The Brimstone Deception

by Lisa Shearin

  “I won’t hear of it,” Rake told us. “You need to keep your strength up. Fighting the forces of evil and minions of darkness requires being at the top of your game. I promised Vivienne that I would do all in my power to assist you. A sumptuous breakfast is within my power.”

  Ian’s phone rang, and he went back into the lobby to take it.

  “This isn’t the intimate breakfast for two I proposed the other day,” Rake murmured, “but it will suffice. For now.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I wasn’t going to tell Rake what had happened last night until—or unless—I had to.

  “Other than enjoying a delicious and most satisfying repast?”

  “Yeah, other than that.”

  “Considering that, again, I own the building the murder was committed in, and knowing that you and your partner would want to speak with me regarding that increasingly tedious coincidence, I thought I would save time, and provide a nutritious breakfast while you asked the questions I knew you’d have.” He gestured at the palms and orchids that filled the space. “Isn’t this a much more convivial setting for an interrogation?”

  With that, Rake took a quick bite of toast. The goblin’s fangs were out and fully extended. He wasn’t experiencing tedium, he was furious. It was gratifying to see a genuine emotion from him for once, even if he was still trying to hide it.

  I leaned closer and lowered my voice, though the goblin waiters would still be able to hear me perfectly well. As with Rake, it was all for show. “Nice act. If the murderer walked through that door right now, you’d rip his throat out like that toast, wouldn’t you?”

  “I am being toyed with.” His voice was clipped with barely restrained anger. “We’re all being toyed with. I will see all of this—and the person behind it—permanently stopped.”

  I poured myself an orange juice, and tried to calm the rage bubbling up inside. The juice had lots of pulp. Fresh squeezed. Nice. My gut told me that whoever Rake had seen outside that coffee shop was someone we needed to have a chat with. Now. “You didn’t say ‘unknown’ person. Does this mean you’ve decided to tell me who you saw outside that coffee shop?”

  “This doesn’t have anything—”

  “Save it!” I snapped.

  Rake’s eyes widened in surprise.

  I kept going. Venting felt good, and right now Rake was a target who deserved it. He had been toying with me since the day we’d met, and I’d had it.

  “You wouldn’t be this pissed unless you knew who was behind this and you just haven’t been able to get your hands around his throat yet,” I snarled. “I’m sure you have your reasons for not telling us—like thinking we’re in over our heads—but as Ms. Sagadraco said, why don’t you let us decide that? If you’ve been trying to catch this guy on your own, the body across the street tells us you obviously haven’t had any luck. So does your nephew in our infirmary.” And me and Kitty homeless and workless. “You’re not the only one being toyed with, and I’ve got news, none of us like it!”

  Rake hesitated for the first time that I’d ever seen. He knew I was in a frothing rage, and had rationally determined that while some of it was his fault, all of it wasn’t. He opted for caution.

  “I thought I saw someone.”

  “You thought you saw someone? You’ve got eyes that make us humans look like moles staggering around at high noon.” I continued before Rake could throw up a wall of denial. “You saw who was behind the Brimstone and the Hellpit, and you chased him. I’m guessing from all the portals, demons, and murders that have followed, you didn’t catch him.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Care to give us a description for our wanted poster?”

  “I have no proof of his guilt.”

  “And we have no idea who he is. You’ve got more than we do, so start talking. I want answers, and I want him.”

  Ian’s shadow fell over us both. “Sounds like progress,” he said cheerfully. No doubt my partner loved seeing me tear into Rake.

  I glared at the goblin. “I’m hopeful.”

  Rake regarded both of us, his eyes still inscrutable. “Yes, Agent Byrne. I believe we’re about to discuss progress. Please be seated.”

  “Gladly, Lord Danescu.” Ian sat and put a napkin in his lap as Carl poured him a cup of coffee. My partner smiled. “I love the smell of cooperation in the morning.”

  * * *

  I had to admit that Rake was right. Asking questions was ever so much nicer when you had a pair of waiters serving you the best breakfast you’d ever had in your life. But most of all, I was finally getting straight answers from Rake, which made it downright enjoyable.

  Once again, Rake had been using goblin logic and evasion tactics. He hadn’t seen a man outside the coffee shop, so he hadn’t lied. He’d seen an elf. An elf and mage by the name of Isidor Silvanus.

  “Isidor is of an older generation and prefers our home dimension,” Rake was saying. “To the best of my knowledge he does not maintain a permanent residence here.”

  “You might want to check any recent apartment leases with Northern Reach or your other holding companies,” Ian suggested. “You might have yourself a new tenant.”

  “It’s being done as we speak.”

  “How old is he?” I asked.

  “One generation older than myself.”

  I didn’t repeat my question. Some things I was happier not knowing, and considering that the life spans of goblins and elves were longer than humans, Rake’s age might very well be one of them.

  “Why do you think Silvanus may be connected with the murders?” Ian asked.

  “Because of family relation and past associations,” Rake replied. “And my firsthand knowledge of his level of power.”

  “You’ve tangled with him before?” I asked.

  “Our paths have crossed.”

  He didn’t want to elaborate, and once again, it wasn’t a question I needed an answer to, at least not now.

  “Isidor’s brother is the president and CEO of Hart Pharmaceuticals,” Rake told us.

  “Let me guess,” Ian said, “they lease a building from you.”

  “Correct. They insisted on handling the retrofitting of their space themselves, as well as hiring their own contractors to do the work. I have been unable to get surveillance equipment inside to monitor their activities.”

  That had to have annoyed the heck out of him.

  “However, I had glamoured agents inside that reported to me from time to time. For the past year, a small team of their best chemists had been working on a secret project. It was so secret and well protected that my people hadn’t been able to get any intelligence concerning it for me. Projects of that level require funding, so I followed the money. I also have agents at the bank Hart uses. They investigated for me and reported an influx of money from an organization that’s known for being a front for elven intelligence. From other sources, I know that there’s only one drug that interests elven intelligence at this time.”

  “Brimstone,” I said.

  “Correct.” His expression darkened. “My suspicions were confirmed last week when I lost all contact with my people inside Hart Pharmaceuticals. I had nine agents. One day they were there, the next they weren’t.”

  Ian scowled. “Around the time we think they perfected the Brimstone formula.”

  “That was my conclusion as well. I believe that one of their test subjects was given the drug with the instructions to find any goblin agents. I haven’t heard from my people since.”

  No wonder Rake was furious. First his agents, then his nephew.

  Speaking of which . . .

  “I know Dr. Carey is keeping Jesin’s visitors to a minimum,” I said. “Including us. We haven’t been able to talk to him again. Have you—”

  “Vivienne persuaded the good doctor to let me speak to him for a few minutes. We spent a little quality FaceTime.” Rake smiled slightly. “I do love humans’ modern technology. When attempting to get an explanation fo
r a young goblin’s actions, it helps considerably to see their face. It’s not a guarantee of getting an honest answer, but it helps.”

  “And?”

  “I maintain an office in the building where Kela Dupari was murdered. Jesin has recently begun managing it for me as well. And before you ask, yes he’s in charge of only the two buildings. His hours in my office there are from eight until noon. A package was delivered that morning addressed to me. Jesin is naturally suspicious, recently even more so. The package was not delivered by a courier service our receptionist was familiar with. When the murder was reported in Kela Dupari’s office five stories below, Jesin opened the package. Unfortunately, my nephew isn’t qualified to check parcels for spells, but when he opened it, he knew he’d set something off. This one triggered a call to the closest precinct reporting a suspicious package. When he saw what was inside, Jesin took the Brimstone out of the box and quickly left the building with the intent of concealing it. He was trying to protect me.”

  “That’s a very creative story,” Ian noted. “Do you believe him?”

  “Jesin has a head for business, but not a nature for lying.”

  “Not going to make it far in this town,” I muttered.

  Rake sighed, but there was genuine affection in it. “No, he’s not.”

  “Why would Isidor Silvanus want to involve you in three murders and frame you for drug possession?” I stopped and thought. “Let me rephrase that. Can you give us a short list, in order of likelihood, of why Silvanus would want you to rot in prison?”

  Rake laughed. “You are learning, my dear Makenna. Isidor and I have been adversaries for years. To be blunt, he hates me.” The goblin smiled. “I believe that any job worth doing is worth doing well, and I have more than earned his animosity. As to his motivation now, it could be any number of reasons ranging from damaging or destroying the operations goblin intelligence has in place in this dimension, to the demons offered Isidor a ‘get out of death free’ card for helping them gain access to this dimension, to he’s simply bored and all of this amuses him. I assure you I am trying to ascertain his reasoning. No doubt you would find his thought processes nearly as convoluted as my own. I promise, if one option seems more likely than the others, I will tell you.”

  “You were telling us about Hart Pharmaceuticals,” Ian said.

  “Yes. In the city’s supernatural criminal underworld, Hart is known for developing new recreational drugs that are then sold by the Balmorlans, an elven crime family in this dimension, a known name in elven intelligence in mine. Both they and the Silvanus family have been known to use Nightshades as enforcers. Hart Pharmaceutical’s share of all profits is laundered through two offshore sources before it comes back to their bank accounts. From all reports, it’s a lucrative partnership.”

  I tried to follow the tangled trail. “Okay, so Isidor’s brother runs Hart. Hart has dealings with the Balmorlans, and both Hart and the Balmorlans have a connection to elven intelligence. So how do you know that Isidor opened the Hellpit?”

  “Because, lovely Makenna, Isidor Silvanus has contacts in Hell, and is so obscenely powerful that he could open a Hellpit in his sleep.”

  I put my fork down. Appetite gone.

  “How did you know about Dante Frontino being this morning’s victim?” Ian asked.

  “I began an analysis of the properties I owned under Northern Reach Holdings, noting the location of each murder in relation to the Hart Pharmaceuticals laboratory. Then I put that analysis on hold when a more immediate clue presented itself. While on my way here for breakfast, I saw Isidor Silvanus exiting my building across the street.”

  Holy crap. “Did he see you?”

  “Oh, yes. I received quite the jaunty salute.” Rake smiled grimly. “The bastard positively reeked of brimstone.”

  I glanced at Ian. I wondered if Isidor Silvanus had delivered half a dozen eggs to my apartment—and had been the figure I saw on the other side of that parking garage portal.

  “What’s this Isidor Silvanus look like? Tall? Skinny?”

  Rake gave me a quizzical look. He didn’t quite know where I was going with this. “Tall, yes. Skinny, no. Slender would be a better description.”

  Rake’s “slender” might be Mrs. Rosini’s “skinny.” She’d told me more than once that I needed to put some meat on my bones.

  “Good-looking?” I continued. “Average? Ugly?”

  “The Silvanus family pride themselves on keeping their bloodline pure. They are high elves.” Rake gave me a slight smile. “He is nearly as handsome as I am.”

  Mrs. Rosini had said that Ian was better looking than the delivery guy. In my opinion, and probably most women’s, Rake was better looking than Ian. Not by much, but there was no denying it.

  “Silvanus wasn’t the delivery guy,” I told Ian.

  “Thanks, partner. You know how to make a man feel good.”

  So much for Ian not following my train of thought.

  “Besides, a high elf wouldn’t be hauling a cooler,” I quickly added.

  Ian gave me an arch look. “I can at least see that being true.”

  Rake’s eyes were going back and forth between us as if he was watching a tennis match. “If you continue, will this eventually make sense?”

  “No,” we said together.

  “That being said, any type of glamour is well within Isidor’s abilities.” Rake took a positively vicious bite of bacon. “He could be anywhere now, and posing as anyone.”

  25

  “THAT could have been how he got close to Alastor Malvolia,” Ian said.

  “It appears I’m not the only party guilty of withholding information,” Rake murmured.

  “You had more to share,” I told him. “Ours is just icing on the cake.” I felt suddenly queasy. “So to speak.” I looked at Ian. “You wanna tell him? I’d rather not even think about it.”

  Ian told about the baby demons in my apartment and Al in Kitty’s cake oven. Rake listened and didn’t say a word. His expression was calm—too calm. I didn’t know if anyone could truly know Rake Danescu, but I’d learned enough to know that calm was the last thing he was feeling.

  “Where are you staying?” Rake asked me as soon as Ian had finished.

  “At headquarters for now.”

  “I have apartments. Secure apartments.”

  “Is that like your offer of an intimate breakfast?” I asked. Ian was right there, but I was beyond caring.

  His dark eyes were steady. “No. It is an offer of a safe place to live. Full wards, and a full-time battle mage security staff on duty twenty-four seven.”

  “Wouldn’t happen to be your building, would it?”

  “As a matter of fact, it’s in Vivienne Sagadraco’s building.”

  “You own the boss’s apartment building?”

  “I do.”

  “Does she know?”

  “She does. The building where I live is equally secure, but I know you’d never accept my offer of an apartment there.”

  And I knew I’d never be able to afford an apartment in either one.

  “Last night, Ms. Sagadraco sent a security team to beef up the wards on my place.”

  I said it, but I couldn’t say I was thrilled about it. I could see it being a short-term solution, but the thought of living in a place where, despite the best wards, a portal to Hell’s anteroom could still be ripped inside my bedroom closet . . . I knew I’d never be able to sleep there again. Not to mention, I refused to endanger my neighbors. Those demons had run out of chickens. If I hadn’t come home there’d have been nothing to stop them from taking the air ducts over to Mrs. Rosini’s. I felt the prickling of impending tears stinging my eyes. I would not endanger her or anyone else.

  “I’ll think about it,” I told Rake. And I meant it. “For now, I’m going to stay at headquarters with Kitty.” I tried a smile. “It’s like a pajama party. Tonight we could do mani-pedis.”

  “Tell her that I have several retail spaces in the Village
and SoHo, should she want to relocate. Free of charge.”

  “No rent and no burned body stink? I don’t see how she could turn that down. I’ll tell her.”

  “And the apartment for you would likewise be rent free—”

  I was about to make a comment about that, but his uncharacteristically somber expression stopped me.

  “And no obligation—of any kind,” he finished.

  Wow. I wasn’t entirely sure I trusted it, but wow.

  “Thank you,” I said simply. “When I have time to think, I’ll give it some thought and let you know. It’s a very generous offer.”

  “Agent Byrne has been working tirelessly to protect you since day one,” Rake continued. “You’re now in the worst kind of danger, and I am at least partially responsible.” His brow creased in confusion. “Though I don’t yet know why or even how. But I do know that I will do whatever’s in my power to help him keep you safe.”

  “Thank you. Again.” It was all I could think to say. Rake had complimented Ian, apologized to me, admitted he didn’t know everything, and promised protection—all in a few, short sentences. For Rake Danescu, that was a staggering achievement.

  Ian and Rake exchanged solemn man nods.

  Looked like Ian was speechless, too.

  “Is there a chance they’re manufacturing the Brimstone at Hart Pharmaceuticals?” I asked Rake.

  “They would certainly have the equipment they needed, but I wouldn’t think so.”

  “According to Dr. Cheban,” Ian said, “working with molten brimstone wouldn’t be something you’d want to do in a multi-million-dollar facility filled with valuable, highly educated employees.”

  “Oh yeah.” I spread my hands. “Boom. No meth labs in Hell, and all that. Though if Hart is bringing in beaucoup bucks on illegal drugs, what would stop them from buying some property of their own? They’ve probably got some labs hidden away around town. Should we let Fred know that Hart’s the likely manufacturer?”

  Ian nodded, took out his phone, and started texting. “I don’t expect they’ll find anything, but since Hart operates as a human company, the NYPD and the feds would be the best qualified to at least make life difficult for them. Maybe they can dig up enough probable cause for a search warrant.”