The Art of Madness

by A. J. Mayall

  “Yes, you are.”

  Dorian hovered there, seeing the rage in the detective, the power behind his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he had entered a predator’s den and angered the beast. McGee was playing with him, and the game hurt. The broken bones, the helplessness, everything was done within the known limits of injuring a lycanthrope, and he made sure he had.

  “You’re going to forgive this, Officer, or I’ll leave you here, trapped in this moment. It’ll take only a second or two for the rest of the world and you’ll be dust.”

  Dorian weakly nodded, halfway to his fully shifted form, bellowing as his pelvis readjusted, his abdominal muscles pulling up tight and resetting distended organs. Phoenix did not budge as he watched.

  “You win…okay? I said you fucking win!”

  “Good. You will call the two families. We will have a meeting, and you will not warn them in any way about what’s coming.”

  Dorian nodded, his body sending spikes of pain as muscle and sinew grafted itself back together, the large beast hanging in the air. To the two of them, ten minutes passed before Phoenix was satisfied with the regeneration of the officer and time soon adjusted them back into the correct flow speed.

  Everyone’s reactions slowly morphed from their frozen expressions into gradual looks of horror and concern. As Dorian fell to the ground mostly healed, albeit bruised, they looked to the detective and his associate behind the desk. The Pack backed up, Phoenix closing his eyes and the blue-white lighting emanating from him faded, along with his anger.

  Dorian waved the other officers off. “Don’t call it in! Just let this go; we got work to do.”

  They nodded and came forward to assist their Beta up, helping his hobbling form to the van. Jack remained behind, staring nervously at Phoenix. Suzette put a hand on the blond’s shoulder.

  “I think you better go.”

  “He can stay, Suzette.” Phoenix exhaled as he tried to keep his temper down. “He’s one of the good ones, right?”

  Suzette nodded quickly, keeping an eye on her boss. It had been two years since she saw him cut loose with his power like that, not since Basseri. She eyed the clipping on the wall, a trophy of Phoenix’s victory over the criminal, even if it was an empty one. Wheels turned in her head as she looked to Jack, who moved beside her and offered a neck rub. As averse as she was to physical contact when she was angry, she did her best to push the anger aside and relax. She closed her eyes and arched her back, letting him release the tensions of the past few hours, and then felt cold on her neck. Instinctively, she sat up and felt over her neck and down the front of her chest.

  “More silver jewelry?” she muttered with a laugh.

  Jack said, “Was going to give it to you tonight, but you could use something good right now.”

  Phoenix watched the two of them and headed back into the back room to his whiteboard. He had seen how Suzette reacted to seeing the clipping on the wall, and he wanted to see if he could figure out what it all meant. Was this Basseri, finally creeping out of the shadows? The detective went to an unused section of floor to ceiling whiteboard, and grabbed a dry erase marker and wrote “BASTARD” in the middle, circling it thrice for good measure. He wrote the names of the Bentons, of Mr. Tanaka, of Emma and Caroline O’Halloran, and, for good measure, Bennington. He’d had a history of trying to upset the underworld of Rouge Mal to plan a takeover before, but after being released on technicalities, he’d simply disappeared. Two years is a long time to institute a plan B, but to what end?

  Suzette poked her head in, then walked up to Phoenix, placing a hand on his shoulder, tugging on the trench coat.

  “Take that off or you’ll overheat.”

  He looked down at his arms and chest, realizing for the first time that he was still wearing it. He relaxed and slumped forward, letting his secretary help him out of the coat. The door opening and closing made Phoenix jerk to attention.

  Suzette placed a hand at his chest. “Red, chill; I sent Jack out to get some slawdogs for you. I know the rules, grease calms you down.”

  Phoenix closed his eyes, releasing the built-up tension in his body, the lights fluttering brighter for a moment. He looked at the names on the list, making connections to Joel, Caroline, and Emma to Basseri, and a series of question marks after Bennington.

  “You think the two are directly involved?”

  “He was investigating Prescott.” He said as he drew a line from Bennington to the Bentons, and from the Bentons to Emma. On the line between the latter, he scrawled “Donatello”.

  “What does Basseri gain? If he’s involved, you know it’d be more than a few kidnappings.”

  “The Bastard is about chaos. He’s getting people to do his dirty work for him, keeps his hands clean. He’s not going to be as all-encompassing this time; he’s doing this like a surgeon. The exact people taken out of the equation needed to get his ends.”

  “Bennington?”

  “That’s where I need to look, after I talk with Bellacino and O’Halloran. Get them to stop killing each other and keep an ear out for the Bastard.”

  “How are you going to convince them? You tried being nice.”

  “Same way I convinced Dorian.”

  Suzette backed away from her boss, shaking her head. “Are you sure? These aren’t the kind of people you can just push around; they’ll push back, and they could push back at me, my family.”

  “They won’t,” Phoenix said, staring at the wall, the lights brightening again for a moment.

  “Oh, and what are you going to do to stop them, huh? You can’t protect us 24/7. You can’t protect you 24/7 even when you try,”

  “They threaten me, I’ll do what I did to Dorian and worse.”

  Suzette stepped back. “What the hell happened to you in the Cloister? This isn’t like you, you don’t cut loose. You don’t get violent unless it’s a last resort.”

  “I’m out of options, Suzette. These people, they’ve already got a pile of bodies because I wanted to play nice. I met someone new, someone my old mentor didn’t want me to know about, someone who told me to get off my ass and fix this instead of puttering around. So, you know what, if you got a better option, lay it on me because I’m tired, Suzette. I’m tired of being walked on, and I’m tired of worrying if I’m going to hurt someone every time I sneeze. I’m cutting loose and if you don’t want to be around me, you can follow Jack right out the door.”

  Suzette narrowed her eyes and turned, storming out the door and slamming it behind her. Phoenix went to his room; the day weighed heavy on him and he wanted a shower before he confronted the families of Rouge Mal. He closed the door behind him and stripped off his shirt when he heard the front door burst open; the sound of feet rushing upstairs took him by surprise. He focused his will when the door flew open and slammed into his forehead, sending him onto the floor. The lights grew brighter for a moment as the gathered energy released back as if whiplashed.

  “Jack would likely fuck up your order, McGee. What do you want us to do?”

  Suzette smirked and loomed over him, tossing a paper bag full of slawdogs on his chest, Jack coming up behind her.

  CHAPTER 17

  Three hours had passed since Dorian and The Pack had left before Jack received a text.

  En route, have Red Riding Hood ready.

  “They’re coming.”

  Phoenix twisted his neck to the side until a few deep, meaty pops were heard in the room, turning it the other direction for a trio to follow. He then silently walked out and waited for the black van to come.

  The minutes seemed like hours to Suzette who watched Phoenix on the stoop of their building, the silent sentinel awaiting his war chariot. When the van finally arrived, Dorian was nowhere to be seen; only Lee and MacKenzie were visible. The detective watched as MacKenzie stepped from the passenger side, giving Phoenix the shotgun seat, before hopping in the unoccupied back.

  The van screeched as it took off, Jack and Suzette taking a moment to br
eathe before beginning the process of securing the various entry points into the building. If things were about to go bad, it had been decided preparing for the worst would be for the best. It took them almost a half hour to secure every window, and move the various FogDrives to Phoenix’s bedroom, putting dummies in their place.

  “If someone tries to come into his room, he’ll know?”

  “Yeah, it’s like a spider’s web. A fly comes too close to it unwelcome, he just…knows. I’ve seen him remotely fuck up someone who tried to break in.”

  “Who?”

  “Empty.”

  Empty was Rouge Mal’s most wanted criminal; career serial killer, little to nothing known about the killer. It wasn’t even known if Empty was male or female. If it hadn’t been for the killer taking credit for various unconnected crimes, many of the random acts of violence in the metropolis would have been left at that, horrible and random acts of cruelty.

  “He survived Empty?” The few who survived an encounter with the killer had made their statements in the past; it was required reading for the RMPD. “Well, obviously, but…”

  “Let’s not talk about it; according to Phoenix, he’s run into Empty twice. I was there for one of them and I would rather not discuss it.”

  Jack nodded, seeing a look of faded terror cross Suzette’s face. “You can talk to me.”

  “I know that, and I don’t want to. Not about that. Not yet.” She straightened up, Jack knowing he’d touched a bad subject with her. “Okay, that should be everything,” she said, watching Jack stuff the last of the FogDrives under Phoenix’s bed, “and whatever you do, don’t touch the raccoon.”

  The ride was uneventful, save for a windshield full of mosquitos, but tension hung in the air. MacKenzie kept a close eye on Phoenix as Lee headed to the desert outskirts.

  “I remember you,” Phoenix said, breaking the still silence. “Rooftop. You took a swing at me.”

  “I had three separated ribs.”

  “Took you fifteen minutes to heal, shut up.” He paused and thumbed back at MacKenzie. “What’s your deal?”

  MacKenzie growled under his breath, “Brains.”

  “I thought The Pack were werewolves, not zombies.”

  “I mean, I’m the smarts, I got at least 40 IQ points on the rest of these guys.”

  McGee smirked. “Gym never took, though. Gotta suck, mentally running circles around guys who order you around?”

  “I like my job.”

  “Not your position, though. I saw you and Margaret on camera, bud. I also saw you getting shoved aside 4 times before being granted a turn.”

  “Shut up.”

  Jackpot. Hit the pressure point.

  “All those brains and Pack mentality. That has to suck.”

  “I said shut up!”

  Phoenix looked at Lee. “I bet he was happy when Jack came around, new whipping boy. Seems to be earning his keep, though.” The detective looked to MacKenzie. “I bet you’d have made full-on detective if not for your Pack status. Bet you solve the real problems and Dorian and what’s your Alpha’s name again…?”

  “Sam. Sam Maxwell,” MacKenzie growled.

  “That’s right. I mean, it’s all a group effort and it’s not like you can really stand up to them.”

  Lee gave Phoenix a grin and slugged him in the arm, MacKenzie turning beet red from the abuse. Upon seeing this, the smaller man looked to the driver. “You’re enabling him?!”

  “Shut it, MacKenzie. Remember your place.”

  Stuart MacKenzie seethed, repeatedly punching the wall of the van, his inner rage boiling under the surface. Phoenix made a mental note of this, the structural weakness in the diamond that was The Pack; the former Omega worried about resuming his lower status.

  Smirking, Phoenix addressed Lee. “I think he knows his place, Officer. Now, how much longer ‘til we reach the meeting place? I seriously don’t see why I couldn’t have flown.”

  “Keep your pants on. We’ll be there soon enough.”

  The glow of twelve monitors bathed the room in teal, displaying the analysis of the data of interest. Instability in the police force and a breakdown of the structure of the local underworld provided the perfect environment for these abductions.

  Dominic Basseri turned off the monitors, one by one, and opened the case of a burner phone, one of many in a stack he kept nearby. He had the activation process down to a science. He dialed a number and a gruff voice picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Maxwell, I’d like to discuss how we move forward. Is your Pack available to meet?”

  “No, not seen much of them; Dorian’s taking the lead with the families, giving me space for an alibi.”

  “Your idea or his?”

  “His, actually.”

  “Smart man; I hope you can trust him.”

  “He’s arranging for a meeting right now, and your favorite private eye is in the mix.”

  “Dinner and a show, then?”

  “Looks that way.”

  Basseri checked his watch; he had a schedule to keep, to maintain his public façade.

  “Everything else going well?”

  “No different than the last time you called. When are you going to release them?”

  “Release who? I haven’t kidnapped anyone,” Basseri chuckled.

  “Ah. Gotcha. I’ll get back to my gardening.”

  “You do that. I’ll call you later.”

  He turned his attention to the locked door, leading to the forgotten subbasement of the apartment building he was supposed to be living in. He had to give Maxwell some credit; although the lycanthrope was utterly under his thumb, now and then, he showed he was either far too casual or far too good of an officer. Even if it was meant in jest, he’d never admit to the kidnappings. He was supposed to be average, with the same knowledge everyone else in the damn city had. It was then he decided Maxwell may have to take a fall.

  The van pulled into a back alley in the Asylum. Tall brownstones and renovated warehouses had been adapted into cheap lofts. MacKenzie threw open the side of the van, hopping out, trying his best to calm down after Lee and Phoenix spent a good chunk of time tormenting him. The officers pointed toward a darkened stoop, where a door opened, revealing Dorian inside.

  “Get your ass in here. They’re waiting for you.”

  “You tell them what’s coming?”

  Dorian met Phoenix’s gaze, narrowing his eyes, seeing the detective’s rage now cooled, still a dangerous edge that would slice a man to ribbons, but not cauterize the wounds. He flinched and turned his gaze away.

  “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “Good.”

  Phoenix McGee walked through the door, his jacket lifting and billowing out behind him both from a cross breeze and the briskness of his step. His eyes for a moment were incandescent, a smirk on his lips as he passed the large Beta male. He stepped into the safe house, cracking his knuckles and taking in his surroundings. There were a few open rooms, likely what used to be a waiting room and a secretarial office, with a long hallway. Everything seemed barren where he was, so he extended his senses down the hallway, reaching out with his inner will as well as his hand, light emerging from the air around it.

  A force knocked Dorian back, flinging him out into the alley. Lee and MacKenzie fell away from the door as it slammed shut. Dorian collapsed at the foot of the stoop, watching the van fall back to all four tires; the force of whatever the redhead did knocked it onto two.

  Phoenix twisted his wrist and the assorted chairs flexed past him haphazardly and piled in from of the now-closed door, barring entry to the officers. He closed his eyes and suppressed his power, tugging his jacket’s collar up and gently walked to the door, knocking three times.

  “It’s Mr. Quick…”

  “Get your ass in here, McGee.” O’Halloran shouted.

  “As you wish…”

  Suzette locked the doors to McGee Investigations, Jack in tow behind her as she climbed onto the back o
f her scooter. After she put her helmet on, she pressed her body back at Jack’s, feeling his arms engulf her. She knew it was for his own safety, but it did feel nice.

  “Are you ready for this, Jack? You know what’s at stake more than me.”

  He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her scent.

  “Your boss is right, this whole situation has gotten out of hand, but we have no evidence. At least, nothing they won’t have an alibi for.”

  “Could Basseri have a grip on your whole Pack?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him; I know Maxwell was on the take at some point in the past, but no one knew who paid him.”

  He rested against her as she revved the engine, driving to the Canyon District.

  “Is there a reason we’re staying at your grandmother’s hotel?”

  “Yep.”

  “You going to tell me why?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay.”

  After a few minutes of the main roads of Rouge Mal, she took a left onto the interstate toward the Chester Building.

  Jack closed his eyes as her hair whipped into and past his face, his senses stinging and swimming in her. He was tempted to shift into his lycanthropic form from the sensory overload. The speed, the rush, it all called to him on a primal level. He held onto her as they sped between cars.

  Fifteen minutes passed before Suzette took a sharp turn and glided into the employee and private parking of the hotel. She parked and shook her hair out, taking care of the inevitable tangles.

  “Thought we were in a hurry.” Jack murmured, motioning to the door inside.

  “We are, but this is my grandmother; you don’t show up looking disheveled.”

  “Then I hope I look fine.”

  “You don’t, but she’ll forgive me.”

  Suzette opened the door before Jack could, pushing it open with determination. She was in battle mode. Jack trailed along behind her, doing his best to keep up. An officer of the law and he noted he still couldn’t command the presence of authority she did. It bothered him, deep down, but he was not about to let her know. Mostly because he knew even deeper down, that she already knew, and simply did not care.