by Lisa Shearin
My desk phone rang.
It was the receptionist at Saga Partners Investments, our cover office on the surface. Rake Danescu was there to see me.
Speak of the devil. Pun and cliché intended.
“Shall I tell Mr. Danescu that you’re in a meeting?” she asked.
I smiled, though to the guys in the bull pen it’d look more like a baring of teeth.
“No, no. Not necessary. I would love to see Rake Danescu,” I said. “I’ll be right up.”
* * *
Rake stood in the reception area of Saga Partners Investments, impeccably dressed, and looking uncharacteristically grim.
Good. We were in the same mood. It’d save a lot of time getting past pleasantries if neither one of us had any.
When he saw me, grim turned to guarded. He knew I was mad. At him. Yes, the last time we’d seen each other was across a table in a coffee shop when he’d been kissing the palm of my hand. Now he knew that if he went for my hand, I’d give him my fist.
But he didn’t know why, hence, the guardedness.
I was about to enlighten him.
But not here, not now.
What I’d just discovered wasn’t personal; it was business. Rake was now a suspect, if not of murder, then of drug running, or at the very least, collusion—but most of all of being an asshole of a boss who terrified his employees. Until all of those had been thoroughly addressed, the one thing he was not was a potential boyfriend.
“Karen,” I asked the receptionist, “is the conference room available?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Would you put me down for half an hour?”
* * *
I closed the door. The main Saga conference room was essentially an interrogation room with fancy seating. I fully intended to bring Rake downstairs for Ian and possibly Ms. Sagadraco to question, but first I had to confirm that there was justification to take that next step.
“Before we get started, I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful, and they were the first pleasant surprise I’ve had in days. Now your turn. You’re here, asking for me, and you’re not happy. Why?”
“You have my employee Jesin Nadisu here. Has he been arrested?”
Interesting. Rake didn’t know he’d been shot.
“No, we’re merely asking him a few questions.”
“With an attorney present?”
“There’s no need for—”
Rake reached for his phone. “I want him to have one. Anything he might have said to this point is inadmissible without an attorney present.”
“I don’t see why he would need one.”
The goblin’s dark eyes narrowed. “Oh, you don’t, do you?”
I wasn’t taking the bait. But with that attitude, I didn’t feel guilty tossing him a curve.
“Because we don’t think he is the one who’s guilty—at least not of murder.”
“Murder?”
“Murder. As to having a kilo of Brimstone on him . . .” I shrugged. “For all we know, he could have been holding it for a friend.”
Rake paused, his long index finger poised above a key. Jeez, the guy had his lawyer on speed dial. I really hoped it wasn’t Alastor Malvolia, though with Rake being his landlord, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
“Unless you think he’s guilty,” I continued, “in which case, you need to seriously reevaluate your hiring practices, hiring psychotic serial killers. I’d have thought you would’ve been more careful about things like that, being a savvy and successful big-city businessman and all.”
“Not guilty?”
“That’s what we think.”
“Then why do you have Jesin Nadisu in custody?”
“We don’t have Jesin Nadisu in custody. We had him in surgery.”
The goblin went dangerously still. “What?”
“He was shot outside a building that was the scene of the second murder in as many days. He had a kilo of Brimstone on him. We’re analyzing it in the lab now. But it would help greatly if you’d care to tell us why the demons peddling the stuff are thinning out the competition by killing drug lords in your buildings?”
“My buildings?”
“Your buildings. You own—and Jesin Nadisu manages—the Murwood, scene of the first murder. Two hours ago, he was shot outside an office building on West Seventy-Ninth Street, aka murder scene number two, also owned by you. And the lawyer who represented both victims—as well as probable future victims—has his cozy pocket-dimension office in yet another of your buildings.”
“Alastor.”
“That’s him. A real sweetheart. Met him this morning. You know, if you’d give us a list of all of your real estate holdings, maybe we could get ahead of the killers and keep Al from losing any more clients.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“I’m not the one hosting a demonic murder convention—and terrorizing your employees.”
“Terrorizing my . . . What the hell are you talking about?”
“We were telling Jesin that he didn’t have anything to be afraid of, that he was safe here. We tried to determine who he was afraid of. When we mentioned ‘your employer’ the poor kid damned near fainted. Imagine my surprise when I found out just now that he works for you.”
“I can’t imagine why he would be afraid of me.”
“Can’t you?”
“No, I can’t. Though at least I know why you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset, Rake. I’m about to become violent.”
He exhaled heavily. “How is Jesin and who shot him?”
“He’ll live. He’s in recovery. Apparently the Nightshade sniper who shot him just wanted to clip him enough to justify using the fake ambulance waiting around the corner to come pick him up. Trust me, the poor kid will be a lot happier waking up here rather than wherever those elf ninjas would’ve taken him.”
Rake swore and dropped into one of the chairs. Then he was silent, but there was a lot going on behind those dark eyes, mostly disbelief, confusion, and concern. “Thank you,” he finally said.
Okay, that was unexpected.
Rake could have been pretending to care more about Jesin than defending himself, but I didn’t think so. When I’d said “Nightshade,” he’d gone a shade or two paler than usual. You can’t fake that; at least I didn’t think so. I wasn’t going to back down, but for now I decided to back off.
“Could you tell me what happened without compromising your investigation?” he asked.
Pale and polite. There wasn’t any part of what had happened that Rake wouldn’t be able to find out himself with a few questions in the right places, so I wouldn’t get in trouble for telling what we knew, which wasn’t really all that much.
“The NYPD arrived at the second murder scene before we could,” I said. “We got there and were staking out the location when we spotted Jesin leaving the building. He looked nervous.”
Rake gave a halfhearted smile and shook his head. “Contrary to what you may believe, goblins aren’t born knowing how to conceal their emotions.”
“So it’s an acquired annoyance?”
“Touché.”
“Jesin saw us and ran, there was a shot and he went down. Ian ran after the shooter, I stayed with Jesin until Yasha got back with the Suburban. We got him back here and into our ER as fast as we could.”
“Thank you, again.”
“You’re welcome, but we were just doing our jobs. We would have done that for anyone.”
“Even me?”
“Including you. Though Ian might not have run so fast after the shooter. And Yasha wouldn’t have been as gentle putting you into the Suburban. It probably would’ve been more like a quasi-aimed toss.”
That got a slight smile out of Rake.
“Why would Jesin be afraid of you?”
“He’s not. At least he wasn’t as of yesterday when he told me about you and Agent Byrne coming to the Murwood and about Sar Gedeon’s murder.” He spread his hands in exasp
eration. “I have no idea why he would react like that. I’m his favorite uncle.”
“Uncl . . . he’s your nephew?”
“Yes. He’s extraordinarily bright, a hard worker, with an uncanny knack for business. He’s also one of the few in my family whom I actually like. When he came here, he wanted to work, so I put him in charge of the Murwood. The boy has a head for management.”
I couldn’t resist. “What? You didn’t have him working at Bacchanalia?”
“His mother, my oldest sister, would skin me alive herself.”
Oldest sister. That implied more than one. “Sounds like a nice lady.”
“You have no idea. She was against him coming here from the beginning. I will have much explaining to do.”
“If Jesin wasn’t afraid of you yesterday and is today—”
Rake’s eyes tightened in disapproval. “He wasn’t carrying a kilo of Brimstone from the scene of a murder yesterday.”
There was a soft knock. The door opened a crack and Karen stuck her head inside.
“Excuse me, Agent Fraser, Mr. Danescu, but Ms. Sagadraco would like to see you both.”
I couldn’t say I was surprised. Karen probably had a standing order to let the boss know whenever an agent asked to use a conference room for a chat with a perpetual suspect.
I wasn’t in the least bit nervous. Alain Moreau had already told me that he and Ms. Sagadraco were very pleased with my job performance, so I wasn’t having another what-the-hell-did-I-do moment.
Rake, on the other hand, had probably done, initiated, been directly or indirectly responsible for, or merely involved in so many nefarious activities that the concerned crease on his forehead was from trying to figure out which one all this was about. Was it about Jesin, Jesin’s reaction to the mention of him, the murders, or Brimstone? Or something else entirely? I guess it was hard to cover your ass when you had so many irons in the fire.
We got into the elevator and the doors closed.
Both of us faced forward, neither saying a word.
“Makenna?”
I noticed he left off the “dearest,” “lovely,” or “beautiful” Makenna. Wise move.
“Yes?” I asked.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rake’s lips twitch upward at the corners.
“Well played.”
17
ALAIN Moreau met us when the elevator opened on the executive level.
Okay, maybe I was in a little bit of trouble. Rake was a suspect, or at the very least a source of information we didn’t have but needed, and I had shared elements of an ongoing investigation. I’d be finding out soon enough.
Vivienne Sagadraco’s office door was open, a table had been brought in, and there was her formal silver tea service, china cups and saucers, and those little cakes and pastries from Kitty’s that always looked too pretty to eat. Either the boss wanted to lull Rake into a false sense of complacency, or we were going to be here for a while and we’d need caffeine and sugary snacks to get through it—Ms. Sagadraco’s version of a civilized interrogation. I knew Rake could never be lulled into anything, but the boss was civilized, so I was going to go with the latter.
“Rake.” Not Lord Danescu. Ms. Sagadraco said it as though the hand caught in the tea-cake jar had been his. But she still extended her hand for the requisite kiss. Rake didn’t disappoint. “You could not have paid us a visit at a more convenient time.” Her sapphire-colored eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “This chat is long overdue. Agent Byrne will be joining us momentarily. Alain, would you please close the door and ensure that we are not disturbed?”
Alain gave Rake a level stare. “It would be my pleasure, madam.”
So much for who was in trouble, or at least more of it than I was.
If there was tea involved, Vivienne Sagadraco would make pleasant small talk until everyone had been served. But now as she poured the tea, she made no effort at conversation: small, pleasant, or otherwise. She was like a Southern lady in that regard: if you didn’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all—at least until the individual in question wasn’t around to hear you.
Yep, this was going to be a civilized interrogation.
“In the interests of complete disclosure,” she began, “anytime an agent asks to use the Saga Investments conference room, video and audio recording is activated for the duration of the meeting.”
So Karen had not only told the boss, she’d flipped the AV switch. I was kind of glad that she had. I wouldn’t have wanted to summarize that exchange for Ms. Sagadraco.
The door opened and Ian came in.
“Have a seat, Agent Byrne. We were just getting started.”
“The lab’s completed the first part of their analysis,” he told her. “Dr. Cheban sent the preliminary report to you. They’re still isolating the individual ingredients, but they’ve determined enough to know what the drug is supposed to do. She’ll forward the ingredient list as soon as it’s complete. Though she did confirm that one of the ingredients is actual brimstone. And one of the murderers is a demon lord.”
I glanced at Rake to get his reaction.
One perfect eyebrow, slightly raised. He may have been shaken, but he wasn’t stirred.
Ms. Sagadraco reached over to her desk for her tablet. She scanned through her e-mails and opened the report. We were silent as she read.
Ian typed a few words on his phone, then tilted it so I could see: Saw the tape. ; )
Jeez, had they been playing it in the break room? I didn’t know what the boss thought, but Ian approved—or at least he’d found it entertaining.
“Without the benefit of further testing, does Dr. Cheban believe the drug does what was intended by whoever made it?” she asked Ian.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How many doses are contained in the sample we obtained from Mr. Nadisu?”
“Hundreds.”
Rake made a low sound in the back of his throat.
I didn’t know if he’d intended it as a groan or a growl, but either way I think I understood why Jesin wouldn’t want to see his uncle right now.
Ms. Sagadraco finished reading and put her tablet on the table next to her cup. “Lord Danescu, in our laboratory is an impressive quantity of a drug that our chemists believe would enable any elf or goblin who inhaled it to see through glamours and read minds.”
“Damn,” Rake muttered. “They did it. They actually did it.”
“I take it you were aware of their efforts?”
“I’d heard rumors about their efforts, but nothing about their success.”
Ian spoke. “According to Dr. Cheban, the drug works for elves, goblins, and humans. However, and fortunately for us, humans don’t remember what they saw while under the influence.” My partner gave Rake a less than friendly look. “Goblins and elves would recall everything, which leads Dr. Cheban to believe that it was developed for use by either goblins or elves. For humans who aren’t aware of the supernatural world, seeing through glamours could easily be misinterpreted as hallucinating and thinking you were seeing monsters, which is what happened in the restaurant yesterday.”
Ms. Sagadraco took a sip of tea, and then carefully set the cup and saucer on the table, leveling her gaze on Rake Danescu. “I believe it is time that you told us what you know.”
The goblin had put his elbows on the arms of the chair and had carefully interlaced his fingers in front of him. Interrogation Posing 101.
“I had heard that the elves were attempting to develop a drug that could enable them to spot any undercover goblin agent by sight, and detect any goblin spies or elven traitors by thought. Conversely, it would also let goblins see and hear any elven agents.”
It was said that elves and goblins originated from the same ancestors. Just never say that out loud to either one. Hate was a mild word for how most elves and goblins felt about each other. At least in our dimension they’d stopped trying to exterminate each other, settling instead for hostile corporate takeovers—
with only minimal bloodshed.
“I imagine both goblin and elven intelligence would give or do anything to get their hands on the Brimstone formula,” Ian noted coolly.
Rake didn’t take the bait. “If it was a stable and viable formula, then yes, there would be considerable interest.”
“And competition.”
“What are you getting at, Agent Byrne?”
“Only that you appear to be in a unique position to hear of any interest or competition—and possibly even have a member of your family unwillingly pulled in.”
Nice that Ian gave Jesin the benefit of a doubt. Might have even earned a point or two with Rake.
At that, Rake regarded Ms. Sagadraco, his expression unreadable. “Vivienne, I would be willing to share what I know in exchange for my nephew’s safekeeping here.”
What that implied about the situation in the city didn’t bode well for any of us.
By all accounts, Rake was one of the most powerful dark mages in New York, perhaps the most powerful. For him to ask for help protecting his nephew by keeping him in here meant the situation out there was even more dangerous than we could have imagined.
“While we were upstairs, Makenna alluded to a connection between the murders and properties I own, and by association, myself. Her suspicions may not be unfounded. If so, at this time, Jesin would not be safe outside of this complex. I know that Sar Gedeon was the first victim. Who was the second?”
“Gedeon wasn’t the first victim,” Ian told him. “The killers started at the bottom of the ladder and have been working their way up. The most recent victim—at least that we know of—is a goblin by the name of Kela Dupari,” Ian said.
Rake closed his eyes for a moment.
“I take it you knew her?”
“A foolish woman who routinely toyed with and taunted powers beyond her ability. The same actions can be ascribed to Sar Gedeon.”
“What are their connections to you?”
“Both were actively involved in the drug industry, not only in New York but down the entire East Coast to Miami. Contrary to what you may believe about me, I am not involved—actively or otherwise—in any drug industry. Aside from Ms. Dupari and I both being goblins, we have no connection or association. That being said, an elf and a goblin, both prominent in locally based crime families, were brutally murdered in buildings that I own. This could be a coincidence, or an attempt to frame me, or at the very least cause me substantial inconvenience and embarrassment.”