by Andy Hyland
‘Yes,’ he said, smiling.
‘And she’s alive?’ It wouldn’t be the first time a demon had sold someone a corpse.
‘As of two hours ago, she was alive. At present?’ He shrugged. ‘But her chances don’t improve with you delaying things.’
‘Fine.’ I let him have the dagger. In turn, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a tattered fragment of manuscript, carefully folded. He placed it on the table. I stared at him as I picked it up. ‘If this isn’t what you say it is…’
‘It is exactly as we have agreed. The information, for the knife, freely given and freely accepted.’
‘It it’s not, we’ll find you.’
Eliajel pulled up the hood of his cloak and turned to leave. ‘You won’t, but it won’t be necessary anyway. You’ll find her there. Farewell.’
I unfolded the parchment, raised my eyebrows, and passed it to Zack.
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Makes sense, I suppose. Could well be. You head straight there. I’ll go get us some kit.’
Chapter ten
We settled the tab with Benny and slid out of the Fades without any problems. Zack headed off to his workshop to grab whatever he’d decided was going to help us out. He got new toys in all the time, and was usually happy with any opportunity that came along to try them out.
The rest of us trudged our way south a few blocks to where we could grab a cab. Not many people were around. The wind whipped around us and steam rose out of the grates. I normally loved nights like this, but tonight there was too much going down to relax and enjoy it.
‘It’s late,’ said Arabella. ‘Later than it should be. We weren’t that long at Benny’s, were we?’
‘Speak for yourself,’ said Becky. ‘But you’re probably right. Still, what does that mean?’ She had a point – the Fades was as fluid in how it connected temporally to our plain as it was with its geography. No biggie, as someone far more hip than me would probably say. Still, the two of them usually pounced on any opportunity for an argument. I hoped Zack got back soon.
‘Excuse me, may I have your attention?’ said someone behind us. Male, about five meters back. Confident. More than one person walking, hard shoes. I’d got all this before I spun round. Becky moved forward a couple of steps, covering the two of us and playing the hero. Not that I’m complaining – she’d do a damn better job than me.
Three guys. Two hanging back. All in expensive suits and long dark coats that put mine to shame. Dark glasses, at night. The guy in front had his hands out, in an ‘I come in peace’ type of way. Like having nothing in your hands makes you unarmed. Not in our world it doesn’t.
‘Please, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Clearly he did mean to, and he knew that we knew. It was all one big game from here on in.
‘Human,’ said Arabella quietly. ‘All of them. With something…odd…can’t place it.’
‘Yeah, we’re getting a lot of that lately. I’ll take point.’ I stepped past them and stopped a couple of meters from the guy, uncomfortably aware that I was having to look up at him. ‘Let me guess. You’re from Carafax?’
He smiled. ‘We certainly are. Here, my card.’ He held out a replica of the one I’d found in the gutter outside the Empire State Building.
‘I’ll pass, thank you. Don’t,’ I added to Arabella who was stretching past me to grab it.
‘As you wish,’ said the guy with a knowing smile. He put it back in a leather card holder and tucked it away in his jacket. ‘Merely a test, to make sure you’re who I think you are. I’m not here to fight, by the way, and I’d advise you to take the same approach.’
‘You may be big, sonny, but I could take all three of you and not bat an eyelid.’ Becky was getting riled, but if they were here to talk, then that was fine by me.
‘So what are you here for?’ I asked.
The guy took off his shades, getting all serious. ‘An associate of ours lost something at your apartment. A family heirloom. Sentimental value.’
‘Nice handle, cuts like a bitch,’ I suggested.
‘Indeed. Now, to show that in our opinion all this unpleasantness is now behind us, and that we hope not to cross paths again, we suggest a trade. Or rather, our associate does – we’re simply the messengers you understand.’
‘Naturally.’
‘You hand over the knife. At a time and location that you specify. We’re flexible. And you stay silent and leave us well alone.’
‘And in return?’
‘Your friend Melanie Carter. Alive. Somewhat worse for wear, perhaps, but nothing that won’t pass.’ He saw my fist clench. ‘Seriously, Mr English. It’s nothing. And I wasn’t involved, so choosing to go down that road won’t accomplish anything.’
I forced myself to relax and quickly ran through things in my head. ‘We don’t have it on us.’
‘I didn’t expect you would.’
‘So how do we contact you?’
He beckoned to one of the other guys, who stepped forward and handed him another card, which he took and held out to me. ‘This one is more than safe. It’s a number, that’s all. I have nothing to gain from any other play at this point.’
I reached forward gingerly, stretching out and finding nothing alarming. Nothing bad happened as I snatched it, but it took all I had not to flinch.
‘We will expect your call by, shall we say, nine? AM, obviously. We would prefer to get this matter settled as soon as possible. It would be better for everybody involved that way, I think.’
‘One question before you go,’ I said. ‘Carafax. What is it? Some shady occult gang headed into town recently?’
The guy looked amused. ‘Really, these rumors. It’s a gentleman’s club, a small society with a limited membership. Nothing more.’ With a nod and a smile, he turned on his heels and walked off, the other two following his lead a moment later. We watched them until they turned out of sight.
‘Any thoughts?’ asked Arabella.
‘Bugger,’ I said. ‘Mainly, my thoughts are just: bugger.’
‘We’ve gone and made this a lot more difficult than it needed to be,’ Becky chipped in, apparently feeling the need to state the obvious.
‘Assuming they’re telling the truth,’ I countered.
‘I’m pretty sure they were,’ nodded Arabella, who nine times out of ten is right about these things. ‘About the trade and Melanie, anyway. Clearly lying about Carafax.’ Arabella’s the closest thing to a human lie detector I’ve ever seen. Better than any CIA suit with their wires and sharp eyes.
‘Damn it,’ Becky muttered. ‘What are the chances of us finding Eliajel, do you think?’
‘Somewhere between slim and none,’ I offered.
‘Well, I’m going to try anyway. See if Benny can point me in the right direction. Got to be worth a go. You two head over and meet up with Zack. See what you can find out.’
‘Want me to go with you?’ Arabella offered.
‘Thanks,’ said Becky, ‘but it’s probably a waste of time. Let’s throw our resources at the more likely outcome. I’ll check in with you later.’ She checked around, headed towards the nearest closed office door, and slid.
Two blocks down, Arabella waved down a cab and we headed over to the west side of Manhattan, where piers jutted out at regular intervals towards New Jersey. Some of the piers along this stretch had been turned into parkland, all scenic and picturesque. There was even a driving range. But we didn’t get to go to any of the nice places. Our target was a half-constructed apartment complex, slightly inland but overlooking the river. The upper stories were still empty and unfinished apart from the basic framework. The first and second floors were complete, at least on the outside. No lights anywhere.
‘She’s in there,’ said Zack, pointing. ‘Got to be in there. Assuming the information we’ve got is legit.’
We were three storeys up, lying on the deserted floor of an office block that was being gutted and refurbished. Thirty dollars had paid off the lone security guy down by the
front door, along with a promise that no trace of our presence would be found by his employers come morning. We were happy to oblige.
Have to admit, I was expecting something a bit more impressive. Or at least interesting. Overall, it didn’t give the impression of being a secure fortress. Still, appearances can be deceptive, you know.
‘Looks empty to me,’ said Arabella, leaning forward and squinting.
‘You’d think so, but try these,’ said Zack, handing her a rectangular, bulky block that turned out on closer examination to be a pair of binoculars. ‘Night vision and thermal,’ he added, indicating a switch to the side. ‘Just flick here.’
‘Ah, see what you mean,’ she said after looking through them for a while.
‘May I?’ She handed them over and I took a look for myself. Oh, they were good – the binoculars and the men. Invisible to the naked eye in the moonless night, but clearly defined in the green of the night vision sensors, there were actually seven figures dotted around the site, perfectly still and clearly alert. They were all packing guns. No idea what kind they were – not my area. They all fire bullets out of the long bit at the front, and you really need to avoid getting hit by them. Besides that, what’s there to know?
‘Go thermal,’ Arabella suggested. ‘That’s where it gets interesting.’
I flicked the switch, and the scene lit up. White heat came from the gunmen, but this was nothing compared to the blaze coming from the building itself. ‘Bloody hell, is it on fire?’
‘That was my first thought,’ Zack admitted, ‘but it’s too focussed, too specific. But something in there is hot hot hot. Or, severely magical. I’ve seen demons give off infrared like you wouldn’t believe, but be cold as ice.’
‘You mean you could use these things to identify hellkind?’ Interesting. Two more fingers up at the laws of physics. I handed him back the binoculars. ‘Frankly, I don’t like our chances. But on the other hand, Becky’s not going to find Eliajel in a hurry either. So what do you think?’
‘I have an idea,’ Zack said slowly.
‘Spill it,’ Arabella demanded. ‘Don’t get all mysterious on us.’
‘Let me check it out first. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.’ He checked his watch. ‘Anyway, we’ve got less than an hour to first light. If we stand any chance at all of getting in there, it’s going to have to be at night.’
‘No arguments there,’ I agreed. ‘So what do you say, back here at dusk? Or do you need me for anything?’
‘No you’re both clear,’ Zack said. ‘The people I need to speak to will only deal with me anyway. They’re kind of suspicious about anyone new. Can’t argue with that – it’s kept them alive so far.’
‘Fair enough,’ I said, standing up and stretching. ‘I’m sure I can find something to keep me occupied.’
‘Sleep,’ Arabella said numbly. ‘Need some sleep. See you tonight.’
It was, if I’m honest, not completely by accident that my route home took me past the Outworld Emporium. They had some great merchandise on display in the window, and I wasn’t tired enough to crash yet. I turned the corner happily enough, only to duck back out of sight when I saw the cop cars, blue lights blazing in the dawn light. ‘Easy,’ I whispered to myself. Of all the people I needed to avoid at the moment, the police weren’t on the list. Yet. Hopefully.
I walked back around as nonchalantly as I could, only to grow more anxious as I realized that the cars and at least six officers were all located around the Emporium. A stroll become a stride became a jog. Another officer left the front door, followed closely by Julie.
‘Hey!’ They all turned towards my shout. Julie saw me, and her face crumpled. We collided in a hug and I felt her shaking against me. ‘Bloody hell.’ The shop was a wreck. Someone had taken time to make sure that every window – every window, was smashed. Inside, the shelves were empty, the stock everywhere.
‘Look what they did!’ Julie sobbed. ‘Look what they did to my shop – it’s ruined.’
‘Come on,’ I said, ‘it’s not that bad. I mean, okay, it’s bad, but I’ve woken up after a poker night to find my apartment looking worse than that. What did they take?’
‘Only the cash, we think. Four, five hundred dollars. The banks are closed when we shut up – obviously – and I don’t carry the money home, and I know I should have had a safe, but-’
‘Calm down, it’s okay,’ I said. ‘Mind if I take a look?’
‘Sure, if you want. The police have finished, they said. I’m waiting on someone to board up the windows. Think we might end up having a day off.’
Inside it was a mess, but the wrong kind of mess. This wasn’t a robbery – there was some pretty valuable stuff getting trodden underfoot. And it wasn’t petty vandalism. Whoever did this had been systematic. I could almost picture them going along shelf by shelf, stack by stack, and turning the place over. This wasn’t a robbery, but it was meant to look like one, and had been carried out by people without flair or imagination. I bent down and inspected some dust covering a few Batman comics. Plaster. Or brick. Something like that. So either the intruders had trodden it in here, or…I looked around. No damage to the structure or units. This didn’t add up.
‘Excuse me,’ I called out to a copy circling the sidewalk outside. ‘Have you checked the CCTV yet?’
She looked at me like I was gum on her shoe. ‘Not yet, sir. We’ve requested it, but these things take time, you understand.’
‘Oh, I understand,’ I said to myself. The CCTV would show nothing. If, indeed, it ever turned up. I looked up at Julie as she walked round the place, picking up items here and there, putting them back on shelves. I couldn’t help but feel that I’d dragged her into something she didn’t deserve.
A van pulled up outside five minutes later, as the cops drove off, and two guys started picking up the glass and boarding the front of the shop. ‘New panes’ll be here by lunch,’ one of them told her, as we left. ‘Boss’ll give you a call when it’s all done.’
‘You’re not sticking around?’ I asked her.
She shook her head. ‘No. Ron’s going to get the guys in a bit later and start putting it back together. I’ve got some of the rarer stuff boxed up out back. Can you help me get it back to my place?’
This was new territory. We’d hung around parks and gone for meals and drinks and caught a few films, but this was now personal space we were talking about. Look, I know it wasn’t under the best of circumstances, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t progress. Well, that’s my thinking on it, anyway. We grabbed a box each from out back and caught a cab. Julie leant in the driver’s window and gave the address before joining me in the back. She looked uncomfortable all of a sudden.
‘What’s up?’ I asked.
‘Okay, I don’t know how this is going to come across, but I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about me. We can’t help our families right? And my Dad’s been a bit overprotective since Mom died.’
‘Look, I know he helps you with the rent,’ I reassured her. ‘This is an expensive place. You’re starting a business with a real future. It doesn’t matter if you get a bit of help while you build things up. If I had someone offering to give me a leg up every now and then, I’d take it.’
‘That’s really kind of you to say, but this is a bit…much, and I wanted to warn you.’
‘Warning taken, but not needed,’ I told her. Actually, when the cab pulled up outside 300 Central Park West, I was pretty glad she’d given me the heads-up. The massive art deco building with its two towers rising above us was more than impressive. It’s the sort of building you might walk by and wonder about, but never think you’ll end up going into.
‘Morning, Miss Fairchild. Sorry to hear about the problem you’ve been having,’ said a doorman in a smart green uniform, with cap and long coat, as we walked into the lobby. Glass tables with green lamps straight out of the twenties stood on either side, while bold lines ran along the impeccably clean tiled floor and walls.<
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‘Hi Greg,’ said Julie, smiling warmly. ‘Pain in the neck, but no harm done, you know? I don’t know why people would want to do that.’
‘There’s all sorts in this world, Miss, I’m afraid,’ he said, looking me up and down and frowning slightly. I smiled back and nodded. If he was one more person looking out for Julie, then he was okay by me.
The elevator, with its wonderfully ornate door, took us up to the fifth floor. ‘You ever played Bioshock?’ she asked as we ascended. I shook my head. ‘Shame. You’d like it. Reminds me a lot of living here – the whole style of it. Okay, this is it,’ Julie said, as she led me to the door of her apartment. ‘Don’t freak, okay?’
‘I’ll try,’ I said, which under the circumstances was the strongest guarantee that I could provide.
‘Come on in, then. This is home.’
The place was about four or five times the floorspace of my own apartment, as a rough guess. Four bedrooms. Bold but understated décor – browns and greens that went ideally with the overall feel of the building. Look, I’m not an interior designer, but even I could tell that this had been done by someone with both money and taste. It wasn’t Trump tower, you know what I mean?
Sofas were dotted around with patterned cushions and covers. Bookshelves covered one wall, with a solitary stiff-backed chair in the corner. ‘That’s Dad’s chair,’ Julie said, pointing it out. ‘He says the sofas aren’t any good for reading on. Prefers being uncomfortably upright.’
‘Does he come round much?’
‘Usually for dinner on Thursdays. His work has always been pretty intense, so he started this father-daughter date night stuff when I was still a teenager. He makes the effort, you know? Without that, I would have been another one of those lonely rich girls growing up and crashing off the rails. You see it all the time round here. A lot. Speaking of money, you’re…not going to weird out on me about all of this are you?’
I owed her an honest answer. ‘I’m not freaked out. It’s amazing, and admittedly overwhelming, but no, I’m not freaked. Just a bit surprised that it’s come out of the blue like this. When were you going to tell me?’