, that this means the Presidium has likely started a purge.”
Malosi shifted in place near the doorway.
“Reed,” I barked, “you’re making my teeth itch. Please sit.”
He stared at me for a moment before finally stepping into the kitchen, sliding out a chair, and easing his enormous frame into it.
“Thank you,” I murmured before turning to Ches. “This happens every now and then. The Presidium gets sloppy over time, indulging their political skullduggery. They lose sight of their mandate, which is policing all hermetic practices on this continent. Well, you and I both know Netherwork is at an all-time high right now. People like Quinn and the Dead Dragons prosper on the West Coast because the Presidium has their collective heads so far up their collective asses, no one has the means to shut them down.”
“So, now they’re pulling their heads out of their asses, is what you’re saying?”
“Well, after what happened with Congressman Durning, I knew there would be a response. I just didn’t think they’d go Josef Stalin on us.”
Ches paced a tight circle. “So, what do we do?”
“We hole up.” I gave Reed a nod. “Batten down the proverbial hatches.”
“You think they’re going to come for you?” Ches asked.
“Not sure. I have a really weird relationship with the Presidium. They’ve tolerated me so far. Now that they’ve got all available panties in a wad, I don’t feel like pushing my luck.” I turned to Malosi. “I’m guessing we’re starting with re-working the wards on my house?”
He nodded once.
“Should probably hit the tavern, too.”
Malosi asked, “What tavern?”
“Oh, I bought a tavern downtown.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Wood paneling, leaded glass. Real old English pub feel.”
“Nice.”
Ches held up her hands. “What about Ricky?”
I took a breath and thought about it.
“This will be exactly the wrong environment to reach out to Netherworkers. The Presidium probably knows I spoke with Lillian the day they punched her card. Might put extra scrutiny on me. Plus, it’s no secret the Presidium has me in a special category, and I’ll bet good money every Netherworker out there is going to equate ‘talking to Dorian Lake’ with ‘getting shot in the back of the head.’ We’re going to have to work Ricky’s problem in-house.”
“Can we do that?” she asked.
“It’ll be more difficult.”
Malosi offered, “There is one Netherworker I know who will speak to you.”
I gave Malosi a sneer. “Right. And I suppose Clement’s going to help purely out of a sense of fond nostalgia?”
Malosi stood up. “Nostalgia’s not exactly why he sent me here.”
“I know what Clement wants. And we both know I’m not selling. So, if it’ll save us all an awkward moment, maybe you should just hop a train back to New York.”
Ches stepped between us and put her hand on her hip. “Wait, what’s all of this about?” She turned to Malosi. “Who’s Clement?”
Malosi gestured at me with a graceful lift of his wide palm.
I huffed and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. “Jean Clement was a student of Emil Desiderio. Before my time. Back when Emil was still balls-deep in Netherwork.”
“And this man can dismantle Ricky’s curse?”
I lingered as I poured my coffee. Could he? It was possible. Indeed, Emil was notorious for his grounding in hermetic fundamentals. If he had given Clement a more thorough education in Netherwork and curse theory than he did me, then Clement might be the best source of information I could hope for.
But at what price?
“He wants the Library, Ches,” I muttered before taking a long sip of bracing java.
“The Library. Okay.”
I watched her over the rim of my mug. “He wants to buy it. The whole thing.”
“So, you’re saying you can fold Ricky’s curse into the price tag, and we’re golden?”
Her eyes darted back and forth between me and Malosi.
“Ches,” I whispered. “That Library was bequeathed to me specifically to keep people like Clement from using it.”
“Dorian, I say this with all the respect in the world… but I don’t fucking care what Emil intended.”
I squinted and held my tongue.
She continued, “This is my brother. It’s my fault this happened to him.”
“You need to stop saying that. It’s not your fault. It’s the Dead Dragons’ fault.”
“Dorian? Please. Talk to this guy. We only have eight days until he has to be in Portland.” She paced a quick circle and added, “We’re on one hell of a stopwatch, here.”
I pulled in a long breath, then answered, “Let me make a couple calls. See what I can do.”
She stared at me for a while, her eyes lifting at the bottoms, fighting off some kind of raw emotion I couldn’t fathom, before she turned and trotted back upstairs.
I finished my coffee and dropped the mug in the sink before turning to Malosi.
“Don’t know anything about curses, do you Reed?”
He shook his head. “That’s really more your thing.”
“So, what about these wardings? How long will this take you?”
“Depends on how hard you fight me on this.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Reed, after what we went through, I figure you’ve earned the benefit of the doubt.”
He let slip a brief grin.
“Then it’ll take a couple days. I intend to be thorough.”
“Well, all right. A, that’s good to hear, because I’m about done with dabblers. But, B, you’re going to stay here overnight?”
“I can get a hotel. Clement’s funding this little field trip.”
I shook my head. “Not with the Presidium’s ass nice and puckered, you don’t.” I did some mental math, then continued, “Ches can share a room with Ricky. Already cleared out the second bedroom. You’ll stay here.”
“Only if you admit you just feel safer with me in the house.”
I stepped around Malosi toward the stairs. “Oh, I absolutely feel safer with you around. I actually got kidnapped last year, and things would have been a hell of a lot more comfortable for me if you were there.”
I froze in the doorway.
Wexler.
She was the one who’d nabbed me and had me hand-delivered in a black hood. Lucky for me, she just wanted to talk.
So, now I was the one who wanted to talk. If the Presidium was calling down another purge, it might behoove me to solidify myself in their good graces. And Wexler seemed to be on “my side,” whatever that meant. Seemed. It was impossible to know for sure.
Then again, sticking my head out of my foxhole might be just the perfect way to get it blown off. It was academic, at any rate. I didn’t have any means to contact Wexler. I remained at her disposal, not the other way around. Switzerland. Remember Switzerland.
Malosi cleared his throat. “So…”
“What do you need? Reagent-wise?”
“I brought everything I need.”
“Good, because my guy is out of state at the moment.”
Good thing, too. If I had to deal with keeping the Swains safe in this nasty climate, I might have had an aneurysm.
Malosi got to work scrying out the leylines of my house while I bustled more of my bric-a-brac out of the back bedroom. It was loaded with dust and choked with boxes of old books and mementos which I frankly no longer remembered. I took a water break after the eighth trip down the stairs, and took a good survey of the situation.
Primary need was defense. I had to shore up in case the Presidium, or Parrish, decided to go on the offensive. But Malosi was seeing to that, and as
I watched him smudge several air registers in the front room, I recognized he was about to get anal retentive, hermetically speaking. I took that worry off my shelf for the moment to concentrate on my next priority.
Which was Ricky.
We had eight days to dry him up. Less a day, accounting for travel. He seemed to be progressing well. The vomiting had subsided, and now he was in the jittery itch phase. I felt confident he could put a decent face forward when he picked up his kids in a week. The question remained, however, would he stay clean? Breaking the curse had more to do with how his ex-wife treated him. I was certain her affections had soured thanks to the curse. If I could patch his family back together, it would remain incumbent upon Ricky to keep them patched together. It wasn’t fair, but it was his burden now.
And with all of that taken care of, I had to deal with Parrish. Which was to say, I had to find my soul before he did. I was absolutely certain he was more capable than I was at locating and ensnaring an itinerate soul. And from his tone, it seemed he felt this task was well beneath him. That could’ve played in my favor, if he intentionally dragged his feet. Or, it could’ve screwed me if he decided to knock it out quickly in order to move on to whatever infernal business he was attending to.
Ches was right. We were on one hell of a stopwatch.
So I decided to make a call.
ello?”
“Zeno? It’s Dorian Lake.”
After a particularly annoyance-saddled sigh, he said, “I told you I didn’t want you to call me. Or talk to me. Ever.”
“I know, but I’m up against it.”
Another sigh, with yet more annoyance.
“Lake? I’m busy.”
“You always are, being about the only Netherworker I know who can operate under the Presidium’s skirt the way you do.”
“You’re trying to flatter me, Dorian. I’m very sure it isn’t working the way you thought it would.”
“Zeno? I need your help. It’s probably a very minor thing for you. Won’t take long.”
His voice muffled as he barked some chiding command to what I assumed was his latest Lodge recruit. Finally, he returned his attention to me. “Like I said, I’m busy. Also, not interested.”
“Come on, Frater. You know I can pay you.”
“And you know I don’t need your money.”
Shit. He was right. Last time I dealt with Frater Zeno, I had juicy information to pass his direction. What did I have these days?
Well, besides the fact that the Presidium might very well have painted a bullseye on the back of his argyle sweater.
“I have information for you.”
A long pause, then, “Regarding?”
“Your safety.”
An even longer pause.
“This had better not be a threat, Lake. I’m having a bad week, and I might grow discourteous if I thought you were threatening me.”
“No, Frater, I’m not threatening you. But you are in danger, and I think you’d want to know from where, at the very least.”
This sigh was heavier, more annoyed, and arguably more condescending than any sigh I’ve heard before.
“One p.m. No sooner, no later. I have exactly no time for this, so if you meet me at the steps to my Lodge, I’ll listen to what you have to say on the way to my car. I recommend you practice your speech ahead of time.”
I gripped my phone, and took a cleansing breath. “It’s always good talking with you, Frater. I’ll see you at one.”
I set the phone down and drummed my fingers on the roll top desk. God, I hated that prissy little man.
When lunchtime rolled around, I hammered out some grilled cheese sandwiches and a couple cans of tomato soup. Malosi inhaled his lunch and continued with his work. I left a tray at Ricky’s door for the Bakers, then descended to gather my things. I wanted to run by the tavern before I made my meeting with Frater Zeno. When I had my attaché put together and was about to head for the front door, both of the Bakers stepped into the front room. I paused and gave Ricky a tuck of my head.
“Hey, there. How are you feeling?”
His fingers trembled, and his face was still pallid, but he gave me a good, solid nod.
“Hang in there, brother,” I offered. “We’ll get you ship shape and Bristol fashion.”
Ricky smiled, then looked down at Ches.
She pulled her hair up with a grimace. “It’s not just you. He always talks like that.” She stepped forward with a sharp eye on me. “So, where are you running off to?”
“I’m going to see if I can’t solve Ricky’s problem.”
Without missing a beat, she answered, “Then I’m coming with you.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Probably a good thing, because she quickly added, “Unless you were under the impression that I was going to sit here and let you solve all our problems?”
“No,” I mumbled. “I didn’t think that… I wasn’t―”
“Good.” Ches turned to Ricky. “Your coach will be here right at noon.”
Malosi lifted his head and lifted his brow with a bemused smirk.
I waved him off. “Don’t worry about her. She’s not a permanent resident. Not yet, anyway.”
The two of us hit the road. Ches sat glum in the passenger seat, staring forward through the windshield. She didn’t make a comment until I turned up Light Street.
“Where are we going?”
“Need to stop by the tavern.”
“For what?”
“Business.”
She sniffled and shook her head.
“What?” I prodded.
“Nothing.”
“That was a something.”
She crossed her hands and gave me a rigid smile. “No, it was nothing. You’re doing great. This tavern is such a great idea, and I respect you not only as a teacher, but as an entrepreneur.”
I took advantage of a yellow light and brought the Audi to an early stop. With a half turn in my seat, I asked, “Do we have a problem?”
“Yeah, we do. You spend half a year as a complete absentee partner in this place, but now that we have a real, urgent problem you decide this is the right moment to get involved?”
I lifted a hand. “I’ve been involved, Ches. Maybe not as much as I should, but this isn’t some stall tactic. Julian put me together with one of the other Deputy Mayors… or is it deputies mayor? Is it like Attorneys General, or―”
“It’s Deputy Mayors.”
“Anyway, I have some consultant work for the city, and it’s basically exactly what we saw in Gettysburg.”
She blinked, then turned toward me just in time for the green light.
“Wait, what?”
“The jinx? Yeah. Someone lobbed one into the Enoch Pratt Free Library.”
“Who would jinx a library?”
I shrugged. “Who would jinx a daycare?”
“I figured it was some private grudge with the owners.”
“Maybe not. Maybe it was some kind of dry run?”
“For the library? Again, I have to ask what’s the point in jinxing a library?”
I pulled us into the alley to the back of the tavern. “Maybe it’s another practice hit? These chaos magicians may be working their way up to something big. Like, huge. Deirdre told me the daycare owners found sigils painted on the walls, but cleaned it up before she could see them. This time, we still had them intact at Enoch Pratt. I took photos of the sigil work, and plan on cross-referencing it to see if there’s some kind of identifiable cabal at work.”
I put the car in park and turned to Ches, who had one eye squinted at me.
“Let me have a crack at those sigils.”
“You’re… busy. With Ricky.”
“To be honest, I could use the distraction. I love my brother, but this is kind of killing me.”
I nodded. “I’ll send you the photos.”
We sat for a moment, staring at the back of the tavern. Finally I turned off the key and asked, “Sure it’s not Depu
ties Mayor?”
I led Ches through the still-plastic-wrapped kitchen and through to Julian’s office. We found Julian clicking furiously through a spreadsheet on his computer. He didn’t notice us until I cleared my throat.
He looked up and smiled. “Dorian?”
“Hey, partner.” I lifted a hand to Ches. “You remember Francesca Baker?”
He stood up and held out a crisp hand to shake. “Of course, Miss Baker. Always a pleasure.”
She shook his hand and gave me a cock of her chin.
“See? Some people know how to treat me with respect.”
Julian stabbed a finger at me. “You’re disrespecting her?”
I held up hands in defense. “No! What? No.”
Julian dropped back into his seat and laced his hands behind his head. “So, any luck filling the position?”
“Not yet,” I answered.
He nudged, “Put out an ad?”
“Uh…”
Julian nodded. “Good thing I did.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been a hell of a week.”
“Always is, Dorian.”
I looked to Ches for backup, but she seemed disinclined to provide it.
I grumbled, “Hey, if you knew what I’ve been up against―”
“So, tell me,” he countered, leaning forward with an expectant face.
I stood in silence, looking back and forth between the two.
“It’s complicated,” I muttered.
Julian’s face melted into defeat. “Maybe, Dorian, just maybe… if you let me in on what’s dividing your attention, I’d understand? Maybe even help?”
I shoved my hands in my pockets, searching for the correct response.
Ches said, “It’s my fault, Julian.”
“No, it’s not,” I blurted.
She held out a hand and nudged me aside. “My brother’s in town, and he’s not well. Dorian’s trying to help me.”
Julian leaned forward. “What’s the matter?”
“Heroin,” she replied before I could stop her. “He’s trying to clean up, and Dorian’s putting him up at his place.”
Julian turned his eyes to me, his brow easing.
“See? That’s exactly the kind of personal information that makes me want to keep filling in for you, Dorian.” He turned back to Ches. “Is there anything I can do to help? I know several people. The lead on the State Heroin Taskforce. Wonderful man by the name of―”