by A. Blythe
"Someone sent those Ifrits to kill me. I know it. You should've seen the way they attacked us. It was like WWF meets The Bachelor with ugly people. It had to be the rogue mage. Maybe she's working with the organ trafficker, targeting the Nephilim." I tapped my chin. "Where is the damn organ guy hiding?"
"Alyse, could you possibly wait until the conclusion of one drama before presenting us with another?" Mix asked.
"It's Lord of the Stinkin' Rings," I said, stepping in front of the television. "You already know what happens. My drama is more exciting. We don't know how it will end."
"If you keep standing there," he said, "I can think of a few options."
I flopped back onto the sofa. "This is life and death and you don't even care. Is this what law firm life does to you?"
"Jeremy, she needs your help," Paulette said in a soothing tone. "Let's finish the movie later."
"Thank you, Paulette," I said and offered her the bowl of popcorn.
Mix turned off the television and looked at me. "Happy now?"
"Well, happy is a bit of a stretch but..."
Mix rolled his eyes. "Organ traffickers need a place to store their wares, right?"
"And possibly a place to perform the surgeries as well," I said. It depended on their level of involvement in the process. They might simply transport the organs to eager buyers on the black market, or they might go so far as to run private clinics with a team of doctors and nurses. Usually the donors were vulnerable and desperate for cash. There seemed to be no shortage of those. They were human, though. Their organs wouldn't fetch the steep price of the Nephilim organs.
"What about Pennsbury Hospital?" Paulette suggested. "That's still empty, right?"
I vaulted off the sofa. "Paulette, that's brilliant." I snapped my fingers. "Let's go. Mix, you can drive. Drop me off about two blocks away. Their surveillance won't extend that far."
Mix groaned and buried his face in his hands. "You can't do this, Alyse."
I blinked. "Do what?"
He faced Paulette. "Would you mind giving us a few minutes? I need to talk to Alyse alone."
Paulette nodded. "Of course, Jeremy. It's beautiful weather outside. I'll go for a walk."
"This won't take long," Mix said, his eyes focused back on me. He seemed pissed off. My stomach clenched. I'd only ever seen Mix angry a handful of times. It was unsettling.
Paulette picked up her handbag and vacated the sofa. Mix waited until he heard the click of the front door before continuing the conversation.
"Are you trying to ruin my life?" he asked.
"What do you mean? What's wrong?" I asked.
He stood and paced the room, his agitated hands flying in all directions. "I have spent the last few years pulling myself together, creating a semi-normal life for myself. I have a good job, a girlfriend, my own place."
"And how am I ruining that?" I'd been in town for five minutes. I wasn't talented enough to ruin his life that quickly.
He stopped in front of me. "Alyse, wherever you go, trouble follows. I was sad when you left, heartbroken even, but after a while, I realized that my life was easier without you in it."
One of my best friends was telling me that his life was better without me. I staggered backward like he punched me in the gut.
"Where is this coming from?"
"I didn't want to say anything because you came here under tough circumstances, but things are quickly spiraling out of control. You're like Trouble's whipping girl and you don't seem to care."
"How could you possibly think I don't care?"
"Because you're you," he said. "Nothing fazes you. You're like the Energizer Bunny. You just keep going. You don't ever take time to process. To feel." He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Don't you feel anything, Alyse?"
The pained expression on his face made me want to cry, but the tears stopped somewhere between my heart and my brain.
"Of course I have feelings," I said quietly. "This whole experience has been torture." Mix didn't understand. When you're a covert agent, stopping to process gets you killed. Feelings get you killed. I was trained to handle intense and dangerous situations without breaking a sweat. Cool as a cucumber. That's how I survived every lethal encounter so far, and that's how I intended to survive my current predicament.
"I'm sorry about your cuffs," he said. "I really am. And I know that you have nothing to do with these murders, so I hope you clear your name, but I am trying very hard not to get dragged down with you. I have Paulette to consider now. I can't run headlong into trouble whenever you snap your fingers."
He stood up and straightened his shoulders, his face beet red with anger and frustration. I'd never seen Mix so worked up. His feelings for Paulette were stronger than I realized.
"I haven't asked you to run headlong into anything," I said. "Even before I left, I never asked you. You just did it."
"Because you knew I would," he said. "You knew how I felt about you and you used those feelings to your advantage."
I shook my head in disbelief. "Mix, I thought we'd moved on from all that a long time ago. I never used you. I wouldn't do that to someone I care about."
"Times have changed, Alyse. I don't know if there's room for you anymore," he said. "To be perfectly honest, I think it's too hard having you back in my life."
I winced.
"If it's any consolation, if I don't find the real killers, I won't be back in your life for very long." I gave him a rueful smile.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I think you should go. I have a quiet evening of Orcs and Hobbits planned with my girlfriend and I don't need any more interruptions."
I was an unwelcome interruption. He wasn't kidding -- times really had changed.
"I'm sorry, Mix. Truly. I'll get to the hospital on my own. I never meant to cause you any trouble."
I let myself out, feeling dejected. Paulette was on the sidewalk out front, her thumbs working their way through a text.
"I'm going now," I told her. "Sorry if I ruined the movie."
"It's okay." She smiled and patted my arm. "I'm sure Jeremy will come around. I know he hasn't given up on you. Not really. He talks about you all the time."
"Yes, but do the words he uses involve lots of curses?"
"You two have a long history. That doesn't disappear overnight because one of you is upset."
"Thanks, Paulette. I wish he were as understanding as you."
"It's easy for me," she said with a shrug. "I'm not the one he's upset with."
She went back inside and I knew it was time to take matters into my own hands. I couldn't afford to waste another day waiting for the mysterious organ trafficker to make contact.
My phone buzzed and I glanced at it. You'll find your man at Pennsbury Hospital. Niko and Mickey must have given my request to O'Leary. Ah well, at least it confirmed my destination.
I adjusted my holster and went on my way. I didn't bother to call for backup. Mix was right -- I made life too difficult and dangerous for the people closest to me.
So I hopped on a bus and headed for trouble all by myself.
24
Pennsbury Hospital has been abandoned for over twenty years. It isn't chock full of asbestos like the Willow Steam Plant. After the hospital closed due to bankruptcy, the building became tied up in a never-ending loop of litigation. As a result, it's sat empty and unprotected, waiting for the day it can rise from the ashes as luxury condos.
I got off at a bus stop five blocks away to get the lay of the land. This part of the city wasn't familiar to me so I had no clue what was around. If I needed somewhere to duck for cover after they chased my ass out of there, it would be good to know what my options were.
The entire area looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Rotting buildings, rusting cars, an eerie quiet. The old hospital lorded over this urban decay, a menacing tower in the distance.
My Ghul antenna was pinging wildly. This was their kind of place. Gloomy and forgotten. If you wandered through
here on the wrong night without precautions, I guarantee you weren't walking out again.
I patted the Glock in my holster for comfort. Then I unsheathed the jade daggers to slice my way through the overgrown grass. I was pretty sure that I'd reached the area that had once been the parking lot, which meant I was close enough for their surveillance.
Once I got close enough to grab their attention, I stopped walking and held my hands in the air, still clutching the daggers. Then I made a big show of sheathing the daggers and placing my hands on my head. This wasn't a sneak attack. I needed to make it clear that I wanted to talk. If his operation ran the way I thought it did, he had men running surveillance round the clock.
A minute later two figures emerged from a side door of the hospital. His security team was coming to greet me.
I remained rooted to the ground, still in my submissive pose. Flynn would be so disappointed that he missed it.
I kept the men in my line of sight. Dark suits and ties. Definitely members of the crime syndicate. Who wore charcoal-colored suits in the height of summer? I bet they wore white after Labor Day, too.
"Hey fellas," I called. I was careful not to make any sudden moves. I had the sense that we could open fire here and no one within earshot would call the police. "I'm looking for your boss. Is he in?"
They halted about ten feet from me. "Depends who's asking," the taller one with a buzz cut said. A nasty scar ran down his left cheek. Despite the nice suits, these guys weren't for window dressing.
"Alyse Winters," I replied. "I'm doing a job for O'Leary."
Scarface stood quietly for a moment, as though listening intently. He must be wired. It was hard to gauge the boss man's reply. I flexed my fingers, just in case.
Finally, Scarface gestured for me to step forward. "No weapons," he said. His short, stocky friend held out a hand.
Reluctantly, I removed my daggers and handed them over. "Keep them where I can see them," I warned. "They have sentimental value. My best friend gave them to me as a welcome home present."
I took a step forward, but Scarface's arm shot out to keep me in place. He eyed me suspiciously. "And the firearm."
I huffed loudly. "Let me guess. You guys have a mage, too. I hope yours is as skilled as Pinky. Otherwise, I'd recommend trading up."
I pulled the Glock from my holster and gave it to Scarface.
The shorter one urged me forward with a sharp blow to my shoulder blade.
"Lighten up," I said. "I'm here to talk. If I were here to fight, you'd be dead already."
I fixed him with my hard stare. It was a look I'd perfected over time. Of course, the hard stare dovetailed nicely with the awesome powers that I no longer had access to, but these guys didn't know that.
The security detail didn't speak for the remainder of the walk. They simply escorted me inside the hospital and brought me to an empty corridor. The cracked floor tiles and partially exposed wires in the ceiling made the place look as derelict on the inside as it did on the outside.
"This is what Medicare gets you," I said.
Their expressions didn't change. The corridor emptied into what used to be the large lobby. The reception desk still stood in the center of the room, along with a graffitied car and about twenty hazardous waste bins.
"A very welcoming space," I said, surveying the decaying interior. At one time, the lobby would have been open and airy with its huge windows and high ceiling.
"Miss Winters," a man's voice said. Smooth as silk.
I looked up. An attractive man leaned against the railing at the top of the curved staircase. He was average height, with a slim build and a deeply tanned face. His dark hair was thick and wavy. I bet he could grow a mustache in a day if he wanted to. Despite his professionally dressed friends, he sported cargo shorts and a black T-shirt.
"You must be the man I'm looking for," I said.
"Why don't you join me upstairs and we'll find out?"
I glanced sharply at my escorts. "You lose my weapons, I lose my temper."
No reaction again. Tough crowd.
Slowly, I walked upstairs to meet their boss, effecting a casual attitude. No need for them to figure out that I was actually powerless without my weapons, unless their mage had already ruined my secret.
"Is it casual Friday?" I asked, noting his black flip-flops. "Your friends didn't get the memo."
He cracked a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were like two hard stones and solely focused on me. "I notice that you seem equally at home in casual clothes."
He eyed my soccer mom attire, and I noticed the gentle, disapproving curl of his lip. He had no idea how much I missed my designer clothes and overpriced heels.
"This is a nice place you have here," I said. "A lick of paint and you'll be fighting off the buyers."
As he moved closer to me, the strong stench of men's cologne nearly knocked me back down the staircase. He smelled like he'd been trapped for a month inside the glass fragrance counter at the mall.
"My name is Vito Nocita." He extended his hand and I shook it, trying not to breathe too deeply. I saw his gaze drift to my copper cuff. "Why don't we move to a more private room where we can speak freely?"
Without waiting for a response, he flip-flopped his way down a nearby corridor. The walls up here were filled with large, dark patches, probably from long-term water damage.
He stepped into a room halfway down the corridor and I followed him inside. When he closed the door behind me, I tried not to flinch. The room was empty except for a rusty bed frame and a defunct overhead light. The walls were covered in blue tiles, many of them cracked and chipped. It was hard to imagine that this was once a room where people were healed. It looked more like the setting of a horror movie.
"It appears that we have mutual friends," Vito said.
"Friends is a bit of a stretch," I replied.
"Be that as it may, I understand you are looking for something of value."
I nodded. "An heirloom that belongs to Jimmy O'Leary."
Vito looked at me expectantly. "Anything else?"
"I'm also investigating the recent murders."
He nodded solemnly. "The Nephilim."
"And others."
"And you think because organs were missing that we may have played a role in these murders." His tone was casual, as though I'd asked whether he'd attended last week's Phillies game.
"You tell me." I didn't like this room at all. I would have preferred this conversation take place downstairs in the lobby. Although there was nothing obvious here that could be used to hurt me, it gave off a bad vibe. Unpleasant things had happened here at one time and the residual negative energy remained.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. "You're on a fool's errand, Miss Winters. I don't have Jimmy's heirloom, and it's disrespectful to send you around asking his own people about it. That's no way to maintain relationships in the syndicate. Then again, Jimmy is destined for obscurity."
"But not you?"
He made a popping sound with his lips. "My position is very lucrative for the syndicate."
"Yet without O'Leary, nobody sees the fruits of your labor," I pointed out. Dirty money didn't launder itself.
"Money men like Jimmy are a dime a dozen," he scoffed. "Any ape can run a casino. What I do is more sophisticated. More sublime."
That statement told me everything I needed to know about Vito Nocita. He fancied himself so much more than your friendly neighborhood mobster. He was both a savvy businessman and an artist. This guy had ambition. It rolled off of him in waves.
"You butcher people who have little or no options," I said, trying to keep the bile from rising into my throat. "I don't call that sophisticated or sublime. I call that disgusting."
His expression hardened and the vein in his neck throbbed. I probably should have kept my feelings to myself, especially when I was alone in a room with a delusional maniac and no weapons in sight.
"Our surgeons do not butche
r anyone," he said in a clipped tone. Yep, I'd definitely insulted him. "Do we have the occasional death? I'm afraid that we do, but no more than a major hospital. I have someone who keeps track of our statistics."
"How efficient."
His brown eyes simmered with hatred. "In answer to your question, these murders have nothing to do with our business here. We are not foolish enough to slaughter the Nephilim or magicians for that matter. We have no desire to bring attention to our operation." No pun intended, surely.
I decided to ask my next question although I was pretty sure I already knew the answer. "Did you send Ifrits to the Willow Street Plant to kill me?"
He frowned. "We do not use djinn to clean up our messes. We humans are more than capable of taking care of our business without the need for supernatural interference."
"But you use magicians," I said. "How do you justify that?"
"I was unaware I had to justify anything to you," he said through gritted teeth. I had a feeling our little interview had reached its unsatisfying conclusion.
"Do you have any information that might help us find the murderer?" I asked. It was worth a shot, even if he was a huge prick with an ego to match.
"I have no interest in matters that don't impact my business," he said.
"Would it concern you if you ended up missing your heart? Or would it need to be a more vital organ to get your attention? I imagine you function quite well without a heart."
He pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered toward me slowly and deliberately, like a predator assessing its prey. "Miss Winters, you are fortunate that you are currently employed by one of our own. Otherwise, I would kill you right now. In fact, I'm still considering it."
He meant it, too. It seemed Vito had taken a dislike to me. Well, the feeling is mutual, pal.
I smiled, making sure to bare my teeth. "Relationships are all about timing, Vito. We'll get our chance someday. I promise."
I moved toward the door when he called to me. "I do hope you'll still be wearing your bracelets when the opportunity arises. I'd like to keep them as tokens of affection when I've cut off your hands."
My still-intact hand hovered over the doorknob. Rage rushed through me, but I knew I couldn't act. Not today.