Fire Water (Black Magic Outlaw Book 5)

by Domino Finn

  I quietly slipped past Sleeping Beauty and made my way back to the van.

  Chapter 8

  Darcy pulled her attention away from her cell phone. "That was fast."

  I climbed in and slid the door shut. "We need to get to Downtown Miami as soon as possible. There's a Taíno display at the History Museum that he's interested in."

  "Interested how?" she asked.

  "I don't know."

  She furrowed her brow. "Well, what does he want?"

  "I don't know," I said a bit more forcefully.

  She sighed loudly. My eyes flitted to Berna for sympathy but Berna was Berna. She didn't say a word. She just pulled onto the street and drove where she was supposed to go. I appreciated that much at least. We had a lot of ground to cover. This time she took us back to the mainland and merged onto I-95.

  "He was looking at Dr. Trinidad's notes," I said to myself.

  Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you going on about?" She was clearly annoyed by my lack of explanation so I made sure to act clearly annoyed by her lack of participation. Kids today. It was all results without wanting to do the work. My father used to say that all the time and I finally understood where he was coming from.

  I grumbled and decided there was no reason not to be straight with her. "This is about the Horn of Subjugation, right? I had a curator at the museum studying it for me."

  Darcy stared at me blankly for a moment. Then she shrugged and mumbled, "I don't get all the fuss over a stupid horn."

  I looked at her like she was crazy. And finally, for once, Berna agreed with me. It was just a quick exchange in the rearview mirror, but her eyes said it all.

  "You've been helping the Society chase this thing down and you don't even know what it is?" I asked.

  "Of course I know!" she said defiantly. "It has... necromantic powers."

  I took a long breath. "Darcy, you need to wrap your head around all of it. The whole thing. The Horn is a cage for a Spanish necromancer who died in the sixteenth century. He was overcome by the natives and trapped by Taíno spellcraft etched in gold. He's a powerful wraith now, and whoever holds the Horn commands the Spaniard. That means power over the dead. It means power over the living who converse with the dead. It means a bunch of things nobody even knows yet because the Spaniard isn't happy about freely giving away his power."

  The teenager took in the information with a grim face. "But he recovered it two months ago."

  "And he's been researching it. But he's not done. Winthrop said he was in Miami for a reason besides me. Well, this is it. The museum exhibit of a Taíno funeral."

  "More artifacts?"

  "Maybe," I said. "But I think it's more information. Answers he's been looking for."

  Berna surprised us by speaking up. "It's gonna take us half an hour to get there." Her voice was deep and sure. Something about it said she knew how important this was. It also said we wouldn't be fast enough.

  I paid her no mind. Whatever intricate plans Connor had lined up, I could skip them completely. All I needed to do was make a beeline for the jinn. It was like a car chase. The onus was on the driver scrambling to get away. He was the one that needed to choose the path, avoid traffic and obstacles, and push the limits to escape capture. All the police cruisers needed to do was keep up and trail along a path that was already blazed. Capture was almost inevitable.

  I pulled out my phone and considered calling to give Dr. Trinidad a head's up. It was a burner, though, and didn't have any numbers saved in it. I didn't remember her number by heart. Besides, there was nothing she could do to stop him. I could call the police but was afraid that would only get a bunch of people killed. And I definitely couldn't pull Evan into this. So I settled for silent anxiety. Amped to confront Connor Hatch on my terms. Nervous to see my old ally, the Spaniard.

  The drive took closer to forty minutes despite my attempts to get Berna to go faster. When she pulled alongside the wide plaza of red and white brick, I pulled the stolen gun from my jeans and checked the action.

  "What is that?" asked Berna.

  "Don't you watch action movies?"

  "You can't go in there with that," she said. "That's not the plan. You need to follow Connor. Find out what he knows."

  "First thing I need to do is stop him," I countered. "If that means killing him, all the better. I'll let Winthrop worry about the lost city of gold."

  Berna's eyes hardened. Darcy tensed.

  Then the unmistakable reports of gunfire erupted inside the museum. The front doors were kicked open by fleeing visitors.

  "Guess that settles it," I said. I jumped from the van and turned to Darcy. "You coming?"

  She froze mid breath and then looked away. "You know I can't."

  "You can do anything you want, kid."

  Instead of answering with words, she closed the door behind me. She didn't look happy about it but she wasn't helping.

  Fine with me. Since when did I need help anyway?

  I weaved through the panicking crowd and stormed into the open doors. Pistol shots echoed through the halls. It was impossible to determine where they came from. A terrified mother clutching her son darted around the corner toward me. The fear in her eyes was plain. I charged that way, running past permanent displays of transportation and farming in old Miami.

  I moved into a room with dark green and gray walls. I immediately knew I was in the right place. The sober color scheme was offset by dramatic lighting. A clean, polished floor was lined with rows of natural dirt and plant life. Symbols of Taíno worship lined reconstructed dioramas. Like the illustrations in Connor's book, real life mannequins in Taíno dress were set into scenes of the past.

  Another report pierced the emptying museum. A mercenary, like the one I'd caught sleeping, fired his pistol into the ceiling. He wasn't going for any kills, just scaring people away with a bullish grin on his face. When he saw me moving toward him with my gun, he rethought his strategy and trained his pistol on me.

  Before he could fire, I slid into the shadow. The mood lighting in the room ensured there was plenty to go around, so I disappeared into the floor and rematerialized a few yards to my right, behind a freestanding display of a funerary urn. I dipped into the ground and slid along the floor again as the mercenary frantically sprayed the area with lead. When I came up for air, my Uzi let loose. Pimples of blood burst across the man's body and he collapsed.

  Another mercenary fired at me before retreating down a back hall. That was the last of them. South American guns for hire. The Agua Fuego cartel. Connor was gone. I dashed forward, using the zigzagging wall as cover. A few of the display cases were shattered, whether from gunfire or blunt instruments. Loose artifacts were knocked over or dropped here and there but, again, I couldn't make a snap-second judgment as to their importance.

  At the next twist in the wall I caught sight of the cause of the gunfire. A security guard with an empty holster lay dead. His body was riddled with bullets from both sides. The poor guy never had a chance.

  I stomped past him to the main display. A diorama depicting several Taíno natives conducting a funeral rite. Beyond them was a cave-like recess. Hidden spotlights in the rock highlighted a large dip in the ground. It was empty.

  I moved to the edge of the room and took a calming breath. I didn't want to get my head blown off. I peeked around the corner the mercenary had disappeared around. The hallway was empty. I burst into a run and covered ground until the next intersection. This time when I peeked, I saw the back of the mercenary running away. He glanced at me over his shoulder and accidentally bowled over a woman hunched down in terror. His pistol slid free as he tumbled to the floor.

  I made a break for them but was too far away. The South American easily recovered. Instead of going for his gun, he whipped a knife from his ankle and hauled the horrified woman to her feet.

  "Put down the gun!" he screamed.

  My boots skidded on the tile. I didn't have a clean shot at him. Instead of stopping comp
letely, I settled into a slow approach.

  "Put it down," he repeated.

  I tossed the Uzi aside and continued walking toward him. "Now let the lady go free," I said. There were still ten yards between us.

  He backed her away confidently. Looked behind him, further down the hallway. No doubt Connor and the others were escaping right at this moment, but I couldn't do anything for that.

  "Let her go," I said. "She's not a part of this."

  "You're right," he said.

  Standing beside his pistol, he shoved her to the floor and reached for it. I thrust my hand forward and channeled Opiyel. The shadow surged through me. A tentacle reached up from the floor and snagged the man's ankle. Before he could grab the gun, it yanked him away. The mercenary slid toward me in shock. I dodged a wild slash of his knife before bringing my boot down. Two blows bounced his skull on the floor and he stopped moving.

  The lady screamed. I helped her up and she shook away from me. "Get out of here," I told her. "That way." She was scared of what was around the next corner but did as instructed. No doubt she was more scared of me.

  I backtracked, scooped up my automatic, and continued the chase, boots sliding on slick floors. I steadied myself against the wooden hull of a boat display and looped to a back hallway. Someone else was on the ground.

  No. Not someone. The Taíno body from the exhibit. It was hunched in a fetal position, knees to head. The mercs had lugged it this far but ditched it. They knew I was close.

  I sprinted past the remains. An emergency exit door was open, blinding sunlight screaming inside. I couldn't see anything but a rectangle of white. I slowed and squinted, not wanting to run headlong into a bullet. My eyes adjusted and I stepped out. A man yelling. A woman flailing her limbs in panic. Otherwise not much activity. Certainly no drug mercenaries.

  I stepped toward the plaza to check the street. Two police officers rounded the corner. I turned to the side to hide my Uzi. I stepped back into the doorway and tossed the piece.

  "Help!" I said. "They have guns!" I pointed into the museum.

  They flashed hardened glances within. Instead of moving past, one of them spun me around, checking me. I didn't have anything incriminating. The scorched jeans were a red flag but the orange T-shirt was more noticeable.

  More officers rounded the corner.

  "Go with them, sir," the first one told me. They forced me away from the building. A police officer from the new team escorted me to the street while the others headed inside. I scanned the block but saw no sign of Agua Fuego. I bitterly complied as the police rounded me up with two other museum-goers. Apparently, they weren't letting us leave.

  Chapter 9

  The city police were careful. They cleared the museum with squad tactics, moving in before the SWAT team arrived. Evan had told me they had new procedures in light of recent publicized school shootings. Breaching quickly didn't allow suspects to hunker down.

  Unfortunately, there were no suspects to speak of. Connor and his men were long gone, and the police had only served to interfere with my chase. Even worse, they were holding anyone they'd caught on the grounds. At best we were witnesses. At worst, suspects. They made us sit in a roped-off section of the open plaza, surrounded by men. No one told us what was going on, but I heard the word hostage thrown around.

  I was gonna complain but bit my lip when police escorted the woman I had saved outside. I turned away and snapped my head down. She was the only one who had seen me with a gun. If she mentioned what happened, I'd be taken into custody.

  I considered calling Evan. He was a police lieutenant. This was a jam he could get me out of. But I was concerned about getting him involved. Here I was, directly on Connor's trail. That was forbidden ground for Evan. He couldn't join the hunt without opening himself up as a target to the jinn. And I'd sacrificed so much to get him that protection. I wasn't gonna give that up.

  The wait dragged on for a couple hours. We were hastily interviewed several times. Name, business, stuff like that. I didn't have ID and I wasn't exactly legally alive anymore, but luckily it didn't get to that. The woman I'd rescued locked eyes with me but saw me loudly protesting any involvement and kept quiet about me. I thanked her with a nod.

  The police slowly and carefully came to realize what I'd concluded as soon as I saw them: the heist was over. I began counting the minutes till they let us go. Still, things moved slower than I anticipated.

  Then I saw Dr. Trinidad with the police. Dark-skinned, hair wrapped in a bun—she appeared more concerned than shaken up by the whole affair, like a seasoned professional wanting to fix bad news rather than pout about it. Impressive temperament for a museum curator.

  "Doctor," I called. I stepped against the cordoned police tape and waved. "Dr. Trinidad."

  She turned and studied me quizzically. Despite our mutual research into the Horn, it had been a while since we'd spoken. A thief had tried to get to me through her and the doctor experienced a brush with the supernatural. I laid off after that, but maybe she finally understood the stakes.

  "Sit back down," said one of the cops watching the crowd.

  "He's with me," said Dr. Trinidad, breaking away from the officers. "He's my friend."

  The cop turned to the officer she was talking to and he shrugged. They let me out. The doctor and I strolled down the sidewalk for some privacy. We approached the museum but didn't enter.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "Don't you know?" Her mauve lashes blinked expectantly at me. Of course she knew I was involved.

  "All I know is someone wanted the Taíno exhibit. I came here to stop him." I bit down. "I was too late."

  "Who killed that man inside?"

  "The security guard? They did. He must've tried to stop them."

  "I mean the dead gunman," she said tersely.

  "Only one of them's dead?" I shrugged. "Look, I just defended myself." I glanced inside the open back door and saw the curled up Taíno body. "It doesn't make sense. I thought they were here to steal something."

  "They did," said the doctor. "A Taíno holy item. A zemi. A dog statue of—"

  "Opiyelguobiran." I pressed my fingers to my temples.

  "You know the one?"

  "Intimately. Opiyel's not the main god of the dead, but he serves as a guide to spirits on their final journey. Is that all he stole?"

  "It appears that way." Dr. Trinidad crossed her arms. Her expression was pleasantly surprised but her body language was demanding. "Why would somebody do that?"

  I stared at the dog collar on my wrist. Opiyel was my patron. That didn't prevent others from tapping his power if the parties were so inclined. But I didn't see what that gained them. Besides, merely swiping an object of reverence isn't enough to channel spirits. It didn't work like that.

  "I don't know," I finally answered. "It initially seemed like he wanted the Taíno body. Remains of the dead. That kind of thing has sacramental significance." I noticed the curious look she was giving me. "Theoretically," I added.

  She pursed her lips and turned to the body. "That might explain why they took Dr. Gaines."

  I remembered what I had overheard the police say. "So they have a hostage?"

  "No," she answered grimly. "The police found his body a block away." She paused a moment, revealing a flash of anger and something else. Pain. "Dr. Gaines was on the floor when the gunfire started. We thought he just got caught up in it, but no one else was taken."

  "Why would they do it?"

  "Because of what he knows," she said. "If what they want is the body of a genuine native Taíno, then what was on display wouldn't work for them."

  I again looked at the funeral body in a fetal position. "Why not?"

  "Because that one's a fake. Most of the artifacts we display are real, of course, but the funeral exhibit is in open air. It feels more immersive but it exposes the relics to damage. We couldn't take a risk with the preserved bodies."

  I licked my lips. "The real bodies are somewhere else."<
br />
  She nodded. "Three of them. In our archives. It's an offsite facility; part warehouse, part examination room."

  "And Dr. Gaines knew about that location."

  She nodded.

  "Shit," I said. "I need that address now."

  Dr. Trinidad didn't argue. She didn't question my motives or whether the police needed to be involved. Something about the growing mystique over Taíno artifacts had won her over. Despite not having seen direct evidence of spellcraft, she was a student of history. Her reverence and respect for the subject told me all I needed to know. She gave me the address.

  "Dr. Gaines was a friend," she said. "He didn't deserve this."

  She stopped short of saying anything else. I knew what she wanted. It was the same thing I did. Revenge. I thought it best not to mix her up in the details, though. The problem with revenge is it cuts both ways. They say to serve it cold but that just means it boils in your heart for longer. I didn't want that for her. I thanked her for the help and walked around to the front of the plaza.

  With the increased police presence and the incoming reporters, the orange VW was gone. I hit the sidewalk and checked up and down the busy downtown street. There it was, two blocks up. Pretty much nothing more than a limo service. I crossed the street and headed over.

  Someone else crossed the street too. A young Cuban kid with wavy hair. He was between me and the van. Didn't even try to hide the fact that he was clocking me.

  I kept the same pace, boots calmly rapping the cement like nothing was up. I casually glanced behind as I passed the last cross street before the van. No one on my tail.

  I stepped onto the curb, fifty feet from the approaching kid. He was maybe twenty. Scrawny but lean, like a scrapper. Bathed in the storefront shadows, I hardened a mass of darkness over my fist. Forty feet to go.

  Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Thirty feet. The kid didn't change course. It would be a simple matter to swat him down and sprint for the van.