“Maybe you have a mole,” McManus said.
DuPrie’s features hit Defcon 3. “Hell no,” he spat. “Not in my team. I’ve handpicked every single one and I’d trust all of them with my life. No—this is either someone in your department or someone external.”
Interesting. Bianca was right about DuPrie’s loyalty to his people. “So what do you need from me?”
DuPrie leaned back and linked his hands behind his head. “Just do what you’re doing and keep Bianca on your side.”
McManus was under no illusions; he was being interviewed. The question was why. A dizzy spell washed over him. He’d tried to ignore the lethargy creeping into his limbs and the blurring of his eyesight, but the tingling in his tear duct indicated a Neon Tear bleed.
I can’t let him see the tear. “Can I use your bathroom?”
DuPrie’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he flicked his head toward the only other door. “In there.”
McManus rose from the chair, trying to stay calm and unhurried. The bathroom was a small dank room with a tarnished mirror and a rust-stained basin. It looked like their budget was in even worse shape than the New York City Police Department’s. A water droplet fell from the leaking faucet with a fat plunk, and the cistern of the toilet continuously flowed.
McManus leaned against the basin and looked at his reflection in the speckled mirror as the iridescent tear squeezed from his duct. Thankfully, he felt this one coming. Not like yesterday’s when he’d been too preoccupied. Must be more careful in future, he told himself—the effects were wearing off sooner each time. The water from the faucet was bracingly cold. It washed away the drug residue and shocked his senses back into gear. But he needed a hit and needed it soon. He fingered the vial of the drug in his pocket and was tempted for a moment. The risk wasn’t worth it.
Leaning closer to the mirror, he searched his features. God, how he hated what he’d become. The hollowness behind his eyes reflected the emptiness he felt in his soul, like something was missing—or long dead.
“Are you all right in there?” DuPrie called from the other side of the door.
“Be out in a minute,” he replied, and with one last look in the mirror to make sure all traces of the drug were gone, he opened the door.
DuPrie stood behind the desk, his face cast in a suspicious slant as McManus took his seat.
“Actually, I think we’re done for now.”
“Okay.” McManus stood and straightened his coat. “When will I get my file back?”
DuPrie shook his head. “I’ll give these reports to my people to take a copy, and give it to Bianca to drop off.”
“I assume she’ll still be available to help on the case with the magic crap?”
“She’s still the recognized authority on that ‘magic crap.’ ” DuPrie’s features almost relaxed into a smile.
“All right, then, if you’re finished, I’m going.” McManus walked to the door. He stopped and turned back to DuPrie. “Tell me something. If that’s the only door out of here—where did that Tones character go?”
The large man’s smile deepened. “That’s something for another time.”
“Right.”
McManus watched the floor numbers light up as the elevator rose and fingered the cold thin glass vial in his coat pocket. He pulled out an empty hand and held it in front of him, palm down. The shakes were getting bad; his skin felt damp and clammy under his clothes. There was no way he could function enough to drive like this. He curled his fingers into a fist and shoved it back in his pocket. He’d have to risk a hit before he went anywhere.
The doors opened onto the semideserted lobby. Class was still in. Using in public was always risky, but if he didn’t get a hit soon, temporary blindness would be next.
The elevator stopped on the first floor and he made his way to the public bathroom. A toilet flushed in a far stall and a student gave him a polite yet wary nod as he crossed to wash his hands. Kids were always cagey around cops, especially college kids, and the kids at NYAPS were no different on that front. They seemed to smell him out just like he could tell that the guy who’d been in the stall was an Animalian of some sort.
McManus stood in front of the mirror, checking the stalls behind for feet. Luckily, they all appeared empty, and the kid hurried from the room with a slight scent of nervousness. McManus could recognize a fellow user, even without knowing the kid’s poison of choice.
He went into the cubicle farthest from the door, turned the lock and dropped onto the seat. Nausea groaned in the pit of his empty stomach, his sight swam in and out, and everything shook. Every molecule in his body vibrated like it was about to fly apart. His fingers were so numb he could barely feel the glass of the vial, and as it cleared his pocket, it slipped from his grasp.
Time stopped.
He held his breath, watching in horror as it hit the floor with a plink of glass against ceramic tile and then bounced.
Once, twice, three times.
Each time, he braced himself for the sound of breakage, but none came. He fell to his knees on the filthy cubicle floor, bumping his hip on the toilet paper holder on the way down and lunging for the vial of Neon Tears, sending it skittering away. He managed to slap a palm over it just before it disappeared under the stall door. His breath expelled in relief and he dropped his head, then stumbled upright to sit on the toilet seat again.
The outer bathroom door squeaked open and McManus froze. Had Oberon followed him after all? Fear and jonesing-for-a-fix paranoia doubled the tremors in his hands. He closed his eyes and breathed again as the sound of someone whistling as they pissed noisily into the urinal came from beyond the toilet door.
A cold sweat broke all over his body. His legs shook, his shoulders shuddered, and his fingers quivered as his vision dimmed—the final symptom of the drug comedown. He needed this hit.
NOW!
He unscrewed the top and squeezed the rubber dropper, pulling the phosphorescent liquid into the tube, and tilted his head back. The blurred droplet hung suspended above his eyeball. Then it dropped.
Pain seared right through to the back of his head. Then his sight returned and the ceiling zoomed closer, the cracks becoming more defined as his senses honed to the drug. Steeling himself for more of the inevitable agony, he repeated with the other eye and then leaned back to rest his head against the cold tiles. The drug worked its way through his system, chasing away the aches, shakes, and blindness. Pain stopped as suddenly as it hit, and his senses moved into a more enhanced normalcy. He brought his head up, replaced the vial’s stopper, and put it back in his coat pocket.
While he waited for the drug to take full hold, McManus slid a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on, then floated to his feet, once again in control. Well, as much as one could, in the grips of a mind-altering drug.
Even with the sunglasses, everything seemed bright and shiny. He moved to the mirror and leaned against the counter. The bathroom was completely empty now, he hadn’t even heard the last guy leave. He lifted the shades and checked his eyes. The drug’s swirling luminescent film covering his eyeballs slowly dissipated as it was absorbed into his system.
The bathroom door opened. He quickly dropped the sunglasses back into place and turned on the faucet. Two guys entered, joking and shoving each other, but stopped dead when they saw him washing his hands. He watched them in the mirror as they crossed to stand before the urinals as far from him as they could get.
“Cop,” one whispered.
“You sure, man? He looks high,” the other replied.
He looked back at his reflection, at what he’d become. An empty shell. Not because of his vices. They were just what he used to try to fill the void. But the drugs or alcohol couldn’t fill the emptiness inside, only numb the pain for a little while.
Kicking Neon Tears wasn’t easy. He’d tried. Numerous
times. The worst was when the neon blindness had him trapped in his apartment for three days—helpless until he’d finally lost it and called his supplier. Maybe the only thing worse than being helpless was death—and even that was only a maybe.
If his superiors got wind of his addiction, he was toast. He’d already given them enough fodder to put his ass in a permanent sling.
5
Down to Business
Oberon pushed away the papers and leaned back in his chair. He’d have bet a week’s pay McManus was the one obstructing the case. Cops didn’t like their jurisdiction questioned, and he obviously had a thing about parahumans. But McManus seemed on the level, just like Bianca said he was. Which left two questions. Who’d been behind the attempt to hack the Bunker’s computer system? And why were they trying to impede the investigation?
Luckily, Tones was all over it. That Aeternus was worth his weight in computer chips. Oberon rose and placed his palm on the panel behind the strategically placed plastic plant. The back wall slid aside to reveal the secret entrance to the Bunker, his real headquarters. He picked up McManus’s report and started for the spiral staircase when the freight elevator in the secret alcove pinged behind him.
“Captain!” the janitor said with a cheery smile as he backed his cleaning cart out of the elevator.
“Chad,” Oberon returned as the janitor wheeled out into the office beyond.
The panel slid shut behind him, leaving Oberon alone. He descended the circular staircase into the Bunker’s open plan office to find Bianca and Cody bent over some photos laid out on the table, while Kitt and Tones sat in front of a computer screen. The Aeternus rubbed the back of his neck and hunched over the keyboard again.
“Go get some rest, Tones,” Oberon ordered. “It’s well past midday and you’ve been at this for nearly thirty-six hours straight.”
“Just a few more minutes,” the bald-headed tech said with an absent wave of his hand.
Kitt placed a hand on Tones’s shoulder. “He’s right. I can work on this some more while you sleep.”
“I need you at the top of your game.” Oberon placed the folder down on the nearest table. “Later, I want you to access the Homicide mainframe and compare this report to theirs. Bianca, I’ll need you to make copies of everything, McManus wants it back ASAP.”
Bianca picked up the buff file and began to skim though it, smiling. “I told you he’d come through.”
Oberon crossed his arms. “He seemed pretty adamant that he’d emailed us the original report, and I couldn’t smell any lies. He’s definitely hiding something, that’s for sure, but I’d say it’s just his drug habit.”
Surprise flashed across the witch’s face. “You know?”
“Sure. I saw what happened the other day. As long as he does his job and doesn’t jeopardize this investigation, his Neon Tear addiction has nothing to do with me. Now let’s get into the conference room and go over what we’ve learned so far. Not you, Tones. You go rest, and that’s an order.”
“But Captain—”
“And feed too,” Kitt added. “I’ve put some blood on to warm in the kitchen.”
Tones sighed and kissed Kitt on the cheek. “Thanks.”
As he headed off toward the kitchen, Kitt’s cell phone rang. She glanced at it and smiled. “Excuse me a minute.”
Oberon followed the others into the conference room. He took a seat and looked at Bianca, who seemed preoccupied. Cody leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She grinned and playfully punched him in the arm. The two of them were usually partners, but not when she worked with Homicide—the Incubus tended to make some cops nervous.
Kitt came in a few minutes later with a smile still plastered on her face and sat at the computer keyboard.
“I take it from that smile Raven was on the phone,” Cody teased.
She blushed as she nodded. Oberon smiled back at his surrogate sister. It was good to see her so happy again after all this time. Raven was a good man, and she deserved a good man after all she had been through.
“When are they due back from the Adirondacks?” Bianca asked.
“Not for another couple of weeks,” Kitt said, her smile dying a little.
Cody leaned forward in his seat. “So, how are the twins doing?”
“Exceptionally.” Her smile returned and widened into a proud parental grin. “Raven said they’ve taken to the training much better than even he anticipated. He thinks the new Draconis Nocti will be ready for action very soon.”
“I’m glad they’re doing well. And I want to hear all about it later, but now we need to discuss this case,” Oberon said, bringing the meeting back on track. “Why don’t you start with the forensic pathology?”
She straightened her shoulders and put on her professional face as she tapped the computer keys. Gruesome images of the crime scene appeared on the large computer screen at the far end of the room. “As you can see—it was very bloody. The parahuman medical examiner, Tez O’Connor, and I examined samples taken from the scene. We were able to identify the victim’s blood, amniotic fluid, and viscera. We have even determined that the sex of the baby was a girl.”
She picked up a remote and stood next to the screen as it filled with a shot of the symbol painted in blood on the alley wall. “I’ve been getting updates from the OPCME. They assumed the victim’s blood was used here, but that’s since been proven incorrect. DNA tests show the blood is male and human, probably painted at least an hour before the victim’s murder. We found dried flakes in the victim’s hair from brushing against it.”
“So where did the blood come from?” Bianca asked.
Kitt clicked the remote again, and a shot of a pale male body taken at the morgue appeared on the screen. “Tones did a cross-reference against several other crimes that happened around the same time. This one was a twenty-something male mugging victim just a few blocks from the crime scene who’d had his throat slashed only an hour or so earlier. We got Tez to run a comparison on the blood samples and it came back positive.”
“Were there any other links between this boy and the victim?” Cody asked, a frown creasing his surfer-boy good looks.
Kitt looked at him. “We haven’t identified the girl yet so it’s difficult to establish. The boy wasn’t from the area. He was pre-med at NYU.”
Oberon leaned forward on his elbows. “Was the murder weapon the same?”
She shook her head. “The boy’s wound was inflicted with a long curved blade. Tez says it’s like nothing she’s seen before, and whatever it was, the blade was razor sharp. The girl’s wounds are a little bit more difficult to ascertain. The wounds were quite bizarre, as if no blade whatsoever was used. The epidermis and subcutaneous tissue, muscle, and the womb wall were severed with no damage to the viscera or any other internal organs. There were also no blade marks or nicks of any kind.”
“I might be able to shed some light on that,” Bianca said. “I think the flesh may have been opened using black thaumaturgy.”
Bianca straightened under her colleagues’ scrutiny. Everything Kitt had just said only confirmed her suspicions and her findings so far.
“The magic used in the alley was the darkest I have ever seen. So dark it made me physically ill. Magic that black needs blood and death to feed it. When I went over the scene with all my instruments, I couldn’t read any definable magic signature; it was too obscure even for my most advanced devices. I think the boy’s murder could’ve been in preparation for the main event. They needed his blood and his death to fuel the spell.”
“Why would they need magic that strong to murder a girl and steal a baby?” Cody asked.
“I think the real question is why would a black thaumaturgist want to steal babies?” Oberon asked.
“I don’t know the answer,” Bianca said. “But whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
“Right, looks l
ike we have a lot of work to do. Bianca, when you’ve copied that report, get it back to McManus. I think his insight as a homicide detective may give us alternate views.”
Everyone rose and gathered up their papers except Bianca. She stayed behind after the others left. She wasn’t feeling like herself today, which wasn’t surprising after what had happened. Was Kedrax okay? He was just a baby, after all. But he’d assured her that with Vincent to watch out for him, he’d be fine. Still, she worried.
Maybe she should’ve called in sick or something. Not that she felt sick, not at all; in fact she felt great. Her whole body tingled. She held up her hand, willing the energy to take form. Sparks and tiny bolts of electricity danced from one finger to the next, playing across them.
She shut her fist and dropped it quickly at the sound of a slight scuff at the door.
Oberon stuck his head in. “You coming?”
“Sure,” she said, plastering a smile on her face.
The big man frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine,” she said a little too quickly. “Just a little tired is all.”
“Okay,” he said, his expression not entirely convinced. “Come on, then.”
6
Happy Birthday
Tiffany swiped a layer of crimson across her lush lips and pouted into the mirror.
Eat your heart out, Gregory Harris. She smiled and slipped the top back on the red lipstick before glancing at her watch. She’d kept him waiting for five minutes, and that should be enough.
Greg might be captain of the basketball team and the heir to this hotel chain, but she was damn well worth the wait. His dad had him bussing tables in the ballroom to build character. She giggled. He was furious his father had made him work this summer. Greg had ranted endlessly about being forced into menial labor instead of hanging with his friends. She finally got bored and left.
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